Hallowed Oaks

By Luke William

a neglected orphan boy. With no friends and tired of been ignored and forgotten by everybody he buries himself in his fairy tale book imagining himself on adventures, unaware he is about to embark on one of his own.
One night he is woken up as two trolls invade his room looking for children to steal and eat. The Boy is only saved at the last minute when a young black cat wearing armour charges out from under his bed to frighten the trolls away. After initially been surprised that the boy can see him the cat explains that he is called Luca and is a mighty warrior Majai.
The next night realising who the boy really is the troll king sends an army to capture him, and he is only narrowly rescued by Luca, tumbling through a shadow gate they end up lost in an enchanted forest ready for adventure that will see Luca and the boy eventually saving Lucas home, Hallowed Oaks, from been destroyed by the troll army as well as finding a family and home for the boy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Luke William
• Release date: Aug 12, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476296067

Luke William

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Hallowed Oaks

By Luke William

Copyright 2010 Luke William

Published by Luke William

Distributed by Smashwords.

Prologue

The Boy was minutes from death. He was suspended in a cage above a black cast iron cauldron, surrounded by hungry trolls of all shapes and sizes. The steaming liquid inside bubbled away while a few roughly chopped vegetables bobbed along the surface. Not that trolls were big on veg, they had only added them at his request. He reasoned that if he was going to be made into soup he’d at least want to be a tasty healthy soup and though he was about to become the soup’s main ingredient, he thought it smelt quite nice.

The Boy gripped the rough iron bars of his cage and looked out at the hungry trolls. As the steam rose from the soup, sweat trickled down his body. The king of the trolls, short and ugly with a large hooked nose and one large broken tooth protruding from his lower jaw, hobbled over to the cauldron. Sticking his nose over the rim he took a deep breath, his large hairy nostrils flaring. The steam collected on his mottled green skin causing his crown of dead roses to slide forward and almost fall in the soup. Placing it back on his head the troll king fixed his watery red eyes on the caged boy and smiled, showing his oddly protruding teeth set in black gums.

It’s almost ready, he croaked in a deep voice full of excitement. A ripple of anticipation spread through the gaggle of gathered trolls. At last Almanac Malfernum is going to be mine! he croaked more to himself than the crowd, but they cheered anyway; they knew not to upset their short-tempered king. The Boy sat back in his cage and placed his arm around Luca, the small black cat sat next to him. Luca was the only true friend he had ever had. The Boy let out a long sigh.

Well Luca, you ready?

Yup, Yup! Luca said nervously as he chewed his bottom lip. The Boy chuckled; he thought back over the events of the past week that had led up to this point and the amazing adventure he had had with Luca and hoped this wouldn’t be the last.

1.

Once upon a time in Willowmere, a small town just outside London, nestled just off the high street and down a small quiet lane sat a modest three-storey high, Victorian grey bricked building. It had long lead-moulded bay windows and three worn stone steps that ended at a large mahogany door with stained glass panels. A small brass sign next to the doorbell read ‘Tippenys orphanage, Parents wanted. Apply within’. Although this orphanage had upward of twenty noisy children, if you had asked anyone who lived nearby about the orphanage or the children who attended it, you would have got a very puzzled look. No one in Willowmere would have ever guessed that there was a children’s home in the city let alone one yards from the city centre. This is what probably accounted for the lack of prospective parents.

The orphanage was an all-purpose building: on the top floor slept the boys, the middle floor slept the girls and on the bottom floor they attended school. Out back the reasonably sized garden had been paved over with grey concrete so the children had somewhere to play that didn’t end up with them been covered in mud. The children were never allowed to roam free in the town, in case they found themselves in trouble. The only time they were allowed to leave was when they had a trip to the library, or when they were adopted. Neither happened often.

The orphanage was governed over by a regimental lady who liked to be referred to as ‘matron’. She was a strict woman with a large barrelled chest who liked to wear her greying hair tied back into a bun on the top of her head. She was very firm with the kids, and the staff, and should either of them step out of line, she would give them a short sharp clip around the ear.

The matron stood at the door to the yard. It was filled with children playing, laughing and generally having fun. She had a pocket watch held tightly in her right hand and in her left a small silver whistle. She kept her eyes fixed squarely on the children, making sure they weren’t misbehaving, while occasionally glancing at the pocket watch. A couple of small children ran past her at high speed chasing a small red ball, earning them a warning glance. Matron glanced at the pocket watch again; she brought the silver whistle up to her lips and waited till it was precisely five o’clock before blowing it. The short shrill sound of the whistle filled the yard; the noisy playful children came to a dead stop and sullenly started to line up in front of the door. As the kids slowly made their way through the door in single file the matron counted them in.

