Thursday, July 23, 2015

July, Day 12


Thursday

Today I am struggling with sitting in the chair.  First, I thought I would be mowing the lawn, but the weather is rainy.  Second, my daughter is not feeling well and the son is anxious about military training he is leaving for later today.  Finally, all of this and some other things have me all discombobulated.  Wow, I spelled that correctly the first timeJ  However, all writers know that sometimes they have to write through all the bumps in the road.  So, here I go.

 

Argora and Vilenok

For the hundredth time, Argora glanced over at the outfit Vilenok wore as they road to the burial celebration.  The orc wore a long wine colored divided skirt with matching tunic.  The cape draped over her shoulders was a lighter shade with trim of gold.  A gold hair clip gathered all her hair to the top of her head with a few small braids combined in the ensemble in an attempt to look like the dwarf fashion.  Besides her physical features the only thing about Vilenok that spoke of orcs was her boots the peaked out from under her skirt.

“You keep looking at me strange.”  Vilenok frowned at Argora.

“I apologize.  I just have never seen you in anything but the orc style of dress.”

“You mean skin tight clothing.”

“I wasn’t making judgments.”

Vilenok nodded.  “I know.  I feel a bit odd.  The clothing is actually quite comfortable, but I feel like a bloated cow.”  Her hand flew to her mouth.

Argora snorted.  “Now who is judging?” Before her friend apologized, she rushed on with her thoughts.  “I am not offended.  I am curious though where you came by such long dwarf clothing in such a short amount of time.  I just invited you yesterday.”

Vilenok fidgeted with the trim of the cape.  “I have felt out of place since we moved here.  I thought I would sew an outfit.  I had all but the cape done.  Yesterday I went to a dwarf shop for the cape.  It isn’t long enough to be accurate.  The seamstress is making a more suitable one.  She said I can borrow this one for the day.”

They strolled to the entrance of the ceremonial hall of the dwarves, arriving early so Argora could collect the items she needed for her duties.  Standing at the door, Grogrim, Kathina’s husband, stood.  His meaty fingers fumbled with the clasp of his forearm cuffs.  He looked up as Argora greeted him.

His voice shook.  “She always helped me dress for special occasions when the arthritis started.  My fingers are just not nimble anymore.”

Without a word, Argora took the gold cuff from his hand and secured the ornament around his forearm.  A forge was etched into the flat section with a hammer over the top.  Grogrim was a master forger. 

“How are you doing?”  Argora returned the offered hug.  She smiled warmly as he kissed her on the cheek like a beloved relative.

“Better then yesterday.”  He turned to Vilenok.  “You must be the friend Argora mentioned.”  He hit his chest.  “Welcome.”

Vilenok mimicked his gesture.  “I am honored.”

They continued into the cavern.  A few dwarves milled about and Grogrim veered off to speak with them.  Argora and Vilenok continued to the back of the domed gathering place.  At the front on a raised platform, a fire burned in the middle where a large forge stood.  At the back, a large work station with cabinets and drawers stood.  Argora motioned for Vilenok to take a seat off to the side of the platform while she greeted a few dwarves at the forge.  Taking a large black pot out of the cupboard, she rejoined Vilenok and sat next to her.

“Will a lot of dwarves come?”  Vilenok’s dark eyes looked at all the seats.  “I have never been around a lot of dwarves all at once.”

“It is hard to say how many will come.  I may have to leave you if the celebrant needs me to do anything.  I will also need to join them at the beginning of the celebration to escort the distinguished guests.”

“You don’t need to worry.  I will sit here and try to blend in like a dwarf.”

“No need for that.”  Argora frowned as Vilenok pulled her upper lip over her long canine teeth.  “You look like you have been hit in the face.  Besides, I doubt many people will even look twice because you are dressed like them.  I will not take long.”

They waited in silence.  As Argora predicted, no dwarves looked their way for more than just a passing glance.  The front row on both sides of the isle remained empty, but the rest of the seats in the hall filled.  Chatting between the people remained in a whisper out of respect for the dead.  Argora slipped away along with the other dwarves who sat off to the side.

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