The Hundred Acre Wood
Disclaimer & Warnings: See chapter 1
Timeline: Thursday, September 5th, 1991, early evening
Chapter 72 – If wishes were Heffalumps
As soon as Firenze galloped off, Boy raced after him. He was sure he wouldn't be able to catch up with only two legs instead of four and panicked that he'd be lost again in a totally unfamiliar part of The Hundred Acre Wood and would stumble back into Aragog's hollow. However, Firenze hadn't really left. Unsure if the reluctant child would actually follow, he'd stopped just around the bend in the path and waited to see what he would do. When Boy tore around the corner, he was running so fast he practically ploughed into him.
"Whoa!" Firenze laughed, holding him by his shoulders, only to find them shaking under his hands. "I did not mean to frighten you Dân."
"I… I'm not scared. Not really. I just thought you'd… left, Sir," Boy choked out, trying not to sound needy. Ma'am always hated that.
"Did I not say - you are not safe alone in the forest?"
Boy nodded.
"Then why would you think I would leave? It would be irresponsible."
"Everyone leaves, Sir," Boy said solemnly. "Unless you want them to, and then they don't," he corrected quickly.
"It sounds as if you have experience with both," Firenze observed.
Boy nodded again and wiped his drippy nose with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. Firenze turned and started up the path again, only this time much slower and with him in tow.
"Dân, I have been thinking about what you said, about not being sorted into a house, and wondered - Do your parents teach there?"
He was well aware that Harry Potter's birth parents had been killed by the Dark Lord, but he was fishing for information, hoping to find someone other than Dumbledore to whom they could eventually return the child. It was a shot in the dark. However, he was sure someone must have adopted him. In addition, because of his family history, it was likely that someone was a wizarding family connected with Hogwarts.
"My parents are dead, Sir," Boy replied sadly, omitting the details of how they got that way. He didn't want the heffalump to think ill of him this soon. That realization would come soon enough.
Aha! Firenze thought, that explains his comment about people who leave.
"I am sorry that happened," he said with sympathy. "Who took care of you after they were gone?"
"The Family," Boy admitted unwillingly, but not without a huge sigh. He hoped the heffalump wasn't planning to send him back there.
"You do not sound as if you care much for this 'Family'," Firenze commented. He didn't know who these people were, but from the look on the child's face when he mentioned them, they couldn't have been loving guardians.
Boy could hear the frown in the heffalump's voice and hurried to correct his negative impression of Master and Ma'am, before the collar decided he was being disloyal and untruthful.
"Oh no, Sir! It wasn't that at all. I am eternally grateful for all their generosity. It's me The Family didn't care for."
"Why did they not?" Firenze asked, stumped for a reason why that could be true. And frankly, he wasn't buying the 'eternally grateful' line the child just spouted. It sounded too well rehearsed to be sincere.
"They took me in out of the kindness of the hearts, and I repaid them by being nothing but a burden."
"Oh really? Who told you that you were a burden?"
"The Family," Boy sighed. "Every day…"
"Is that why you are not there now? Did they ask you to leave?"
Boy nodded. Admittedly, it was only Cousin who told him to leave. Master and Ma'am just wanted him dead. But either way, the result was they all wanted him gone, so that was kind of the same thing.
Aha! Firenze thought, that explains the rest of his comment about people who stay longer than they should.
"To whom do you belong to now?" he continued.
Boy sighed again. Firenze wasn't going to give up this line of questioning until he dragged it all out of him, was he? Too bad he couldn't lie, because he really wanted to.
"Maybe the-the Potions Master?" he answered with a shudder. He'd almost put the severe looking Mr Brown out of his mind.
"You do not sound entirely certain," Firenze commented.
"Only the Head of all Masters knows for sure," Boy replied hesitantly, his heart sinking at the admission.
"Do you want me to ask him for you?" Firenze asked with a wry smile, already knowing the answer.
"Nooooo…, Sir," Boy replied very quietly, his head hanging down.
"If your face was any lower, your chin would be dragging on the ground," Firenze laughed. "Do not worry Dân. If it does become necessary to return you to the castle, I am certain that there you will be wanted."
Boy didn't see how that was at all possible. Nobody wanted him, and never would. But at least he had a temporary reprieve. It sounded as if the heffalump wasn't going to take him back right away. If he had a bit of luck, maybe he could find a way back to his camp before that happened, and he could avoid it altogether.
When the path to the colony turned sharply uphill, they both fell silent as they started up the steep rocky path. Boy noticed that the thickness of the trees, out of which they were climbing, had been obscuring the sun, bringing night prematurely to the forest below. Now, as they ascended in elevation, the sky grew steadily lighter. He was shocked to find it wasn't nearly as late as he thought, but now he could see it was only beginning into twilight.
The path ended at the edge of a large grassy glade on a plateau that jutted up to the rocky face of a cliff near the mountaintop. The glade was surrounded on three sides by thick groves of rowan trees, with the fourth pocked marked with cave entrances.
Behind them, where the path left a break in the trees, Boy could see The Hundred Acre Wood spread out below, dark and mysterious. At the heart of the forest was an odd area draped in swirling mist. Firenze had already entered the glade but retraced his steps when he found Boy hadn't followed. He found him at the end of the path staring at the magical sight.
"Magical view. Is it not?"
Boy nodded his agreement. He'd never seen The Hundred Acre Wood from this perspective before.
"That is the acromantula colony," Firenze said, pointing at the area that had captured Boy's attention. "And there, is where you came from," he added, indicating Hogwarts.
Boy looked farther. In the distance, he could just make out the outline of the castle's towers where the heffalump had pointed, the windows sparkling like gems in the last rays of the setting sun. Next to it, ripples occasionally broke the still surface of the black water of the lake. Above, the heavens infinitely wide and deep, glowed with the early light of countless stars starting to emerge.
"It is beautiful. However, there is another view I enjoy even more, and that is of my home. Come this way. I will show you," Firenze invited and trotted off.
Boy lingered as long as he could, taking in one more look at The Hundred Acre Wood. If he could memorize the location of things that stood out, he might be able to find his campsite.
He couldn't be sure, as he didn't have the glasses on and the trees were so thick it was difficult to discern any familiar landmarks, but using the spider's location as an anchor point, Boy thought his camp was about halfway between the heffalump's colony on the mountain plateau, and the castle on the cliff above the lake. That would make it almost directly southwest, according to where the sun was setting. He filed the information away, and then followed Firenze.
This is our colony," Firenze announced proudly, sweeping his arms wide to encompass the entire glade.
"Wow…" Boy breathed, trying to take it all in at once.
Heffalumps, of all colours, sizes, and ages were everywhere. Some were cooking on campfires dotting the edge of the glade. Others were chatting and laughing in small groups, where they were passing around leather flagons from which they were taking long drinks and calling out 'Sláinte! Thig còmhla rinn' – (Cheers! Join us!) – to anyone within earshot.
Another group was dancing wildly to a rousing melody that seemed to pulsate with a life of its own. Its notes, whirling and weaving together, filled the air with chaotic harmony. Boy could feel it flowing around and through him, until it penetrated his very bones. He didn't know what the instruments were called, but the music they produced was spellbinding. Even as tired as his feet were, the rhythm made them want to dance along with abandon.
The last lilting note ended with the dancers erupting in applause just as Firenze entered the glade. Firenze gave a mock bow as if claiming the accolades for his entrance, making the dancers laugh. One of the musicians, a heffalump who was half-black and half-white with black spots, put down his pipe flute and waved to his friend asking "Tha thu fadalach! Dè tha dol?" – (You're late! What's up?)
