Bill the Pony - Dawn of Brilliance
..:: Chapter 2-Realization ::..
The stable was smelly and miserable, but Donkey was accustomed to it. Piles of indisposed manure lay decomposing on the age-old layer of hay on the ground. There were other beasts of burden who were lounging in their places, but there were very few who looked as haggard and starved as Donkey did.
Still chewing numbly on what was left of the piece of bread that Strider had given him, Donkey contemplated on that single shining event of his long life with Bill Ferny. He had forgotten the concept of kindness since his happier, younger days with his family. Something that he had thought had been erased from his heart was rekindled. The warmth spread throughout his mind and awakened a renewed determination to get something accomplished in his life.
The only family member that he still knew was alive was his sister, who, he thought with relief, was owned by Barliman Butterbur, the innkeeper of the Prancing Pony inn, and would therefore never suffer as much as he did.
"You're chewing something," said Gold, Bill Ferny's favorite horse, his voice icy and cold. Strangely, Donkey hadn't noticed when he came in. Gold usually came in with quite a flourish. At his voice, the other animals in the stable looked up, coming from their retreat into themselves out to the world. Gold didn't visit the dirty shed very often, having a clean, well- furnished hut of his own, so that his unexpected voice snatched the attention of everyone. Gold had a sort of prestige within Bill Ferny's animals.
"I thought Master looked angry. How dare you take food?"
There was an awkward silence as Donkey fearfully looked into the glaring eyes of Gold. Donkey was unable to say a word, conscious that the others watching him were writhing with jealousy.
"He gave it to me," Donkey managed to say at last.
Gold snorted in contempt. "You lie. You know that no one would care enough to feed a scrawny creature already at death's door. What's the use of feeding you?"
You're wrong, Donkey thought in his mind. Some people do things without even thinking about the result. Some people do things just to do them. Some people are kind just to be kind.
But all Donkey said was, "I don't know. He gave it to me. And that's all I know."
Gold asked, "Who is this man?"
"I don't know," Donkey said, lying. The name Strider was engraved in Donkey's mind. However, there were others who had watched the happening.
"It was Strider," spat Parsimony, a jealous mule who was sulking in the corner. "Donkey knows it." The other animals began to murmur amongst themselves.
Donkey realized bitterly that every animal in the barn was against him now.
"Ah, of course it would be Strider," said Gold with cold irony. "Who else in his right mind would help you?"
Donkey felt a vague sense of anger burning in his heart at Gold's insensitive cruelty to other creatures. Donkey had done nothing to him! What had he done to earn so much hate? There are people out there that aren't like Master, fool. There are people out there that are kinder. I know it. I remember.
The talk was halted abruptly when Master Bill Ferny stormed into the shed with a malevolent smile painted on his face. His lips were drawn back so that his teeth glinted yellow in the lamp that he held raised in his hand.
"What are you doing in here, Gold? You're going to get your hooves dirty. Out." Then he turned to Donkey, whose heightened sense of paranoia caused him to be especially alarmed at this unexpected action. "You. You're coming with me. Absolutely filthy, you are." Ferny sniggered to himself, and Donkey wondered what new scheme he was planning next.
Donkey was still tired since just that afternoon, he had pulled Ferny's load practically on his own. Though Donkey was skinny, he was strong, and had iron sinews now deflated by malnutrition. Donkey tiredly staggered out the shed door as Ferny glared after him. Then the man broke into hideous laughter as he walked outside and slammed the door behind him.
The night was cold and dark, so Donkey couldn't see beyond the circle of light that Ferny's lamp shed around them. He shivered a bit, and Ferny sneered down at him, then burst into cackles again. As Donkey waited uncomfortably, Ferny sobered and began to drive Donkey to town, walking coldly behind him.
The walk was long, but not as tiring as the afternoon labor had been. On the roadside Donkey could see the little sloping hills of the hobbits as Ferny's lamp swung side to side, casting light about. The quiet stillness of the night was unbroken but for the steady clop-clop-clop of Donkey's hooves and a few whispered voices flowing from houses here and there. There were no travelers pacing the paths but them, and Donkey absently wondered why.
At last, Donkey could hear merry laughter in the distance as he neared the Prancing Pony Inn. Bright yellow light streamed out of every window, and dancing figures jumped in and out of sight. Singing could be heard, too, and indistinguishable conversations mixed with each other in the overall music of the Prancing Pony.
What business could Ferny have here? Donkey thought, as he paused in his steps for a moment, trying to anticipate any plots Ferny would have in mind. Ferny yanked on his reins, urging him on.
