I seem to recall a story about a woodcutter or forester, someone who lived on the edge of a great forest. One evening on his way home, he found a basket containing nine very large eggs. He picked up the basket and carried it home, placing it in his kitchen, intending to have an egg for breakfast in the morning.

But in the morning, the eggs had hatched into goblins. They were fussy and messy and ugly, but they were fascinated by light - not that they could stand the sun shining in their large and sensitive eyes, or burning their pale and sensitive skin. Soon tiring of their care, the woodsman took up his lantern on a dark night, lit it, and led them into the woods.

When he had led the nine goblins far enough in, he hung the lamp on a branch and turned to go. But it was terribly dark outside the pool of light, and he might be lost despite his years in and around the forest. The light seemed so comforting...

Soon, ten goblins were sitting around the lamp, watching its candle burn.