[Memory of Trees]

Mayflower

Back in the cart, after the fox incident, May had gotten her luncheon. It bothered her how much speaking to her mother had seemed like forgiveness, because that wasn’t the case at all. May was still angry – furious, more like. She knew she had lost ground by doing that, but it was too late now, she supposed.

And then there was the whole scene with the coins. It was a little distressing that her father was being so nice, but May didn't let it get to her. She intended to finish what she had started.

As she sat there in the cart chewing her ham and bread, May was beginning to suspect her grandfather, oddly enough, approved of her sulky mood. That bothered her more than anything else that had happened thus far. There is nothing as annoying as being enraged at someone only to find that they enjoy seeing you angry. After all, didn’t her grandpa have a say in the family decisions? “He should have stopped them,” she thought sourly, her face twisting in disgust. She could almost feel his pleasure growing as she became more and more sullen. There was no way to win. The angrier she became, the more Grandpa Forgo seemed to like it, and the more he liked it, the angrier she became.

Oh well – if you can’t beat them, befriend them.

May scooted a bit closer to her grandfather. He looked extraordinarily grumpy. Extraordinarily for a normal hobbit, that is. Grandpa’s always been a bit moody, she realized. She had never noticed that much, really. Grandpa Forgo was just Grandpa Forgo. May looked up at the old man, then flashed a small grin. Not a happy smile. An I’m-on-your-side smile, and for one tiny second May thought she saw her grandpa smile back. Grimace. Whatever