Help me find an ending to this story!
Mar. 18th, 2004 08:16 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rabidsamfanA Stoor village, circa 2463
The Decree
“No more birthday presents?” Henniden whispered in sheer disbelief, as the Grandmother read out her decision. “Not ever?”
“Shh,” Reggar hushed him hastily. “She’s still talking.”
“But it’s my birthday next week!” Henniden felt tears starting up. He’d been waiting and waiting and waiting. Almost twelve months. And now there wouldn’t be any presents. It was all Smeagol’s fault. He’d always been greedy and spoiled and now he’d spoiled things for everyone in the village. Especially poor Deagol. He sniffled, reminded of that sharper grief, and Reggar put a brotherly elbow into his ribs. “Ooof!”
“Listen!”
“…the greed in our hearts. Therefore from hence our special days will be the days in which we show our generosity to others, instead of expecting or requiring it from them. Celebrate your natal days by giving; not asking, nor getting. Celebrate the friends and family members who best show their hearts by what they give, and teach your children to do the same. And thus we shall never see a tragedy like this again in our lives, or our children’s lives, or our children’s children’s…”
“Worse and worse,” Henniden moaned. “I’m not going to get presents and now I’ve got to give presents.” There were twenty people invited to his party, young and old, and somehow he didn’t think that they would be best pleased by a redistribution of his collection of fishhooks. “All that waiting for nothing.”
“I don’t know what you’re complaining about,” Mistress Addercop pinched his elbow. “Greedy brat. We’ll be exiling you next!”
Reggar was glaring too, but Henniden noticed that he wasn’t the only one in the village who looked unhappy. When the Grandmother finally stopped talking, he mooched over to join his friends by the well.
“’Lo, Henny,” said Millgrom. “What are you going to give me on your birthday?”
Henniden scowled. “It’ll be a fishhook or nothing,” he said. “I haven’t got anything else.” He kicked a stone out of the path and crouched by the mudhole, squelching mud between his toes and trying to keep the tears from coming. “Darn that Smeagol anyway.”
Much to his surprise, Reggar sat down beside him and put an arm over his shoulders. “Making marbles?”
Henniden shrugged. But Reggar didn’t go away. “It’s not so bad,” he said, in the tone of voice that meant “I’m five years older than you and I know everything.”
“It’s awful,” Henniden said. He sighed. The Grandmother was right about hearts being greedy, but it was only once a year.
“Think about it,” Reggar insisted. “What’s the worst part about birthdays?”
Henniden looked at him disbelievingly. “There isn’t any worst part.”
“Of course there is, you’ve been moaning about it for weeks!” He laughed and tweaked Henniden’s nose gently. “The waiting, silly!”
“So?” Henniden couldn’t argue. Waiting was awful. But he didn’t see how waiting and then having to give people things was better.
“So,” said Reggar, “You’re going to be at Rubilor’s birthday party the day after tomorrow, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“And she’s going to have to give you a present now, right?”
Henniden squinched his face up thoughtfully. “Yes,” he said slowly.
“So, which is better? Twenty presents once a year and wait twelve months for another one, or one present twenty times a year and not waiting so long?”
The Decree
“No more birthday presents?” Henniden whispered in sheer disbelief, as the Grandmother read out her decision. “Not ever?”
“Shh,” Reggar hushed him hastily. “She’s still talking.”
“But it’s my birthday next week!” Henniden felt tears starting up. He’d been waiting and waiting and waiting. Almost twelve months. And now there wouldn’t be any presents. It was all Smeagol’s fault. He’d always been greedy and spoiled and now he’d spoiled things for everyone in the village. Especially poor Deagol. He sniffled, reminded of that sharper grief, and Reggar put a brotherly elbow into his ribs. “Ooof!”
“Listen!”
“…the greed in our hearts. Therefore from hence our special days will be the days in which we show our generosity to others, instead of expecting or requiring it from them. Celebrate your natal days by giving; not asking, nor getting. Celebrate the friends and family members who best show their hearts by what they give, and teach your children to do the same. And thus we shall never see a tragedy like this again in our lives, or our children’s lives, or our children’s children’s…”
“Worse and worse,” Henniden moaned. “I’m not going to get presents and now I’ve got to give presents.” There were twenty people invited to his party, young and old, and somehow he didn’t think that they would be best pleased by a redistribution of his collection of fishhooks. “All that waiting for nothing.”
“I don’t know what you’re complaining about,” Mistress Addercop pinched his elbow. “Greedy brat. We’ll be exiling you next!”
Reggar was glaring too, but Henniden noticed that he wasn’t the only one in the village who looked unhappy. When the Grandmother finally stopped talking, he mooched over to join his friends by the well.
“’Lo, Henny,” said Millgrom. “What are you going to give me on your birthday?”
Henniden scowled. “It’ll be a fishhook or nothing,” he said. “I haven’t got anything else.” He kicked a stone out of the path and crouched by the mudhole, squelching mud between his toes and trying to keep the tears from coming. “Darn that Smeagol anyway.”
Much to his surprise, Reggar sat down beside him and put an arm over his shoulders. “Making marbles?”
Henniden shrugged. But Reggar didn’t go away. “It’s not so bad,” he said, in the tone of voice that meant “I’m five years older than you and I know everything.”
“It’s awful,” Henniden said. He sighed. The Grandmother was right about hearts being greedy, but it was only once a year.
“Think about it,” Reggar insisted. “What’s the worst part about birthdays?”
Henniden looked at him disbelievingly. “There isn’t any worst part.”
“Of course there is, you’ve been moaning about it for weeks!” He laughed and tweaked Henniden’s nose gently. “The waiting, silly!”
“So?” Henniden couldn’t argue. Waiting was awful. But he didn’t see how waiting and then having to give people things was better.
“So,” said Reggar, “You’re going to be at Rubilor’s birthday party the day after tomorrow, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“And she’s going to have to give you a present now, right?”
Henniden squinched his face up thoughtfully. “Yes,” he said slowly.
“So, which is better? Twenty presents once a year and wait twelve months for another one, or one present twenty times a year and not waiting so long?”
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(no subject)
Date: 2004-03-18 08:49 am (UTC)Splendid job. Sorry I'm not much help with the ending.
looking for an ending.
Date: 2004-03-18 10:46 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-03-18 12:19 pm (UTC)