5th July 2020

This last Tuesday afternoon I was fortunate to witness the arrival at the Moran state park midway camp site of a wonderful new piece of technical apparatus, a large green enclosed trailer cleverly designed to dispense bundles of precut firewood automatically in response to the feeding of the appropriate fee via  the currency slot. I found this mechanical marvel intriguing for several reasons, firstly because of the obvious problem to geometrically stacking even the most identical looking bundles of wood, secondly the necessarily complex system of belts or levers to allow consistent realignment and dispensing of bundles upon demand, and thirdly that such a wonderfully complex automaton should be financially practical or even probable for such a singularly unique location.

As is my want I filed the oddity away in my local memory for further consideration or prognostication and in case the whim should take me to do some suitable elucidating research. Needless to say in the true Welfordian fashion I immediately forgot the matter entirely until yesterday late afternoon when my eyes once more rested upon the intriguing green goddess.

My time as always being very much mine own and my interest suitable peaked I decided that this was as good a time as any to give the beast a more than perfunctory once over. Appearing to the casual observer little more than a ribbed metal enclosure,  approximately the size of a double horse box in my estimation, either end was flat finished with clear and precisely annotated instructions as to use and purpose, the back end having two identical low positioned oblong apertures presumably for the ejection of any properly acquired product. Having completed two complete circuits, ensuring that no important or fundamental aspect had escaped my attention, I casually leaned against the side of the vert structure to take a pull from my ever-available flask of ginger beer.

Imagine if you can my overwhelming surprise upon suddenly becoming aware of the feint but distinctly recognizable chitter chatter of voices  quite obviously originating from the interior of the contraption, speaking in that most ancient of tongues,  Khuzdul, that language shared commonly  amongst all the dwarfish peoples including those predisposed to abide on and around the fringes of the isle of Orcas. Hastily piecing together the few words I could decipher and recalling what little dwarfish I could remember from my times spent amongst the oft dour but occasionally merry wee folk that abound in and around the few still working precious metal  mines of the Cornish peninsular, I immediately recognized haelfral (wood), tira (work) and ailvrumm (silver or payment}. Evidently the magical folk encased within the Lincoln encoated mugdor (mine) were being paid for performing some labor involving cut lumber. I decided to bide my time, smoke a pipe, and continue the watch.

As all too often proves the case a sudden onset of remorseless hunger and a rather unpleasantly heavy downpour from the skies above firstly dented and then utterly broke my resolve to see any vigil through for the rest of the that particular day (lahk).

 By chance my Friday evening repast was of shellfish, guaranteed to produce both sleepiness and truly elucidating dreams. Sure enough a vision of magical folk ferreting away within the green goddess projected upon my imagination, cutting, gathering, and binding bundles of firewood and as needed excreting them from the twin bowels at the goddess’s rear end.

These dual sphincters are I regrettably must report cunningly designed to be just a smidgen smaller than needed for any unhappy dwarf to escape from such unfortunate servitude.

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