[Kransha]

Again, it had been a good day. The sun rose afresh in the sky, its gentle yet solid glowing beams pouring over the land that would soon be in some part that of Kalimac Whitfoot. That same hobbit felt that he needed not to eat, since he seemed to be filled with something that might constitute food, but was probably just anticipating nervousness that fluttered about as butterflies would in his round stomach. Unfortunately for the prosperous Halfling, all was not to go as planned. As Kalimac strolled aimlessly around the Fallohide end of the camp, taking careful note of his family members tending to their breakfasts, he took immediate notice of a much more unpleasant site.

It was old, rough and ready Fredigar Headstrong, a hobbit who had never seemed very amiable or likable to Kalimac. Kal tried to give all hobbit’s a chance to make themselves more friendly folk to him, but Fredigar was doing something that had just shattered his good mood like so much fallen glass. The hobbit stood over Crispin ominously and grabbed him forcefully. Kalimac’s mind didn’t even have time to race as a deep rooted anger, kept dormant for some time since his last ‘explosion’ during the semi-battle with Fordogrim and Harold Chubb, swelling and pulsing within him. He barely heard any of the conversation, but arrived just in time to see Fredigar grabbing his son more roughly and yelling something at him. Kalimac, already rising in fury as he saw the other hobbit handle his child so ignobly, stormed over as he caught snatches of the conversation.

“You little liar,” Fredigar hissed through his teeth. “I know exactly where you were. You were thieving these good hobbits. You’re a dirty thief. Get up, you’re coming with me.”

“What is the meaning of this?” he roared, barely a question in his protesting tone.

“Kalimac, you’re son, here, is a thief.” Replied Fredigar icily, dragging Crispin along as he spoke to the boy's father, “He was up stealing from the Harfoots last night. Took a pretty little necklace from your employees. I’m takin’ him with me, so he can’t take anything else from our neighbors.”

A thief? It was surely a mistake. There was no way in all of Eriador that any child of the Whitfoot clan could be a thief. They already had money, enough for anything they needed, so why would a Whitfoot even consider stealing some valuable from a poorer family? It was all too outrageous to be believable.

“Thief? My son a common robber? That’s preposterous! There has to be some mistake!”

“No mistake. This boy here, young Adelard, said he saw your son doing the very deed.”

Kalimac found himself walking behind Fredigar, who was unceremoniously dragging Crispin Whitfoot to his wagon and speaking. That ignorant hobbit wasn’t even listening! He was ignoring Kalimac, which also degenerated from his fiery mood. Kalimac’s face looked flush as he hurried behind Fredigar and his son until Headstrong had forced Crispin into the back of his wagon. Kalimac continued his utterly confused protests, trying to think of some pathetic tirade he could start.

“But…no, that can’t be…I’m sure this is all a misunderstanding.”

It was Adelard Proudfoot who responded, with a glib smirk upon his face. As Kalimac turned, he spoke dutifully as the time came. Kalimac watched the boy, a fully disgusted look paling his features, and turned to him slowly, trying to look remotely intimidating but failing. Adelard just spoke with a smiling ease, which further disgusted Kalimac as he realized, through the chaos that had covered this situation, what had just happened to him and his son. Suddenly, the overwhelming effect of this happenstance was gnawing at him, coupled with every other thing that had happened. He remembered his conversation with Marcho not long ago, in which he clarified his views. Was this all some cruel joke at his expense? It was a selfish thought, but that was the only thought rushing in him and fueling his surging anger.

“No sir, Mister Whitfoot. I saw it all myself with my own two eyes.”

That was just about it. Even though Kalimac had made a solemn promise not to lose his wits a second time, it happened. Unfortunately, instead of ending up in a brawl with a hobbit who was equal to size and strength with him, Kal found himself on the verge of tackling a Halfling boy. Ignoring Fredigar, Kalimac lunged at that irritating Adelard and grabbed him by the meager shirt collar, practically lifting him from the ground violently as he quivered with rage. His eyes nearly glowed with incendiary flame that wavered there.

“You little…you…you LIAR! You’re lying, you little scoundrel! Go on, tell the truth, tell Fredigar that it wasn’t my son that stole that necklace. NOW!”