Business and Preparations

Business and Preparations

Postby Treadwell » Fri Dec 08, 2017 3:26 pm

Morning of the eighth day of the twelfth month, 217 AR.
Tready's Toys.
The two rockers by the fire.


"Why have we been so busy this last month, Father?"

"Busy, Nicholas?" Pipe smoke fluffs out as the old toymaker peeks up from the plush duck that his fingers stuff.

"Working here. We have been working very hard the last few weeks."

"Why ought we not, mmph mmph? It gives us something to do, hrm, and a purpose to the days. Besides, dear boy, you are thirteen, now. Think of your younger siblings, hm hm. There is little for them to do at home, indoors, when it is cold, mmph, and there is snow everywhere, yes?"

The younger Treadwell nods in agreement, well aware of the time spent at home when everyone from Egbert and Gwendolyn down to Harvell (now three and a half!) would burst in on him.

"Now, think of our house, mmph, and our family, and think of all the other families in Myrkentown with children. Those children, hm hm, need toys to play with, hm, and things to do, yes?" Here, Aloisius pauses in his stuffing to reach over and pat-pat a hand on his son's arm. "That is why we work. Do recall, mmph mmph, that we have had quite a few folks come in, mmph, these last weeks, looking to buy gifts for their children."

The son nods again, and the two toymakers work in something like silence, if the wheeziness of their breath and the crackle of the fire can be discounted. Nicholas carefully paints a wooden town crier, caught in mid-shout, and Aloisius turns his attention to deftly sewing shut the now rather fat fowl.

"And one more thing, my boy."

"Sir?"

"In two months, mmph, you will have been a Tubbian for one year. Between now and then, mmph, study your Folds. Langley, hm, or Jack, or one of the others will be testing you on the basic knowledge eventually."

"Yes, sir."

"I have a great faith, mmph, in you, dear son, as both a maker of toys and a Tubbian priest. You show great promise in both fields, hm hm." More smoke fluffs and puffs to the ceiling as Nicholas blushes. "In fact, I should think you are preparing for something very important some day."

Here, though, the elder Treadwell pauses as he sews the final stitches in the duck's middle: his belly gives an empty, demanding gurgle and rumble. Outside, Jack Alldale can be heard calling out the noon hour.

"But we have been working long enough, hrm hrm, and it has been long enough since that morsel after breakfast. I should say we both deserve a good lunch."
"Looks like a table to me. Do you think it could hold up someone as bulbous as Treadwell?" -- Dr. Brennan, Myrken Wood Rememdium Edificium
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Treadwell
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