Martin and the Wordsmith

 

Martin stood in his backyard.  He was watching words mill around in a pen he had built for them.  He had brought them all back from a trip to the City he made last year.

“I really cannot think of a use for any of these words.” He said aloud.

He took a box and carefully rounded up the stray words.

“Off to the Wordsmith we go.” Marin told them “Maybe he can make something of you.”

 

Martin set off to town, carrying his box of words. It was early in the autumn.  Trees alongside the road were turning colour.  There were yellows, browns and reds of all shades. 

 

In town, Martin headed for the Wordsmith’s Forge. Skrabel, the Wordsmith greeted him with a loud “Hello there Martin!”  He was a huge, strong man – well used to wrestling with difficult grammar and hammering out rough punctuation.  With his muscles, skills and tools he could straighten out the most twisted phrases.  He would surely know what to do with Martin’s City words!

 

“I have these for you, Skrabel.” Said Martin, sitting his box of words of the rough old counter.  “What can you make of them?”

“Hmmm…” rumbled Skrabel the Wordsmith.  “They’re a funny lot aren’t they…”

He pulled one of the smaller ones out. “LONELY…”  well, this one is easy.  A little work should make this one just Lovely…”

 

He reached for another.  “PETTY?  That’s rather small is it not?”  He laid it carefully aside.

“And what are these?” Skrabel cried as he tugged at two long ones “MANDATORY REDUNDANCY?”

“Those two are always together.” Martin commented, trying to be helpful.

“Well!” boomed Skrabel “I will have to do something with the first one, but I think I already have one of the others.  I will see what I can do.”

 

Skrabel emptied the box of words onto his counter.  “UNATTRACTIVE…” he observed, laying the last one down.  “Hmmm…  I think I can knock a couple of letters off him and he will be much better looking.  You leave these with me young Martin.  I’ll have some words you can really use when you come back.”

 

Later that day, Martin came by the Smithy.  He could hear Skrabel hammering away in his forge, giving some un-known word better definition.

“Hi!  Skrabel!” Martin called.

The hammering stopped and the enormous Wordsmith emerged from the red heat of his forge.  “Ah!  Martin!” he boomed.  “I have something for you!”

Skrabel lifted a big bunch of words onto the counter.

“These ought to be more use to you!”

 

Martin looked over the words.  They were, indeed, much better than those he had brought back from the City.

“Thank you” said Martin “these are great!”

“Just wait.”  Skrabel held up a huge, stubby finger “I have one more for you…”

Carefully Skrabel lifted one more word, quite long, onto the counter.

“That is beautiful!” Martin observed.

“Correct!” said Skrabel with a grin.

 

Martin looked at the word thoughtfully “I think this should go to a Certain Someone.” He said to himself.

“Ah, and we all know who that Certain Someone is, do we not?” Skrabel said, overhearing.

Martin went a little red.  “Maybe.” was all he said.

“Well, you say Hello to the young lass for me when you see her.  On your way, young Martin!”  Skrabel waved one massive hand as he disappeared back into his forge.

 

Martin collected his words and went on his way.

 

“Oh, hello Martin.” Said Rebecca when she answered a knock at her door “Are you coming in?”

“Hello Rebecca. Yes I am.” Martin answered, and he came in.

Onyx the cat jumped lazily from a window sill and rubbed first against Rebecca’s leg, then against Martin’s.  Then he padded over to a patch of sun and curled up on the floor.

 

“What have you got there?” Rebecca asked, indicating Martin’s box of words.

“Oh, these are some words that Skrabel the Wordsmith made up for me.” Martin put the box on the kitchen table.  Rebecca moved to peek inside.  Sunlight rippled over her long red hair.  It reminded Martin of the autumn leaves on the trees.

 

He quickly covered the box.  “There is a surprise.” He explained.

Martin carefully opened the box while Rebecca tried to peek.

“I thought I would give this one to you.” He told her as he pulled out a long-ish word.

“Oh, it is beautiful!” Rebecca’s eyes shone.

“Correct!” said Martin happily.

 

Rebecca tried it on.

 

“It is you.” Was all Martin had to say.

 

“Thank you Martin,” Rebecca began “but I have nothing to give you in return.”

“Oh, that is okay.” Martin waved a dismissive hand “If I was supposed to get something in return it would not be a present, it would be a trade.  And this is a present.”

 

Rebecca smiled “You are a lovely man Martin.” She said as she walked around the table to him “So here is a present to you, from me.”

Standing on her toes, Rebecca gave Martin a kiss.  For a long moment, Martin’s whole world was the warmth of her against him, the smell of her hair and her skin, and the taste of her mouth.

 

And for that, Martin had absolutely no words at all.