Ferny took him to a stableman of Butterbur's, who took him straight away to the stable as Ferny deserted him to find Butterbur himself. The air of the night was bitingly cold, and Donkey shivered despite himself under his shallow hide, but the prospect of meeting his sister again was uplifting. If Donkey could not have happiness, at least he could stand by and watch his sister's happiness.
All throughout his stay at Bree, the sole comfort of Donkey's life was the reminder that at least his sister was happy, and didn't know what he had come to know over the years.
Donkey was led gently to the stable of the Prancing Pony. The stableman patted him twice on the back sympathetically, knowing the cruel, heartless way in which Ferny treated his animals. He had meant it as a friendly gesture, but with Donkey's hard labor earlier and the thin hide on his back, each pat left a pang of pain. After tying Donkey's reins up to a wooden beam standing upright in the center of the stable, the stableman left, wondering why Ferny brought such an animal to the inn. In the stable, there were a few animals comfortably lounging upon the thick piles of hay on the floor. It was well lit by a golden fire from a lamp on the ceiling, though some places were hidden by shadow.
Donkey cleared his throat. "Vitality," he called weakly.
There was rustling in one of the dark corners as Vitality awoke from a light sleep at the call of her name. "Vitality," Donkey called again. Vitality's eyes widened in delight as she recognized the voice. "Brother!" She staggered out of her niche excitedly out into the circle of light in the stable. Recently she had broken her right foreleg, and though it was not a heavy injury and would heal over the course of time, it severely impeded her ability to trot.
Donkey had not seen Vitality's face in nearly seven years, and it was hard to recognize her after the growth spurt that she had obviously gone under while he was gone. But his face could not conceal the delight he felt when he looked proudly upon her youthful figure. Soon enough, however, he noticed the limp.
"Vitality, what's wrong with your leg?"
"Oh, I'm fine, Brother. On the other hand, you look like you haven't eaten in days." She wasn't too far from the truth. The piece of bread that Strider had tossed him was the only food he'd had in about three days. But he wasn't about to make this meeting about himself.
"I missed you so much."
"I'll bet I missed you more," said Vitality playfully. She untied his reins from the pole with her teeth. It was loosely tied. "Come with me to my spot." She led him to her comfortable pile of hay, and he slumped gratefully on top of it.
"How are you, Vitality? Are you happy?" Donkey whispered. Of course he would ask about her happiness.
"Happy?" asked Vitality. "With you starving like this?"
"Don't worry about me. Enjoy your life. You're the only comfort I have."
Vitality paused thoughtfully, looking down at the hay. "Run away," she finally said.
Donkey looked questioningly at his sister. "It's not like I haven't thought of that. If I run away, where would I go? And how would I ever see you?"
"Anywhere, Brother! Anywhere! There's a huge world out there, and you're stuck with Ferny, thinking only of MY happiness. There're more things to do with your life than worry about me, Brother." She paused. "It's not like you're old. You still have a whole life ahead of you. And you want to waste it here? In this sleepy town? What'll you die saying that you've done?"
This certainly wasn't the dependent little pony that he took around with him as a rover in his teens. She was bombarding him penetratingly with hopes that he had buried deep in his heart. Donkey said at last, "I know what you mean."
Vitality sighed. "Do you realize, Brother, that you have a choice?"
"What?"
Vitality repeated slowly, "You have a choice. You have a choice betweeen staying here or rotting away without ever truly 'living' and going off, taking risks, putting your life in danger, doing what you want to do." Vitality had actually meant to visit Donkey some how and talk to him about escaping, but it was on her way to Ferny's that she broke her leg. "Look at you. Do you remember when we were little? We had dreams. You had dreams. Now you might as well be dead." She was provoking him on purpose to snap him out of his careful affectionate unwillingness to conflict with her.
But Donkey was thinking. Vitality was right. For years, his mind had been too occupied with surviving everyday to ever consider the option of escape. Now that he thought about it, it was the only way to exit out of this life as a beast of burden. He needed this. He needed his sister's motivation. He knew that, thanks to his sister, his mind had taken a different track.
"Escape, then come back and rescue me."
"Rescue you?" said Donkey in surprise. "But you have a good life here."
"I'm not happy. This isn't what I want. You're stronger than me, Brother. My mind is not as firm as yours. You are the only one that can go and find a new life for both of us. I can't. It's.up to you." Vitality looked straight into Donkey's eyes. "Realize this. When you have hopes, when you have dreams, when you know that you're not living your life like you want to; you must do anything that you can to achieve what you want. Live, Brother. Be free. And then when you're free, you can come take me from this place. That's what freedom means. We can 'live.'"
:: Chapter Three is coming up. Thanks so much for your interest!
