(03-19-2022, 02:45 PM)bluemooone2 Wrote: Great story ! You might like this.
Thank you, Mr Pratchett is a great author.
...................................................
"No..." said Brenna Hobson stated bluntly as she rushed from window to window, "...you're just an idiot and if the others find out,
it'll be me and you hanging that stupid cage you insisted on". Being a week-day, the Red-Smocks that the furious woman was
referring to were busy with their regular administrative work regarding the sale of hops and the purchases required to maintain
the supposedly-religious community of Pook Hill.
After a few moments of scanning the quiet houses and the main trail running down to the hop fields, Brenna believed that none of
the nosy scribblers or field-labour had seen Alaric's entry into the Meeting House. Turning to see the half-naked old man standing
like a convicted criminal, she gave vent to what she thought about the whole situation.
"Do you know what you've done...?" she whispered and narrowed her eyes at the once-hallowed leader. "...Losing the next votaries
was bad enough, but we paid for them too. That means if those kids ever get to another town or village and tell what they know, we
-that's you and me, Alaric Pottle, will not see the light of day again".
Brenna had never used Alaric's true surname before and to the sullen man catching his breath at the well-waxed conference table,
he knew it meant they were in deep feculence regarding his and the girls' capture. Causing the hanging wind-catchers to stir on
the beams above them both, the stone-faced Red-Smock strode defiantly over to the blank wall at the far-end of the room and
touched one of the wooden planks. "I should let you shiver to death, but they'll crucify me for that too" she muttered.
Plucking a garment off a pile of similar-coloured ones from inside the hidden cupboard, Brenna hissed "here, put this on" and
nonchalantly tossed the dark-blue smock towards her accomplice in the crimes of kidnapping, drugging and fraud. Alaric caught
the smock and knew it was no accident that he'd been demoted by the woman watching him from across the room. The Hyder
had caused all of these woes and if they'd only left the giant... his thoughts trailed off as Brenna hissed once more.
"You've earned it" she said absently and gazed out of the nearest window to where she was currently fuming.
...................................................
Peggy Powler thanked the Brownie known as Fenod and returned to the boulder where she'd been sat. Albert Hobson seemed to
have to come to terms with his predicament and was peering into the hollowed-out channel that led back to Janus Mockingbird's
abode. "By Herne, Ah' need that..." the little Witch said with a sigh "...yon giant's cups of coffee went reet through me" she added
and glanced at the lad to see if he suspected anything.
Fenod had been living in the ravine for many Summers and had personally witnessed the ruination of his environment. The little
Fae had vouched for the Hyder's good behaviour and told of a couple of instance where he believed the well-disposed giant was
aware of the Brownie's presence and yet, never attempted association. "He's one of those who likes to keep himself to himself,
but considering how Hyders have been hunted to almost extinction, who can blame him?" Fenod Tarragon had appended.
When asked for any prompts on the human community nearby, the little raggedy Elf's face had twisted as if he'd just chewed on
young wood-sorrel. "Rascals of the worst kind, they'd be..." Fenod imparted from the side of his mouth, "...not fit to work the soil
and live off the land". Glancing over to where the tall slim young man was musing on his newly-found truths, the Brownie continued
with what he knew about the people of Pook Hill.
"When they first built the houses, planted the pine plantation and began to fence off their fields, I ignored them and guessed the
giant did too. But when they started tipping their dirt here..." Fenod waved a grime-smudged hand towards the base of the gulch,
"...well, that was when I took to checking what they were up to" he added with his voice lowered.
Realising she'd been away from the wool-gathering ex-devotee to Pook a little too long, Peggy kept an eye on Albert as he stirred
from his grass-squashed seat. "Do yer' care te' tell me what yer' found durin' yer gander?" she asked quickly with a sly smile.
The Brownie rubbed his chin and dramatically surveyed their surrounding for eaves-droppers, an act that was indicative of those
who like to talk, but rarely find others to talk to.
"That new place they built..." Mr Tarragon whispered with a lean towards the Witch's bare leg, "...it's where they keep all their
gains from the growing and a bottle of some stuff they pour into their drinking-well". A solemn nodding assured Peggy that what
the little Fae said was beyond contestation. "There's a battle-axe of human who presides over them and she has a tongue that'd
make a deacon's watch-chain freeze..." Fenod added eyed the movements of the young man walking aimlessly towards the open
tunnel to the genial Hyder's home.
"...Be wary of that woman, Miss Powler, her hidden closet holds not just the many bags of nummas, but a loaded crossbow too"
he warned and decided the hairs on the back of his neck were becoming too itchy due to Albert Hobson's presence. The Last Witch
of Underhill copied the Brownie's early action and nodded. "Aye, she's a bugger that one" Peggy mumbled -more to herself than
her fellow-Fae scampering away into the wild boscage.
Edith Head Gives Good Wardrobe.