WhirlwindA Chapter by SpeedyHobbit Armstrong Folco discovers being a prince differs vastly from being a Councilor's son. Meanwhile, he must keep the government change secret from his friends until the official announcement. When Folco first woke, he was certain the previous afternoon's life-changing conversation had been a bizarre dream. Then he saw his schoolbooks, the parchment where he’d copied his untouched homework, and a half-eaten scone. Taking a bite out of it, Folco stared at the assignment sheet in dismay. He'd completely forgotten about the arithmetic. Then there was that history essay he needed to write about how Spolingharrow had invaded Wishmay, completely taking it over and imprisoning the Wishmay royal family, and the way surrounding lands had reacted to the entire affair. His recollections of that chapter unsettled him. Could being thrown into prison for no crime other than his identity ever happen to him? Would he be able to handle it? No, it won't happen, Folco promised himself. I'll never be put in prison. Or tortured. Or kidnapped. Or any of that. That's for others, not me. Not my family.
However, there were more important matters at hand than worrying about terrifying events in a far-off place befalling him. Folco was not looking forward to what Mrs. Littleman was going to say when she found out he had not completed the assignment.
Once he’d packed his schoolbag, Folco made his way to the dining room for breakfast. As he approached, the scent wafting down the hall suggested bacon, toast, eggs and boiled potatoes, among other things. Both of his parents and two of his three siblings not away at school were already there. All were sitting in almost complete silence, clearly lost in their own respective thoughts.
Xenia, unsurprisingly, was absent from the table for the entire meal. From the various digs both of their parents made, it was obvious they felt her nonappearance at breakfast a form of remonstration for what they’d been told last night. Folco disagreed, though he knew better than to voice his demurral aloud. She had been acting that way ever since she’d arrived back in Drémeadow after the sudden, ignominious end to her university years. It was not unusual for his older sister to be awake long after the rest of the Foxtrots had gone to sleep, consequently sleeping practically through lunch. Her very first day back, in which she’d arrived at dawn, Xenia had retired to her room, gone to sleep and not awakened until the middle of the next day.
“Folco, Odo,” their father said suddenly. Folco looked up. “I’ve arranged for a carriage to bring you two to and from school.”
Both lads immediately gave cries of protest. “I walk to school with my friends!” protested Folco. “I always go with them, I don’t need a ride!” He could not believe what he was hearing. The walks to and from school were his favorite part of the day. He and his friends were not yet old enough to be permitted to come home later than suppertime, though their parents were relaxed about them being out in the immediate vicinity of their homes, a half mile away or less, once they were back at supper and homework was finished. Some of Folco’s friends were even allowed to stay out past dinnertime if they told their parents exactly what they were doing but his own were far stricter about it. Not only that, but he had to do his homework the instant he got home, although it seemed they’d experienced uncharacteristic forgetfulness the previous day. “Come on,” groaned Odo. “I’m too old to have to be driven in a carriage. We’re not in lower school!”
Their father remained unmoved. “I do not believe it will be safe for you two to go around on your own.”
Folco’s jaw dropped. What was he expecting to happen? “Odo’s right, we’re not five! I’m thirteen! Almost fourteen, actually!”
Their mother frowned. “Mind your father, lads. “
“I do not like the thought of you two walking such a long way given everything that is going to be happening,” said the soon-to-be king of Drémeadow. “There may be people who will not like the change, and who knows how they will react?” Folco clandestinely thought that he and the others ought to have considered that one in the Council meeting before . Then again, the Council never seemed to work well together. He’d often found it impressive how strongly the adults in the Council, all much older than even Nora, could emulate little children.
“What, do you reckon someone will jump out and try to do us in?” Odo said, earning himself a glower from both parents.
“Yes, actually, that is precisely what we are worried about,” said their father. Folco involuntarily stiffened. “We may not be violent like humans, but you know our kind do not generally like change, and this is a massive change. Our people might not understand. They do not see what happens in Council meetings. They do not know the whole story. There is no guarantee they will comprehend why this is a good idea.”
Folco himself felt the same way. A lot of the jargon and topics discussed by the adults during socials that may as well have been Council meetings with Councilhobbits’ kids added confused him, but he knew there had been contention as long as he could remember. According to his father, a country did not function well when the people running it were unable to get along, citing times where Folco had encountered conflict in cooperative projects with classmates. Thinking on past times where he’d been involved in group projects with annoying classmates who did things like not doing their share of the work or doing a shoddy job of it, he felt he could understand that logic.
“So we just tell our friends why we didn’t turn up to walk with them, then?” said Odo.
Their father emphatically shook his head. “Not exactly. You are not to tell them anything about our conversation last night. You are not to say anything about what is going on with our family until the news is officially announced.”