..:: Chapter 2-Realization ::..
The stable was smelly and miserable, but Donkey was accustomed to it. Piles of indisposed manure lay decomposing on the age-old layer of hay on the ground. There were other beasts of burden who were lounging in their places, but there were very few who looked as haggard and starved as Donkey did.
Still chewing numbly on what was left of the piece of bread that Strider had given him, Donkey contemplated on that single shining event of his long life with Bill Ferny. He had forgotten the concept of kindness since his happier, younger days with his family. Something that he had thought had been erased from his heart was rekindled. The warmth spread throughout his mind and awakened a renewed determination to get something accomplished in his life.
The only family member that he still knew was alive was his sister, who, he thought with relief, was owned by Barliman Butterbur, the innkeeper of the Prancing Pony inn, and would therefore never suffer as much as he did.
"You're chewing something," said Gold, Bill Ferny's favorite horse, his voice icy and cold. Strangely, Donkey hadn't noticed when he came in. Gold usually came in with quite a flourish. At his voice, the other animals in the stable looked up, coming from their retreat into themselves out to the world. Gold didn't visit the dirty shed very often, having a clean, well- furnished hut of his own, so that his unexpected voice snatched the attention of everyone. Gold had a sort of prestige within Bill Ferny's animals.
"I thought Master looked angry. How dare you take food?"
There was an awkward silence as Donkey fearfully looked into the glaring eyes of Gold. Donkey was unable to say a word, conscious that the others watching him were writhing with jealousy.
"He gave it to me," Donkey managed to say at last.
Gold snorted in contempt. "You lie. You know that no one would care enough to feed a scrawny creature already at death's door. What's the use of feeding you?"
You're wrong, Donkey thought in his mind. Some people do things without even thinking about the result. Some people do things just to do them. Some people are kind just to be kind.
But all Donkey said was, "I don't know. He gave it to me. And that's all I know."
Gold asked, "Who is this man?"
"I don't know," Donkey said, lying. The name Strider was engraved in Donkey's mind. However, there were others who had watched the happening.
"It was Strider," spat Parsimony, a jealous mule who was sulking in the corner. "Donkey knows it." The other animals began to murmur amongst themselves.
Donkey realized bitterly that every animal in the barn was against him now.
"Ah, of course it would be Strider," said Gold with cold irony. "Who else in his right mind would help you?"
Donkey felt a vague sense of anger burning in his heart at Gold's insensitive cruelty to other creatures. Donkey had done nothing to him! What had he done to earn so much hate? There are people out there that aren't like Master, fool. There are people out there that are kinder. I know it. I remember.
The talk was halted abruptly when Master Bill Ferny stormed into the shed with a malevolent smile painted on his face. His lips were drawn back so that his teeth glinted yellow in the lamp that he held raised in his hand.
"What are you doing in here, Gold? You're going to get your hooves dirty. Out." Then he turned to Donkey, whose heightened sense of paranoia caused him to be especially alarmed at this unexpected action. "You. You're coming with me. Absolutely filthy, you are." Ferny sniggered to himself, and Donkey wondered what new scheme he was planning next.
Donkey was still tired since just that afternoon, he had pulled Ferny's load practically on his own. Though Donkey was skinny, he was strong, and had iron sinews now deflated by malnutrition. Donkey tiredly staggered out the shed door as Ferny glared after him. Then the man broke into hideous laughter as he walked outside and slammed the door behind him.
The night was cold and dark, so Donkey couldn't see beyond the circle of light that Ferny's lamp shed around them. He shivered a bit, and Ferny sneered down at him, then burst into cackles again. As Donkey waited uncomfortably, Ferny sobered and began to drive Donkey to town, walking coldly behind him.
The walk was long, but not as tiring as the afternoon labor had been. On the roadside Donkey could see the little sloping hills of the hobbits as Ferny's lamp swung side to side, casting light about. The quiet stillness of the night was unbroken but for the steady clop-clop-clop of Donkey's hooves and a few whispered voices flowing from houses here and there. There were no travelers pacing the paths but them, and Donkey absently wondered why.
At last, Donkey could hear merry laughter in the distance as he neared the Prancing Pony Inn. Bright yellow light streamed out of every window, and dancing figures jumped in and out of sight. Singing could be heard, too, and indistinguishable conversations mixed with each other in the overall music of the Prancing Pony.
What business could Ferny have here? Donkey thought, as he paused in his steps for a moment, trying to anticipate any plots Ferny would have in mind. Ferny yanked on his reins, urging him on.
