The Love That Bonds Us

Chapter 26 : The Carpenter Dream

"Well Mr Jordsen, I think I have rather a lot to offer you. I grew up learning to woodcarve, I learnt it from my father -"

"And where are you from?" he asked.

"Excuse me?" I blinked and my heartbeat quickened, "I don't see what that has to do with anything?"

He leant forwards in his chair and circled his thumbs, making me feel almost threatened. "It has everything to do with it. No one in this Kingdom has any clue where you actually come from. If you tell me, I can trust you."

My heart began to beat even faster. I realised that I'd have to come up with something on the spot - if I didn't tell him something soon then this job would be gone from my grasp. I thought back to all those times Agnarr had shown me maps for various reasons. Only one place was standing out in my mind and I really hoped that it would make sense.

"I come from a little town in Corona known as Borlun." I said calmly, then held my breath as Thomas eyed me with suspicion for a long moment.

Then he sat back with satisfaction and I breathed a silent sigh of relief.

"Alright then. Borlun. That's a good place for woodcarving too. OK girl, you've got my attention."

A faint frown creased my face again, I should have had his attention this entire time! What did this man want from me?

"Anyway, my father taught me to woodcarve from a young age. So I'd say I have a lot of experience. I've brought some of my previous works to show you." I delved into my satchel and pulled out some of my little wooden figures, placing them on the desk in front of him.

He picked one up to inspect it, reaching into his drawer to pull out a pair of thin-rimmed spectacles which he placed on his nose.

As he was doing that, I glanced at the clock again, each tick reverberating through my skull like a heavy hammer.

"Nice craftsmanship." Thomas commented, turning the figure over in his rough hands, "Very nice. A keen eye for detail."

"Thank you Mr Jordsen."

Then he looked at me over the top of his spectacles, "But how do I know they are yours? You could have bought these anywhere. Or got some young lad to let you use them for the day."

"What do you mean?" I slammed my palms against his desk before I could hold back, "Do you see any signatures carved into these? No, so I haven't bought them. And what young man would let me borrow them? Are you seriously accusing me of such a thing? They were all made by my own hand, using these tools." I dug my hand into my satchel again and yanked out my greasy-handled tools, tossing them carelessly onto the table for him to see. "And if you don't believe me, then pass me a block of wood and I'll prove it to you, right here, right now." I even went to the extreme of thrusting out my hand, as if demanding he give me the challenge.

I usually never lost my temper. This was one of those rare moments where I couldn't keep the anger bottled in any longer. Blind rage was bubbling inside me like an angry fire and if I didn't release it then I'd explode. I just couldn't believe this man! He was accusing me of lieing on the unsturdy foundation of my being a girl. I couldn't stand men like him, who thought lowly of women. We were made for much more than cooking and cleaning and looking pretty for a man's pleasure.

I didn't like the way he was looking at me now, though. It was with a vague interest which made me shift uncomfortably and diluted my anger ever so slightly with more uneasiness.

When he continued to stare at me with that mild interest, not saying a word, I furrowed my brow even more and spoke heatedly again, "Well? Are you going to make me prove myself or are you going to accept that I'm as good a carver as any man you have ever employed?"