I have no pattern as to how I'll be finishing up the chapters, but the content is something to look forward to. Hopefully the story is just as good as I hope. Perhaps not as redundant as the previous sentence ('hopefully', then 'hope' just afterwards), but just as good. Enjoy!
Chapter 7: Back at Home
The ride back home to Arthur's was long and tedious, but Alfred didn't even care to complain. Arthur was quiet, as usual, but couldn't help thinking of rambling about something or another to fill up the silence. The boy would usually be crawling around the carriage, jabbing his finger out the window and hollering about the view, but now, that same child was sitting tensely, clenching his fists.
Alfred was overly saddened in town then, so Arthur avoided making him even more upset. He had to teach the boy manners, though—and how to not heave a lady into a fountain, in particular. In a way, the silent treatment was part of the scolding process, for lack of a better word. However, Arthur had to admit… the voiceless air in the cabin was hurting him, as well.
Then the voiceless air reappeared when Alfred bounded out of the carriage, ran through the heavy wood doors, and shut himself into his room for at least an hour and a half, long enough to miss supper and long enough for Arthur to end all his calls for "Dinner, dinner!"; and long enough for the plate, propped on the table next to Alfred's door, filled with the evening meal, to grow cold.
. . .
Alfred felt his stomach grumble helplessly. In a way, the child felt like he should be grumbling just as much, like a… what would that Guardian of the Forest say? Like a grasshopper in the grassless desert? Something like that. No use in thinking about that, though… the hunger certainly was a problem, and so was that stupid, stupid big brother with his stupid silent treatment.
Of course, it's okay, for me to be so angry at him, thought the boy, But the only thing that isn't so swell is that the food just has to be outside! Where that, that… that bully is! Where he's stomping his big, dumb feet all over his fancy red carpet. Some 'jantulmen' !
So no, of course not—no way would Alfred even touch the door.
…But perhaps, just for the food. Just a quick peek out, a quick snatch, and a reward of Arthur's carrot-filled stew. So, as light as a leaf in the air, Alfred pushed the door, cringing with every creak. Just a bit more, and the plate would be all his. Almost… there… Perfect. Now, all we need is the door—
"Alfred, just what are you doing?"
Then WHAM! Startled and pulled out of concentration, Alfred felt the bowl slip out of his hand and heard the shatter, the bell ringing out his guilt, as stew and all spilled out in the hall. The boy tried quickly to shut the door, only for Arthur's hand to jut out and catch it.
Alfred could already hear Arthur sigh hopelessly, as he said, "M'boy, I was afraid this was all too much, but after this little accident…" Arthur gestured towards the stained carpet, "I'm positive that you've been running wild for too long. Stew is one thing, but your attitude and your actions today are the culprits." He breathed in deeply, seemingly wincing. "So I'll say it now…you're restricted from town for the next few days, and from anywhere past the front porch."
His posture gave away that it was nothing Arthur wanted to say, let alone think of.
. . .
The start to Alfred's extended stay inside was nothing spectacular, as he was presented with a new bowl of stew, a lukewarm bath, and a cold pat on the head from the Englishman, just enough to leave Alfie feeling like dirt on a roadside.
Just in a few days, he met a wonderful and playful sprite, threw him into a town's fountain, and swiftly had all doors that led outside shut right in front of him. And perhaps, in a few more, he could grow bitter. The boy felt a sigh escape from him. Never before did Arthur mention how much fairies could be so unlucky.
Alfred checked his trousers thrown on his bed's post, and rooted for the little maple leaf, or as the Guardian said, his "pass to call for him". However, no pass could ever make him feel any better about anything on that day.
With everything ruined, there's no use for it now, thought Alfred, and hopelessly tossed it away in his room, the leaf swishing this and that-a-way, as it landed on the floor. So much for a pass.
Falling onto his bed, the boy watched the moon out the window, and felt his sadness and frustration settle as his eyes closed.