Saturday
I suck at writing while I travel. Friday was a prime example. We wanted an early start, so I missed my
normal time. We stopped in Great Falls
for breakfast with my mother-in-law after driving over an hour. Back in the car, we stopped in Havre, Malta,
and Glasgow for drinks and bathroom breaks.
Arriving at our destination in Wolf Point, around five in the evening,
nine hours of travel, the rest of the night was filled with family, dinner, and
rodeo. No writing!!!
Frankly, I am surprised that at the moment I have time to
write. Everyone is taking a nap. I would love to join them, but this will be
my only time in seventy-two hours. Later
today, we will participate in more stampede fun, rodeo, and family time. I love it all. Because of the schedule, I opted not to bring
my laptop. I wanted to pack light and
see if I missed it. On my last trip, I
didn’t turn it on once. Well, I miss it. Now, I have to wait until Monday to type my
chicken scratch. But on the positive
side, I have been working on the story a bit.
Writing into the dark poses problems at times. I was faced with where to go next with the
story. A dwarf had died and Vilenok (the
orc) wondered about the mourning process.
Hum, so did I. I have done no
world building up to this point except vague ideas that are in my
thoughts. Luckily yesterday (Friday), I
had the excuse of traveling to the North Eastern corner of the stat to visit
family. My work peculated, much like the
second cup of coffee Argora made for Vilenok.
This morning while trying to take a nap, visions started to point me in
directions for both the orc and dwarf traditions. Vilenok will be the first orc in history to
attend a dwarf death ceremony.
Tuesday
As I suspected, I didn’t get any writing done on Sunday. After driving seven hours and going to work
for an hour, I was tapped out. I also
picked up our beagle puppy from the kennel.
He was hyper. I took him for a
long walk and snuggled with him.
I didn’t think I would blow off Monday. I intended to write, but after taking Leo
(the beagle) for his walk, I started working in my flower garden by the
mailbox. I didn’t work all that hard,
but I lost all ambition. I thought I
would write in the evening which is always a bad thing to think. Instead, we went on a family picnic with
friends. I did take the opportunity to
take a mini artist date and play with my camera. I am hoping some of my pictures will work
well to blow up. In fact, I am thinking
I should start working on a collection.
But, that is a topic for another day.
Argora and Vilenok
“What in the world are you doing?” the deep voice boomed,
breaking the quiet morning.
Argora jumped and exclaimed in freight, dropping the weeds
she just pulled from the garden filled with an assortment of colored lilies and
daisies. She turned around to look up.
“You scared me half to death.” Argora pulled her gloves off her hand. As she began to stand up from her kneeling
position, Vilenok took her elbow to help her stand up. Argora appreciated the help. Her joints ached from being crouched over the
plants. “I am weeding my garden.”
“How do you determine a weed from anything else?” Vilenok leaned over to inspect the clump of
green foliage piled in the driveway. “Some
of it looks like grass.”
The dwarf woman chuckled.
“True enough, but grass is supposed to be in the lawn not the
garden. Well, unless it is
ornamental. Weeds are anything I don’t
want in my garden. This is a flower
garden, so if it isn’t a pretty blossom, I pluck it out. The same is done in the vegetable
garden. Don’t orcs garden?”
“Why would we do that?
We are warriors.” Vilenok stood even straighter. “We eat meat and gather the rest of our food.” A thoughtful expression crossed her face. “I guess it could fill the time. Since moving here, I don’t get to roam the
forest as much.”
“It can be a hard adjustment.” Argora bushed off the dirt on her skirt. “Well, let’s have some coffee and cake.”
Instead of going to the front door of her yellow house with
white trim, Argora led the way around the side to her backyard. Amongst all the flowers, bushes, herbs, and
flowers sat a little white gazebo with yellow chairs and a table. Vilenok ducked through the archway and sat
down. A white tablecloth donned the table
with a vase of purple irises off to the side.
The table was set for them.
“This seems a bit fancy,” Vilenok said.
“Yes, I was in a mood to be surrounded by my pets.” Argora’s hand swept through the air to encompass
her gardens’ delights. “My friend
Kathina was such a lady. She would love
to have tea in such a setting. I do this
in her honor.”
“This must be part of the dwarf mourning ritual. How long does the mourning last?”
“Each dwarf has their own time of grief and their own
individual rituals. As a community, we
will have a burial ceremony to celebrate her life. Yesterday I was told the ceremony will be in
a week. However, those closest to her
may mourn for weeks afterward.”
“Will you mourn for a long time?”
“I will actively mourn until the ceremony is over. When I think of her after that, I will think
of her fondly and miss her. I am sure
the same happens for you. If it were a
family member, you mourn longer.”
“No.”
Argora looked up from pouring the coffee, waiting for more of
an explanation. When none came, she
finished pouring the tall mug for Vilenok.
In her mug, she filled it a quarter full and finished filling it with
cream and sugar. She had been
experimenting with the drink. If she cut
the bitter with the creamy sweetness, she liked it.
“So, orcs don’t mourn?
I guess that confuses me. You
never think about the dead or do anything in their memory?”
“The day an orc dies; their body is taken to the cliff of
victory or the cliff of disgrace and thrown over for the land to take back its
nutrients. If the orc died in battle, he
body is tagged and it goes to victory. All other deaths are sent to disgrace and
forgotten. The grave combers harvest the
bones from disgrace for menial items like bowls or spoons. Victory gulch relatives use the bones for
weapons and ornamental items.” Vilenok
touched the chain at her neck that held a round disk with a design engraved on
the front. “This is from my father’s
shoulder bone. He was a great
warrior. I carry this to remind me of my
duty to his memory.”
“How will you be honored if you don’t have the opportunity to
die in battle?”
Vilenok looked down into the blackness of the coffee. “I am doomed to disgrace since I didn’t die
before the peace was made between our people.”
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