The dancers, also curious as to why Firenze hadn't returned with the rest of the hunting party, stopped their clapping and laughing. When they saw whom he was accompanying, they started whispering between them instead.
Firenze waved back to the group, calling out a promise in the same language, "Innsidh mi dhut nas fhaide air adhart." – (I'll tell you later.)
The murmuring spread from one group to another, racing around the glade, until all activity ceased. The sudden attention caused Boy to shrink back and hide behind Firenze. Not only, was it a repeat of the student's reaction in the Great Hall, it also made him wonder if the rest of the heffalumps would mind him intruding into their colony, just as Aragog's sons and daughters had objected to his presence in their hollow. In his experience the third time wasn't always a charm, sometimes it was worse.
The herd of heffalumps Boy met earlier, along with at least a dozen more, were gathered in the centre of the plateau, deep in a heated discussion, occasionally pointing to the heavens, and twitching their tails. They were the only ones that hadn't noticed their arrival in the glade. Boy correctly guessed that he was also the topic of their conversation.
Past them, he could see two small heffalumps who'd stopped the game they were playing and were now whispering to each other and stealing glances his way. One had red hair and tail, and a burnished golden-copper coat. The other had dark brown hair and coat with patches of cream on his chest and legs. Boy blushed self-consciously. At a call of a motherly voice, the small heffalumps giggled and disappeared into the depths of one of the caves.
"Come, Dân. You will be safe within the glade," Firenze assured him, signalling Boy to come forward and join him. "The rowan groves provide for us. The trees have a natural magic that is quite powerful and protect our dwellings from evil charms and enchantments. We also use their twigs for divining, and fashion our bows and arrows from their branches. Do you remember what I told you about the Bowtruckles?"
Boy nodded his head. They were the little creatures made of bark, which lived in trees, and could gouge out eyes with their sharp leaf shaped hands.
"They make their homes in the rowan trees. When we harvest wood from the trees, we first make them offerings of fairy eggs and woodlice, which are their favourite foods. Personally, I prefer the berries, they make a mighty fine wine," he added with a wink, meant to set Boy at ease.
Boy smiled back uneasily, taking in the trees that circled the glade. There were a lot of them, and he could see a few ripe berries still clinging to a few of the highest branches.
"I need to talk with the leaders of our colony. While I do, I need you to do something for me."
Boy's mind started whirling, trying to think of a recipe that would work to make the wine Firenze mentioned. He also wondered where he could possibly find a cache of woodlice to offer the Bowtruckles. He'd never made wine before, and it gave him pause to try. His old master would become quite angry if a bottle he opened wasn't up to his exacting standards, and the leader of the herd seemed to be as exacting. He'd do his best to please for Firenze, he just hoped his best wouldn't be a colossal fail.
Thankfully, Firenze relieved his mind on that matter immediately, almost as if he'd read it.
"What I need you to do is rest. You have had a long trek, and it is obvious you are exhausted."
Boy's stomach let out a very loud growl.
"And you need to eat," Firenze added with a smile at the well-timed reminder. "I will take you to my sister. She will make sure you do both.
Boy had no issue with that. He was more than willing to do anything to earn a few bites of food. Thanks to the jagular, he hadn't eaten anything since munching on the blackberries that morning.
"Follow me and I will introduce you." The palomino turned and trotted towards the caves, with Boy right behind. Firenze ducked low and entered the same cave into which Boy had seen the two small heffalumps disappear earlier.
"Fenella, thug mi aoigh a-steach airson biadh feasgar!" – (Fenella, I brought a guest for evening meal!) – he could hear Firenze telling someone inside.
"Thuirt mi riut an turas mu dheireadh, gun a bhith a 'toirt tuilleadh de na caraidean leis an deoch agad dhachaigh." – (I told you last time, not to bring any more of your drunken friends home.) – a female voice scolded Firenze.
Whoever it was, to whom Firenze was talking, she didn't sound happy. Unsure if she would want him to enter as well, Boy hung back, half in and half out of the opening – only the minimum required to comply with Firenze's order to follow him.
"Do not worry Dân. Fenella does not mean it," Firenze called back to Boy and signalled for him to come in further. Then he told Fenella, "Chan eil sin na dhòigh modhail airson deagh aoigh a thoirt dhuinn. Dha tha thu eagallach." – (That isn't a polite way to greet our guest. You're frightening him.)
Boy had no idea what it was Fenella didn't mean, as he didn't understand a word of what was being said. It was just like listening to The Family's conversation through the door of his cupboard. He could only pick out a word here or there and had to use their tone of voice to interpret how much trouble way coming his way. In this case, he thought it could be quite a lot. Fenella seemed very annoyed. Boy shyly scooted inside, keeping hidden behind Firenze as best as he could.
Fenella turned out to be a smaller, female, version of Firenze. She had the same white-blonde hair, and long silky tail. Only, instead her hair being pulled back off her face, and bound at the nape with a leather band, as was Firenze's, Fenella let her hair flow freely over her shoulders and down to her waist. A simple circlet of a thin twisted wood tucked behind her ears, was the only thing even attempting to tame her long glossy locks.
"Càite a bheil an caraid acrach seo?" – (Where is this hungry friend?) – she asked, hands on her hips, and front hoof drumming.
"Right here," Firenze replied, pulling Boy out from behind him to show him to his sister. "We should use English, so Dân may understand."
"Oh my!" Fenella breathed, her mouth forming a shocked 'O' as she stepped backwards, startled at the sight of a small human inside her home. "That is not what I was expecting at all. Did it follow you home? Does it bite?"
Firenze laughed. "Not exactly Fenella. And let me assure you that he is very well behaved. Dân please stay here for a moment. I need to talk with my sister in private."
There were several low doorways at the back of the cave, which led to other chambers. After Firenze and his sister disappeared into one of them, Boy sunk to the ground, next to the wall near the entrance of the cave. Wrapping his arms around his knees, he looked around with curiosity. He wasn't sure what he was expecting the inside of the cave to look like, perhaps dark, cramped, and a little musty – much like his cupboard. However, it was unexpectedly homey. Much more so than the cupboard under the stairs had ever been.
The cave home was taller and roomy inside than the opening had led him to believe it would be. The room, in which he found himself waiting, contained only a few pieces of furniture. A wide, long table stood in the centre of the room. It looked as if it served as a gathering place for the heffalumps who lived there. There were also two large wooden cabinets against one of the walls, with a low table placed between them. The floor was carpeted with layers of clover and sweet grasses, and the rock walls dotted with torches, giving the interior the warm glow of a summer meadow. Wisps of smoke from the torches were drawn up through vents in the dome shaped ceiling, keeping the air fresh.
On pegs forced into fissures along the walls, hung intricately carved bows, and leather quivers filled with arrows of highly polished wood, along with a few things with which Boy was more familiar – cookery pots. What he wouldn't give for one of those to take back to his camp!
Boy could hear Firenze and Fenella still talking in the other room, in the same lilting language in which they'd greeted each other. He could also hear other voices coming from the chamber nearest to where he sat. Those voices were younger, interspersed with giggles and whispering. Boy was sure they were talking about him too. Blushing for being caught gawking, he buried his face in his arms to wait as ordered, until Firenze came back.
"The entire colony knew something was wrong, when the hunting party returned, just not the reason for it. They called an emergency meeting the minute they entered the glade and have been arguing ever since. Tell me, brother mine – are you and your new pet, the cause?" Fenella accused him.
