Jarvit

Jarvit Ch6 p2

He spent the afternoon heating sand and thrusting the ends of rungs into it to dry the wood ready for chair assembly. The whole group was working toward completing the order ready for delivery. Once the men were paid the work in the area was finished for the three bodgers and it would be time for them to move on. Bender had made a point of letting Jarvit know that he was welcome to come with them as they journeyed southward.

         It was a very weary group of men who assembled round the fire that evening. They had worked hard that day to get the orders finished. Now a satisfying tower of chairs was stacked under the shelter. All afternoon the blackbird had been hopping around the clearing. Now it was creeping around near Jarvit as they ate their meals.

         ‘I have been seeing some tame birds but this one is the friendliest,’ said Ils as the bird flew up onto Jarvit’s hand to eat the crumbs he held there.

         ‘Must be a youngster I should say. Been training it have you Stew?’ asked Derow. Jarvit shook his head.

         ‘No, it just turned up yesterday.’

         ‘Taught it to do any tricks yet?’ asked Scawan with a cruel laugh. The blackbird spread its wings and flew off over Scawan’s shoulder. The big man leapt to his feet with a roar.

         ‘It did that deliberately!’ he bellowed and the others laughed as he wiped the bird’s mess from his shoulder. His face went red with anger and he bent close to Jarvit.

         ‘If I catch that bird I’ll kill it and have it for breakfast! You had best keep out of my way!’ He stormed and the others laughed as he stomped off. Jarvit felt intimidated by the huge man bending over and threatening him.

         ‘Don’t worry he’ll get over it,’ said Derow. ‘And he won’t be able to catch that bird. So even when you’ve gone it’ll be alright.’

         ‘I expect it will go with Stew anyway,’ said Bender as the bird flew back to land beside Jarvit and looked round at them all with its gold eyes.

         ‘There is being something strange about that bird,’ Ils took a close look at it. ‘I am not seeing before such a bird with eyes like these are being.’

         ‘No?’ said Jarvit.

         ‘No. It is reminding me of story my mother told to me when I was young. A creature that came for children who would not go to sleep. It stole them from their beds and took them away. They never returned. Old folk story told to every child.’

         ‘That would be one of your northern mountain stories would it?’ Florrie teased. Ils regarded him sadly.

         ‘Always you mention my homeland so. I am thinking you are sad you are not being born there.’

         ‘Ha! Up there, with the snow all year? No thanks, give me grass any day.’

         ‘Is not snow all year. The mountains after snowmelt are being a carpet of flowers and the birds sing so loud. Is best place to be. And you can run and run down mountain side till your heart is fit to burst. Then drink from cold stream. Ah!’ Ils had closed his eyes and was smiling at the memory.

         ‘Is that what you did when you were young?’ asked Jarvit, envying the man’s warmth for his childhood. He thought of the confined kitchen and Mrs Rawfish. They were his memories of youth. Ils opened his eyes and looked at Jarvit.

         ‘You are not having such a childhood?’ Jarvit shook his head.

         ‘I was brought up working in a kitchen, I hardy ever went outside.’