Wednesday, August 5, 2015

Fiction Writing

I actually wrote this last month.  Looking at my spreadsheet, I am facing another slow start of fiction writing at the beginning of the month.  I haven’t written a word.  I struggle so much in the summer.  I decided this past week that I needed to work on curb appeal outside.  I have been busy trimming, weeding, planting, and other gardening tasks.  I really want the yard to look better this fall then it did at the beginning of the season. 

I am also itching to be artistic.  I am working on the last pages of my parents’ 50th anniversary scrapbook.  I started a new crocheted blanket for a family member.  Today, I really want to work on a new piece of garden art.  I haven’t done a thing this year and I love adding to my collection.  I feel like a bumble bee flitting from one thing to another.  Maybe I will work on a blog post on Friday showing pictures of some of my work.  It won’t be fiction, but it will be art.  At any rate, here is the next installment of my orc and dwarf.


Argora and Vilenok

Piles of boxes littered half of the carriage house with fragments of household items and clothing strewn throughout.  Nothing of the mess belonged to Argora.  The other half, where she liked to keep her carriage in the winter or work on her projects in the summer, was cluttered with two unfinished projects surrounded by more items that had been thrown in the empty space instead of nicely put away.

“They drive me crazy,” Argora muttered as she scanned the area, trying to decide where to start in the mess.

When she and Fimbar, her husband of thirty-five years, moved to the neighborhood, she chose a smaller house because the children were grown.  She didn’t foresee Dwinbar, her son, storing half his family’s things in their dwelling when he had to move to a small home in the village down the lane.  Adding to the chaos, Thorthira thought nothing of dumping her extra items in her area even though she lived practically next door.  Argora constantly traveled between the two homes taking things back to their home.  The entire family treated her like domestic help for all three households.

“They wouldn’t survive a week if I were to die tomorrow.”  She grabbed Thorthira’s picnic items.  Gasping, she dropped the basket when she turned to see Vilenok watching the scene.

“Who won’t survive?”

“My family.”  Argora picked up the overturned basket and lugged it to the yard.  “I am constantly fixing, cleaning, and the like for all of them.  I thought when I became old I would be able to rest and do more of my gardening.”

“You seem to do just fine with your gardening.”  Vilenok shrugged her shoulders.

“Oh, please.  Look at that mess over there.”  She jabbed her finger in the direction of a side garden.

“Those white flowers seemed to be quite healthy and growing tall.”

“They are weeds that I haven’t been able to get to because I am constantly helping the family.”  Argora’s words came out clipped.

“I am confused.  I thought dwarves lived to help and be with family.”

“That doesn’t make it easy.”

Vilenok nodded as she sat in a chair that Argora offered to her after clearing it of children’s toys.

“There are worse things.”  The orc looked down at her lean fingers.  “I have two sons.  “I have spoken of Zodsnik of course since I live with him.  I don’t speak of Zodslag though.  He died to my family years ago before my husband died.”

“You mentioned him the other day after the funeral.”  Argora was surprised Vilenok spoke of him.

“When a son doesn’t do his duty of fighting for the orc people, he is dead to us.  We never speak his name.  This is our way.  Many days my anger at him keeps me from thinking about him.  If my anger subsides, my heart aches.  It is not easy.”

Guilt flooded Argora.  She shouldn’t complain about her children.  Other parents held greater sorrows.

“I am so sorry Vilenok.  I shouldn’t complain.  I should know better as a dwarf.  We are to be cheerful.”

“I don’t mind if you talk openly with me.”  Vilenok’s lips spread across her face in her fang filled smile.  “You sounded like an orc.  I don’t like to be the only grumpy one in our friendship.”

Argora laughed.  “I have been feeling more orcish of late.  You may be a bad influence.  That or it is the coffee.  I don’t know if I told you, but I have been drinking a cup every morning.”

“Hum, maybe I need to try your tea.  You said it can be calming.  Do you think it might make me more cheerful like a dwarf?”

“Oh, I don’t know if that would be a good idea.  It might just scare the neighbors even more.”  Argora stood.  “I will go make some though.”

Vilenok shook her head no.  “I just came by for a minute.  My mother is coming in two days.  I wanted to invite you and Fimbar over for dinner.”

“He won’t be able to attend.  He is still at the mines, but I would love to come over.  Can I bring something?”

“You talked about how the bitterness of chocolate reminds you of coffee.  Can you make something with that?”

“I have just the idea.  I will cut a lot of the sugar out as well.”

“I won’t be able to come tomorrow for our regular morning meeting.  I have many things to prepare for mother.”  Vilenok unfolded her long body from her sitting position in the short dwarf chair.  “In fact, I need to get back to work.”

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