Wednesday, July 15, 2015

July, Day 7


Wednesday

This morning I woke up extremely exhausted.  It is one of those days that I would love to just sleep the day away.  I would if my brain would turn off.  I guess I should be thankful.  Since my muse keeps talking to me, I am forced to get to work on my writing.  I was inspired to write about Argora having a bad morning which I did write, but I will save that for another day to post.  Now though, I will continue with the two friends sitting in the gazebo discussing death, such a sunny topic.

 

Argora and Vilenok

Argora was appalled at the thought of her new friend being forgotten just because she would not die in battle.  The orcs lived this way for centuries; yet, the world changed.  She hoped their customs would also change in this case.  Guilt wiggled in her thoughts.  Change is what her children’s generation was trying.  They needed to adapt to this new world.  She clung to the old ways, as she suspected the orcs would as well.  The confusion of it gave her a headache.

“I am not orc, so I hope when the day comes that I can mourn for you.  I will create something as a monument for your life.”

“I will be dead.  I won’t care.” Vilenok noticed the discouraged look that crossed Argora’s face, so she tried to soften her comment.  “Now, I consider it a gift that you want to honor me as is the dwarf custom.  What is this monument?”

“Well, it depends on the person.  At the celebration of life, all the community members bring a precious metal or stone.  During the ceremony, each person brings the item to the front of the assembly hall to a collector.  In fact, I am going to be one of six collectors for Kathina.  In the days that follow, the family will work with an artisan to create a monument or memento.”  Argora pointed to the dish holding the carrot cake.  “This was made from the items given to my mother’s memory.”

Vilenok looked at the item with a renewed interest.  The base contained black strips of metal with green pieces filling in the blank areas in the forms of long slender leaves.  The plate’s edge was black with more detail of leaves and parts of flower pedals like the lilies Argora grew in her front garden.  The design continued under the carrot cake that sat on top of it.  The rounded lid from the bottom flowed grouping of white lilies with the sky finished off the top of the design.  The little handle at the top was made of the black medal.

“What is this made of?”

Argora smiled.  “The green is emerald.  The lilies are made of white opal, moonstone, and jade for different textures.  The sky is of the finest crystal known as the Paraiba tourmaline.  My mother was highly revered for her work with orphans.”

“Would you make something from my bones?”

“I didn’t think of that.  Would your grave combers tag your body if it went into disgrace?”

“I don’t know.”

Both women thought in silence for a moment.  A cool breeze caused a shiver to travel down Argora’s spine.  She shook her head.

“Well, I think that is enough talk of death.  We need to eat some cake.”

Argora lifted the lid off the plate.  With a silver knife, she cut the layered carrot cake with cream cheese frosting.  Grated carrots and chopped walnuts sprinkled through the fluffy texture of the cake.  She laid the slices on the two plates and set them down with forks.

Poking her fork at the foreign food, Vilenok worried she might not like the cake.  Watching out of the corner of her eye, she saw Argora use the fork to cut a bite sized piece and take a bite.  Vilenok mirrored the movement.  The sweetness of the frosting slid down her throat like a raw egg.  The deep flavor of the cake followed.  She looked up in surprise.

“This white stuff is questionable, but I think I like the spongy stuff with the carrots.”

“I can fix that.”  Argora took the knife and scraped off the frosting and placed it on the side of the stained glass plate.

Vilenok took a second bite and closed her eyes in pleasure.  “I like carrot cake.”

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