Finrod Ar-Feiniel
Jun 19th, 2003, 10:51:05 AM
Things had gone well for Finrod. He had been accepted into the Jedi Order and had been living there quite contently for the last week or two. However, the transition from foster care was not over and done with so quickly. Fin’s caseworker had had some reservations about the boy’s choice, but the Jedi’s reputation preceded them, and was enough to rest her concerns somewhat. Which was why Finrod was so surprised at being pulled from class, in the middle of biology. He’d insisted on keeping up with his studies, and though he did not attend class at St. Napalms school for boys every day, he kept up with his grade.
As he walked into one of the empty schoolrooms, Fin wore an expression of confusion.
“Missus J…what’re you doin’ here?”
The Rodian smiled down at the lad, a cautionary slowness about her. Motioning to a seat, in which Fin popped into, she clasped her hands together on her knees and stared at him kindly.
“Hello Finrod. You look well.”
He smiled bashfully. With a sigh, Mrs. Jayayill continued.
“Finrod, I’ve got some news for you that might be very exciting.”
Pause. Finrod leaned forward in his seat eagerly, pulling at the tie of his uniform that always seemed to choke the wearer.
“Finrod…we’ve found you’re father.
For a moment the boy just sat, staring at the woman. And then he burst out in laughter. Clapping his hands together, Fin stood up.
“Are you daft? Missus J, my da’s dead, has been since before I was even kicking!”
She shook her head, keeping an eye on him warily.
“That, Fin, is not exactly true. He’s been gone, for a very long time. He didn’t know about your mother’s accident, but he knows about you. He’d like to meet you.”
Finrod stared at her. His thin chest began to rise and fall rapidly, heaving to push down air and yet seemingly not able to. Wheezing the lad put his head between his knees, making his voice slightly muffled.
“’Ve got t’ get back to class.”
The bell rang, signaling the end of the school day. So much for that. The caseworker stood and came over, rubbing his back soothingly.
“Finrod, is there anyone you’d like me to call? We don’t have to talk about this right now, you can go home and think it over.”
He shook his head, feathery whitish hair whispering, and gripped his calves tighter.
“Naw. I’ll be a’right. I jus’ need t’ get my things. I’ll walk back, I always do. Missus J, do you think you could…bugger off, for a bit Ma’am? I need t’ be alone.”
She was silent for a moment, and then nodded, grabbing her clutch and exiting quietly. Fin breathed out and stood straight.
“Cripe.”
*~*~*~
It was well past seven in the evening now. Finrod was still sitting on the steps of the school, satchel at his feet. The lad had hardly moved at all. He was staring at nothing intently, and every once in a while, he would sigh and twist his back about to ease the stiffness.
For a moment, he stood up, and it seemed as though he were about to leave. But he just stood, clutching his case, and looking at the passing traffic, both pedestrian and vehicle.
“Frell me.”
Finrod blushed as he said the words. He’d never spoken anything as harsh as them before, but they seemed appropriate. With another lung-bursting exhalation, he plopped back down on the steps. Someone would be worried about him, not arriving back at the temple on time, but at the moment time meant nothing to Fin. It had spun out of orbit, dizzyingly, knocking everything out of order.
“Frell me, indeed.”
As he walked into one of the empty schoolrooms, Fin wore an expression of confusion.
“Missus J…what’re you doin’ here?”
The Rodian smiled down at the lad, a cautionary slowness about her. Motioning to a seat, in which Fin popped into, she clasped her hands together on her knees and stared at him kindly.
“Hello Finrod. You look well.”
He smiled bashfully. With a sigh, Mrs. Jayayill continued.
“Finrod, I’ve got some news for you that might be very exciting.”
Pause. Finrod leaned forward in his seat eagerly, pulling at the tie of his uniform that always seemed to choke the wearer.
“Finrod…we’ve found you’re father.
For a moment the boy just sat, staring at the woman. And then he burst out in laughter. Clapping his hands together, Fin stood up.
“Are you daft? Missus J, my da’s dead, has been since before I was even kicking!”
She shook her head, keeping an eye on him warily.
“That, Fin, is not exactly true. He’s been gone, for a very long time. He didn’t know about your mother’s accident, but he knows about you. He’d like to meet you.”
Finrod stared at her. His thin chest began to rise and fall rapidly, heaving to push down air and yet seemingly not able to. Wheezing the lad put his head between his knees, making his voice slightly muffled.
“’Ve got t’ get back to class.”
The bell rang, signaling the end of the school day. So much for that. The caseworker stood and came over, rubbing his back soothingly.
“Finrod, is there anyone you’d like me to call? We don’t have to talk about this right now, you can go home and think it over.”
He shook his head, feathery whitish hair whispering, and gripped his calves tighter.
“Naw. I’ll be a’right. I jus’ need t’ get my things. I’ll walk back, I always do. Missus J, do you think you could…bugger off, for a bit Ma’am? I need t’ be alone.”
She was silent for a moment, and then nodded, grabbing her clutch and exiting quietly. Fin breathed out and stood straight.
“Cripe.”
*~*~*~
It was well past seven in the evening now. Finrod was still sitting on the steps of the school, satchel at his feet. The lad had hardly moved at all. He was staring at nothing intently, and every once in a while, he would sigh and twist his back about to ease the stiffness.
For a moment, he stood up, and it seemed as though he were about to leave. But he just stood, clutching his case, and looking at the passing traffic, both pedestrian and vehicle.
“Frell me.”
Finrod blushed as he said the words. He’d never spoken anything as harsh as them before, but they seemed appropriate. With another lung-bursting exhalation, he plopped back down on the steps. Someone would be worried about him, not arriving back at the temple on time, but at the moment time meant nothing to Fin. It had spun out of orbit, dizzyingly, knocking everything out of order.
“Frell me, indeed.”