Moonlight shone through the windows of the orphanage with a silvery white, casting an ominous glow to the small room with beauty. The deep orange and brown of the wood walls contrasted superficially it seemed to the boys within. They sat, both quietly and fidgety in their beds with sheets thrown off in a heap as restlessness took them. The eldest and the tallest of them stood and shook his small fist mightily at the sky, a scowl upon his brow.
“I, the great Merin, proclaim this land as my own! Bow before your new master, peasants!” He bellowed, staring down all the boys. “Being the oldest of eleven years, I pronounce myself ruler of the entire dominion of..” He paused to think but had very little brains in which to do so. “Orphanage Land!” He announced at last.
The other boys laughed and jumped to their feet at once.
“Then I, powerful Henner of also eleven years pronounce myself the general of Orphanage Land’s army!”
“And I, the wise Serin, of ten years pronounce myself the king Merin’s advisor!”
The three largest boys all stood atop their beds in their imagined glory as the giggling boys below began to look around uncomfortably. They looked up at the three then back to themselves and laughed.
“Well we, the Boys of Unroyalty, declare war upon the nation of Orphanage Land! Attack!”
Instantly the mayhem broke loose and the army of boys swarmed the three largest. Fists were thrown and kicks were swung but none were finished as the ruckus woke their Lady. She threw the door open in her robes and cried out in tired anguish to be silent and sleep ‘fore she gives them to the bears, and returned to her room. The boys snickered behind clenched teeth and lay down, resting from the tussle.
In the morning they were sent outside to begin their chores just as the sun peaked the tree line. The purple skies of dawn wrested any sleep from their eyes as the sun drenched clouds glided by with bright oranges and pinks. The stars were still visible to the west and the moon was just setting behind the distant mountains. The boys sucked in the cool air and began to work.
The oldest three woke Beil the mare, and strapped the plow to her back. The others boys were split into four groups of three for such tasks as weeding, planting, sewing, and milking. They set to it as they did every day and continued until the sun was high in the sky, the day warmed and the townspeople bustling about. The thrum of walking and buzz of chatter was nothing more than a faint whisper to the boys on the Hillridge Farm. Perhaps the one thing they had to be thankful for.
Once the tasks were done, the boys convened in the fields to begin the harvest of wheat, slicing the stalks with a practiced hand. Their sicles whistled through the air as the plants fell into the wheelbarrows below, the smallest boy pulling it along slowly. He peaked a small hill, struggling and tripped on a rock. The barrow rolled down the hill and toppled over. Merin stared down at the spilled contents and clenched his jaw.
“You little speck! Look what you did. I’ll teach you a lesson so maybe you’ll do better next time!” Merin reared back to swing but was thrown to the ground from behind. He fell and cried out in surprise. He looked up at the boy who tackled him, studying him incredulously. He had brown eyes with swirls of gold spiraling them, and light tan skin. His shaggy hair was mahogany and fell in his face. The boy was smaller than him but not by much, Merin being broader but just as tall.
“Tough guy huh?” Merin said pushing himself up and standing slowly for effect. “Looks like you’re off the hook, speck. This guy’s takin’ your place.” He looked down then suddenly kicked the other boy in the fork of his legs, and pummeled his back as his foe doubled over in pain.
“This what you wanted? You want some more?” He said patronizingly as the boy kept silent, face in the dirt as he was struck. Merin stood and spat on him, kicking soil in his face. “Thought not.”
Merin stormed off guffawing, the other boys returning to work sourly. The youngest boy crouched down and poked the beaten boy. His gray shirt was torn and mud had caked from his sweat, his trousers were already patched and stained and his hair was filthy. He looked up slowly with a defeated expression. His face was purple and his cheeks blushed. Only his eyes remained unchanged.
“Are you okay?”
The boy shrugged and wiped his nose on his sleeve.
“Nobody’s ever stuck up for me before. Thanks.” The small boy continued.
He nodded and walked back into the field, instantly hidden in the rows and rows of wheat. The youngest boy ran after him but found nothing. Only a button at the end of the crops.
The boys’ Lady called them in for supper then, eyeing them with disapproval as they wolfed down the soup and cabbage slices.
“Honestly, you’d think you brats were starved yer’ whole lives!”
“Maybe we have.”
“Oh shush up you!”
The boys quickly devoured their food and ran off to play in the last hours of the day. However the youngest boy remained in his seat, his soup untouched. He looked around and poured the remains of the others’ soup into another bowl, ate the leftovers, and as inconspicuous as he could be, carried the bowl of fresh soup outside to the field. He laid it down on the small hill he was nearly trampled on and paused a second.
“Oh right!” He remembered suddenly, placing the small black button against the bowl before leaving. The boy returned to the yard where the others were playing and sat as if he had never left. Henner spotted him coming around the house.
“Hey, Benj, wanna’ wrestle? I’ll go easy on ya’.” Henner called, confident he could take anyone but Merin down in a fight, yet still inclined to pick on the weakest.
Benj shook his head as he stared at the ground. He dared not look up at Henner. He picked up a twig then and began to doodle in the dirt, drawing a man holding a sword facing another with a shield carved with the letter H on it. He chuckled then and smiled at his picture.
“What’cha got there eh?” Henner said suddenly behind him. Benj cringed and jumped away but was too slow to escape Henner’s grip. He wrapped his arm around Benj’s neck and ruffled his hair none too softly. “Hey! Is that supposed to be me?” Henner yelled as he stood, lifting Benj to his feet by his hair. Benj cried out in pain, tears glistening in his eyes.
A loud crash and suddenly Benj was on the ground. He thought he’d been killed or knocked unconscious. Slowly he opened his eyes. Henner was out cold in the dirt, the side of his face already bruised; a broken bowl sat shattered around him.
Benj jumped to his feet and looked around, all the boys gone. He ran inside but no one but their Lady was inside. He ran back out, panting, and sprinted to the fields. He heard the cries and cheers coming from its direction and ran even faster. He could clearly hear it then.
“Oh man! He’s actually got him! Merin and that kid!”
Terror shot through Benj as he processed this. He kicked his feet up higher, taking deeper breaths, his heart hammering. He couldn’t seem to move fast enough. The boy who had saved him twice now would be killed because of him. It would be all his fault.
He tore through the last row of wheat when he finally found them. All the boys were in a circle, blocking his view of the fight. He crawled between their legs through the mob until he was just in the edge of the circle’s inner diameter.
Merin was on the ground, the boy atop him, and was crying out please don’t please don’t as the boy held up a tight fist, knuckles white with the strain. Benj had never seen Marin in this way before. Eyes wide with terror, his voice truly gripped with fear, face pale and tears streaming his cheeks. His nose was bleeding profusely and his lips were both busted. His left eye was swollen shut and his chin was purple, resembling the boy holding him down.
“Please don’t!” The cry rang out, not from Merin but from Benj. The group stopped and watched him dumbfounded. Even Serin had cheered for Merin’s defeat. The boy looked at him intently, fist still raised.
“He’s had enough, I think. He looks worse than you and me already.” Benj said slowly, picking his words carefully. The boy looked down at Marin who whimpered and puffed his lips out. The boy frowned and punched him again, then stood and walked to Benj as Marin began whaling.
“Now he’s had enough.”
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