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Frodo Silvertongue · 12-17-2011, 07:08 PM

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wc; --- with a gun and a blade, and a hand grenade, hi ho, hi ho hi ho hi ho!

So it was agreed. The gypsy boy nodded with a wide grin that almost overflowed his whole face, watching Matteo with fierce, calculating green eyes. How many times his abrasive and firm eyes had judged another from watching them was uncountable. It had happened many times before and it happened again now. Frodo kept his opinion to himself but he knew that this fellow was pleasant. For the time being, at least. Frodo trusted everybody and anybody until they turned against him. Perhaps this made him naïve or even stupid but he believed everybody to be given a chance. So for the moment, this man had his uttermost trust. Affirmitive. he said simply, wagging his tail in the most fluent of movements.

For the most part they worked together in silence. Frodo Silvertongue noted that what Matteo was doing seemed exactly what he wanted; so he made no comment as they worked in fear of hindering the pace at which they built the damned thing. It took some more huffing and puffing for the skinny lag to haul each piece of wood around the hexagon, but it was starting to look like…well, it was starting to look like something. It was a start at least. The man sent a look of amusement in Teo’s direction as he asked about his voice. Usually others pretended he spoke normally, pretended they didn’t notice his odd voice. Usually they ignored it, acted as if wasn’t there, and grew a kind of awkward area between them. Then there were the mean, the cruel, who would pick on him, and finally the curious. He figured he liked the curious the best. He could be more open with them.

Here there an’ everywhere mostly. Never did learn the places names. My family were traveller folk. Gpysy’s. he said the last word Gypsy’s with a slight tremble. He missed behind a gypsy, constantly on the move, never knowing where they’d turn up next. That was perhaps why he spent much of his time out of AniWaya and out exploring the rest of Nova Scotia. The man shuffled his feet and looked up at Matteo once more. What ‘bout you, skipper? he asked simply, pushing up the last of the stakes into the ground. Now there were long poles fully surounding it. All that was left now of the walls would be packing mud, leaves, and moss into the hut. The sticks were so close together that there were rarely any gaps, however the secondary covering of debris would secure the hut and make it more stable. Once the walls were done, they’d move on to thatched roofing. And that was something Frodo knew a little more about.

Frodo Silvertongue

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