"Yes, in a way. They thought Dân had done something that he had not. They were about to retaliate, when I stopped them from hurting him," Firenze sighed. "I wish they had more of an open mind when it came to humans. They are not all evil."
"They are not all good either," Fenella shot back. "Is it wise to endanger our family by bringing it into our home until you know for sure which he is?"
"I will thank you not to call Dân 'it'. I have a feeling he has been called that far too often in his life already. And yes, I do believe he is worth the risk. He is no older than Toren and Dallin. If they were lost in an unfamiliar world, would you not want someone to help them?"
"Of course, I would," Fenella agreed, softening. "But what of the Ceannards? They will have a say in this. You should not have brought… Dân… here without their permission!"
"Do not fret Fenella. Magorian himself ordered him to come. Speaking of which, I need to talk with the council as soon as possible. Dân told me something disturbing about a threat to the forest. They should know as soon as possible. While I am gone, would you please watch out over him for me? I promised him rest and food."
"He was quite thin. He will need fattening up before winter," Fenella said, her motherly instinct coming out.
Firenze laughed and gave her a hug. He knew he could count on his sister to do the right thing.
Firenze quickly filled her in on what little he knew of the human child's history. Since there wasn't much to tell, it wasn't long before they returned to the outer chamber. Boy glanced up, with a defeated look on his face, positive he'd already outstayed his welcome. It had sounded as if they had been fighting, and in his experience, he was normally the cause of any discord of that kind.
Although she agreed to help, Fenella still had reservations about her brother's latest cause. However, when she saw the little boy huddled into himself in the corner, her heart finished melting. Thin, didn't even start to cover it, why he was practically skin and bones! He'd never make it through the winter that way. She had her work cut out for her. That was for certain.
"Now that I see you in better light, I believe Firenze is right – you could eat us out of house and home!" she teased.
"Sorry, Ma'am. I really don't need anything to eat. I'm fine…" Boy tried to assure her, and himself, at the same time that he wouldn't be a burden if allowed to stay.
"Neòinean!" – (Nonsense!), she said taken aback by his reply, when he was obviously starving. She didn't need Firenze raising his eyebrows at her to say, 'I told you so', to realize she would need to be more careful in her wording.
"That was not what I meant at all. I just mean you look to have a healthy appetite and will be able to eat a whole grouse all by yourself. And if my dear brother had better aim with his arrows than normal, you will have just that," she promised, throwing her brother a meaningful look and holding out her hands. He dutifully handed over the game he'd brought back from the hunt.
"These are fine birds indeed," she praised. "Would you help me roast them… Dân, was it?" Fenella's warm smile putting Boy at ease.
Boy jumped up eager to be of service. Since neither Firenze nor Fenella had told him what to call her, he settled on just nodding his head gratefully to acknowledge her question. He'd been worrying all the chores would be something he didn't know how to do, such as wine making. Therefore, he was relieved to be given something with which he was familiar, to earn his keep. Looking around for the stove, he started to worry again. There wasn't one.
Fenella took a few cookery implements down off the wall and indicated for Boy to pick up a box that sat on the table between the two cabinets, before leading him outside to where a small campfire was set up with a spit. Then she demonstrated how to clean the grouse.
Boy paled as he watched her efficiently field dress the first one. All the fowls he'd cooked for The Family had always come plucked and wrapped in butcher paper. It never occurred to him that they were once feathered birds such as Hedwig and Mercury. It made him a bit squeamish to think about cleaning the rest. However, he'd promised to help, so he bravely reached out to pick up the next one. Noticing his hesitation, Fenella stopped him.
"I will finish these, if you will season them and put them on the fire," she proposed to Boy's relief. "The herbs are in the box you carried out."
He could definitely do that! In the box, he found salt, dried thyme, sage, peppery nasturtium leaves, and crushed juniper berries, but none of the butter with which Cousin preferred all his food slathered. Besides pleasing Cousin, the butter also kept the meat from becoming dry and helped the herbs to stick. Not wanting to appear as if he couldn't do this part of the chore either, since he's already failed the field dressing test, Boy hit on the idea of using the handful of blackberries he'd saved in his sweatshirt pocket for later. They were the only thing Fang hadn't eaten. Fishing them out, they were a bit squashy but still juicy.
After spitting on his hands, he wiped off as much dirt from them, and onto his pant legs, as he could. He would have preferred to wash them properly, but the heffalumps hadn't offered him any water, and he was prohibited by the collar from taking it for himself.
Fenella raised her eyebrows at the human child's idea of cleanliness when there was a cistern of water right outside the entrance to the cave. She would have corrected him, but her brother had said he was quite sensitive and had odd ways and to ignore them if she could. She shrugged. A little spit wouldn't hurt any of them, and she would make sure the birds were thoroughly roasted enough to kill any bacteria his unorthodox cookery methods might add to them.
Hands as clean as they could be under the circumstances, Boy picked the lint off the berries and divided them into enough piles for all the grouse, before setting about rubbing down the birds with a combination of blackberry paste with the herb and spice mixture. As he finished each one, Fenella took them from him and expertly tied them up with twine then securing them to the spit. Once the spit was full, Boy helped her lift it onto the forked braces on either side of the fire.
"You are a good helper," she said, eliciting the first small smile she'd seen on his face since she'd met him.
He wanted to ask what to do next, but he wasn't sure if would be allowed. If she was like Ma'am, it was definitely forbidden. However, if she were more like the most wonderful Miss Tonks, she might actually encourage it. Not willing to take the chance, he guessed and took the initiative to start turning the spit slowly, so the birds wouldn't burn.
"Make that an excellent helper," she praised, making Boy positively glow with pride that he'd guessed right. Her comparison to Ma'am was growing fainter, and the one to the most wonderful Miss Tonks stronger.
"If you will watch the fire, I will finish my tasks."
After Fenella returned to the cave, Boy became acutely aware of the stares from the heffalumps around the glade. In addition, he could hear the younger heffalumps in the cave, still whispering about him. While the food cooked, Boy tried his best to focus all his attention on turning the spit and ignore everything going on around him. Nevertheless, he kept stealing glances towards Firenze in the centre of the glade.
The herd gathered there, would first argue, and then stop to stare unblinkingly at the darkening heavens for an extended period of time. Then they'd start arguing again. From the way glances kept being thrown his way, he knew they were discussing his fate. He wished he were closer, so he'd have an idea of which side was winning, but as Kanga would say to keep from worrying about something over which she had no control: 'Q-Sarah-Sarah'.
Boy said it to himself. Several times. It didn't stop him from worrying. It was the first time he knew Kanga to be wrong.
By the time Fenella came back out of the cave, the fire had burned low and the birds had gained a succulent golden crust. Boy's mouth was watering trying to imagine what they were going to taste like.
"The sun has sunk below the horizon. Now that it is within gloaming, the Council will soon adjourn for evening meal," she announced, sliding the roasted birds off the spit and onto a large wooden platter. Then she pulled a covered kettle out of the coals. "Let us take this inside. While we wait for Firenze to join us, I will introduce you to my two imps."
Boy had to admit he was curious about the other voices he'd kept hearing in the cave. Since Fenella took the platter and kettle with her, he helped by picking up the box of herbs and following her inside. After putting the box back on the low table, he retreated into the corner where Firenze originally told him to wait and knelt with his back against the wall.
