Lólindir Táralóm crouched motionless at the top of the great sycamore tree. Clothed in his green tunic, pants, and hat, he blended in well with leaves around him. Observing the scene below, Lólindir trembled with rage. The three wild rambunctious hooligans were there again — wrestling, dunking each other, and muddying the water. They came weekly and each visit was the same with splashing, wrestling and dunking causing the clear spring water to become muddied and his herds to scatter.
Each week, after those wild demons left, he had to search for his flock. It took forever to round them up, calm the skittish ones, comfort the fry and show his herd that everything was safe. It was bad enough that his father assigned him to be a trout herdsman when his only desire in life was to be a great warrior.
Lólindir glared at the hooligans from his perch. Why did human young have to be so savage and wild? Sighing he fitted a burr arrow to his bowstring and drew it back. Hopefully this will teach them to stay away and leave his fish alone. Being the youngest son to the great elvin king of Nórvin was a trial and tribulation he must bear with pride and determination. He’ll show his father that he was meant to be a great warrior. He released the arrow quickly stringing the next one. Hopefully the volley of flying burrs will chase them away for good.