6 March, Lower Kobold Warrens

Today’s intended work was a survey of Kobold thoracic proportions, which became impossible when my measuring tape disappeared. I initially assumed I had misplaced it, an assumption insulting but plausible. After twenty minutes of searching, one of the Kobolds accompanying us produced it from a ventilation shaft approximately nine feet above the floor, and when I asked how it had arrived there, he shrugged and said, “Good place.”

I explained that it was not, in fact, a good place, because I required it for measurements. He considered this and asked whether I wanted a better place. I said I wanted the tape, and he gave it back.

Ten minutes later my calipers disappeared, and this time I watched another Kobold take them. He did not run. He simply picked them up, examined the hinge, adjusted the screw tension, and walked away. I followed and informed him that the instrument was mine, to which he replied, “Was stiff.” He was correct, and when he returned it the motion was substantially smoother, so I thanked him. This was my mistake.

By midday, every metal instrument in my case had been removed, inspected, altered, polished, tightened, loosened, or in one instance apparently improved according to principles I do not understand. Nothing was stolen and everything came back. My thermometer now has a brass hook. I do not know why, and no one will tell me.