[alaklondewen]

Adelard held his injured arm firmly against his body as he glared menacingly at the Chubb and Whitfoot offspring. Their parents were hugging them, showing joy in the children’s safety, while all Adelard got was a smack to the back of the head from his father for wandering into the forest and ruining his clothes. His mother showed him a bit more attention and ordered a healer to tend to his arm.

The old hobbit gently tried to pull the young hobbit’s bleeding arm away from his chest. A razor sharp pain ripped through his limb, and Adelard shoved the healer roughly away with his good arm, all the while never removing his gaze from the Chubbs. It was after all their fault he was in this mess…they should never had ventured off away from camp, enticing Adelard to find them. Bitterness filled his head as he watched May hug her father once more.

“I am afraid your arm is broken, young Master Proudfoot.” The healer’s soft voice broke through Adelard’s thoughts, and he turned his curly topped head toward the old hobbit, who continued quickly. “Good thing is…it shouldn’t need setting. I can wrap it for you now.”

Adelard just looked through the hobbit and turned back toward May. An inner struggle had begun in the young Proudfoot. He could not keep himself from gazing at the lass, admiring her from afar, but he rebuked himself at the same time for the interest in someone as lowly as a sharecropper’s daughter. His father would never stand for it. Nor will I. He told himself.

As soon as the healer finished wrapping his throbbing limb, Adelard, now hardened with resolve, marched to where the Chubb daughter stood with her family. “This is your fault, May Chubb, and don’t tell me otherwise! My arm is broken! It will be weeks before I can use it again, and…my clothes…they…they’re ruined! You’re going to pay for this.”

Adelard’s shouting was causing a bit of a scene, and soon several hobbits were gathering to watch the commotion. The Whitfoot family, which was cooking only a few feet away anyway, scooted a little closer to the Chubb camp. When the Proudfoot saw them, he turned his focus on the adults. “Do you see?! Do you see what happens when you leave your children with peasants? They think they can do anything! Anything!”

May’s father stepped forward and tried to quiet Adelard, but the young hobbit eluded his touch and spun to face May once more. “This is your fault…” Adelard spoke through his clamped teeth and pointed his finger at her. “You’re going to work for this. Get ready…you’re going to work for this.”