This was partly to keep out of the way of two small rambunctious heffalumps, who were tossing a leather ball back and forth to each other over the table in the centre of the room. And partly because he assumed it was where they would want him to stay while they had their meal. After all, Fenella may have asked him to come inside to help carry the food, but he didn't believe she could've possibly meant for him actually to eat with them.
He'd count himself fortunate indeed, if after they'd had their fill, there were a few bites left over which they might allow him to eat. Fenella had said it might even be as much as a whole grouse! He doubted his stomach would hold that much but he could save some for later, if he were indeed fortunate to receive some. He just needed to behave himself in the meantime, and not make any more mistakes. While he'd told her that he didn't need to eat anything, smelling the birds while they'd been roasting had made him really hungry, and now he had no berries in his pocket as a backup.
"Boys! What did I tell you?" Fenella scolded the two small heffalumps.
"No a-staigh," – (Not inside) – they answered her in singsong unison, with identical smirks on their faces.
"And what else did I say?"
"Speak in the English," they giggled, suddenly and uncharacteristically shy.
"Dân, this is Toren and Dallin. They have never met a human before, so this is a new experience for them as well. Say hello now," she told them, nudging them forward.
"Halò," they chorused, waving gaily. When Boy didn't look up and acknowledge them in return, the one with brown hair and cream patches complained crossly, "Hey you! Màthair – (Mother) – told us all to say halò!"
Boy hesitated, until the collar sided with the heffalump. He truly hadn't realized Fenella was including him in that order! Correcting his mistake quickly, he glanced up and gave them a small tentative wave hello before resuming his eye lock with the ground. He hoped the mistake was small enough that they wouldn't deny him food later. However, in his experience, small mistakes and slip-ups were never forgiven or forgotten. They just accumulated until they became one big undeniable punishable offence.
"Toren - manners! His name is Dân, not 'hey you'. If you called me 'hey you' I would not answer you either. Now set the table. You too, Dallin," she ordered with a swat to their rumps to get them moving. As the two gathered wooden trenchers and stout tankards from one of the cupboards, and set them on the long table, Fenella kept glancing worriedly at her guest.
Firenze had asked her to see to it that child rested. However, with Dân being about the same age of her sons, and her sons being good-natured and outgoing, she thought after introducing them, the human child would relax and join in with whatever Toren and Dallin were doing. When he didn't, she thought he must be as tired as Firenze had thought and would close his eyes and nap. However, if anything this small human was becoming more intense and on edge, staying as far away from them as he could get, yet still remain inside. He seemed terrified of them.
And Boy was terrified – but of making another mistake. He didn't know what was expected of him in this world and he was afraid to ask, as he hadn't been told it was allowed. He thought he'd done a fairly decent job with roasting the birds, but then Fenella didn't say anything when she took them from him, and now she didn't trust him with doing anything else for her.
Should he help with fetching the plates? Should he find water to fill the mugs? The only problem with those chores, was Fenella quite clearly only told Dallin and Toren to do them, not him. It seemed so very wrong. At Number 4 Privet Drive, Cousin never set the table! Then it occurred to him, that since he'd failed at both cleaning and cooking the grouse, Fenella probably believed he'd fail at anything else she asked of him too. How was he to earn his dinner if she didn't at least allow him to try?
When she kept looking his way frowning, and saying nothing, he decided he was right – he'd disappointed her, and now she didn't even trust him to stay in the corner. All he could think to do was to prove her wrong. He'd stay alert and be ready to serve if he saw an opportunity, the same as he would when The Family had a meal. Therefore, he remained where he was, memorizing from where the two young heffalumps took everything. Later, if he were permitted to clean up, he could then put everything back in their proper places. Perhaps that would allow him back in her good graces and he'd earn a scrap or two. It had made him feel good when she smiled at him earlier. He hoped she might do it again.
While Boy was alarming Fenella by doing his silent statue impression in the corner, Toren and Dallin went back to being their naturally lively selves. They made a game out of setting the table by tossing the dishes to each other, sometimes with their eyes closed, or over their shoulder, to see if the other could catch it before it crashed to the ground. Dallin was about to catch the winning toss when it was intercepted by Firenze returning.
"Uncail! Uncail!" Toren and Dallin called out excitedly, then immediately started pelting him with questions about the hunt and the council and the strange human he'd brought home.
"Whoa! It would behove you not to trample your favourite uncle to death!" he laughed, all his frustration over the council's stubbornness disappearing under the onslaught of their enthusiastic greeting. He placated their groans by caving into their demands – but with conditions.
"If you behave young ones, your curiosity will be satisfied in good time. First, however, it is time to give thanks for the evening meal." They groaned some more at the delay but quieted down with one 'shush' from their mother as they gathered around the table.
"Where is Dân?" Firenze asked with a frown, counting heads and missing one. The council would be displeased if he lost the child already, after taking responsibility for him. Fenella nodded over his shoulder towards the corner with a meaningful look.
"Could I be a bigger three hoofer?" he asked her in a low whisper, after whacking himself in the forehead for not noticing Dân hiding in the corner when he first came in.
"Not really," Fenella readily agreed, and then being as curious as her sons, prodded him for news of what happened during the council. "What did the Ceannards decide?" she leaned over and whispered back to her brother.
"The moon is almost new, when young voices are louder and carry more weight," he replied. "Nonetheless, I am having a hard time being heard over the naysaying. We are continuing after evening meal."
"Are none of the planets on our side?"
Firenze smiled at his sister, gratified by her use of the term 'our side'.
"Mercury will be at its brightest on the morrow's first light. But by then, what will be decided, will have been done. Right now, something smells good enough to eat, and I am hungry."
Dropping the hushed tones, he called loudly over his shoulder to Boy and patted the table beside him. "Dân! Please come over here."
Boy startled. What did he do wrong this time? He hadn't been able to hear what they were saying, but now it was obvious they were whispering about him. Fenella must have been filling Firenze in on how he'd failed at all the tasks she'd given him. He swallowed hard while the collar would still let him and rose slowly to his feet. He wasn't looking forward to being whipped in front of so many people, even if he did deserve it. He could almost hear them laughing at him now.
"Dân, we are waiting for you," Firenze reminded him gently.
"Yes, Sir! Right away, Sir!" Boy stammered, as he scrambled over and knelt beside Firenze, to be within easy reach for receiving his punishment. His words innocently sent Toren and Dallin into gales of laughter he was dreading.
Being self-conscious, Boy reddened. He thought they were snickering at him, just as Cousin would do right before Master pulled off his belt. But it was the farthest thing from the truth. They were just mirthful at overhearing their uncle being called 'Sir'. To them, Firenze was anything but, having only just joining his first hunt today. Yesterday, he was still considered to be a centaurling as they were. Nevertheless, they got over the hilarity quick enough to begin vying for the honour of having the human stand between them at the table.
"No! Come over here Dân! We saved you a place!" they called out holding up an extra trencher and indicating he should come to their side of the table.
Boy couldn't believe his ears. Did they really want him at the table, with them, while they were eating? Ma'am always said that it made her nauseous to smell him that close while they dined. It just didn't make sense the heffalumps would be any different. He turned his head away so they wouldn't notice what he was doing and sniffed himself lightly. He was smelling a little ripe, but then he'd also smelled worse. All the same, he now wished he'd done more than give his face and hands a cursory dip in the pool – and that was yesterday, this morning he hadn't even done that much.
He glanced at Firenze questioningly, and at a nod from him, he did as the two heffalumps wanted. As soon as Boy obeyed their directions, Fenella called for them all to join hands. Boy hesitated again. Besides his hands being filthy, he wasn't allowed to touch his betters. Didn't she know? Either way he'd be breaking a rule - either by doing, or by not doing. He couldn't win.
