Trick or Treat 21
prompt: (Belated Trick) Things just… keep… disappearing.
When Fíli was ten, his father moved he and his mother to a small village named Bree. Looking back, Fíli would say it was a quaint sort of place, neat and tidy, proud of its harvest fairs and baking competitions. Homely. All the shops were located around the green, for the most part; the bookstore, the baker, the restaurant attached to the inn, the butcher, the fishmonger. Everybody knew everybody else.
Surrounding Bree was thin, yellow-green woodland, grassy and sunlit and alive, bisected by a narrow stream that expanded to four times its width in the rainy season. It was difficult to get lost amongst the trees, plenty of indicators and trails to follow that all looped back to the village. However, it wasn’t impossible. At least, not according to Fíli’s neighbour, an old man who went by the name Bofur Biffins.
He was an eccentric fellow with more charisma in his bones than the forest had rabbits, and he told incredible tales of magic and mischief, pipe sloped out the corner of his expressive mouth and fire crackling behind him. The local children visited him often at teatime when Bofur served custard creams with jammy centers and a rainbow of fondant fancies – otherwise outlawed by their parents. The children sat on the floor in a crescent around him, fingers sticky and crumbs down their fronts. Bofur sat in his creaky wooden chair, back to the fire, and he regaled them with the history, as he called it, of the woodland.
Stories of fairies and gnomes and dwarves and all manner of fantastical creature, how they made the woodland their home and still roamed it freely to this day. How critters named Borrowers picked a home and announced their intentions by nicking things before they stole the child of the house. Stories that Fíli, even then, knew were utter nonsense, but enjoyed, nevertheless.
Until, one day, in the autumn of his eleventh year, he lost a sock. It didn’t alarm him immediately, after all, boys lose socks all the time. No, it was something he added later to the growing list of items he began to record after his vintage Gameboy disappeared from where he was sure he’d left it. On the list were also his father’s keys, his mother’s marigolds, fishing hooks, a matchbox, two half-used cakes of soap, a spool of thread, the mask Fíli made for his school play, many of the reeds for his father’s clarinet, and, most recently, a whole package of nutmeg.
“Who ate all the bickies!?” His mother called from the foot of the stairs; her tone colored in annoyance.
Fíli scribbled ginger snaps beneath nutmeg.
The list was growing, and he began to feel the cold clutch of panic prickle up his spine. He knew how Bofur’s tale ended, and things weren’t looking good for him, being the only child in the house. The only way to stop from being taken by Borrowers was to turn thirteen before they came to kidnap him. Because obviously, teenagers weren’t children anymore.
Swallowing around the thick lump in his throat, Fíli peered at his Marvel calendar, tacked to the corkboard hung above his desk. According to Bofur’s tale, the children were taken two weeks to the day things started going missing. He had two days to grow up.
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Fíli put his plan into action that night after supper. He asked his father for an empty box and stuffed all his little kid things in it. His dinosaur collection, his Transformers, his Captain Underpants books, posters of Pixar movies’ past, Toy Story toys and G.I. Joes and all that stupid stuff he … he never played with or cared about anymore. He kept his collection of stones that he’d found in the woodland, all smooth and pretty, veined with interesting colors, set in a row along his windowsill.
The following morning, he asked his mother if he could have plain sheets and a plain duvet cover and plain pillowcases to replace his Star Wars. After she gave him a funny look, she agreed to pick up a set in whatever colour he wanted. He chose black and grey since teenagers always seemed moody and those were the moodiest colours he could think of.
That day he refused to play Yu-Gi-Oh and stayed in the classroom with his earbuds in and the weirdest, angriest but most upbeat music he knew his friend’s brother listened to. He didn’t eat his M&Ms at lunch and watched TikToks that he didn’t understand on his phone. After school, he even asked if he could join the football game in the green with the older kids. They said yes and cheered him on as he scored his first goal as a Big Kid.
When he got home, muddy and flushed and light as air because he’d done it, he felt sure his plan was going to work.
And then, when the clock ticked over to midnight, he was rudely reminded that pretending to be something didn’t actually make you whatever it was you pretended to be.
“Oi! I said wake up!”
Fíli felt another tiny bump to the tip of his nose, like the flick of a blunt nail. He snorted into semi-awareness, unconsciously batting the air around his face when the back of his hand collided with something solid and a high-pitched squeal sliced through the dense, nighttime quiet.
The sound jolted Fíli the rest of the way to wakefulness. Shooting up into a seat position, he quickly fiddled with his bedside lamp, found the switch, and rolled it on. Heart in his throat, breath rapid and freezing as if he’d run a marathon, he glanced around his room for any signs of an intruder.
There was no one there, no unusual shadows or misplaced objects. Things were as they always were. Just as his heart started slow and breathing to even, he felt a very subtle tug on the edge of his comforter. A barely-there sort of yank-and-release. Slowly, Fíli leaned over and peered over the side of his bed.
Instantly, he flung himself back, toppling over the other side of his bed and into a heap on the floor. He blinked the spots from his eyes, was staring at the ceiling in a daze when a teeny head popped into his vision over the edge of his bed. Apparently, the blanket had followed him most of the way down, bringing the part that’d hung over the other side of his bed up, thus carrying the three-inch-tall boy up with it.
“You alright?” The tiny boy asked. His voice reminded Fíli of a baby bird.
Fíli blanched but was too shocked to do more than nod stiffly in response.
“Good.” The boy said and stood himself up, bent slightly and the knee and sprung over the side of Fíli’s bed, landing neatly on his feet on Fíli’s sternum. “Where’d the dinosaurs go?” The boy asked with his wee hands in his hips. “I had plans for two of ‘em!”
It took Fíli’s brain a few seconds to register the boy’s words, his eyes unable to process what they were seeing. “Uh,” He finally answered, though he sounded uncertain of what he knew to be fact, “They’re in a box?”
