Addhor Raxëlilta, Wood Works (Carpentry)
with his son, and also with Sadar (NPC) from the Woodworkers Guild
“Mind you do not strain yourself with all that ..” Unalmis watched his father carrying a small basket of goods into the shop, fled from the responding look and then turned back to where Sadar was calling, shouting in fact, for him to return to unloading the cart. The Wood Master had clearly not realised what he would be called upon to do, but since he had insisted upon hovering (incessantly) and assuring that he was there to ‘help’, he could scarcely protest when called upon to do so. Unalmis meanwhile had proven the victim of two unshakeable qualities; he was family and he apparently had nothing else to do that day. Volunteering had played no part in it whatsoever, but still the young man knew that he would have baulked to hear of Addhor struggling to manage without aide. So Nal figured that he hardly could complain. Although he had in fact.
Finally the small space had been cluttered so that the three men were forced to prop a seat on various boxes and cabinets to rest, while they shared a long cool drink of water apiece. The cartsman, though a generous find, had refused to join them, too fearful to leave his horse and trap out unattended in the street. No sooner as his purse was weighed with the agreed fare, and he was away. So it was managed, the space claimed, and no going back now.
“I do hope there is never a fire,” Unalmis remarked, offhand, and earned a sharp glance from the two woodworkers, before holding up both hands in surrender. “Just making conversation !” he assured them. “Seriously though, have you thought about insurance ?”
His father glanced about the haul of goods which were all that he had to show for himself. He really had laid all his eggs into one basket, it seemed, and yet this was the safety net. This was the fall back which he had fallen back unto. This was him, leaving something substantial for his son. But .. where was his son gone to now ?
“Do not tell me that we have yet to somehow lug a bed frame all the way up here ?!” Nal appeared at the top of the stairs. “It won’t go through the door for starters. This is far too small ..”
“There are tools enough to resolve that .. ” The Carpenter was that exhausted that he could have slept upon the floor without complaint. He’d slept in forests before of course, on pub floors, more than once a table top .. and after doing even his share of the lifting, the notion of building a bed now up in the rooms above the shop was enough to make his eyes heavy. But there was no time for sleep ! The bed could wait until he could afford it. The shop had taken everything else.
“Thank you for the drink,” Sadar was halfway toward the heavy, studded door, and Addhor threw his smile to the wooden floor. The Man clearly was taking heed of the cart-man’s example, and making a quick getaway. “Good of you to help your father out, Unalmis” he observed, suggesting that the youth would be abandoned to do just that, alone now, as the Wood master laid down his cup and picked up his coat. He didn’t even close the door behind him.
“Well,” his client rose, and leant an eye about the clutter. There were bookcases brimming not with books but with wooden cutting boards, and sheer stacks of burl bowls, and of rounded cups. Some of the latter would now require washing out as well, from their refreshment. The stockpile of smoothed, wooden poles were propped up in one corner of the room, but with such a range of sizes that they would no doubt require pride of place where any customer should find them. Brooms, scythes, rakes; all these types of everyday equipment would require a fine wooden handle. Then there were the walking sticks, and the wooden buckets filled with rolling pins, and long curved spoons. Locating a place for these was simple enough. Unalmis had grown far too familiar with The small sample of not-so-small cabinets and dressers and chests of drawers, and storage chests, which he had never imagined to weigh quite as much as they did. That meant they were good quality, or so he’d been told. It did nothing to console his aching back.
“Where do you want these ?” he asked, providing his father with just one example of many lightweight, carved wooden signs. Each bore it’s own message or design; from ‘Home sweet home’ to ‘No entry. Wild dog lives here’. This particular piece had been inspired by a quite eccentric neighbour, who kept no pets, and would not appreciate the humour. Many had been practice as the former ranger honed his new skill, and those pieces which had turned out well had ended up as evidence. Perhaps would even prove their worth, his worth. It would be nice to feel of proper worth again.
“They’ll hang about the walls,” Addhor decided, without yet making a move to fashion or secure any thereabout. “But there ought be one which .. ah,” He gathered a sign which mentioned services for hire, in fixing of shelves or broken interior fixtures, and so forth. That one would require a good position in the store. Simple handy jobs like those of mentioned he had already managed, for a few widows and others of the sort who had no man at home any more to manage themselves. But the shop was otherwise limited to furniture and household goods. Anything so grand as major lumber work, laying floorboards, or heaving large timber framing was not Addhor’s specialty He had been forced to admit this to a curious passerby, who had stopped to pry when they had first arrived. Nal had rolled his eyes then at his father giving recommendation (and work) to some other craftsman but, as it had turned out, the man who’d been recommended had come by not an hour later, with due thanks, a welcome to the neighbourhood, and a recommendation of his own. Of which smithy close by was the best purveyor of good but affordable nails.
There were still shelves to be secured to the walls, a serious amount of sweeping to clear up the floor, and the none too trifling matter of the shaving horse and the lathe to be set up, at the back of the room. The wide bench was heaved by the two men first into place as a dual purpose counter, so that customers would not wander back and disturb the workings, although they could watch from a place of safety, if they found nothing better to do with their time. The tools were stowed safely underneath the counter, accessible on the working side where only Addhor could choose his ‘weapons’ from the motley collection of gouges, and chisels, assorted mallets, iron-headed hammers, wedges .. so many pieces he had acquired or customised over the last few years of his craftswork. Not a single one of them matched another, and not a single one of them was without the telltale scars of hard labour. Which felt rather fitting and undoubtedly satisfying to their owner.
He was eyeing how best to secure his pole line to the ceiling, when Unalmis found the stack of home-made wooden chairs, and felt it was prudent to check each was ‘safe’ for any potential customer.
“Iole said that you received some sort of summons from the army ?” his father recalled, since it seemed likely that the young man’s help would be no further help at all. “Do you know how soon they’ll want you to report ?”
The negligent recruit shrugged, with the same carelessness which had allowed for him to drop the small slip of summons, the essential addition to his letter which in fact told him when and where he was expected. “No idea,” Nal did not seem too concerned. “I was thinking that I would chance by the Headquarters tomorrow, and see if there’s any news. I don’t mind helping you out meanwhile,” he stretched out, on the latest trialled chair and clicked the bones of his wrist in a macabre performance which made his father sigh.
“Well do not let them start without you !” he was warned, aptly so as it turned out, though neither man realised it as yet. The new rangers contingent had of course met that very morning at the Headquarters, and each attending participant been briefed with orders to move out within the hour ...
Last edited by
Ercassie on Wed Jul 22, 2020 12:46 am, edited 1 time in total.
All that is gold does not glitter, not all those who wander are lost
The old that is strong does not wither, deep roots are not touched by the frost.