“Then what?” Folco interjected.
“That ought to be obvious. Family matters needed attending to. You need not say any more than that. Have a good day at school.”
As they left the dining hall, they heard their mother say something that sounded very suspiciously like “may need to get them guards for at school.” Folco only hoped his ears were very, very wrong. ~*~*~
The two brothers were very nearly late to school. The doorman had stopped them as they were on their way to the carriage their father had insisted upon taking to inform them that their father wished him to have a few words with the two brothers about safety. All through the deadly dull homily about how things would not be the same, as though that weren’t already painfully obvious, Folco was thinking If he’s so bent on us being lectured about not putting ourselves in danger, why couldn’t he do it himself?But no. Yet again, their father was too busy to spare those words with them.
Seeing the world outside their home was a shock. Folco did not know what he expected, exactly, but he’d expected to see something. Something different. Something drastic enough to parallel the way his own life had just been turned on its head. Granted, word had not yet spread. His father had said the news would be announced that afternoon at around five after the now-defunct Council decided when the coronation would be.
The coronation. Folco leaned back into the seat, stricken anew with awe. It all seemed so unreal.
Then Odo started complaining about needing to relieve himself and how there was no place he could go on the way to school- at the precise moment they were passing the home of the Mallomar family. Thora Mallomar was in Odo’s year- they had even courted briefly- and her older sister Olga was the same age as Jilliian. “Why don’t we stop here and you ask the Mallomars if you can use theirs?”
Odo shuddered slightly. “No thanks. They don’t even have running water,” he said priggishly.
“Most people don’t,” Folco pointed out.
Odo made a face. “Yes, well, we do,” he said patronizingly, “and so does our schoolhouse, so we know what we’re missing. That privy must be filthy!”
Folco shook his head disbelievingly, wondering if acting like this had anything to do with those two no longer courting. Odo claimed he’d decided to stop seeing Thora, but there had also been rumors around schpp;l suggesting the opposite. “There’s always the bushes.” His older brother scowled. “Or holding it in.
“I’ll just hold it,” snapped Odo through gritted teeth. However, his brother’s need grew so dire that he wound up using the privy of a baker. Folco smirked as he watched his brother join the line for the public privy, knowing that not only was it outdoors with no running water but that, being public, it was far more likely to be dirty than a home privy. His grin faded, however, when he realized that this stop would annihilate any free time he might have had to speak with his friends before lessons started. ~*~*~
At first, the carriage driver, today a hobbit named Toby, wanted to escort them directly to their classrooms. Fortunately, he and Odo were able to persuade him to leave them at the main entrance under the logic that one of them would be late if he insisted on walking with them. He passed through the door of his classroom the exact moment the bell-tower chimed the late bell.
“You know, Master Foxtrot,” Magistra Littleman admonished in a voice suggesting that she was in a bad mood, “walking through the door does not constitute arriving to class on time. I shall overlook it today because you are not typically late, but consider yourself forewarned.
“Yes, Ma’am,” mumbled Folco, slinking towards his seat and walking right past the pile of scrolls containing the homework of other students. He was not looking forward to the castigation he would be in for once she realized he did not have a scroll there. On the bright side, she had launched right into a continuation of yesterday’s world history lesson- one that had been by far more interesting to hear about than Drémeadow’s trade and commerce. Battles superseded quibbles over commerce in his level of interest any day of the week.
There was just one annoyance- the girls in front of him. While Folco was trying to listen to how Cancalia and Khar-Phazabough were worried they might be the next targets of Spolingharrow aggression, Felicia Acer, Lily Ferthing and Acacia Hoggins were giggling about- something. He tried his hardest to listen to the lecture instead of being the unwilling eavesdropper on the conversation in front of him, but it wasn’t easy.
“Many measures were taken on the Cancalian side of the Ester River to ensure the safety of its inhabitants. King Irwin, who had ascended the throne only three years before in 2989 and was still seeking a suitable woman to take as his queen, gave orders that Fort Cyrus send reinforcements south to Bolingbarke, and those from Spolingharrow who worked in Cancalia were regarded with the utmost of…”
“Oh, but he is so handsome! Have you seen his eyes?” Lily whispered. “They’re blue like sapphires!” Folco involuntarily pulled a face, thinking about how it was lucky he had already digested most of his breakfast, otherwise it would be all over his desk just listening to this syrup. He wanted to know about what the mixed-race Cancalia and the dwarves of Khar-Phazabough had done. He was not in the least bit interested in Lily’s latest crush.
“Doesn’t Fern fancy him?” Acacia whispered. Folco groaned inwardly. What was it with girls and the way they chased boys in his class? Quite fortunately, he himself had never been their target of amour, but they could get quite persistent in their wiles.
