Wednesday
The sun is shining beautifully outside. Two days ago snow fell up in the
mountains. The crazy sporadic weather
systems parallel my mood of late. For moments,
I am bright and sunny, ready to take on my daily work. The next moment, I have no desire. I have been reading a lot. The experts say that to be a good writer, you
have to be a good reader. So, my hours
of being curled up on the chaise lounge with an afghan thrown over me and the
puppy on my lap are not all in vein. Alas,
here is my Wednesday’s attempt at continuing the story of a dwarf and orc
friendship. Beware, I am running late do
to appointments and errands. This is an
unedited, rough, first draft.
Argora and Vilenok
The morning after the funeral dawned bright. Argora mixed up her favorite cinnamon
scones. The swell floated through the
kitchen as they baked. Once they reached
a golden tan, she pulled them from the oven and wrapped half of the batch up in
cloth napkins and stowed them in her travel basket.
Once out on the front walkway, she cringed at the weeds
poking out of the soil. The celebration
and her coffee get-togethers with Vilenok distracted her from her work. She leaned over and plucked a couple of the
bigger weeks from the moist soil.
Dropping them in the bucket at the end of the path, she resolved to work
on the front lawn once she finished with Vilenok.
As she walked down the lane, she inspected the property of
her neighbors. Paint peeled off the
front porch of one home, but the rest of the house looked presentable. The home across the way sported a fun color
of plum and white daisies and lilies gracing the front walk. The colors popped with the green of the
lawn. This house looked the best in the
area. When she turned to double check
her home, she smiled. She still
preferred the playful dance of her multicolored flowers. Her gardens reminded her of the mountain
fields above the caverns she grew up in.
Turning back to the lane, she looked at the yard of Vilenok’s.
The grass swayed in the breeze. Argora shook her head at the green sprigs
reaching her knees. The orc family hadn’t
mowed since they moved into the home.
She wondered if they knew how to keep their yard presentable. Weeds littered the flower garden along the
path to the front door. Soon the offending
plants would choke out the flowers. The
thoughts of weeds flew from her head as she realized the front door stood wide
open.
“Vilenok,” she called in worry. Cavern dwellers kept their doors closed. Argora feared something happened to Vilenok.
“I am in the kitchen.”
The dwarf woman sighed in relief as she made her way down the
hall. She looked at the scene in front
of her in shock. Vilenok stood on a step
stool with a paintbrush in hand, splattering good speckled paint onto the
wall. Even more surprising, she wore a
divided skirt with a loose fitting tunic in the style of the dwarves. The orc looked down on her with a big smile.
“Surprise.”
“What in the good name of Brokkr are you doing?” Laughter escaped through her words. “You have paint in your hair and on your
cheek.”
“I had an idea of making the kitchen more dwarf
friendly. I liked the gold flakes on the
walls in the elevator shaft of the department store. I thought if I would add them to my kitchen,
it would feel more homey for you and keep the cavern feel for me.”
Argora smiled. The
soft lantern light danced with the gold on the wall giving the room a more
festive feel. “I like it, but yesterday
you left so upset. I am confused. You are no longer upset.”
“Being around sentimental dwarves must have that affect on
me. It was silly of me to get caught up
in all that nonsense.” The orc flicked
the paint brush towards the wall. The
gold splattered in a clump. She shrugged
her shoulders. “Besides, I am tired of
doing nothing in this boring town. I
need projects.”
Argora’s brow crinkled in frustration. Either Vilenok insulted her people or her
friend couldn’t face deep-seated emotional loss of her father and son. The short dwarf stood straight. “I think you need to talk. I would like to know what happened between
you and your son. Why are you estranged? Maybe if you talked about it, the pain wouldn’t
be so great.”
The black eyes of the orc closed as she took a deep
breath. “Do not but your stubby little
self where it does not belong. I will
deal as all orcs deal. Well, I can’t
kill anything, but I can do stupid projects, like painting.”
“I am sorry. I push
too much.” Argora thought for a
moment. “Have you considered
gardening? Your front lawn really is
looking terrible.”
Vilenok growled. “I
miss hunting.”
“Have I talked to you about my neighbor to the left? She lets her dogs shit in my yard. I could help you garden if you helped me
dispose of them.”
“Argora, I swear that sounded like an orc request.”
They laughed as Argora poured coffee for Vilenok and half
coffee and half hot water for herself.