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Description
Seven brothers of seven colors splashed about in the cool waters of a small pond. Late-day summer sun filtered through the canopies of tall fir trees, sparkling off furious ripples and smiles. After a heady day of cleverly picking the pockets and purses of wealthy merchants and lords, the respite was welcome to each boy. Dunkings and races and flying leaps from the ancient stone monolith jutting out over the clear water were just the thing to sluice away a day of unfortunate thievery.

After the death of their father at the hands of a kingsman, their mother long gone in the tragic birth of littlest Yellow, growing bellies needed fed and they had no kin to take them in. Black, the oldest, having a meager fourteen summers to his name and no skill with hammer or plow, fell into debt with an old rogue who knew of the brothers' plight, and to light fingers and charming smiles they had turned. Once Black had mastered the craft, he instructed each of his brothers so that he would no longer need the dubious charity of the leering old man. Gold dubloons pilfered from richly embroidered purses were traded in the secret markets for meat and cheese and bread, thread and leather scraps and other necessities, all used as sparingly as possible to avoid notice. The rest of their horde collected in the hidden alcove under Blue's sleeping mat in the cave they called home.

The shadow of the once-great castle on the mountain loomed across the placid water. Black alone remembered the way the spires used to shine, casting a glow of peace and prosperity across the land. The old king had been a fair man, a just man, who looked out for the needs of every village, and was renowned far and wide for his mercy. When his wife was struck with a mysterious illness that slowly wasted the flesh from her bones, the entire kingdom mourned. When she passed, the townsfolk tore their clothes and wore ashes for a month. In his devastation, the king soon fell victim to the charms of a beautiful noblewoman come from a land across the sea. The people rejoiced to see the king happy once again, but soon learned their folly. Within a month, the same tragic malady claimed the lives of their beloved king and his young son, the adored Prince Adrian. The new queen dropped all pretense of nobility, enacting savage laws and forcing her subjects into horrible subjugation. Her diamond mines became filled with men who couldn't pay their taxes and the sons of others who sold them to avoid the same fate. Men who couldn't break their backs in the mines were simply executed. Such was the fate of their father.

All of these things were on Black's mind as he drifted on his back near the center of the pond, staring up at the grim spectre of the castle, sounds of his brothers' rambunctious antics in his ears. A life of stealing to survive was never one he wanted. He had long dreamed of taking his harp into luxurious manors, and even the castle on the hill itself, and winning accolades and honors with his voice and dancing fingers. Alas, bards were not welcome in lofty halls anymore, for the new queen detested any music not her own. He would die a thousand deaths before letting his brothers end up in the mines or worse. And it was far preferable to the other career his old mentor tried to ensnare him in. Apparently some of the wealthier kingsmen had a taste for young flesh.

A shudder coursed through his body at this thought, and it jolted him enough from his reverie to hear the low baying of a hound. Hounds were a sound associated with the kingsmen, a sound associated with terror and a fierce, burning hatred. Pulling his body under him, slowly backing through the water toward his brothers, he shook droplets from his hair and waved a hand at Grey, next youngest and nearest to him. Grey caught the next howl, and with a loud whisper got the attention of the remaining boys. Fear etched in each face, the seven brothers eyed the bank of the pond where seven piles of clothes were folded neatly on a log. Swimming cautiously into a loose huddle, the boys made their way together toward the shallows, trying not to disturb the surface too strongly. Black scooped up Yellow in one arm, feeling his brother's trembling as the boy buried his face into his shoulder. Grey did the same for Green, and Brown held tight to the hands of twins Blue and Red. If they could reach the bank and grab their clothes, they could disappear into the woods they knew so intimately without a trace.

The unspoken plan was ruined though, when a ragged figure staggered from the forest, from the same direction as the hounds' call. The brothers froze in fear, submerged from the nose down, hoping not to be noticed if they stayed still. Black soon realized the futility in this action as he recalled the conspicuous piles of clothes still waiting directly in the path of the figure. He passed Yellow to Grey, ready to fight, shoving down absurd embarrassment over his nudity in front of a stranger.

"Help me. Please."