The matter was settled by Toren and Dallin, who didn't seem to know the rules any more than their mother did. They grabbed his hands, one from each side, as if it were the most normal thing in the world and held on tight. Boy was amazed at first that the collar wasn't correcting him. Then decided it must be that the rules only pertain to what he did to others, not what others did to him. He'd just never had the opportunity to notice it before, because The Family never touched him unless it was to hit him. However, if he thought about it that was probably so he wouldn't contaminate them with his freakishness. Obviously, heffalumps didn't care about that, any more than they cared about the dirt and the smell. Ma'am would have had a fit over both.
Once the circle was complete and they all quieted down, Firenze gave the three boys a wink and blessed the meal.
Thanks be to the heavens above
for filling our stomachs with food
and our hearts with love.
"Still so cheeky little brother. Are you ever going to grow up and become serious?" Fenella sighed, shaking her head at Firenze, and making her sons giggle again at their uncle getting into trouble.
"I sincerely hope not," he grinned. "What fun would that be?"
"And that is why the Council, does not respect your opinion," she shot back.
"They respect it. They just do not agree," he sighed, as he started loading his trencher with roasted grouse. Picking up a leg, he stripped the meat off the bone with his teeth. "Very tender, Fenella. You outdid yourself," he complimented her.
"The credit belongs to Dân. He used blackberries to prepare them," she replied nodding to Boy, and making him blush from the unexpected praise.
"Well whatever he did, they are excellent," he said, adding his own approval. "So is the rest of meal. It looks as if you made all of Broden's favourites," he commented to change the subject. "Speaking of which, just where is your mate? Were you expecting him home? I did not see him at the council."
"Athair – (Father) – is still with the colony hunting party. They went down the other side of the mountain and have not returned," Toren piped up informatively.
"I hope they bring back lots of turkeys, those are my favourites," Dallin added.
"More likely to be pheasants, plus a few partridges or woodpigeons, and of course more grouse. Wild turkeys are not plentiful here," Fenella replied, breaking off a chunk of the large round crusty loaf of bread before passing it on to Firenze.
"Ducks then. They are my second favourite," Dallin said stubbornly.
Firenze noticed a question in Boy's eyes. "What birds do you like?" he asked.
Boy only managed to get one word out, to ask about something he'd been worrying about ever since watching Fenella field dress the grouse – "Owls?"
"We are skilled hunters, yet owls rarely fly close enough for our arrows to find a home. However, I will try to get you one on the next hunt," Firenze laughed, not realizing that the friend called 'Hedwig', which Boy had mentioned during their walk to the colony, was an owl, and that he was worried about her safety, not that he wanted to eat her.
"Owls are tasty," Fenella agreed. "But they are as wise as legend tells. They rarely come near during the hunt."
Boy made a mental note to make sure to tell Hedwig to stay away if she ever tried to visit. He didn't want a repeat of the shotgun incident.
"Six days, huh? I should have gone with them," Firenze pondered, as he loaded up Boy's trencher next, as he didn't seem to be doing it for himself.
Boy stared at all the food on the plate placed before him. Firenze had put not one, but two, entire grouse on it! Then set it down with an order for him to 'tuck in.' He glanced up under his eyelashes at Fenella. He was shocked to see that she didn't seem to mind that Firenze had given him food. In fact, she reached over and filled his mug with cider right along with those of her sons. Cautiously he pulled off a bit of meat and put it in his mouth. It was the most delicious thing he'd ever eaten. It was even better than the hamburger!
"See! I was right!" Dallin whispered to Toren over Boy's head, "He does use his hands to eat! Just like us!"
Boy just kept eating. Hoping they wouldn't notice how much they had given him. He was sure it was a mistake.
"You know Broden. He will not let the hunt return until they have enough game and fish for the entire colony to last the winter. Besides, if you had, you would not have met Dân," Fenella reminded Firenze, nodding at Boy. "The Council was right to make you wait. Mars was particularly bright when you made your request to join the colony hunt. They knew it was an omen you should wait and go with the elders for your first hunt. The Ceannards saw heaven's message for you. It was undeniable."
"That being so, they should listen to me now regarding its outcome, and they are not," he said, stabbing his grouse angrily.
"Then remind them," Fenella said gently, staying his hand, as she could see his anger was frightening the human child even more than he already was. Breaking off another generous piece of bread, she reached over and added it to Boy's plate, with another order to 'eat'.
A moment later, when he thought no one was looking, the bread found its way into Boy's pocket. Sly as he was, Fenella still noticed, and added a second piece. Soon, it was securely hidden next to the first. Fenella was pleased how empty his plate was becoming and added a third.
"You always know what to say, sister dear," Firenze said in an apologetic tone, belatedly realizing what she was trying to tell him. He needed have worried about Boy though. His nephews came to the rescue once again, without even trying.
"No, do it like this," Toren instructed Boy, taking half of a baked apple, peel and all, and stuffing it into his mouth in front of his teeth. Then he stretched his lips over it until he had a bizarrely shaped smile filled with green apple that matched the one in his brother's mouth.
Dallin, elbowed Boy, and then started rolling his eyes. Boy followed suit and soon all three were sporting apple lips and getting dizzy. Not to be outdone, Firenze flashed a green smile of his own, making the trio erupt in giggles.
Boy was shocked when the sound came out of him. He rarely giggled, and when he did, it was normally just in his head. He was surprised to hear it out loud.
"That confirms it. I am living in a home full of centaurlings," Fenella said, hands on her hips, pretending to be annoyed.
Trying to keep in his own laughter, Firenze snorted wine out his nose.
"And you are as bad as your nephews," Fenella scolded her brother. "Wait until Broden gets home."
"Ha-ha-ha," he laughed. "Then it will be five against one."
"Five?" Toren and Dallin asked in unison, with raised eyebrows at each other, immediately zeroing in on the significance of the number. "Does that mean we get to keep him? Huh? Huh? Can we? Can we?" they clamoured. They'd be the envy of all the other centaurlings if they had their very own human. No one else in the colony had ever had one before!
Boy bit his lip, to keep himself from pleading along with them. It wasn't his place to ask for favours. Still… his heart began racing at the thought that someone might actually want him. Why, if he were allowed to remain in the colony, he'd never have to worry about Dumbledore again!
"Only the planets know. Which reminds me - the Ceannards will be reconvening, and I need to remind them of something."
"Do not let your temper get the best of you. It never helps," Fenella warned. "Listen to what the heavens have to say and let them guide your words."
"I will Fenella. I can be quite eloquent when the need arises."
"I know, but you are also quick to anger when you feel something is unjust. I cannot help worrying about you baby brother. You are making promises with no certainty you can fulfil them. He may be just a human, but it is cruel. And cruel is one thing I know you are not."
"Then I will have to make sure it is a certainty. If you would watch over of Dân until I get back…"
"Of course, you do not even need to ask," she replied as he started to leave.
"Uncail! Uncail! Wait! Can we show Dân around the colony?" the two young heffalumps pleaded before he could make it outside.
"Dân has had a long day. He should rest," Firenze started to reply, only to see his nephews' faces fall. "However, if he is up to it. You may…"
"Hurray!" they began cheering excitedly.
"… with one condition."
"Yes, Uncail," Toren agreed less enthusiastically.
"Stay in the glade. Until the Ceannards make their decision, Dân is not allowed to wander about. Oh, and do not plague him with questions."
