[piosenniel]

Will Farroweed

Big Tom Farroweed had been quite clear in his opinion of Andreth Woolthistle and her so-called school. ‘None o’ my kids’ll be seen going’ to no place run by some Hobbit-lovin’ woman!’ Letty had tried to pacify him, saying it would be good for Will to learn his letters and such, but Big Tom was having none of it.

‘No, sense in that, Letty,’ he fumed as he pulled on his boots to see to the pigs early in the morning after the town meeting. ‘What he needs ta know, I can teach him. I don’t need no letters and writin’ and such. And neither does the boy!’

Letty sighed, knowing she should give up on the subject, but offered one more try, saying she’d always known Andreth to be the kind of woman who would do right by a person. Big Tom swore as he mashed his left foot with its crumpled sock down into his boot. ‘Needs a husband,’ he growled. ‘She’d do best to do right for herself and get a man. Someone to keep ‘her on the straight ‘n’ narrow!’

Knowing this was a lost cause, Letty rubbed her forehead and shuffled off to wake Will. It was his chore in the morning to slop the yearlings.

~*~

Will pulled the covers over his head at his mother’s approach. He was wide awake and grinning wickedly. He had heard what his father had said and was glad of it. That last thing he wanted was to spend time cooped up in some room under somebody’s thumb when he and his mates could be out having themselves some fun.

~*~

A short time later – himself fed as well as the pigs – and he was out the door, heading toward town. It was a fair day, and on his way he stopped for his mates Bert, eleven, and Roddy, thirteen. Bert’s family ran a wheat farm east of Will’s family place, and just south of that was Roddy’s place, whose father was a tanner. Neither of their families had given much thought to Hobbits one way or the other. But the two boys idolized Will, as he was a few years older than them and could always be relied on to think of something ‘fun’ to do.

Today was no exception.

‘Got your pea-shooter?’ he asked Bart, as the boy came through the gate and out onto the path into town. Roddy was already with Will, and he had brought his little sling-shot and plenty of small rocks.

~*~

They crept round to the north end of the Inn, near the back. That’s where Will had figured the class would be held. Through the open, rounded window they could see the tables sprinkled with big and Little Folk, some bent over their slates, some gathered round the Innkeeper, listening to a story.

‘Sittin’ ducks!’ snickered Roddy in a whisper. He had crept to the other window and eased up for a quick look round the room. Bart was not quite sure they should be doing this, but he shrugged his doubts away when Will handed him a handful of his own dried peas to use.

‘We’ll hit 'em once, then run for cover behind those bushes between the two oak trees . . . there, on that side of the fenced horse pen . . .

~*~

Their little weapons loaded, the three boys, at a signal from Will, stood and fired at a target they had picked out.

Fippi, his back turned to the window was hit in the back of the neck with a pea from Bart’s little shooter. Kali, standing up by Andreth, caught a pebble to the side of his leg from Roddy’s slingshot. It was little Lily who fared the worst. Will aimed his pea shooter at her ear as she bent near Kari to admire how the girl had written ‘Lily’ on the slate.

There were wails, and shouts of anger from those hit. Kari turned her head just in time to see Will’s grinning face – gloating at his shot. Little Lily was crying, and Kari, a good throwing arm on her, drew back her arm and slung the slate at the window . . .

[ October 22, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]