Play with Me (2978) [One-Shot]
Feb 24, 2018 1:08:22 GMT -5
Post by Léoma on Feb 24, 2018 1:08:22 GMT -5
At the age of eight, Léoma was tiny, and spent much time at the home of Master Odhelm, an elder who lived not far away from her parents home. Her parents had been blessed with twins, though when they were born they did not realized the difficulty they would have in raising them, especially the girl. Léoma had been crippled from birth, and now for her father to work for meager wages as a carpenter, and her mother to do the duty of a seamstress, Odhelm helped in watching the children. He was like a grandfather to them, and he took joy in their tutoring. The boy was strong, and eager to learn the work of his hands, in carving and other labor, but the girl was weak of body, though gifted of mind. He had begun a year ago to teach her in the way he had learned. She already knew her letters, and was beginning to read. Though her handwriting was shaky, she was excelling in that as well.
They were children nonetheless, and it was not their duty to work and learn all day. They had to play after all, and Odhelm had other duties to attend to as well, for he worked for the King to transcribe copies of manuscripts and maps. He would watch the children for the whole day while their parents were out, but for a good part of the day they were on their own to play and do as children do, while he worked in the back room of his house.
At this time, little Cenric was behind the house, digging a trench, and building a small fortress of twigs, while Léoma had managed to carefully walk outside the front of the house with her crutches, and let herself down on the ground to sit in the sun. She twisted grasses together and practiced a braid, though her fingers did not comply and she had to keep plucking new strands of grass when she broke them. She watched at men and women came up and down the street with horses and carts, baskets and burdens to take to and from the markets.
Léoma lifted her eyes from her hands to watch as two children came down the street. Eogan and Myrë. They lived nearby, and were brother and sister, close to the same age of Léoma and Cenric. Myrë was the older of the two, and three big brown dogs trailed behind them. They had a ball, made of tightly wound leather, that Eogan would throw ahead, and the dogs would chase it down and fetch it, bringing it back to him to throw again. The two stopped across the street as they talked together, and looked over at Léoma. She averted her eyes and went back to playing with her grasses.
“Does little Léoma want to play with us?” Eogan hollered over to the little girl sitting in the dirt. She smiled back at them, too shy to answer, though she would have been glad to play with the others. They never invited her to do so.
“Come, would you like to play?” Eogan’s sister Myrë questioned again when Léoma did not respond.
“I would…” Léoma said carefully with her words. She was prone to difficult speech, and did not wish the other children to hear her speak, but she did so wish to be included. “Would you play with me over here?” she asked. She looked to the side for her crutches. She could walk with them on her own, but she was not strong enough to stand herself up with them and needed her mother or father to help her.
“Why won’t you come play over here with us?” Eogan questioned from the street, his hand atop the black dogs head.
Léoma was embarrassed. The boy knew she could not walk. All the children knew.
“Come, you don’t need your crutches. We’ll sit all sit on the ground in the sun over here.” Myrë added, not giving her a chance to answer.
“Here, we will play catch,” Eogan said, knowing very well that Léoma could not catch a ball. It was funny though. All in all he had not meant to hurt her, only tease her. He reached down to the big brown dog and quickly pulled the ball out of it’s mouth before it had a chance to snap him, then he threw it at Léoma who had scooted herself halfway across the street on her way over to join the other children. She reached out, but missed it, and it landed in her lap. Not a second later she looked up to protest the slobbery ball that lay in the folds of her dress, and she saw the big dogs running full speed at her for their ball.
They three knocked into her in their fight for the ball, and pushed her down to the ground, but soon enough they lost interest in the slimy sphere and instead took to jumping and nipping at their moving game, Léoma. For an average child, it would have been normal play. Eogan could have wrestled the dogs and suffered no harm, but Léoma was not strong, and could not defend herself from their nips. She screamed loudly as they came down on her.
“Hey! Call off your dogs!” her brother ran around the corner suddenly. He was a scrawny boy of eight years old, but fully able, and he sprinted to pick up some rocks and started hurling them at the dogs which were on his sister. His aim was true, and the big dog yelped as the rock hit him in the neck, but it only angered him. Now his playful nips turned into a true fight, and he turned about to growl at Cenric, before it bit Léoma deeply in the arm. The other dogs followed suit, yet Cenric did not relent and hurled another large rock, hitting the dog in the head, before attacking them with the broomstick that stood near the door. The larger dog had quite enough by this time, and ran off with it’s tail between it’s legs. The smaller dogs followed.
In a rage, Cenric promptly ran at Eogan and hit him full force in the side of the face with his small knuckles, then beat him in the chest until he fell over. Eogan struggled, yet Cenric was on top and had the upper end as he hit him over and over again, until his own knuckles were red and raw from the assault. Eogan’s sister grabbed Cenric’s hair and pulled until Eogan had a chance to elbow the boy in the neck and shove him down. He kicked him once in the side and then promptly took off running after his dogs, Myrë trailing behind. Cenric quickly grabbed another rock from the street and threw it as hard as he could at Eogan, but the other boy was out of his reach. He stood up, cursing at them as they ran.
Meanwhile, Léoma’s screams had turned to sobs, and she sat up in the street, blood trickling down her face. “Stop crying!” Cenric yelled at her. “I told you before not to talk to them!” As soon as he saw the blood on his sister’s dress, he lost his anger towards her, and took off running to the house to find Master Odhelm. He ran right into the man’s chest as Odhelm had heard the screaming from the back and came out to see what was the matter.