Felicia chimed in, “He sits near her, he’s between Bando Golding and Lindo Rivers, you better think of how to make him want to court you, she can talk to him more than you so you need his attention somehow.”
Quite suddenly, the whole subject of Cancalia and Khar-Phazabough was forgotten. They were talking about Bingo, which was definitely a topic of interest. “I’m prettier than she is, though,” Lily shot back, “she’s not all that much of a looker. I don’t intend to be unkind or anything but just look at her…”
Felicia gave a sly smile. “Yes, but they already share notes for class.” Folco’s eyes widened. This was news to him. He would have to look into that to see whether they actually did share notes.
Just then, Magistra Littleman noticed both the girls and how distracted Folco and the others around them were. Even Ted Northfield, who was usually such a model pupil that he and the others in their group of friends called him “Lord Perfection,” was interloping on the girls rather than attending to his studies- hardly a surprise since Bingo was also his friend. After a diatribe against talking out of turn during which other students took the opportunity to fidget and whisper to their own friends, she lost her temper. “Enough is enough! Books away and get out a blank piece of parchment and keep your ink and quills out! We are going to have a quiz!” There was a collective moan and shuffling of parchment. Folco felt a sense of dread. He hoped it would not be on anything too recent, especially yesterday’s lesson. “First question- name the members of the Wishmay royal family who were captured and imprisoned by Spolingharrow, the village in which this happened, specify where they were and describe what happened.”
Folco wilted inside. He was going to be in deep trouble today. He could not wait for lunch so he could have fun with his friends. ~*~*~
When it struck lunch hour, Folco joined Bingo, Ted, Rufus and Lindo in a circle outside as usual. He felt positively ravenous and immediately opened his pail. Meanwhile Rufus was complaining about what his parents had given him to eat as usual. “I can’t believe they gave me venison again! I hatevenison!” he groused, voice cracking slightly on the last word. The other lads snickered and Rufus turned bright red.
“Cat got your tongue?” Folco teased.
Rufus scowled. “It’s going to happen to you too, you know,” he said.
“Which one, not liking anything my parents give me or not talking properly?” he responded innocently. It was nice to let off some steam in harmless fun after the past few hours, not to mention the boulder his parents had dropped upon them.
Rufus stomped his foot. “Leave me alone!” he said angrily. “Stop being a prat! Just because your parents give you everything you want doesn’t give you the right to pick on me!”
He felt as though he had been socked in the stomach. He was getting this even though he was the one whose parents, particularly his father, were never actually around to do anything with him? he could feel the heat rushing to his face. “What?!” he said angrily, stepping forward. “You…!”
“Calm down,” Bingo interrupted, moving between the two.
“Calm down?!” Folco repeated incredulously. “Did you hear what he just said to me?”
“Well,” Lindo chimed in, “after what you said something to him.”
“Say,” said Ted, “Bingo, did you hear about Lily Ferthing and Fern Gardner?”
“What about him?”
Anger subsiding slightly, Folco eagerly said “they both fancy you! They were talking about it in class, and Felicia…”
“You mean Felicia, Lily, and Acacia were discussing it,” Ted corrected. Folco made a face. He was not in the mood for Ted’s constant corrections. He got quite enough of those at home. Taking a deep breath, he muttered his assent and he and Ted continued to relate the tale of what the girls had been saying.
As Folco was starting on dessert, fig pudding, and distributing one of the chocolates out of the crate his father had purchased from the Spivaks of Jadafoquerp a month ago to each of his friends, the topic of conversation moved in a very uncomfortable direction.
“Say, Folco,” began Rufus, voice tight, “where did you go yesterday?”
“Home…” he answered with trepidation. He hoped his answering in one word would be enough of a hint.
“What for?” asked Lindo.
Folco snapped “is this an interrogation or something?” and slammed his lunch pail shut.
His friends looked startled. “No,” said Ted, “we were just wondering where you went, like if your parents took you out early to go somewhere fun.”
He gave a hollow laugh. That never happened. Many hobbit families took their kids from school on occasion to spend extra time with them, but the day his did that would be the day they walked on the sky. “Shows how much you know.”
Ted looked irritated. “Well, that’s what it usually is, isn’t it?”
“Speak for yourself,” Folco muttered, not appreciating it being rubbed in. Quite aside from having received very unquestionable orders not to explain what was going on with his family, he did not know how to even begin explaining. It was especially annoying because he had complained at length about his parents putting him and his siblings after politics, laws and other matters of state.
“Oi!” said Bingo. “What is your problem?”
“I don’t have a problem…”
“Could’ve fooled us,” commented Rufus.