The stranger's voice was hoarse, as if he had been screaming for a long while, but it was also young, the lilt of an unusual accent apparent. The timbre of a boy like Black himself, a low tenor, not yet the baritone or bass of an adult. Black paused, taking a closer look. The figure was stooped and limping, barefoot, clothed in rags so torn and filthy as to push the limits of modesty. Lank, washwater hair fell in limp curls over shadowed eyes and hollowed cheeks. The body under the rags was incredibly slender, the promise of sturdy musculature hinted at, but lost in the emaciated ridges and hollows and tightly-stretched skin of malnutrition. Black recognized the look from his own rare glances in a looking glass. Every patch of exposed skin was covered in ugly green-black bruises or the crusty brown of dried blood. Some of the cuts even looked fresh, a brighter red against dirty skin.

This was a boy. No older than Black himself. A victim of kingsmen just like they were. A split second decision was made, and Black's brain began to work quickly.

"Grab our clothes and hide them in that tree stump over there." Black pointed, and the boy shambled as fast as he could to comply. He urged his brothers to swim quickly but quietly under the overhanging rock they'd performed so many cannonballs and dives from. Once underneath as far as they could go, they'd be barely visible to anyone not looking for them. When he could only see the glints of their eyes in the shadows, he himself swam a little closer to the edge, stopping when his feet could just touch the bottom. A hurried gesture for the strange boy to join him, and Black dived, scooping up two large handfuls of mud from the bottom and rising back to the surface. The boy was treading water waiting for him, and without even a warning, he dumped one handful over the boy's head, and one over his own. He smeared it all over his own face and through his hair. The other boy caught on and began doing the same.

"Get rid of your clothes. Hurry." A flush spread over the stranger's face, but he began divesting himself of his rags without argument, letting them drift away to the deep.

As the first hound broke through the treeline with a bark, Black began studiously scrubbing at one arm, nonchalantly whistling a tune. A quick study, the other boy began motions as if he was scrubbing a foot, carefully keeping his wounded torso below the waterline. The hound was joined by another, and both of them sniffed at the shoreline, a low whining beginning in the backs of their throats as they realized the scent they'd been following was gone. The sound of hoofbeats and crashing brush caused each lop-eared dog to slink onto their bellies, pawing pathetically at the wet earth in fear.

An armored figure on horseback burst from the trees and skidded to a stop on the bank of the pond. The rider bore the colors and badge of a kingsmen, and eyes cold as winter frost gazed quickly about the clearing before settling on the two young figures apparently bathing.

"You there. Names?"

"I am called Black, milord, and this is my brother, White." The duly-named "White" slunk just a little behind Black, timid respect and a tinge of fear written across his muddy face. Not too overdone, just the right amount of emotion to give credence to the role. Black felt a surge of admiration for the other boy's quick acting abilities, even as he felt the shaking press of the boy's hand against his lower back. He fought the urge to blush and covertly reached to grasp the hand in his own.

"What are you doing here?" barked the queen's soldier.

Black let a small, impish look pass over his face, a ghost of mischievous youth, before composing his face into mock decorum. Wouldn't do to be too proper for a young scamp and give the game away. "'Tis bathing day, milord. My brother and I have had a hard week on the farm and Mother can't bear the sight of us. Nor the smell." A slight boyish giggle sealed this proclamation, and the ruse was obviously working, as the soldier rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"Your brother speak?"

"No, milord. Not since the fly sickness came and went. Made him a bit simple, you know?" The boy's hand tightened in his own briefly.

"Ugh. Might do better to drown him now while you can before he burdens your family further. Call it an accident, like. Have you seen anyone come through here?"

"Not since Marcella the smith's daughter. I showed her my bum and she dropped her wildflowers and went off shrieking. That's all, milord."

The soldier shook his head, exasperation plain on his ugly face. "Useless you are. I'm letting you off with a warning because I haven't time to teach you proper respect, little idiot. Finish your pitiful scrubbing and get back to the village. Wouldn't want to get filled with arrows for looking like a runty little piglet, would you?"

"No, milord. We'll get back to Mother with a quickness. Thank you for your kindness."

The kingsman expectorated loudly in reply and trotted off, hounds loping after him. The two boys continued their act while waiting for the sounds of his hoofbeats recede. A few more minutes, and Black finally gestured his brothers out of hiding.

