[Nurumaiel]

Fosco Muddyfoot sat on the front step of the little hole with dismal eyes. Both his parents were gone, and the children had been given strict orders not to leave the house. Fosco's eyes followed each grasshopper that passed him by, and he fingered his little sling regretfully as he looked at the birds singing in the trees. Mummy didn't like him shooting at birds, anyway.

"Fosco, what are you doing here?" Prisca asked. "You're outside. You can't be there."

"I can be here," said Fosco fiercely. "See, I'm not outside. If I was outside every time the door was opened you would be outside too."

"Oh." Prisca thought about this a little while, then plopped down next to him. "Then I'm not outside, either." A new idea came to her head. "But, Fosco, what if a bad person were to come up and capture us while we were sitting here."

"They couldn't," said Fosco, sitting up straight and wise. "We're not outside." And, to their young minds, this sounded quite reasonable.

They sat for awhile in silence. Little Prisca was not in the least cautious, even though a pile of mud lay right by her brother's feet. Fosco thought of how Mummy told someone once that they were 'too trusting.' I don't know what that could mean, the little hobbit lad thought, so I can't be it.

"Ooooh!!" Prisca jumped up and pointed. "Look at the big grasshopper, Fosco!"

Fosco scrambled to his feet. "It's huge," he gasped, his eyes fairly popping from his head. "It must be the son of the dragon I fought back at that place and it's still little so it can't fly." He set down his sling and glared at the grasshopper, which was perched on the very top of a long blade of grass. "Prisca, you get back. I'll get that dragon!"

Prisca gave a little squeal and ran down the hallway. Fosco, completely forgetting what his parents had said, leaped over the threshold of the door and began to chase the grasshopper. Prisca watched him for awhile, but then grew bored and went to see if there were any good things to eat in the kitchen. At last she found some little cakes her mother had made the day before up in one of the high cupboards. Grabbing a little stool, she proceeded to climb after it.

Fosco, meanwhile, was having a grand time with the grasshopper. He chased it all about the garden, until it decided it had had enough and jumped over the fence. "Oh, you're mean!" he cried in exasperation. Then something clicked in his mind and he glanced over his shoulder. No one was watching him. Quickly and silently, he leaped over the fence and began chasing the insect down the road.

[ April 08, 2003: Message edited by: Nurumaiel ]