[Child of the 7th Age]

Branda, Carl, and Dinodas crouched together in the bushes, their eyes rivetted on the tundra ahead, where a few fish had been set down on the ice as a gleaming invitation for any beast or man who'd care to have a sample. The afternoon sun had long since disappeared, and a sliver of moon rode high in the sky. A few stars had come out to dot the horizon, but there was yet no sign of other visitors to the river.
The hobbits' fingers and toes were stiff and numb as they sat hunched together trying to keep warm. Their breaths made icey puffs in the cold night air, little rings of smoke hovering just in front of three red noses.

"Can't we go?" Dinodas whispered to Branda. "I'm turning into a block of ice!"

"Just a minute. Hold on. I'm sure something's coming. And, look sharp, because we don't know how dangerous this thing will be."

As Branda finished speaking, a white form, crouching and silent, began inching forward along the snowbank. Carl was the first to see it. It lay flat against the icey surface, barely discernible to those looking on.

"What's that?" Carl whispered, with genuine puzzlement in his voice.

"That's no animal!" Dinodas observed.

"Shh!" warned Branda. "Take your weapons and bag your prey."

The three rushed out of the shrubs just in time so see a scrawny hand reach out towards the fish and stuff it into its face. Whatever this was, it was eating the raw fish, bones and all, in one gulp, like a wild beast.

Branda grabbed the creature around the collar and hauled it out to have a better look. As the pale moonlight glowed on the creature's face, the hobbit was so startled that he dropped his prey. This was no beast or stranger at all.

"What's this?" Carl growled. "A hobbit child who's a thief! We'll have none of that. Haul 'em back with us, and give him some of Bullroarer's justice."

Branda shook his head. He looked at the scrawny, miserable form. He was a boy who looked to be no more than sixteen-years old, as skinny as they come. Hunger glittered deep in his eyes, and, with it, a feeling of near desperation.

"Come along lad, and bring along those pails we know you've got hidden. We'll take you back to your smial and tell your folks what you've done."

The lad cowered and shook his head. "You can't do that. I got no home. My mother died of hunger. I'm alone now."

"How are you living?" said Carl, with concern and curiousity mirrored in his voice.

"However I can. Stealing here, borrowing there. That's why my coat is white. To blend in. But I'm still hungry most of the time."

"You have no kin to take you in?" Branda asked.

The lad shook his head no, and then stared fixedly at a distant point in the sky.

"Alright then, come with us for now. We'll see what we can do to help. What's your name, lad?"

"Tomba Goodchild. Folks call me Tom."

********************************************

Tom was taken back to the farmhouse, set near the fire to warm, and given a large plate of rabbit stew. He ate as if he hadn't seen food in at least ten years.

Then they found him a little place in the corner to sleep. The rest of the companions kept looking at the boy. A few grumbled that he sounded like a thief. But one or two of the women came over and, with some sign of affection, helped him settle in for the night.

Then, after another round of rabbit stew and pipeweed all around, the hobbits thanked Giles and his farm kin for letting them stay in such a nice, cosy place, and settled in for the night.

*********************************************

As dawn broke the next morning, Bullroarer rose early and came over to Branda, shaking him awake. Bandobras wasted no time getting to the main issue at hand.

"This lad, you found, what do you propose we do?"

Branda sat up, shaking the sleep out of his eyes. "Well, if we don't help him, he's sure to starve. If times were normal, another farm family would have taken him in. But time's aren't normal. There's no food to spare."

"And we do?" Bulroarer growled.

"To be truthful, a bit more than some. We've got skills in trapping, and shooting, and fishing that others can't match. I think we can spare a bit."

Anyways," he continued, "I'll eat less and work harder, if that will help. Plus, with all the hurt and dying, it will be good to take a young thing in our care and tend it to grow and live. That will be my birthday present to Daisy, getting this young lad for us all to care for."

Bullroarer shook his head. "You've gotten soft on this lad, Branda. Watch out."

Bullroarer seemed about ready to say no, but then thought a minute and admitted, "On the other hand, the lad does seem strong and more used to hardship than many. And someday we might need a hobbit who could pass for a burglar."

"Allright, alright. He's with us, if he wants to come." Bullroarer groaned, but then pointed a finger towards Branda. "Just make sure he does his burglaring outside this group, and only when we ask him to! You keep him in line, or you'll both be out on your behinds."

Branda grinned broadly and nodded in agreement.

[ December 15, 2002: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]