MR. ELDHART
“Tristram!” Nad exclaimed, “It isn’t
that hard! You are forcing it...you should not have to!”
I growled and stomped my foot. I was
frustrated that the end of the horizontal fence post refused to slide into the corner
post’s newly carved port-hole. “I don’t think you routed this thing out all the way,” I complained.
“No...are you sure your angle is straight?”
“Yes I am sure my angle is straight!” I snapped back. I dropped to my knees; hoping that maybe it would give me a better position to slide the fence post in. Alas, I forgot about the holes in my trousers; I could feel the moisture of the ground and grass wetting my knee caps and chilling my legs. Perhaps there was an earthworm pinned under my knee as well...something was moving underneath me. I paid it little mind. More mind than I should have, though.
It was well passed noon now, maybe three hours after, and Nad and I had just replaced four fence posts for our corral. And each and every one of them was as annoying as the other.
So I began my approach again, but this time, I had a hint of resolve. A resolve that was most likely plastered all over my face; a resolve that would probably send ogres running back to their caves in the mountains, crying like little infants. The random thought amused me so much; I might have washed some of the resolve off my face with a little grin. It was not too much of a grin though—I was sure I still had enough resolve on my face.
However, my resolve was depleted when my father’s voice rang out behind me: “How many grown men does it take to put a post in a hole?”
Father laughed as if it was the funniest thing he had ever heard, and another man laughed with him.
I turned at the sound of the other man’s laughter, and my heart crashed when I saw who it was.
It was Mr. Eldhart, the biggest man I have ever met. He was at least seven feet tall, and by my estimation, his shoulders could barely fit through our doors. But that was beside the point. Mr. Eldhart was Prew’s most famous story-teller. Many a night I would go to The Bonfire and listen to his wild tales. Mr. Eldhart had written so many stories, I was sure he was running Prew out of parchment paper. Mr. Eldhart was my inspiration...he was the greatest writer of all time!
And I wanted to be a writer.
Now, one of the few times I ever got to interact with the man, he was laughing at me. That was disappointing.
Nad muttered something and took the post from me. “I’ll get this, Tristram. It seems you are rather incapable of anything requiring physical effort.”
I resisted the urge to tackle him right then. It would do no good to further embarrass myself in front of my role model.
The two men, my father and Mr. Eldhart, stood right outside the back door. They watched Nad put the post in from afar, then decided to make their way over to the corral, where Father would introduce Mr. Eldhart to one of our five horses. Father and Mother were in the business of breeding horses.
“Narina—I like this gal! She’s a sport, I can
tell.”
“Narina?” my father said in a
half-yell. “Sport isn’t quite the
right word you were lookin’ for. I would say—‘rambunctious’? ‘Insane?’”Mr. Eldhart laughed. His laugher was contagious; so deep and full of mirth. A chuckle always escaped me when I heard him laugh.
“I assure you,” the big man replied to Father, “she is just what I am looking for. A man could always use a horse with character. In the end, they have the better instincts.”
Narina was a storm-gray mare, with a white stripe starting from the crown of her head to her mid back. A friend of my father’s found her running wild up in The Mountains of Olgrff (the mountains that surrounded Lake Bergonon). After trying to keep the wild animal for himself, he gave her to Father. She was too much for the man.
“I’m hesitant to sell you this animal, Mr. Eldhart,” Father said, patting Narina on the back (who was surprisingly calm at the moment—as if she knew Mr. Eldhart was choosing her), “I’m sure she’ll give you nothing but trouble. I don’t think she’s worth your money. As you probably gathered, she ruined part of our corral. She kicked two of the beams in half!”
“That means she’s strong!” Mr. Eldhart said and came along the other side of the mare, “and I will buy her for seven socré!”
“You’re too generous, sir,” Father said, shaking his head. “I’ll except four socré—no more.”
Mr. Eldhart tsk-tsked and shook his head more fervently than Father, “Five! And we will leave it at that!”
Father sighed and then chuckled. “Perhaps you and Narina are a good match; you’re both the most stubborn beings I have ever dealt with!”
Mr. Eldhart smiled a great big smile and nodded in agreement. “Aye, that we are! And that we always will be! Here Nad, there’s the five. Pleasure doing business with you.”
Father (whose name was Nad, my brother’s namesake) took the money in his left hand and replied, “Likewise!”
“Would you like to join us for supper, Mr. Eldhart?” Mother called from behind. She was poking her head out the back door.
I verbalized my agreement with Mother’s invitation. “Oh please sir! Please eat with us! I’d love to hear some more of your stories!”
“Me too, Mr. Eldhart!” Nad chimed in.
“I’ve made some fresh bread and soup!” Mother added.
“What soup might that be?” inquired Mr. Eldhart, though by the look on his face I think he had already made his decision, no matter the soup.
Mother answered, “Potato and cheese, sir!”
Mr. Eldhart laughed and mock-rubbed his belly. “Well, I might just have to join you folks now! And I think I have a story or two up my sleeve...”
Nad and I exchanged excited looks as we followed Father and Mr. Eldhart back into the house.
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