The Princess and the Lumberjack by H L Muller

Author:H L Muller [Muller, H L]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: H. L. Muller
Published: 2020-06-02T16:00:00+00:00

Twelve

"What's a lumberjack?" I ask while a smug grin stretches my face, the fact that my moaning could have an effect on this hulking, amazing specimen of a man, trills me.

"I harvest, carve and transport trees and sell to carpenters for houses, buildings, transport like carriages and wagons, furniture and such." Thankfully, he doesn’t sound annoyed at having to explain his profession to me, he must encounter a lot of people who don't know what a lumberjack is, or he has a lot of patience for me. Perhaps he resents that someone who clearly has a good education and upbringing, doesn’t know that lumberjacks existed, and he sought to rectify that.

"Are you not too far away from other people in your cabin? Would you not need to be somewhere closer to villages and towns to then sell your wares?"

"I need to be close to the forest. That is where the trees are, where the work is. I make trips into villages throughout the spring, summer and autumn months to sell any wood that I have. My father was a well-known lumberjack in these parts, and many of the townspeople remember that and know who I am. I am often sought out and given orders to fill, rather than having to source someone to purchase what I have already cut and prepared."

"Where does the 'woodcarver' come into the work?"

"It is something I do more for fun and extra money on the side. I need to do an element of carving to prepare the wood for the buyer. Removing bark, branches and such. It then developed into something to fill the nights and winter months. I started when I was thirteen years old, learning how to use a carving knife to make things out of off cuts of wood. I got so good, some of my work was purchased and on display in the galleries of Adaira."

"I saw a few carvings when I visited the gallery. There was a beautiful bust carving, that was you?"

He nods, "Yes that bust was of my mother, I carved it from memory of her face after she passed away when I was seventeen."

No wonder he was gruff and broody sometimes, he has been alone for a long time. Suddenly, an idea hits me. I want art works, and I am going to speak with Mr Smithers about contacting artists, and here one is in front of me.

"Do you do commissions? Would you be able to carve something for me? I don't have any wood carvings in my collection, I would be honoured if you would create something for me. It can be anything you like, I don't much care for the subject. I prefer more imagining why the artist chose subjects, materials and the emotions and thoughts behind artworks. I could pay you." The words rapidly fall out of me, speaking so fast they I barely took a breath. I don’t want to beg, but I felt like I was about to start. With a jolt, I realise that I want a physical memory of Ika.

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