The Diary of a Wizard Week Sixty Four: The Orc

Barry S. Brunswick

1 year ago

The Diary of a Wizard blog brought to you by Barry S. Brunswick Week 64. There is a Wizard sitting at a desk writing with a quill by candlelight.

Hey friend!!

Welcome to the best blog of magical comedy, crazy happenings, and outright whacky wizardry, The Diary of a Wizard. This week I’ll have to help a young fantasy creature that’s been kicked out its tribe. I’ll be headed into orc country, so I better bring my trusty sword. I can’t stand violence but sometimes orc heads need to be swiftly removed from orc bodies, so I better keep it handy. Orcs normally try to cook me on a spit with an apple in my mouth, so wish me luck.

I received a message via messenger squirrel, bright and breezy in the morning, somewhere near dawn’s crack. Messenger squirrels are a bit like messenger pigeons except way more squirrely, you see. After I deciphered the super sweary orc language, I could tell it was a troubled young orc that wants my wizardly assistance in a matter most upsetting. I’d be lying if I said I was keen to tread into enemy territory, but being an awesome wizard, I’ll help the gross and violent fella out. Crazy I know, but it’s just the way I roll.

After recently getting a vax for the unicorn flu, my trusty magical steed Horace is back out and about and I’ll be needing him on this adventure. I would never go to orc country without him to get me out of any scrapes should the orcs dare to tangle with I, the mighty wizard. It’s a two day ride through the forest, past the fae garden, along the creaky bridge and into the dark and stinky valley where the orcs live in their dank hovels.

Luckily, we got past the fae garden unscathed which is somewhat of a rarity. Normally the pixies get all trixie and try and enchant me with some secret potion, or try and get me to tell them my name or something, just to mess with me in manner most fae-like. There was no sign of them today. Then it was Horace’s favourite part of gently walking on a rickety old creaky bridge that stretches for miles, while below it lie jagged harrowing rocks of certain doom. And people wonder why I live in The Enchanted Woods when it’s this much fun.

In the evening of the second day, we reached the Stinky Valley. I hate to inform you that “stinky” is not indeed an ironic name. The place whiffs up a right pong due to stinky orc body sweat and flatulence. Luckily, we didn’t have to go deep into the valley as the orc I’d come to find met us on the outskirts. He was an ugly little sucker. I’ll censor his words and leave out the swearing for you, this is a family diary after all.

He told me that his name was Plop and then we got down to business.

“I need your help Mister Wizard,” he said. “I’ve been slung out me tribe. I refused to worship the Orcish God because I don’t believe in it and the others all called me a heretic and chased me outta town. Even my own family has rejected me. In fact, they were the horriblest of all. I believe in that nice Forest Goddess instead. She’s awesome.”

“Yeah, the Forest Goddess is cool. Anyway, would you like to start a new life in another place or get back into your tribe?”

“I’d like to return to my people. My path lies with them.”

Well, I was kinda hoping I wouldn’t have to ride into the middle of an orc tribe but here we are. See, told you living in The Enchanted Woods is fun!

So Plop mounted up, and Horace trotted deeper and deeper into the valley. The whole time it got darker, scarier, and unfortunately, stinkier. I had the worst itchy handle fingers, which is like itchy trigger finger, only with a sword.

I had to fight off a horde of hungry and grumpy orcs. You don’t mess about with the orc so now they are all minus heads. I picked one of those heads up and mounted it on Horace’s unicorn horn as a warning to all others that should dare tangle with a mighty wizard.

We made the village by sundown, and the orcs gathered round. I was super uncomfortable cos I could tell they really wanted to kill me, chuck me in the pot and then eat me. Nevertheless, I was there to do a job, and that job I was determined to do.

So, translating, sans-swearing, the negotiations began.

I started with the talking stuff. “Hi, Plop here says you threw him out the tribe.”

“Yeah, so what?” said the apparent leader of the filthy rabble. “Why shouldn’t we eat you?” he pointed to his mates to try and scare me while they growled and dribbled and acted all orcy. With that, using some wonderous wizardry, I turned him into a hedgehog in a big puff of blue smoke.

Then putting my war face on, I looked around the group that surrounded me and asked, “Anyone else?”

Suddenly they lost their boisterous edge, as the leader scurried into a hedge, which he would most likely go on to hog, I should imagine. They all backed away. This is why I hate hanging out with orcs you have to really put your foot down sometimes. Also, would you wanna hang out with creatures that wanna eat you all the time?

Now they knew who was in charge of the situation we could continue in a civilised manner. “Now why did you kick Plop out?”

This time it was his Plop’s mother that spoke in a gravelly tone that sounded like she’d been gargling a mixture of sand, glass, cacti and scorpions. “He’s a bad orc. He doesn’t love our god.”

“And how does that make him a bad orc, exactly?” I asked.

“He’s a heretic, and he’s not like the rest of us, he isn’t. He has to go. He makes us question our own beliefs and we orcs hate that. It makes us uncomfortable.”

“If your beliefs are so strong, surely he can’t make you stop believing what you do,” I responded.

“Well, he’ll go to the fire pit after world if he doesn’t.”

“And why is that any of your business?”

“We make it our business.”

“Well don’t.”

“What?” The orc seemed most confused.

“His eternal soul is none of your business.”

“It’s… It’s not?” she stammered. “Oh, I see.”

“Is he mean?” I asked.

“Oh, very mean. He’s always cutting off heads and eating stuff.”

“Does he smell?”

“He totally stinks to high heaven.”

“Is he a good orc?”

“Oh, you can’t get more orcy than Plop here. He does all the orcy things better than any of us. Like swearing, snotting, stinking, growling, fighting, eating stuff, killing things, thumping other creatures.”

“That does sound super orcy. Do you like him?”

“Oh, yeah. He’s the best, well up until, you know.”

“So, you realise now that he’s a lot more like you than not? His beliefs don’t affect yours and you can be friends and family, happily together. Plop can still be a valuable member of the tribe without believing the same thing that you do. That’s a right we all have. To follow our own path. We can still love each other. Actually, you’re orcs so there won’t be much loving, but you know what I mean.”

“I do. Come here you.”

Then Plop and his mother had a teary snotty cuddle, and everyone cheered as one.

So now I had done my job, I really wanted to get out of the stink. Plop called out as I left. “If you ever need some help wizard, come back here and give me a shout.”

“And we’ll eat ya.” His mother piped up shaking her fist in a manner most menacing.

So, my trusty magical steed Horace and I hit the dusty trail back home.

Finally made it back before sundown. I learned a few things from this adventure. Sometimes when we focus on distractions, we forget to look into someone’s heart. They might just be a lot more like us than we realise. We can be different, yet we can be friends and if a species as uncivilised and unevolved as orcs can understand that, maybe some other specieses can too.

I’m gonna write some cool stories for you now. I hope your week is full of magic, sunshine, giggles, bubbles and rainbows!

See ya next time friend!

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