In barrels. Apparently, I come in barrels. By which I mean I am currently stuck in a barrel. It’s a fairly kinda small one and my right knee is beginning to chafe against the rough wood but I think what hurts the most is not the muffled mocking laughter from outside my prison, let alone the indignity of being forced into said barrel to begin with, but the fact that even though this barrel is fairy kinda small I still have room to move. Snug, but not terribly uncomfortable if you don’t mind splinters.

Gnawed pebbles.

      “C’mon, guys! What is the point of all this?” My muffled plea just started the laughter up again. For extra measure I hit the wall one more time. Ow. It was doing more damage to me that I was to it. With a sigh clawed up from my toes I let my hands fall onto my knees and sat back against the wall, trying to get comfortable on carrots. In the absence of my pitiful slaps the, conversation being a strong word here, filtered through the cracks. “Whaaaat? Are you sure you saw me put the pipsqueak in there? You sure you didn’t mistake him for the leg of a Twej?” Ah, my dear old friend, Alfarr Skullgut. The perpetuator and general instigator of my perpetual torment. The lid of my new home creaked as Alfarr shifted towards Tok Stewsnort to hear his take on the situation. “Not just a twej leg. One that’s gotten the meat eat off.” Tok’s guffaw personified the word. Slightly breathy, loud, done in weird bouts, and just annoying enough to put you on edge but not so annoying that you would comment. His is an eye twitch when you hear it kind of laugh. Alfarr barked his. “Ha! Pipsqueak’s a bone! A Twej bone!” A new voice joined the barnyard fray. “‘Ese scraps left ova afta us Villagahs been finish eatin’!” Snorri Hensneer. Good grief, the intelligence just decays as it goes down the line, doesn’t it?

          The name calling dragged on long enough for me to start wondering if I’d be stuck spending a night crammed into something again when the lid groaned and Alfarr hopped off. His boots hit the ground with a leather thud coupled with a stronger one. He was wearing those boots that had metal in them again, with the leather straps and wide fur brim. “You’re saying he’s an eel, Tok? “ I hate those boots. “Come on! He’s like a spear’s stick!” Sunlight assaulted my poor eyes and I blearily blinked and squinted against the light. Alfarr’s fist crashed into my chest as he grabbed the front of my shirt and I came flying out of my temporary cell to be held aloft with one hand. My muscles screamed in protest at the sudden freedom of and I was shaken like a brownie being killed by a dundallo. “Look at him! Weird hair, rags for clothes, skinny body, tiny whiney arms!” Alfarr's vocabulary personified. “Tok, does a stick have muscles?” Tok guffawed again in harmony with Snorri’s dumb laughter. “No!” Alfarr crowed, holding me up like some sort of stringy trophy and put his foot on a nearby crate as he puffed his already full chest out farther. “Or maybe,” Ooh, I did not like Alfarr’s grin, “he’s something weaker than a stick.” With an arrogant flick of his fingers he threw me down hard. My body spasmed from the abuse. I looked up to see his silhouette leaning over   me. His voice, already cruel, took on that wonderful special mocking tone.

Ooohh, no.

    “Maybe,” he proclaimed with a lip curling sneer, “he’s like sand. Weak.”He kicked my chest and I saw stars as my head slammed against the dirt. "Gives beneath the slightest pressure. Weak muscles.” My breath huffed out as he dug his boot deeper into my ribs.“Weak will.” I was gasping for air.”Weak blood, pale skin.” He let off me after one last cruel shove. “Weak hands. That means a weak soul, weakling.” He was circling, kicking with every ‘weak’. “We have strong blood.” Ooh, that one was especially viscous, ow. Dirt and bits of stone crunched and I curled into fetal position, trying to protect my head as much as I could. Something slammed into the ground right next to my shoulder and I turned my head to see Alfarr kneeling over me, blocking the sun. He stare met mine and he held it, dark blue eyes against my silver ones. His fist had turned a rock to powder, right next to my cheek. “Weak eyes.” The nauseating wave of stench was not helping me catch my breath. “You’re going to die soon, bones.” He casually stood up, shrugged. “Everyone knows it.” Tok shuffled forward, his huge bulk casting even more of a shadow. “‘S’just a matter o’ time.” he slurped. Disgusting, the way he seems to lick each word thoroughly before he said them.

Thump Thump thumpthump

Oh, great. Snorri had also decided to partake in this welp fest. Now I’m about ten times more likely to end hung up somewhere until my shirt rips. Well, if I was going to end up like laundry anyway then I might as well get a few fewer bruises out of it. Hm, that kind of phrasing does not work well when you’re trying to say you’ll be getting less of something. Nevermind. Those are contemplations for a different time.