15, 16, Jason wash your hands before dinner, they’re filthy. The small grimy boy nodded his head and rushed in. 17, Amanda leave the ball outside please. The girl who was trying to sneak her ball in under her top sighed and threw it back into the yard. 18, 19… The matron came to the end of the line of children; she was one short. She was sure there was supposed to be 20. Puzzled, she glanced around the yard, but seeing no one there she flipped through her organised memory to see who she hadn’t seen lined up. Still unable to remember who she was missing she frowned; maybe she did only have 19 kids. Just as she was ready to accept that she must have been wrong, she noticed a slight movement out of the corner of her eye towards the back of the yard followed by a loud sneeze. Focusing more in that direction and blinking a couple of times, she could just make out a small boy sat reading a large book. Slightly annoyed he hadn’t come to the whistle she shouted over to him.

Hey… she tried desperately to remember his name but failed. …Boy, come here now! she shouted. The Boy looked up from his book of fairy tales, brushing his long blond hair out of his almost fluidic green eyes; he realised he had missed the whistle. Folding the corner of the page of his oversized old book he closed it and rushed over to where the impatient matron was waiting.

Boy, why didn’t you come at the whistle? she enquired as he got close. Looking up at the matron who seemed to tower above him he readied himself to be told off.

I’m sorry matron, I was engrossed in my book and I didn’t hear the whistle. He held up his book to show her. She snatched it from his small hands.

I’ll hold on to this until you can learn to line up promptly at this door when I blow my whistle, like every other child in this home. Do you even understand that I could have accidentally locked you outside for the night? The Boy nodded glumly, he didn’t want that to happen again.

Sorry, matron.

Now go inside, wash up and get ready for dinner.

Yes, matron. As he passed she gave him a sharp clip behind the ear. Clutching his ear and grumbling to himself he gave one sad fleeting look at his confiscated book as he went inside.

Being such a small orphanage the children had no separate dining hall to have lunch in, which meant the bottom floor room which they used for class also had to be used as a make shift dining room. The chairs and desks would be kept in the same positions as when they had class, four rows of five small individual wooden desks. The aisles were just wide enough for the elderly dinner lady to wheel her food trolley down, dishing out the food on to the waiting plates. The Boy nipped to the bathroom to wash his hands and then headed to the classroom for dinner. As he entered he picked up a plate and some utensils, which had been placed next to the door, and headed to his usual seat in the corner at the back of the class. The dinner lady was almost halfway through dishing out the food to the first aisle when he took his seat. He put his plate down, straightened out his knife and fork so they were parallel to the edge of his desk, folded his hands and waited patiently, wishing he had his book to read.

The Boy sighed; the class was noisy and full of chatter. The two boys who sat in front of his desk, who he knew as Steve and Andy, were talking animatedly about a dead bird they had been poking with a stick in the playground. The girl who sat to his right was leaning over and talking to her friend about the boy she’d kissed. She giggled occasionally. The Boy sat up straight; something Steve had said about the dead bird had caught his attention.

Maybe you shudda cut out its heart and ate it! he said excitedly to a disgusted looking Andy.

You’re sick, why would I do that?

I read it in a story, if ya eat its heart you get money under ya pillow at night.

Whoa! You read? Andy asked, shocked. Steve leaned over and smacked him on the arm while laughing.

I know that story! It’s called Donkey Cabbages by the Brothers Grimm, The Boy piped up excitedly from behind them. Andy and Steve turned to look at him in surprise.

Oh! Hi! Andy said as he and Steve turned halfway around in their seats to get a better look.

Ya must be new! I’m Steve and this ‘ere is ma mate Andy. He motioned towards his friend.

I’m not new; I’ve lived here all my life. I sit behind you in class every day. The Boy said with a hint of bitterness in his voice. He had lost track of how many times he’d said this.

You sure? asked a puzzled Andy. I sure I never seen you in here before.

I’m sure, he said disheartened, a small embarrassed silence passed between them. Then it happened, like it always did. Andy and Steve’s eyes became slightly unfocused causing them to blink a couple of times as they looked through him like he wasn’t there. Then they turned back to face each other, continuing their previous conversation like nothing had happened. The Boy sighed; it was something he thought he should have been used to by now. All his life it had been the same, no one noticed him and nobody cared. All the kids in his class, all the adults working at the orphanage and all the prospective parents, they would only give him a moment of their time when he complained or spoke out but then would go back to pretending he didn’t exist. That’s why he loved his books so much, they didn’t ignore him or pretend he wasn’t there, and when he read them he could imagine he was one of the heroes on a quest to rescue a princess or defeat a dragon. As he was lost in thought, the dinner lady had filled up the plate of the girl next to him and then moved on to Andy and Steve, bypassing him completely.

Excuse me? You missed me out. The elderly dinner lady turned round and examined him closely.

Oh, well you shouldn’t have been out of your seat then, she said in an annoyed tone.

I’m sorry, he said quietly. He had argued once before that he had always been in his seat and that she had just missed him, but that had led to no dinner for speaking back. He had realised long ago that saying hello just before she got to him ensured she didn’t miss him out, but if he forgot and she passed him by, saying sorry and sounding contrite was the best way to avoid being in trouble.

You should be lucky I don’t tell the matron, she said as she spooned out a scoop of lumpy mash and then some beef stew with one wrinkled dumpling. She then covered it all in thick gravy.

