Learning to love Holdfast - Part 3

[Rook]

[Set Sunday Morning, two weeks after October Game]

Outside the inn on a cool crisp fall day Rook stands near the chopping block and passes a whetstone over the splitting axe. The leaves on the trees around town have long since changed to the vibrant autumnal colours, streaking red, orange and gold across the town, and now some of them have begun to look barren; skeletal branches grasping at the blue sky above. The wind holds a bit of a bite today and Rook shivers as a breeze passes by. In his head is the tune of a song he is working on, its lilting melody playing in time with his sharpening strokes. Finally he runs his thumb across the blade of the axe and nods to himself, laying down the stone on the nearby workstation.

He had volunteered to split wood for the day. It's a great deal of effort, but there is something peaceful in the repetitive motion of the ax swings. Rook grabs a piece of wood from the cord neatly stacked nearby and places it on the chopping block. He raises the axe and swings it down, lodging it in the wood. Again he raises the axe, this time the wood comes along, and with another swing the wood splits cleanly in two. Soon enough Rook gets into a rhythm and he begins to whistle to the tune of his new melody.

Before long, Rook no longer feels the chill of the autumn day, the heat of exertion warms him enough that he needs to shed his cloak. Rook quickly falls back into the pattern of splitting the wood. It was a task he'd become quite familiar with in the years since the calamity. When Isadora had taken him and his mother in after that fatal night, the physical tasks of the home had fallen on him. Isadora's husband had died years earlier and Rook's mother had developed her sickness not long after their arrival in the village. He'd done everything he could to help out the elderly woman and make life comfortable for his mother, and that included a great deal of chopping and splitting wood. When he wasn't chopping wood, or tidying up the house, he was practicing the healing magic his mother had taught him or gathering herbs from the nearby forest for Isadora's potion business. The latter was Rook's favourite task, wandering through those woods in solitude allowed him the time to practice his music undisturbed. He was always careful not to spend too much time in the forest though, and he never came back with less than the basketful of various herbs that Isadora needed for her medicines.

Lost in his reverie, Rook only realizes that he's finished the task when he reaches for another log and finds none left. Quickly he sorts the splits into different piles and begins to cart them to their destinations. A fair amount of the wood would remain out here to keep the fires going, but the rest would be needed in the inn. The kitchen itself goes through quite an amount in its day-to-day activities.

As Rook carries the bundles of wood to the kitchen's hearth he passes some of the regulars. They briefly say hello, chatting about the goings on of the town. Nothing terribly exciting, but there's always something on the go. As he continues about his task Rook smiles. He was growing quite fond of the various residents of Holdfast and despite the danger that often finds its way to the small settlement it was starting to feel more and more like home.