[Arry]

Of Trees and axes and family loyalty . . .

Hanson, five years, and Woody, eleven, shifted uneasily in their seats at the finish of the song. Oh the big man had a lovely voice. ‘Rings true as a woodsman’s axe,’ their Granny would say.

And there was the trouble in it for them.

Their Da and uncles were all woodsmen. Every man jack of them. Some were fellers, their big axes biting into the trees like great sharp teeth. Their crosscut saws singing in a rhythm as they took the giants down. And some of them worked the little sawmill their Granda had passed down to them – making the rough lumber needed for outbuildings and pens and furniture and such.

And while Hanson and Woody knew their Da and Uncles loved the working with the trees and woods, they just couldn’t picture them wanting the boys to be singing such a . . . well, tree-gushy song, is all Woody could think of.

There would be woodsmen contests at the Spring Faire, Woody knew. Who could buck a log the quickest; which team could saw a round off first with the two-man saw; and others. His Da would be competing. He was one of the quickest with an axe in all of Bywater and Hobbition.

No, they simply could not be singing a song like this at the Spring Faire!

Lost in his thoughts on the matter, Woody did not see Hanson stand up from his chair and introduce himself.

‘I’m Hanson . . . Hanson Boffin, from Hobbiton. My Da’s carved me a little wooden whistle. And my Uncle Gil’s taught me to play along on a few tunes.’ Hanson squirmed a bit under the scrutiny of the giant, but spoke up quite clearly. ‘You sing real good, Master Hearp . . . ummm . . .’ ‘Hearpwine!’ his brother prompted him. ‘And that was a real pretty song you played on your harp.’ Hanson took a deep breath and went on.

‘But me and my brother can’t be singing a song like that at the Faire. Our Da will be there and he’d have our hides for it!’