7. Our Lily
Gershit has never milked a goat before. He doesn't want to now. He swore at the old grandmother but she is deaf and palsied; besides, this is her son's job. "My Brogo is a good boy. He never forgets our Lily." They hanged her Brogo yester-noon but he can't make her understand. "It's not like him to be late. He knows my hands aren't what they were."
Our Lily's white-rimmed eye rolls at Gershit around the stanchion corner. It was a business getting her into it and he rubs his bruises ill-temperedly. "Old bitch," he tells the imprisoned goat, "I'll make you smart for those." One long ear flicks and he knows she wants to kick him, but Norgush will have something to say if the milk does not make tally. Gershit takes the mottled teats in his gray hands.
Old Lady Hobbit stands by, stooped and smiling, gnarled hands folded before her. "You are a good friend to my Brogo to come here in his place." She is blind as well as deaf. Her eyes are cloudy with cataracts.
Our Lily fusses in her wooden pillory and Gershit mutters obscenities. Squeeze pull, squeeze pull. Milk hissing into the pan.
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.