"Yes, Uncail," Dallin replied almost dismally. He was ruining all their plans.
"I'll be back soon," he told them and started to leave again, only to come back one last time to add, "And you two, 'bidh modhail!' – (behave!) – Do not get him into any trouble. I am trusting you. Do you hear me?" Firenze tried to look stern, but his fondness for the pair was evident.
"Yes, Uncail," they chorused sweetly while holding crossed fingers behind their backs. After he left, they went back inside the cave and held a quick whispered conference with a lot of pointing, mostly at Boy who was determinedly cleaning up the table.
Boy fidgeted nervously under their gaze. He tried to ignore them while he tried to complete the self-appointed task, but it was difficult as they were obviously up to something. He wondered what they were plotting.
"Our uncail said we could show you around. But there is not much to see if we cannot take you very far until the Ceannards decide what to do with you. The Ceannards are the leaders of the colony," Dallin explained. Boy was grateful to know what the word meant. He'd heard it several times, and felt it was important, but wasn't sure to whom they were referring when they said it.
"Yeah, the groves and caves are where all the really fun stuff is," Toren griped.
"And you will stay out of them as you promised," their mother reminded him, taking the stack of trenchers from Boy. "Thank you for your help," she told him. "I will finish this. You may go with Toren and Dallin, if you wish, or you may rest."
"Please come with us! Please! We will have fun! You do not want to sleep this early! The fireflies are out!" they begged him.
Boy had been trained to please, regardless of what he himself wanted or needed. So, despite his overwhelming exhaustion, he nodded his agreement and followed them outside.
Once they were out of earshot of their mother, Toren, the older of the two started to pry, ignoring the elbow to his ribs his brother Dallin delivered despite his own curiosity on the matter.
"Did you really try to catch a unicorn as they said?"
"Toren! Shut up! We promised we would not ask him questions!" Dallin whispered loudly to Toren.
"You did. I did not," Toren replied smugly to his brother, and then turned back to Boy. "So, what gives? Did you?"
Boy shook his head vehemently 'no'. He didn't mind telling them. He truly wanted that misunderstanding cleared up. He hadn't hurt anything, especially not that beautiful creature.
"Betcha if I had tried, I would have caught it," Toren bragged.
"You would not have tried! Not a unicorn!" Dallin gasped.
"No…" Toren admitted dragging a hoof in the dirt, "butif I had tried, I would have caught it. That was all I was saying."
"Well, do not say it anywhere the Ceannards can hear you!"
"'Póg mo thóin'! – (Kiss my ass!)," he laughed back at his younger brother, then kicked up his hind legs and swished his tail at him. After he quit laughing, he turned to Boy, "Hey Dân! Do you know how to play kentaurpêl? It is the best game in the world!"
Boy shook his head no. He didn't know what that was and didn't think his few attempts to blend in with the children in the little Wood could really count as 'playing' at anything.
"That is okay, it is real easy. We will teach you," Toren offered with an impish grin.
"I will go get the pêl!" Dallin offered and trotted back into the cave.
"Bring Lorcán back with you! We need another player!" Toren called after him and got a wave back from Dallin. "Ha-ha! Lorcán never has his head in the game, and since you only have two legs instead of four…" Toren looked at Boy with great pity, "… it will make it the sides kind of even. You can be on my team," he offered generously.
Dallin returned a few minutes later with a tawny coloured centaurling.
"Dân, this is our friend Lorcán. He has never met a human before either."
"Wow! They really do have just two legs!" Lorcán gawked amazed. "How do you keep your balance? Why do you not have a tail? Why do you have those cloth things on your hooves? Do they not make it hard to run?"
Boy wasn't sure how to answer all of that, so he was glad when Dallin repeated Firenze's 'no questioning the human' order to Lorcán. Lorcán looked crestfallen at the missed opportunity but perked up when Toren started telling Boy how to play his favourite game.
"Okay, the rules are pretty simple. First of all, that is the 'pêl'," Toren said, pointing at the ball made out of animal skin that Dallin was kicking between his two front hooves. It looked like the same one they had been throwing back and forth to each other over the table inside.
"You see that arch over there?" he asked, pointing toward the edge of the grove where a rowan bough had been pulled down and secured to the ground by a rolling a boulder over it. "That is our 'nod'. Theirs is over there," he said, pointing to a similar bough on the opposite side of the grassy glade. The game ends when the pêl goes through a nod, or everyone gets too exhausted to play anymore, but that never happens. Now the fun part is that it does not matter how it gets through, just that it does. Simple! Got that?"
Boy squinted and peered toward where he'd pointed. He could barely make them out in the dark, and the terms he used were unfamiliar, but it sounded a lot like the game he'd watched the children play in the little Wood with the black and white ball.
"Aon – dhà – trì - rachamaid!" – (One – two – three – let's go!) Toren yelled out and charged at Lorcán and Dallin. Boy wasn't sure what he shouted, but it was obvious that signalled the game had begun. He took off running after Toren.
The three centaurlings were a boisterous bunch and Boy found out quickly that when Toren said it didn't matter how the pêl went through the nod, he wasn't exaggerating. Unlike the children's game where they kicked the black and white ball from one end of the field to the other, by passing it back and forth to each other – the centaurlings kicked, pushed, wrestled, tackled, bit, and trampled - and that was just each other! The pêl they threw, kicked, rolled, hid, sat on, and smuggled to the spectators who'd gathered to watch the rowdy game.
Boy spent most of his time trying to dodge their pounding hooves, being at the disadvantage of not being able to kick and push the others in return, because of the slave rules he had to obey, and having to do it all with just two legs. However, he was fast and nimble, and had moves that the others hadn't ever seen before.
The pêl never remained in one place long, with the spectators passing it from one to another so the players never knew where it was in the grassy glade. However, they were fair game too. Boy was shocked when Dallin and Lorcán head-butted a honey coloured centaurelle carrying a cooking pot. He was sure they were going to be yelled at when they spilled the contents, but instead – the pêl rolled out!
The game came close to a conclusion several times, but each time the other side managed to get control of the pêl. Once Lorcán hid in Toren and Boy's nod, and when Toren tried to kick it through to the other side to win, Lorcán grabbed it and galloped away laughing. Another time, the three centaurlings ploughed right through the group of Ceannards in the centre of the glade. As Boy ran after them, he could hear the older heffalumps still talking about him and his cheeks grew red with shame from their whispers of 'that is the human that harmed a unicorn' and 'can the human be trusted?' as he passed by.
Boy knew he wasn't guilty and had to trust in Firenze to defend him to the others. He tried to put it out of his mind and concentrate on the game. However, as the game wore on, Boy's feet slowed down from a lack of rest and an excess of worry. While he was bordering on being too exhausted to continue, the three centaurlings showed no sign of slowing. Boy had stopped to rest bent over, with his hands on his knees, panting, when Toren shouted to him.
"Dân! The pêl! The pêl! Get the pêl!"
Boy looked up and saw the ball rolling past him on the ground. With pure instinct, he turned and started running after it. When he got close, he took a flying leap, grabbing up the pêl as he tucked and rolled over it. It was just like being back in Ma'am's garden and diving out of sight into the forsythia bush when a neighbour came too close, only this time it just happened to be into their nod. He let go of the pêl as he crashed into the bough and it rolled out the far side.