Thank you… he said not realising she had already moved on and forgotten him. He leaned over his plate and inhaled deeply, the smell made his stomach grumble and his mouth water. He was dying to dig in but he sat there with his hands folded patiently in front of him. He knew the rules well, the children were not allowed to eat until everybody had their dinner and was quiet. As soon as the last plate had been dished out the dinner lady pushed the trolley slowly out of the class and as she left, the matron entered. The class, which had just moments before been filled with noisy chattering children, was now filled with deathly quiet dolls all posed with their hands folded and expectant looks on their faces. The matron stood at the front of the class with her hands held behind her back; she eyed the children briefly looking for anyone who was fidgeting. A boy’s belly grumbled in the front row, the matron gave him a sharp look causing the grumbling to stop. Once the class was quiet again she took her place behind her desk at the front.

You may begin, she said as she sat down. The room became filled with the noise of knife and forks scraping on plates as hungry children filled their bellies. The Boy took up his knife and fork and dug in, he savoured every mouthful (even the chewy dumpling) and felt quite sad when he looked at his plate and realised it was empty. Now that the children had finished eating the dinner lady had come back into the class and stood by the door with another trolley. This one had a large grey tub on it, to put the empty plates in, as well as a bucket hanging off the side to scrape in any leftovers. Picking up his plate and utensils he made his way to the front of the class, placing his stuff in the grey tub. He said a small thank you to the dinner lady. She gave him a warm smile as he headed out the room, their previous altercation completely forgotten.

Now that dinner was over the children of Tippeny’s had three hours to waste. This time could be spent either completing schoolwork they hadn’t finished during class, playing out with friends in the yard or listening to whatever was on the communal radio receiver in the common room. Having already completed his schoolwork and having no friends to play with, The Boy headed for the common room wishing he had his book to read. It was a large room with a round table at one end and three comfy slightly tattered sofas at the other end which were surrounding a large wooden cabinet which housed the radio. Beneath it sat an old crank- handled turntable and some old vinyls. A group of children sat in front of the cabinet arguing over which one to listen to. Having no interest in either and being annoyed his only book had been taken off him, he headed over to the window to sit on the window seat. Bringing his knees up and wrapping his arms around his legs, he leaned his forehead against the cold glass. It had begun to rain outside causing the sky to darken considerably. The sound of the rain managed to drown out the sound of the other children in the room.

Looking out the window he could see into the house across the street. There sat around a roaring fire, listening to something on the radio, was a happy looking family. A loving mom, a proud dad and a happy boy, who was playing with a boisterous curly haired puppy. The more he watched them the more he tried to imagine that he was a part of the family too. He could see himself as their son, playing with his brother and their new puppy, as his proud parents watched on. He imagined laughing along with whatever they were listening to, or sitting with his dad telling him about a story he had read in his book, revelling in the fact that he was listening to him and interested in what he was saying. He imagined giving his mom a hug and a kiss as she tucked him in at night telling him that she loved him. The thoughts made him feel warm and happy, but also sad, sad that it wasn’t real, that he didn’t have a family to love and protect him. All too soon the matron came into the common room to tell the children it was time for bed. With a chorus of groans they turned off the radio and trudged off to their respective rooms. As The Boy got off the windowsill he gave one fleeting look towards the happy family and headed up the rickety stairs to the top floor.

As he walked into the shared bathroom opposite the communal bedroom, he bypassed the long line of boys who were all either washing their faces or brushing their teeth, and ended up at the last sink. Filling it with water he washed his face with some soap then rinsed. Putting toothpaste on his brush he started methodically brushing his teeth, first his back teeth then his front, ending with brushing his tongue. As he brushed away the germs he moved an annoying piece of his fringe that had got wet and stuck to his face. As the other boys finished and left, the last one switched off the lights on his way out, plunging the room into darkness.

I’m still in here! he shouted after him to no avail. Annoyed and still needing to rinse his mouth, he groped his way blindly in the darkness to the light switch. Flicking it back on him was momentarily blinded. The bright lights brought tears to his eyes, which were quickly followed by a few real ones. Feeling frustrated and angry at always been ignored and forgotten he wiped the tears away and went back to his sink to rinse his mouth out. Finishing in the bathroom he switched off the light and shut the door behind him.

The bedroom was one long room; nine beds filled it, four on each side and one up against the far wall under a large window with no curtains. This (unfortunately for him) was his bed. As he walked the length of the room he almost got knocked over by a fat boy who was fighting with his pyjama bottoms; he hadn’t even noticed he had bumped someone. He lay on the floor withering like a snake trying to force the tight bottoms up his chubby legs. Ignoring the struggling boy on the floor, knowing he wouldn’t apologise, he made his way to his bed. Stripping off to his worn baggy boxers he crawled under his quilt. After five minutes of a room full of chattering sleepy boys the matron came in to switch off the lights. The room was plunged into twilight, the only light coming from the small half-moon shining through the window. A couple of the boys whispered to each other and giggled sleepily for a couple of minutes, but eventually dropped off.

With the room full of the sound of sleeping children, The Boy turned in his bed to get a better look out of the window. The rain had stopped and the clouds had cleared letting the stars fill their place in the sky instead. As he