The boy’s brows furrowed in confusion, “Why?”
“Because I want to get rid of them?” Fíli replied, going crosseyed the longer he looked at the boy.
“Why?” The boy repeated.
“Because I didn’t want to be kidnapped.” It sounded really stupid when he said it aloud.
The boy crossed his legs at the ankles and plopped down to sit where he’d been standing. “By who?” He seemed intrigued rather than concerned.
“By, uhm, by Borrowers.” Fíli stammered, heat climbing his neck to his cheeks. He was starting to get uncomfortable, neck strained and shoulders aching, so he asked as politely as he could manage, “Would you mind if I sat up, please?”
The boy looked surprised, cocked his head, and examined Fíli’s position, then swung his legs around and slid down Fíli’s side. Once Fíli heard the lightest of thumps, the boy called up, “Go right ahead.”
Hesitantly, Fíli sorted himself out, leaning back on his hands and staring down at who he assumed was a Borrower, there to take him to wherever Borrowers took children.
“Are you going to take me now?” He said weakly, hairline prickling as fear-sweat began to bead.
The boy snorted incredulously, sweeping his hands up and down in front of himself, “Does it look as if I could take you anywhere?”
Fíli considered the question. “I guess not.” If there were more Borrowers hiding under the bed, maybe. They’d tie him down like the folk in Gulliver’s Travels.
“I thought the Bigguns were supposed to be edumacated. Wait ‘til I tell mum they’re as stupid as Uncle Ned!” The boy chuckled to himself, shaking his head as though in disbelief.
“So, you’re not here to take me into the forest and kill me?” Fíli wanted to be clear.
“Who gave you that idea?”
Fíli tipped his head, squinted at the boy, “My neighbour said Borrowers take things and then take the child who lives in the home they stole from.”
“That’s the second time you’ve said that, what is it?”
“What’s what?”
“What’s a borrower?” The boy asked, folding his arms, and tapping his foot impatiently. “They sound as stupid as you are.”
“I’m not stupid!” Fíli defended himself.
“You thought I was going to try and kidnap you. That’s pretty stupid.” The boy reasoned.
Fíli couldn’t really disagree, that was pretty stupid.
“So… you’re not a Borrower, then?”
“I don’t even know what that is!” The boy threw his hands up.
If he were of a regular height, Fíli noted, the boy appeared to be about Fíli’s age. His nut-brown hair was long and loose, and he was dressed in unusual clothes. The fabric looked like it’d been taken from a mitten. On his feet were some sort of rubber material, laced up and tied around the ankle with black thread.
“What are you, then?” Fíli asked.
The boy was outwardly stunned by Fíli’s question. “I—obviously, I’m Kíli!”
“Is that like some kind of gnome?”
“Would you stop making up words?” The Kíli groaned, spinning on the spot before falling down dramatically, “What’s a gnome?”
“Well, what’s a Kíli?” Fíli countered.
“Iam Kíli.” Kíli lifted his head, peered down the length of his body at Fíli as if Fíli were a particular brand of idiot. “That’s my name. What do people call you? Biggun Boy?”
“Fíli, thank you!” Fíli grumbled and crossed his arms defensively.
“Well then,” Kíli pushed himself back to his feet and held out his hand, “Nice to meet you.”
Not wanting to crush Kíli with a handshake, Fíli offered his pinky. Kíli wrapped his tiny hand around what he could of it and shook.
“Now, where are those dinosaurs?”
“What do you want with the dinosaurs?” Fíli wondered, rolling onto his knees.
“I was going to take one home for my little brother.” Kíli explained enthusiastically, “Tili loves pretending to be an explorer, riding around on his beasties, and saving the world!” There, Kíli held his stomach and laughed heartily, practically doubled over.
What Kíli said clued Fíli in on something, “Do you just do around taking whatever you want without asking?”
The question seemed to stump Kíli since, “Don’t you?”
“Of course not! You can’t just take something from someone! That’s stealing!”
Kíli moved forward a couple of steps, “Did you ask the ground if you could take its rocks?”
“Huh?” Fíli frowned. Kíli motioned in the direction of Fíli’s window and Fíli’s gaze followed, landing on his collection of stones. “Nnnnnnnno.” He said.
“Right. Exactly.” Kíli stated. Desiring to get on with things, Kíli brought the conversation back to, “The dinosaurs?”
Fíli pointed weakly toward the box sat beside his closet door. Kíli perked up, whooping giddily and scurrying over. He jumped up, grabbed onto the lip of the box, and hoisted himself over, tipping his top half into the box, rump in the air and legs kicking to keep him balanced.
When Kíli’s top half reappeared, he grinned dopily over his shoulder at Fíli, “Can I take it all? Since you don’t want it anymore.”
Fíli was about to say yes, but something stopped him. He’d only wanted to get rid of those things because he thought it would keep him from getting taken by Borrowers. Now, faced with the reality that Borrowers weren’t going to take him, he didn’t feel the desperate urge to grow up.
“How about,” Fíli began in negotiation, “We share them?” As he spoke, his enthusiasm gained momentum, “I could bring them to you and your brother, and we can all pretend to be explorers! It’ll be fun!” And then, “Where do you live, anyway?”
“That way.” Kíli hooked a thumb toward outside. From where he knelt on the floor, Fíli could just see out his window to the dappling of woodland beyond the back fence.
“In the woods?”
“Yeah. Near the river.”
“River? There’s no—” It dawned on Fíli, “Oh, yeah. I know how to get there. So, what do you think?”
Kíli’s grin mellowed into something soft and pleased.
“Alright. I’m in!”
And so was the beginning of a beautiful, if somewhat unusual, friendship between a boy and his Kíli.