He looked down to Cenric, who was covered in dirt with a swollen teary eye, then to the street where the sobs were coming from Léoma, who clutched her bloodied side with her dirty hand. Blood and dirt were mingling on the corners of her lips. Even her hair was full of dust.
“Gracious Bema…” Odhelm muttered, rushing to lift the girl out of the street away from the threat of horses hooves.
They were children nonetheless, and it was not their duty to work and learn all day. They had to play after all, and Odhelm had other duties to attend to as well, for he worked for the King to transcribe copies of manuscripts and maps. He would watch the children for the whole day while their parents were out, but for a good part of the day they were on their own to play and do as children do, while he worked in the back room of his house.
At this time, little Cenric was behind the house, digging a trench, and building a small fortress of twigs, while Léoma had managed to carefully walk outside the front of the house with her crutches, and let herself down on the ground to sit in the sun. She twisted grasses together and practiced a braid, though her fingers did not comply and she had to keep plucking new strands of grass when she broke them. She watched at men and women came up and down the street with horses and carts, baskets and burdens to take to and from the markets.
Léoma lifted her eyes from her hands to watch as two children came down the street. Eogan and Myrë. They lived nearby, and were brother and sister, close to the same age of Léoma and Cenric. Myrë was the older of the two, and three big brown dogs trailed behind them. They had a ball, made of tightly wound leather, that Eogan would throw ahead, and the dogs would chase it down and fetch it, bringing it back to him to throw again. The two stopped across the street as they talked together, and looked over at Léoma. She averted her eyes and went back to playing with her grasses.
“Does little Léoma want to play with us?” Eogan hollered over to the little girl sitting in the dirt. She smiled back at them, too shy to answer, though she would have been glad to play with the others. They never invited her to do so.
“Come, would you like to play?” Eogan’s sister Myrë questioned again when Léoma did not respond.
“I would…” Léoma said carefully with her words. She was prone to difficult speech, and did not wish the other children to hear her speak, but she did so wish to be included. “Would you play with me over here?” she asked. She looked to the side for her crutches. She could walk with them on her own, but she was not strong enough to stand herself up with them and needed her mother or father to help her.
“Why won’t you come play over here with us?” Eogan questioned from the street, his hand atop the black dogs head.
Léoma was embarrassed. The boy knew she could not walk. All the children knew.
“Come, you don’t need your crutches. We’ll sit all sit on the ground in the sun over here.” Myrë added, not giving her a chance to answer.
“Here, we will play catch,” Eogan said, knowing very well that Léoma could not catch a ball. It was funny though. All in all he had not meant to hurt her, only tease her. He reached down to the big brown dog and quickly pulled the ball out of it’s mouth before it had a chance to snap him, then he threw it at Léoma who had scooted herself halfway across the street on her way over to join the other children. She reached out, but missed it, and it landed in her lap. Not a second later she looked up to protest the slobbery ball that lay in the folds of her dress, and she saw the big dogs running full speed at her for their ball.
They three knocked into her in their fight for the ball, and pushed her down to the ground, but soon enough they lost interest in the slimy sphere and instead took to jumping and nipping at their moving game, Léoma. For an average child, it would have been normal play. Eogan could have wrestled the dogs and suffered no harm, but Léoma was not strong, and could not defend herself from their nips. She screamed loudly as they came down on her.
“Hey! Call off your dogs!” her brother ran around the corner suddenly. He was a scrawny boy of eight years old, but fully able, and he sprinted to pick up some rocks and started hurling them at the dogs which were on his sister. His aim was true, and the big dog yelped as the rock hit him in the neck, but it only angered him. Now his playful nips turned into a true fight, and he turned about to growl at Cenric, before it bit Léoma deeply in the arm. The other dogs followed suit, yet Cenric did not relent and hurled another large rock, hitting the dog in the head, before attacking them with the broomstick that stood near the door. The larger dog had quite enough by this time, and ran off with it’s tail between it’s legs. The smaller dogs followed.
In a rage, Cenric promptly ran at Eogan and hit him full force in the side of the face with his small knuckles, then beat him in the chest until he fell over. Eogan struggled, yet Cenric was on top and had the upper end as he hit him over and over again, until his own knuckles were red and raw from the assault. Eogan’s sister grabbed Cenric’s hair and pulled until Eogan had a chance to elbow the boy in the neck and shove him down. He kicked him once in the side and then promptly took off running after his dogs, Myrë trailing behind. Cenric quickly grabbed another rock from the street and threw it as hard as he could at Eogan, but the other boy was out of his reach. He stood up, cursing at them as they ran.
Meanwhile, Léoma’s screams had turned to sobs, and she sat up in the street, blood trickling down her face. “Stop crying!” Cenric yelled at her. “I told you before not to talk to them!” As soon as he saw the blood on his sister’s dress, he lost his anger towards her, and took off running to the house to find Master Odhelm. He ran right into the man’s chest as Odhelm had heard the screaming from the back and came out to see what was the matter.
He looked down to Cenric, who was covered in dirt with a swollen teary eye, then to the street where the sobs were coming from Léoma, who clutched her bloodied side with her dirty hand. Blood and dirt were mingling on the corners of her lips. Even her hair was full of dust.
“Gracious Bema…” Odhelm muttered, rushing to lift the girl out of the street away from the threat of horses hooves.