They'd won! Toren went wild stomping and cheering 'Kentaurpêl!' over and over, with Dallin and Lorcán joining in good-naturedly even though they lost. They were so busy cheering and enjoyed the game, and they didn't notice that Boy had become entangled in the bough of the tree that formed the nod and was trapped. He tried to push at the boulder, but it wouldn't budge, neither could he pull his leg out. The twigs of the limb were stabbing and ripping into his flesh, holding him fast.
Unable to wiggle free without help, and unable to ask for it, Boy pulled out the little silver knife and sawed through the thinnest part of twisted limb that had trapped his leg. The limb, no longer attached to the end weighed down by the boulder, snapped up skyward with a sudden whoosh of twigs and leaves and one very angry bowtruckle.
The bowtruckle let out a high-pitched squeal and leaped from the branches onto Boy, its razor-sharp hands slashing dangerously. Boy instinctively covered his eyes with his hands to shield them from its onslaught, so he didn't see what happened when an equally infuriated snowy owl screeched from the top of a nearby tree and swooped down to pluck the bowtruckle off her owlet with her talons.
Everyone, and everything, in the glade fell silent.
In the sudden stillness, Boy peeked out through his scratched-up fingers to see Hedwig standing on the ground next to him, swallowing the bowtruckle in one gulp, a very satisfied look on her feathered face. When Boy had not come to visit her in the Owlery, Hedwig had become concerned and started searching for him. When she found him under attack in the colony of the centaurs, she felt totally justified in making a snack out of the lively twig doing the attacking. However, not everyone in the glade concurred. Many of them believed Boy had been getting exactly what he deserved.
As much as he was grateful to see her again, and thought her timing impeccable as usual, Boy gulped with the sneaking suspicion they'd just done something very, very, wrong. He knew that silence. It always came right before he was punished.
"Hedwig… fly! Get out of here! Hurry!" he urged, not wanting her to be tomorrow's dinner. She did – reluctantly – but only just out of reach in the tallest nearby tree. She'd been expecting her owlet's normal greeting, showing how much that he'd missed her with a few soft strokes to her head, not an order to leave. Irritated, she ruffled her feathers. Well, he can just forget that! Now that she found him again, she wasn't leaving. She didn't care how many arrows were pointed at her. Maybe she would move up a branch… or two. Just to be safe.
"What did you do human?" several of the nearby heffalumps roared with anger at Boy.
"Leave him alone!" Fenella cried out, galloping forward to place herself between the angry mob and the confused boy still huddled on the ground.
Boy would have answered them, really, he would have. Only he didn't have a clue what he'd done that was so wrong. Dallin inadvertently explained his mistake.
"Dân! You cut the rowan tree – with metal! Do you not know you cannot do that?"
Stunned, Boy shook his head. No, actually, he didn't know. He thought the knife had worked quite well to free his leg from the tree.
Hearing the commotion and his sister's shout, Firenze broke away from the group in the centre to find out what had happened. By the time he got there, the three centaurlings were already crowded around him, talking at once. Boy only caught a few words that he understood - 'sacred trees' and 'metal' and 'forbidden'.
"Get back!" Firenze ordered, initially more concerned that Dân had gotten hurt, after seeing him scratched and bloody. Then he saw the knife still clutched in Boy's hand and the tell-tale sawn branch stub in the other and realized why the spectators were upset.
After checking Boy over to make certain none of the wounds the bowtruckle had caused, need immediate attention, he asked - "Was that your owl that ate the guardian of the rowan tree?"
"Hedwig… she's her own owl. She keeps me company sometimes, but mostly does what she pleases."
'Hooottt…' Hedwig called from above, in agreement.
"So that is a Hedwig."
Boy nodded. "I-I'm sorry she ate the bowtruckle, Sir. My-my leg was caught, then the bowtruckle jumped on me, and Hedwig jumped on it. I didn't even know she'd followed me here. She didn't mean it. Neither did I. It… just happened."
"I believe you Dân. However, that does not change that it did happen. I thought I told you about the rowans! They have special powers. The trees protect the colony. And the bowtruckles protect the trees."
Boy nodded miserably. He did remember that, but he still didn't know why what he did was so wrong. When he cut the unicorn free, it was a good thing. Maybe it was because he was a slave that it wasn't allowed. Firenze saw he was confused and tried to explain.
"I do not blame the owl. The bowtruckle was an unfortunate loss, but the owl is only acting on instinct. Beings such as you and me, have a choice in how we act and react. The rowan trees are very important to us. We even carry pieces of the tree for personal protection," he said, and indicated the intricate wooden medallion hanging from a braided cord around his neck.
"When we harvest the rowan's gifts, great care is taken to observe the stars and wait for the solstice, when its powers are at their strongest. Then we take only what we need, using just our hands or tools made of stone, so nature can restore the break. When a rowan tree is cut with metal, it creates a wound that nature cannot heal - the power bleeds from it. If that happens, it can no longer shield us."
"I didn't know…" Boy knew that wasn't an excuse. It never had been. He'd been punished many times for things of which he was ignorant.
"I realize that Dân. The centaurlings were supposed to keep you out of trouble."
"It wasn't their fault," Boy said bravely. "They didn't see me do it."
"Be that as it may, they should still – Go to bed!" he said meaningfully over his shoulder to the trio of eavesdroppers who'd been pretending not to hear Fenella ordering them to return home. However, when Firenze reared up with sudden authority, no longer playing the role of the 'fun' uncle, they knew they'd definitely outstayed their welcome.
The three took their ball and dragged their hooves back to the caves where Fenella was waiting to scold them, trailing a sad chorus of – "Yes Firenze" – "We are going Firenze" – "Whatever you say Firenze" – behind them as they went.
With the centaurlings in the cave, Fenella glanced back and gave Firenze a sympathetic look of support, before following them inside. She knew without even asking, that it was now unlikely the council would agree to allow Firenze to keep the human in the colony for even one day. Her brother was going to take that hard.
Even since Firenze first pranced on four hooves, he was bringing injured animals home, to nurse them back to health, before setting them free in the forest. They'd grown up with a forever-changing menagerie of animals, in their home. Dân was just one more in a long string of his rescues. Only this time, it was obvious he was becoming attached to the queer little thing. He'd never named any of his pets before. But then he'd never had one before he could have a conversation with either, and Firenze did like to talk, even though this human child didn't seem to do much of it himself.
"Follow me Dân, it is time," Firenze said, indicating the waiting council.
"Do they still think I hurt the unicorn, Sir?" Boy asked with a tremble in his voice.
"No Dân, they understand what happened. But there was more to consider than just that," Firenze told him as he led him to where the Council had gathered in the centre of the grove. The way he said 'more to consider' left a knot in the pit of Boy's stomach. He closed the knife and put it back in his pocket, where it couldn't do any more harm.
The night had grown deeper since he'd arrived at the glade, and now that he wasn't running, the cool night air made him shiver. He rubbed his arms through his thin sweatshirt and followed Firenze to where the other heffalumps were gathered around a campfire of burning mallowsweet and sage, the heady fumes from the herbs making his head swim. He was tired, cold, and discouraged. Even when things were going well, he still somehow managed to mess things up for himself. After this last mistake, he dreaded to hear what the Ceannards had decided.
"Human, come here," Magorian commanded as the herd parted to admit Boy into the heart of the meeting. When he was standing before Magorian, he stopped and hung his head. He knew that tone of voice. It didn't bode well for him.
"We have consulted the heavens. They foretell of a great danger in the forest – human danger. It is not our way to intervene in the affairs of humans, or with what is destined to come. The colony is not safe while you dwell among us. Therefore, we will return you to your people for safekeeping."