Ferny took him to a stableman of Butterbur's, who took him straight away to the stable as Ferny deserted him to find Butterbur himself. The air of the night was bitingly cold, and Donkey shivered despite himself under his shallow hide, but the prospect of meeting his sister again was uplifting. If Donkey could not have happiness, at least he could stand by and watch his sister's happiness.
All throughout his stay at Bree, the sole comfort of Donkey's life was the reminder that at least his sister was happy, and didn't know what he had come to know over the years.
Donkey was led gently to the stable of the Prancing Pony. The stableman patted him twice on the back sympathetically, knowing the cruel, heartless way in which Ferny treated his animals. He had meant it as a friendly gesture, but with Donkey's hard labor earlier and the thin hide on his back, each pat left a pang of pain. After tying Donkey's reins up to a wooden beam standing upright in the center of the stable, the stableman left, wondering why Ferny brought such an animal to the inn. In the stable, there were a few animals comfortably lounging upon the thick piles of hay on the floor. It was well lit by a golden fire from a lamp on the ceiling, though some places were hidden by shadow.
Donkey cleared his throat. "Vitality," he called weakly.
There was rustling in one of the dark corners as Vitality awoke from a light sleep at the call of her name. "Vitality," Donkey called again. Vitality's eyes widened in delight as she recognized the voice. "Brother!" She staggered out of her niche excitedly out into the circle of light in the stable. Recently she had broken her right foreleg, and though it was not a heavy injury and would heal over the course of time, it severely impeded her ability to trot.
Donkey had not seen Vitality's face in nearly seven years, and it was hard to recognize her after the growth spurt that she had obviously gone under while he was gone. But his face could not conceal the delight he felt when he looked proudly upon her youthful figure. Soon enough, however, he noticed the limp.
"Vitality, what's wrong with your leg?"
"Oh, I'm fine, Brother. On the other hand, you look like you haven't eaten in days." She wasn't too far from the truth. The piece of bread that Strider had tossed him was the only food he'd had in about three days. But he wasn't about to make this meeting about himself.
"I missed you so much."
"I'll bet I missed you more," said Vitality playfully. She untied his reins from the pole with her teeth. It was loosely tied. "Come with me to my spot." She led him to her comfortable pile of hay, and he slumped gratefully on top of it.
"How are you, Vitality? Are you happy?" Donkey whispered. Of course he would ask about her happiness.
"Happy?" asked Vitality. "With you starving like this?"
"Don't worry about me. Enjoy your life. You're the only comfort I have."
Vitality paused thoughtfully, looking down at the hay. "Run away," she finally said.
Donkey looked questioningly at his sister. "It's not like I haven't thought of that. If I run away, where would I go? And how would I ever see you?"
"Anywhere, Brother! Anywhere! There's a huge world out there, and you're stuck with Ferny, thinking only of MY happiness. There're more things to do with your life than worry about me, Brother." She paused. "It's not like you're old. You still have a whole life ahead of you. And you want to waste it here? In this sleepy town? What'll you die saying that you've done?"
This certainly wasn't the dependent little pony that he took around with him as a rover in his teens. She was bombarding him penetratingly with hopes that he had buried deep in his heart. Donkey said at last, "I know what you mean."
Vitality sighed. "Do you realize, Brother, that you have a choice?"
"What?"
Vitality repeated slowly, "You have a choice. You have a choice betweeen staying here or rotting away without ever truly 'living' and going off, taking risks, putting your life in danger, doing what you want to do." Vitality had actually meant to visit Donkey some how and talk to him about escaping, but it was on her way to Ferny's that she broke her leg. "Look at you. Do you remember when we were little? We had dreams. You had dreams. Now you might as well be dead." She was provoking him on purpose to snap him out of his careful affectionate unwillingness to conflict with her.
But Donkey was thinking. Vitality was right. For years, his mind had been too occupied with surviving everyday to ever consider the option of escape. Now that he thought about it, it was the only way to exit out of this life as a beast of burden. He needed this. He needed his sister's motivation. He knew that, thanks to his sister, his mind had taken a different track.
"Escape, then come back and rescue me."
"Rescue you?" said Donkey in surprise. "But you have a good life here."
"I'm not happy. This isn't what I want. You're stronger than me, Brother. My mind is not as firm as yours. You are the only one that can go and find a new life for both of us. I can't. It's.up to you." Vitality looked straight into Donkey's eyes. "Realize this. When you have hopes, when you have dreams, when you know that you're not living your life like you want to; you must do anything that you can to achieve what you want. Live, Brother. Be free. And then when you're free, you can come take me from this place. That's what freedom means. We can 'live.'"
:: Chapter Three is coming up. Thanks so much for your interest!