"Thank you. You saved my life." The heartfelt voice of the stranger bordered on tears. Black realized that he still had the boy's hand clenched in his own and released it with an embarrassed grin.

"Seemed you needed a hand." Black's voice sounded strange to his own ears, rueful and humorous and kind, yes, but with an undercurrent he didn't recognize. His brothers clustered around, staring at the boy with intense curiosity. The stranger ducked his head underwater and bubbles frothed as he scrubbed roughly at his own head. When he surfaced, the boys were greeted with a wealth of dark golden ringlets, wide cerulean eyes peering gratefully from under them. A warmth settled in Black's stomach with a slew of vague, half-formed thoughts and he looked away sheepishly.

He caught Grey's eyes lingering on his own face, a subtle note of confusion in eyes identical to his own, eyes shared by all the brothers, the vivid green of summer grass. Black met those eyes directly, and saw a small note of comprehension that he didn't understand. A knowing grin from his brother cemented his confusion, and he resolved to question his right hand later. A shake of his head to rid himself of the strange emotions whirling around his brain jarred loose another thought that had been simmering there. A glance down and his face heated. The water of the pond was very clear, and being so close ensured that the shared state of nudity was easily apparent. The stranger apparently had the same thought, hastily covering himself with both hands.

Another head shake, Grey's small chuckle summarily ignored, and Black gave the stranger another rueful smile.

"At least we're all boys here. No way I would have ever dared to actually show my bum to Marcella. Simpering cow that she is anyway." Green started chortling, which set off the others. Marvelling at his own bravery, Black made his way carefully to the shore and strode boldly to the tree stump holding their clothes. His brothers followed suit after a slight hesitation. He handed out piles of clothes, leaving his own for last, and his brothers began dressing. After pulling on his pants and trousers, feeling acutely aware of eyes on his bare backside as he pulled them up, he turned to look over his shoulder. The stranger was still crouched under the water's surface near the edge, expression unreadable but cheeks tinged pink. Black walked to the edge and held out his billowing tunic, adamantly holding the boy's turquoise eyes.

"It's long enough to cover everything for now. I'm sure Grey or I have some skivvies and trousers to fit you back home. Come along now." A relieved smile spread across the boy's face. Black turned his back in politeness, ever so slightly chagrined and feeling foolish because of it. A couple of splashes and some rustling from the heavy fabric, and he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"I truly am forever in your debt. How can I repay you?" Without turning around, Black simply shrugged and held his arms back in clear invitation to hop on.

"We only have wood slippers enough for us and it's a bit of a journey to our cave. I'll carry you. Do you cook or clean?" Arms rested loosely around his neck and with a small lurch, his hands grasped smooth but strong thighs. Soft ringlets brushed his ear as the other boy cocked his head, resting his chin on his own arm. The rustle of cloth on Black's bare back gave him a small shiver. A subtle tightening in the grip around his neck and warm breath brushed Black's cheek.

"I can do both, and more. Whatever you ask of me."

"You have a real name?"

A pause, loaded with implication. "White will be just fine for now."

Black turned around briefly, gazing up thoughtfully at the castle on its hill, setting sun making jagged claws of the once-graceful turrets. He felt the flesh in his grip tense, heard the soft intake of breath. The kingsmen, the hounds, the accent flavoring the boy's words...his sharp mind touched the possibilities. Wondered.

Without a word, he turned back to the waiting, eager faces of his brothers. He could see in their faces that they were feeling exactly what he was. A premonition of adventure on the horizon. The sense that destiny was taking notice of them for the first time in their unfortunate lives. He shot a wink at Grey, and with gusto, his brother began a lively marching song to take them home. Brown took it up, whistle piercing cleanly through the woodland silence. Red and Blue started a cadence, while Green and Yellow clapped in time. Black let his voice join Grey's.

"Hi ho, hi ho, it's off to home we go..."

Stranger White and the seven Halfling brothers in their seven colors trooped away through the forest, making for the waterfall that hid the entrance to their cave. Headed home, song on their lips, and fate gleaming in their eyes, knowing things would never be the same.