“You seem really stirred up about something,” Lindo observed. “What happened?”
Folco winced. Lindo would be the one to read between the lines. He shook his head, silently pleading with him to leave it. Instead, Lindo asked “is it something to do with one of your parents? Or the Council? Or did Xenia and your parents have another fight?”
His stomach plummeted. He was not particularly thrilled about Lindo bringing up the tension between Xenia and their parents either. Though he appreciated that at least one of his friends realized he did not have everything he wanted from life, meanine that Lindo actually listened to his complaints rather than thinking about something else, having them voiced aloud for the benefit of those who didn't even care enough to get past his being a Councilhobbit's son bothered him for some inexplicable reason. “I don’t believe what happens in my family is any of your affairs,” he said before he could stop himself, before he could invent some sort of excuse that not give away what had actually happened.
Lindo stared at him. “Well then,” he said coolly, “I’ll leave you to your thoughts then.” He stood up and began to leave the group. “Anyone coming?”
The rest of his friends walked off, leaving Folco all by himself with his face aflame. ~*~*~
The rest of the day was just as bad as the morning and lunch hour. Fifteen minutes into arithmetic, Folco decided he’d overreacted to natural questions, not to mention several other small things, and ought to apologize during the break between grammar and anatomy. However, the usual afternoon break was taken away as punishment for the entire class after a combination of girls in the class proving incapable of refraining from whispered gossip for more than a few minutes at a time and the boys seated furthest back from the room turning one of the knots in the oak wood of the back wall into a target for spitballs. Most unfortunately, one of their spitballs had hit Wisteria Sandler in the face. Like a typical girl, she had shrieked “ewwww!” out loud right in the middle of the arithmetic lesson. When Magistra Littleman scolded her, Wisteria whined “but Tino and Poco are throwing spitballs at me!” She pointed at the floor around the wall as evidence. Magistra Littleman had then yelled at the entire class for their “deplorable and uncivilized behavior” and taken away the break. So much for making amends with his friends, he thought. The only highlight was that either Magistra Littleman had not realized his homework was missing or she had not checked. Perhaps he could sneak it in tomorrow if she did not bring all their work home.
When Odo and Folco got home, they were instructed to change out of their school outfits into formal attire- it would be needed when the family went to Hammershank Square, the largest city square in Hardscrabble. After finishing afternoon tea and pastries, Folco went to his room to obligingly doff what he had and don the nicest clothes he had. They were dreadfully uncomfortable, but his father really might have his head if he was dressed in anything less than his best outfit for an occasion such as this. Naturally, Nora was the first ready.
“The news will not be announced today,” said their father the moment Odo and Xenia joined the rest of their family. Odo was dressed almost as nice as he did at times he was trying to impress some girl or another. The latter had actually deigned to wear a dress, a rare occasion indeed.
Nora gasped, “what? But didn’t you say…?”
“Yes,” their father cut across her, “but the Council’s not ready to declare its disbandment.”
Xenia rolled her eyes. “You mean the Council hasn’t managed to figure things out. Again. ”
“When, then?” Folco asked.
“Before the week is out.”
Folco moaned inwardly. It was only Tuesday. He was supposed to keep the explanation of why he was suddenly taking a carriage instead of walking with his friends to himself for a week? What would he say when asked why he hadn’t gotten yesterday’s homework done? Or why he suddenly wasn’t allowed to stay after school for a while to spend time with his friends? What would he say if any of his friends mentioned the Council? Or if anyone brought up politics around him? And were his parents truly considering forcing him to have guards with him everywhere?
He wished it were Monday morning again. If this was what life as a prince would be like, then he did not want to be one. © 2014 SpeedyHobbit ArmstrongAuthor's Note
Featured Review
Reviews
|
Stats
890 Views
16 Reviews  Shelved in 1 Library
Added on November 9, 2013Last Updated on September 6, 2014 Tags: fantasy, fiction, royalty, prince, king, hobbits, friends, life, school, drama, family, boys, girls, love, romance, gossip, politics, democracy, monarchy, upheaval, confusion, emotion, shock, council Author
SpeedyHobbit ArmstrongLong Island, NYAboutMy name is Cher Armstrong, also known as Speedy Hobbit. I'm a USATF athlete in racewalking for the Raleigh Walkers club team. I just graduated from Queens College in Queens borough in New York Ci.. more..Writing
Related WritingPeople who liked this story also liked..
|
prev chapter
![[send message]](https://www.writerscafe.org/images/mail.png){kind=small}
![[befriend]](https://www.writerscafe.org/images/friend.png){kind=small}
first
Share This
Email
Facebook
Twitter
Read Request
My Library
Flag Writing