Boy swallowed hard. He knew what that meant. The centaurs didn't want him either. He didn't blame them. Why would they? He shouldn't have gotten his hopes up. It just proved his old master right once again. Nobody wanted him. Nobody ever would.
"I'm so sorry… so very sorry, Sir. Please give me another chance. I'll be more careful, I promise…" he tried to apologize again.
"Dân, please believe me when I tell you that we did not make this decision because of anything you did," Firenze tried to assure him.
"But the rowan and the bowtruckle?" Boy asked, confused. If harming them wasn't the reason, what could it be?
Kneeling down on one leg, so he was eye to eye with Boy, Firenze took a deep breath, as he carefully phrased his reply to show support for the Ceannards decision, support that they'd made abundantly clear he must show if he wish not to be banned from the colony along with the human child. Although he didn't totally agree with their interpretation of what the heavens showed them, he also didn't disagree. He just thought they were just being hasty in their timeline. Nevertheless, the decision was made, and their minds would not be swayed. It would serve no purpose to upset Dân further by making him feel the course of action the Ceannards chose was not the best one for him.
"Dân, please listen carefully, just as carefully as we listened to what the planets and stars had to tell us about your future. You must believe me on this – it may feel like it now, but you did nothing wrong, and what must be is not a punishment."
"What… what must be, Sir?" Boy asked, feeling the collar's displeasure at his impertinence even to question someone's decision over his life.
"Long before you came to the forest, and long before you cut the tree, the heavens clearly told us that you are not safe in the forest. If you take even a single step outside the colony, we cannot guarantee your safety. The risk is too great. The forest hides many dangers in its depths, and the innocent are the most vulnerable. The question we were still debating, was not if you could stay, but how long you could remain safely, before allowing you to do so would alter the path you are destined to take."
"And how… how long will I be allowed to stay, Sir?"
"Not as long as I would have preferred. Nevertheless, what matters is that you will be where you will be safe, with someone who can protect you."
"Where… where do you think I will be safe, Sir?" Boy asked softly, braving the collar's punishment a third time, despite already knowing what the likely answer would be, but needing his fear confirmed.
Firenze knew Dân was panicking. Each time he'd asked a question in return, his voice had grown quieter and breathier than the previous one. Now, it was almost inaudible. Knowing how much Dân feared Dumbledore, he hesitated to tell him who they were taking him to, while trying to think of a positive way to frame it.
Annoyed with how long Firenze was taking, Magorian stepped in and answered the last question for him.
"The castle. Make ready human. It is a long journey," Magorian announced abruptly, ignoring the warning glare from Firenze for doing the exact thing he'd pleaded with the council not to do.
"Magorian! You agreed to let me be the one to tell him!" Firenze flared in anger when he saw Boy pale at the news.
"You were taking too long," Magorian spat back.
Boy started backing slowly away from the centre until he was stopped by a firm hoof nudge to his back from one of the other heffalumps, stopping his flight.
"Please don't let them take me back there," he pleaded in a quiet voice only Firenze could hear.
"I am sorry Dân, but the Ceannards are right. That is where you will be the safest," he answered regretfully.
The look on Boy's face was one of utter betrayal, and Firenze didn't fault him for feeling that way. Fenella was right. He'd been arrogant to think he could sway the entire Council to go against centuries of tradition. He'd hoped at the minimum to stall them for a few weeks, to give Dân time to come to the decision to return to the castle on his own. However, the rest of the herd was impatient and wanted it dealt with immediately. The incident with the rowan tree had only reinforced that feeling. Clutching at straws, Firenze made a last request of the Ceannards he hoped they would consider. It wasn't much, but it was all he could think of.
"We should let Dân rest first. Will not first light be soon enough?"
"Dân? You named the human? I suppose you fed it too. Do you not know you will never be rid of it now? It will follow you around like a cruppy."
"Of course, I fed him! How could I not? From the looks of him, he has never had a full meal in his entire life. And what harm would there be to wait until light?" Firenze asked again, seeing Boy sway and his eyes droop sleepily as he stoically fought to remain on his feet and upright.
"We have all seen the messages written in the stars. He must be returned to the castle or forfeit the safety of the colony. He has already wounded one of our sacred trees," Magorian said, with a shake of his head. "You cannot deny it."
"That was an accident," Firenze defended Boy.
"Accident or not, who knows how much more damage he could do before dawn? I am unwilling to tempt the fates. To do so would endanger our families more than we already have by bringing him here," Magorian declared.
"I was the one who brought him. I will return him," Firenze volunteered. If he couldn't keep him, the very least he could do was keep his promise and make sure he was wanted there. "If he rides, it will not take as long."
"You would have a human use you as a common mule? Would you also have him halter you, and lead you around by the nose? Have you no shame?" Magorian sneered at the younger heffalump.
"Yes, but I also have compassion. Dân cannot make it that far tonight. You can see for yourself – he is dead on his feet. If I carry him on my back, we can be there within the hour."
Boy was startled awake at that suggestion. Didn't they know he wasn't allowed? It was a rule! It was bending it too far, allowing the centaurlings to take his hands at dinner, but then he really didn't have a choice. But this – this was clearly far beyond bending the rule. It would be out and out shattering it!
Since it wasn't an actual order, he resolved the situation by simply slipping sideways out of Firenze's reach. Magorian snorted at his actions, misreading it as one of revulsion toward centaurs as lesser beings.
"My tolerance is waning, and you do nothing to champion your cause. To have a human on our backs is beneath us," Magorian paused and looked directly at Firenze, "yet the young foolish centaurling offers," he said mockingly, before turning back to Boy to finish his question. "Do you feel so superior that you would throw Firenze's pride back in his face?"
"Oh, no, Sir! Not at all," Boy replied with all sincerity. He didn't mean to offend the heffalumps. He was trying to protect them. "It's just that it's a-a rule."
"Rule? What rule? Deception is more like it," Magorian scoffed.
"What do you mean Dân?" Firenze asked, knowing that the child simply had no deception in him. From what he'd observed, if you watched his face and movements, he didn't have to talk aloud to make his every thought quite evident.
"I-I'm not allowed to touch you."
"And why is that?" Magorian demanded, although he already believed he knew the answer – that the human thought the centaurs were 'beasts' of only 'near-human' intelligence.
"Be-because you're my betters. I might contaminate you with my freakishness."
Magorian's unyielding attitudes almost softened slightly at the admission centaurs were better than humans. Almost.
"It's okay, I'll walk. I can make it… yawn…" Besides, if he did, there might be an opportunity to slip away unnoticed during the long hike down the mountain. Then he just needed to find his camp again.
Magorian snorted doubtfully and nodded at Firenze that he had permission to do as he'd suggested. However, he wouldn't be sent alone to the castle, if for no other reason than to make sure the soft-hearted Firenze didn't just set the human child free, as soon as they were out of sight.
"Just this once. We will accompany you to ensure the danger the stars foretold stays at bay. Let us be off. The sooner done, the safer the colony."
Boy yawned again and started walking towards the steep path back down to the forest floor.
"Silly child. Get up on my back," Firenze ordered and knelt down so he could climb on.
Boy shook his head, disbelieving that they still wanted him to touch them, even after admitting he was a freak. Yet he obeyed. As Firenze stood up and the herd began to gallop off, he wrapped his arms around Firenze's chest. Locking his fingers together, he held on for dear life.
This Hundred Acre Wood was indeed as surprising as it was dangerous!