Day 8 - Toy
#7 of Orctober 2020
This is the first of the second batch of my Orctober prompts. This one is also part of a series of short stories based on prompts given by Dnddentist
I hope you enjoy this one too, let me know what you think in the comments below.
My knife cut through the wood one final time and the last wood chips fell to the floor. I blew the piece of wood in my hand and scattered the light brown sawdust on its surface through the air. Gently, I placed the round piece with its sisters on the table and took a moment to admire the fruit of hours of work. My black furred fingers caressed the each piece softly, the roughness of the wood under my skin refreshing the memories of their making while my lips curved in a soft smile. It had all started with a simple remark from my husband as we had dinner, a single mention of a niece's birthday that was approaching, followed by a frown that darkened his tusked face. That single gesture, an old companion by now, had been enough to betray the storm in my orc's mind. That was all I needed to get into action.
Days of discreet questions told me what his niece liked. A couple of weeks of planning made sure I could deliver. By the time my carving knife first touched wood, only a month remained for her birthday and every day went out faster than the last. It had felt nice to be busy again, to fulfill a purpose, to forget about the impending march of death. There were no urgent calls to attend a last confession, no emptiness in my heart mourning old friends and no pitying looks sinking on my back. For a whole month, there had only been me, my tools and the wood from dawn until dusk.
It had been surreal to bring out my old carving tools, to clean then after so many months gathering dust and rust. It was like the first sunny day after a long rain season. Tears fell down my muzzle the first time I opened the old chest and sobs rocked my bodies. A flood of emotions tore through me, the dam of unprocessed emotions finally broken. Loss, gratitude, pain, love, happiness and sadness clashed in my heart, the faces of all the lost friends flashing through my eyes while my nails dug into the hard wood of the table. I collapsed to the floor next, too exhausted to feel, let alone think. That's how my husband found me hours later, a mess of mated fur and sweat. He gently picked me up, his smaller frame struggling to hold mine, and took me out of the somberworkshop. He helped me bathe, he made sure I ate and then, he seduced me into sleep with soothing words and sweet promises. It was thanks to him that the next day was easier. He watched over me as I fumbled through my day. His baritone voice kept me away from my dark thoughts, living the moments as they came. His sharp eyes came to my aid when we cleaned the tools and his soft hands steadied mines when we sharpened them.
My first cuts on the wood were tentative, my throat tightened with fear and worry, my muscles too tense. It all led to a big disaster, the whole block was rendered useless but I took it in stride. I had planned for a few failure, aware that my skills had grown rusty. With every cut, every touch and every failure, the knowledge started to come back, first like a small stream, the like a river. Soon, my hands made my dreams come true. I finished the horses first and with a bit of help from my orc, made them gallop on a set of wheels. The little orcs came next, a bit more delicate and full of details. My orc made an excellent model and with a few changes here and there, my wooden orc family was complete. The last thing I made, with more than one blush along the way, was a minotaur doll. At the behest of my husband, I made him in my image, with short curved horns at the side of his head and wide legs.
A creek came from the door, the measured steps of my orc following moments later. I laughed softly to myself and set down the doll on the table next to the others. His strong arms sneaked under mine, his tusks poked at my shoulder and his lips planted a quick kiss on my neck. My hands searched for his and rough fingers caressed his smooth yellow skin
"Do you think she will like them?" I whispered after a few moments, a knot forming in my throat.
"I'm sure she will. It is quite a big gift." He whispered back with a soothing tone, resting his head on my shoulder.
"They still need to be painted and smoothed. Maybe cut a bit more to make the details stand out and--"
"It's okay, we still have time." He cut me off gently. "And if push comes to shove, we can make a visit out of it. I'm sure she'll love to play with paint."
"Yeah, yeah, I'm sure she will."