School Days (open)

[Finrod Ar-Feiniel]

Eight and one half years ago...

"Eee, I told you to go to bed!"

"Dun' wanna."

The tiny tot put his hands on his hips. His wispy white-blonde hair was grown well past his protruding, fawn-like ears and he wore an espression of complete defiance. He stood in a dim corridor, wearing nothing but a diaper and cotton t-shirt, staring down the tall woman who was currently his caretaker. She frowned.

"Now listen Finrod, I don't care if you don't want to. It's late and good little boys go to bed now."

Finrod scowled and shook his head.

"'M not a good boy. 'M a naughty boy. Dun' wanna go t' bed."

The woman sighed and put on her most stern expression.

"I'm going to count to three young man... One...."

Finrod stood there, pouting.

"...Two...."

His expression wavered into one of uncertainty as he stood looking up at the huge woman from his short stature.

"...Two and a half..."

The little boy barked out some nonsense that only made sense to him and took off running down the hall and into the little bedroom. He pulled himself onto the tiny bed and sat there frowning. Finrod glared at his foster mother as she came in to tuck him goodnight. Felicia was his third in only a year.

"Dun' wanna go t' bed."

Felicia rubbed her forehead and sat down beside him.

"Why?"

"Cos."

She sighed again. He was being difficult.

"Why because Finrod?"

The little boy's lip began to tremble.

"Cos then all the sleepy-time I dweam of da big man."

Felicia frowned and then smiled reassuringly.

"Oh Honey, it's just a dream. It's nothing to be afraid of."

Finrod shook his head and then stood up, raising his hands over his head.

"Is! Da big man he is run an' then he goes swoosh,"

The toddler grabbed something imaginary and swun his arms, as if hitting someone.

"Swoosh, wi' his sod!"

Felicia shook her head, trying to follow his broken speech.

"His...what? His sod?"

Finrod shook his chubby face.

"Naw, his sod. Like p'rate has!"

Felicia's eyes lit up in understanding.

"Oh, a sword!"

Finrod nodded.

"Honey, it's just a dream. The big man can't hurt you and Mommy Felicia and Daddy J'yn are in the next room. COme on, lie down."

Before he could protest she had picked him up and tucked him in tightly. She kissed his forehead and smoothed his hair softly, then turned out the light.

"Goodnight Finrod. Sleep tight, sweety-boy."

As she closed the door, Finrod scowled again.

"Dun' wanna go t' bed."

********

Present Day

"Mr. Ar-Feiniel, perhaps you would like to tell us the answer to number four?"

Finrod looked up from his empty notebook, where he had been pretending to follow along. He'd forgotton to do his homework. The nine-year old slowly stood up, notebook in hand.

"Um....the answer to number four is....fourty-nine?"

Scattered giggles erupted in the classroom but were quickly silenced by the proffesors stare.

"Mr. Feiniel, I fail to see how fourty-nine pertains to biology. Did you even bother to do your assignment?"

Finrod shook his head.

"Why?"

Why what? Why hadn't he done his homework? Well for one thing he didn't really care. He'd never quite gotten the hang of school and rarely ever bothered to study. But mostly because he'd started to have the dreams again. It had been years since he'd had one but they'd started up again with an intensity that had eben absent the first time 'round.

"Mr. Feiniel?"

Finrod jumped.

"I-I don't know sir."

The proffessor snorted.

"Honestly, I don't know why you bother coming. You are dismissed Mr Feiniel. I'm calling your parents today to arrange a conference but until then I do not wish to tolerate your presence in my classroom."

Stunned, Finrod nodded and gathered his things clumsily.

"Y-yes sir."

As he wakled out of the classroom he could hear whispering and giggles. There would be more teasing than ever tomorrow.

The young boy stepped out into the midmorning light of Coruscant and sighed. It wasn't his fault he had dreams. And it wasn't his fault that he didn't fit it.

"It's not my fault, Proffessor Grouch."

[John Nightstar]

Standing outside of the school, John rubbed a small bruse under his left eye and saw the nine year old exit the building. Walking over to Finrod, smiling slightly, the 12 year old shifted his back pack.

"Hey, kid, whatcha do? Got in a fight or somethin'?"

[Finrod Ar-Feiniel]

"S'rry?"

Finrod turned around to face the newcomer, flushing slightly. Shaking his head quickly, Fin answered.

"No, I-I've never be'n in a fight."

He surveyed John carefully. This boy was one of the 'big kids' who roamed the halls of St. Napalm Primer School. The elite class six and seven-ers who had teh hardest homework and who always got first choice of the balls during rec time. But this boy didn't go to St. Napalm's... at least Finrod had never seen him there.

"D' you go to this school?"

[John Nightstar]

"hm? Sorta, first day here. First fight too."

John rubbed at the bruse again and grinned.

"I always get in fights, that's why I never stay in a school ong enough ta finish a year. Name's John, what's yours?"

[Finrod Ar-Feiniel]

Oh Lord. He'd asked his name. Well there was no getting around it, Finrod certainly couldn't ignore the question. It would be rude, and the little boy usually took great pains to prevent coming across as such.

But...

"M'name's Leeroy."

He didn't see the harm in telling a little fib. Fin reasoned that his name could have been Leeroy for all this John fellow knew, and so it didn't really matter what his name was; If John thought his name was Leeroy, then as far as he was concerned it wasn't Finrod, and really what John thought was not a lie.

And so he convinced himself in a roundabout way, that it really was okay this time.

[John Nightstar]

John gave 'Leeroy' a cockeyed look. He has a sorta 'knack' for knowing when someone was lying to him, but if this kid wanted to be called Leeroy, then that's what John will call him.

"So Leeroy, or it's better as Lee, or Roy? Ya hungry, there's this cool place that serves breakfast late, my treat."

Actually, John was bored, and he didn't care if the kid took up his offer or not. In fact it took alot to interest John, at all.

[Finrod Ar-Feiniel]

An impending feeling of doom hung over the boy, as he anticipated the reaction of his foster parents. The pair he was with now, they weren’t so bad. They gave him lectures though, chock full with the words “disappointed” and “responsibility”. Somehow these talks made him feel worse than if they’d beaten him with a lead pipe and fed him to a rancor. So really, he didn’t feel like going home right now. He’d rather delay the music than face it, though he was sure they’d work that into the discussion too.

“Yeah, awright.”

Finrod, or Leeroy, followed John and the two made their way along the bustling pedwalk, to goodness-knew-where. Finrod wasn’t familiar with the city and so he put his trust in John to get them to where they were going.

“So, John; d’ you like St. Napalms so f’r?”

[John Nightstar]

Not really paying any attention, except on where he was going, John blinked.

"Hurn? S'okay I guess. My old man had a fit about me going to a school wit' the word 'St.' as part of it. He thinks it's a Jedi school!"

John started to laughed as he turned a corner and headed towards a pink painted doorway.

"I'd wish they'd change it, it's so horrid lookin'." He said before pushing the door open and waving Leeroy in.

[Finrod Ar-Feiniel]

"Why would he think i's a Jedi school? St. Napalm wasn't a Jedi!"

Finrod laughed as he entered the little building, though he didn't like the interior designing.

"Honestly, I don't mind Napalms. I's really a great school. I jus' don't do so well."

He tapped the side of his head playfully.

"I'm as empty up 'ere as you can be, I suppose."