The Fellowship of The Forgotten Children

The story of an orphan discovering the fruits of friendship.

                                                 

                 The Fellowship of the Forgotten Children

Bran was not fond of a lot of things. Chief amongst them was having to move from one foster home to another. He was quite sick of it all. Though they all said they were pleased to have him join their family at the beginning they seem even more pleased when he left them. He stopped bothering to make friends after the fourth house. At his second home, when he was six years old his foster sister introduced him to the world of books. He took to reading instantly, like a fish to water. He would sit by himself in a corner and read for hours at end. He suspected that this may be the reason some of his foster families got tired of him. He often heard the words unsocial, irresponsible, lazy, being flouted around when his social worker came for a visit.

Finally, when he turned eleven, it was decided that he needed a permanent home for the next seven years. A new orphanage had just opened up and his social worker told him that it would be the perfect place for him, where he could make lots of new friends.

“Will there be a library?” was his only question. The social worker looked a bit put out after that and said he’ll be more than happy with its collection of books. And so, he once again said goodbye to his latest family and moved to the orphanage.

Though the social worker had told him it was a new orphanage he found it to be the oldest building he had ever seen, let alone stayed in. He saw that it was in fact an old monastery remodeled into an orphanage. He set out to explore the place as soon as he dropped off his meager belongings in the dorm room he shared with twenty other boys. The old monastery spread over several acres and it was probably built during the Elizabethan era. He walked around entranced, making sure that he kept out of the way of other kids. He was glad that the place was big enough to not feel crowded. For the first time in his life, he felt the beginnings of peace stir in his chest.

As he wandered around he came across an ancient section of the building, they looked to be like classrooms. He heard a clutter from down the hallway emanating from one of the rooms. He set forth to investigate, curiosity pushing him forward.

Through the doorway there was a window and the largest pair of eyes he had ever seen. The girl was younger than him, but looked serious enough to be a professor as she turned towards him, making it clear that he was interrupting something. 

“Who are you?” he asked, since it was rather hard to tell what with the smock and all.

“Me? Oh, I’m lots of things. I just haven’t decided which one I want to be the most of.” She paused and brandished a pencil in his direction. “What do you think?”

“Pardon?”

“Well, what do you think? About me?” Stomping her foot in impatience, she waved the pencil in agitation. “Come now, you must think something! Why, I've never met someone who couldn't think, not really.”

He found it harder than he should have expected to answer. “Well, I haven’t ever seen anyone who could be quite as scary with just a pencil.”

That had been a good enough answer apparently, as the girl grinned. “Thank you. And for that matter, I don’t know anyone else quite as excellent at giving compliments.” 

He grinned back and asked, peering around with interest, “Can I come in?”

She waved him in, as if she found the question to be redundant. He sat down in the bench next to her. It was indeed a classroom, it hadn't occurred to him that his new home came with a school attached. But he didn't mind, unlike other kids he enjoyed the tedium of schoolwork and engaging in the pursuit of knowledge.

“So how many homes have you been in?” She fired at him, nosily, interrupting his musings.

He looked startled and asked her, “How did you know?”

“You have the look of a foster child.” She answered simply, “So?” She tapped the pencil against the desk with impatience.

“Six.” He answered wryly. “What about you?”

“Eight.” She said proudly, puffing her chest out. “This place is a dump as well. I’m going to be on my way soon and it shall become my nondescript number nine.”

“Why?” he asked. This place did not seem like a ‘dump’ to him. In fact he found it to be quite marvelous. And he found this girl to be interesting as well, so much so that unbeknownst to him, he had been drawn into a conversation.

“I’m a naughty child,” she proclaimed with pride. “I’m incapable of following directions and bound to lead a life of ruin.”

He laughed at that and her face twisted in anger. “I’m not lying. That’s what they say.”

He stifled his laughter and said, “Oh I believe you, that’s not why I laughed. I did so because I've been told the same things, except for the naughty part. They prefer the word lazy with me.”

Her face relaxed into a smile and she said, “Well, you might not be so bad after all.”

She observed him for a moment and continued, “Yes, I think you will do just fine. Now, come. Let me show you the terrace. We are not allowed to go up there but,” she shrugged and left the sentence hanging with a wicked twinkle in her eye. She stood up and went towards the door gesturing with her hands for him to be quiet and to follow her. 

He did follow her and had more fun in that one day than he had in the past few years put together. That night he acknowledged with surprise that he had actually made a new friend. And he found that it was not so bad after all.  Bran had finally found someone he could be fond of.

     

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Reviews

[Mysana]

Interesting story. I'd swear I'd read it before... seriously...

[Mysana]

I figured out why. You entered into my last contest and won 3rd place.... It makes so much more sense...