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Once upon a time, in a far off land called the
Isles of Myst...
There lived a young man named Jakey. Once a
blacksmith's apprentice, Jakey had found his true calling in the art of woodwork
and especially toymaking. His little figures were so detailed and perfect
that they had attracted the eye a beautiful woman who wanted to buy his toys and
sell them. A merchant, or so he thought, this tawny-haired tigress had
also unkowningly stolen Jakey's young heart those years ago.
A few years later; Jakey, a large man now of
roughly a half dozen feet and similar inches with dark bear brownish hair
and eyes the colour of deeply stained oak, had opened his own small shop in a
poor quarter of Larmian where he whittled and had learned some basic
clockwork and metalcraft to make his own wonderful toys. Being a young man
alone in a town very far from his home and very shy, he had become lonely and
secluded. His only joys were making his toys and giving them to the poor
little boys and girls in and around Larmian, especially to those little children
without one or both parents.
This caught the hearts of the widows of Larmian,
young and old. Those who felt too old for this young man constantly urged
him to court their daughters or nieces, while the younger would often bring
their children to play with the handsome young toymaker and usually bring some
sort of freshly baked sweet or plate of dinner. But because Jakey
constantly thought of Tawny, who had disappeared from his life those three long
years ago, he ignored or did not notice the offers before him.
Then came one blessed day in the early Larmian
Summer! Oh, but who should knock on the door of his shop while he was
sweating and working away in the back room? His long lost Tawny! Oh
beautiful Tawny, his great friend! He was so happy that he brought her
into his home because she had no place to currently stay. She had stayed
the summer and enjoyed the season with walks and picnics and time spent in the
pub (which he had only gone to for a jug of ale every so often to enjoy with his
dinners at home.)
The townsfolk noticed a definate change in Jakey,
who offered friendly hellos and even began to converse more with his
neighbors. The younger widows grew a little jealous of the boyishly slim
woman that Jakey was boarding, but were also happy to see him out and about in
town. Tawny had surely cracked the shell that Jakey had built around
himself and the townsfolk found that they liked this quiet young man all the
more for it.
Then the sad day came.. Jakey and Tawny had shared
too many pints in the Pub down the roe from his shop and late into the evening a
strange man came into the establishment. A rucous was started when this
associate of Tawny's began talking too closely to her for Jakey's comfort
(though he had not once outright told her his true feelings. His subtleness is
his terrible curse.) Tawny told the drunken Jakey to go home and that she
would be along shortly. That would be the last time the poor toymaker
would see her again.
When he woke up the next Autumn morning and
there was a faint rime of frost on the rooftops and ground outside. To him
it seemed a worldly reminder of the coldness he felt in his heart and home, for
he had found a note beside his washstand from Tawny. It told him that she
had to leave for a short time, but that she would return soon.
Months had past. The long heat of Autumn
turned into the cold and snows of Winter and still Tawny had not returned.
Jakey withdrew quickly into his shell and the widows, young and old, grew
worried and sad for him. They tried all that they could, but it seemed
that nothing would bring their gentle toymaker away from the small iron stove in
the back of his shop where he would stare with tears that were too dry to weep
at a half formed lump of pale orange marble.
The months came and past, came and past, so Jakey
forced himself to make more toys for the merchants and townsfolk for the holiday
seasons because he needed the money to pay his rent for his run-down shop and
tiny flat above it. But his heart was sadly not in it. The New Year
had come and gone, winter was half way through, and he was growing cold to the
"vera vera soon" that Tawny had written him.
So it was no real surprise when the widows of
Larmian came to his door in force with a parchment declaring a benefit for the
Widows and Orphan's fund. Feeling terrible that his best work had not been
given to these people for the year's holiday season, he agreed to become one of
the bachelors at auction. He only hoped that he would not make a complete
fool of himself and bring in at least some small amount of coin for the nice
women and little children.
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