“W-wait.” Oh gods wherever you all are why is it that my voice just sounds so wimpy and squeaky squaky. I carefully uncurled myself and got my legs to hold me up.

Alfarr kicked them out from under me. Ugh. I licked my lips and spat out the gravel that had gotten into a cut. “L-listen.” I tried again, lifting my hands and using my elbows to crawl to my knees, eyes down. “I, ah, you all know I’m, uhm, well, weak.” I gave a well, weak chuckle. “But-ahem- if I’m going to die soon don’tchu all think, well, I don’t know,” a laugh more like a hiccup, “that maybe, just maybe you all might, uh, let me die in, well, peace?” Throughout my speech I had slowly been sinking into myself and my shoulders were talking to my ears at the end of it. I braved a glance upward. Alfarr looked vaguely angry, and Tok seemed surprised. Snorri, amazingly, appeared contemplative, and I could practically see the smoke curling out from his ears. I laced my fingers behind my neck to cover the fearbumps.

      The two of them and I all jumped when Alfarr suddenly threw his head back and laughed. After about twenty seconds of his laughter the three of us began exchanging glances in shared worry. I leaned towards Snorri, who saw my intention and obligingly crouched beside me. “Catapults get fixed sometimes if you hit them.” I stated. Snorri nodded a bit too vigorously, tipping his horned helmet forwards, then screwed up his face. He hadn’t made the connection. “Should we, uh,” I gestured with my elbows towards the laughing maniac, "do something similar?” Snorri gave me a blank stare. “Like what?” He rumbled. Oh gloopy iron. "Uhm, maybe...hit him?” I stuck my neck out to peer around his bulk at his face. Snorri hummed and nodded slightly, fingers on his chin. “HA.” We jumped again at Alfarr gave a particularly loud cackle. He snapped his head back to a normal position and glanced at me, then gave a sly look at the roof of the Village Store. “Boys, I think our tiny sand ant here is a little damp, don’t you think?” Oh course I was. He’d thrown me into a puddle before stuffing me into that barrel. “Should we help him?” With an agile skip Alfarr's toes nearly touched my nose. Snorri heaved himself up. “Uhhh, sure?” Tok said, ending with a questioning whine. “So.” Alfarr lunged and suddenly my spine snapped in two and I was hanging once more by his three fingers in my shirt. “It’s laundry day!” Alfarr screeched. “Lovely.” I said with as much humor as I could muster. “I’m going to be a house ornament.” “Come, now, pipsqueak!" Alfarr snickered,  "Just think of the trolls you’ll attract! And who knows!” He gestures when he talks so by this point I was wildly swinging. “Maybe if you’re lucky you’ll be eaten by one and your miserable life will end!”

“Yes, well, maybe,” I stammered, “hey! Y-y’know, I know, well, we all know that uhm you don’t like doing laundry and-”

“Of course I don’t do laundry.” Alfarr disclosed, cutting me off. He shoved his face a hair from mine. “Your point?” Oh, rocky hills his breath was almost as revolting as his body odor. “Well,” I managed to gasp through my gagging, “Hanging me up is uhm a lot like uh doing laundry! So-so, it’s uh, completely beneath you! So, uh-” “YES!” Oh clouds in a storm why did he have to yell right into my mouth. Blah. “I will NOT be doing laundry! Mud brain minion! You do it!” Ah, my brilliant plan was hung out to dry.

He passed me to Snorri who rubbed my back against the awning until a splinter on the low roof of the village store snagged it. The three of them walked off, victorious. Snorri gave me a little wave as they left. I couldn’t begrudge him.

I waved back.

       You must be wondering just who the incredibly handsome villager showing off his chiseled abs hanging from a roof was. That would be me. I am the incredibly handsome villager with the chiseled abs hanging from a roof. Ugh, fine, I lied. I don’t have amazing abs, merely godly ones.

     Danr Hatetongue and his wife Signy walked by on their way to wherever. “Oh, looks like they’ve strung up the ugly whelpling again, Signy.” Danr said, pointing at said whelpling. “‘Tis a pity they couldn’t hang him up somewhere more out of the way, innit, Danr?” Signy commented, sidestepping a few carrots and my foot. “Hi, Signy. Hi, Danr.” I half raised my hand in a kind of greeting. “Mornin to ye!” They cheerily called, then turned out of sight round the store’s corner on their way to who cares.

I sighed.