Fonzico's Journey

[Fonzico]

The smell of honey-sweetened flapjacks floated airily up the stairs to the cramped room she has rented for the winter. Tossing cozily in her down comforter, she debated whether the fluffy pan cakes were worth the encounter with the icy floors. The long cold nights of the season had sapped her willpower, and she feared she had become quite soft in the last months – the innkeeper’s wife was too good a cook, and it was difficult to muster the incentive to finish her daily workouts in the bitter cold.

 

When she finally escaped the clutches of her siren of a bed and made her way to the shared bathing room, an honest assessment in the tarnished silver mirror confirmed her suspicions –she had gained the mass of a small child. There was no help for it. She had to get back into fighting shape before the passes cleared. As a female who frequently traveled alone, being in less-than-ideal shape was an invitation to be robbed… or worse.

 

As she padded down the rickety stairs, she steeled herself for the inevitable confrontation by the innkeeper’s wife. Missy would consider a refusal to indulge in her legendary flapjacks a personal affront, which was precisely what had begun this slippery slope. Her native diet was replete with that which could be hunted or foraged. While some of the less nomadic wood elves kept gardens, none were so intensive as to produce the quantities of wheat and corn that comprised Missy’s excellent baking. Nzico had grown up, lithe and energetic, on meats and vegetables and a little seasonal fruit, mostly foraged berries. Though little of that was available this far north so close to the winter solstice, she would have to do her best to imitate that diet if she wanted to be ready by springtime.

 

She sighed, staring forlornly out into the snowy yard. Bad weather or no, she needed to prepare her body for the hardships of traveling. It wouldn’t be easy – she had much lost time to make up for. But she could – and would – do it.

 

Just a shift in priorities. That’s what it would take.

 

I've never been in great shape. But my character has. Thus, by embodying her, I only have to get back into shape! If I've done it before, obviously I can do it again

Also, while I am not built like a wood elf, I've decided I must be one, as I never feel as utterly contented as when I'm in the woods. It's my happy place, and one of my general life goals is to shift things so I can spend more time where I am happiest and most peaceful.

I am currently a directionless adventurer. I have druidic ambitions, but in order to make that lifestyle a reality, I know I need real strength, so I may have to bum around with the warriors for a while first.

And so it begins.

[Fonzico]

She stood in the yard, chest heaving, the sweat freezing in the tendrils of hair escaping her hood. Her muscles positively burned from the exertion, but she simply stood there, with a goofy grin on her face. How could she have forgotten how wonderful this felt? She already couldn't wait until she had recovered enough for another session.

 

As per usual, wonderful smells pulled her into the kitchens before she had even changed out of her damp clothing. Missy looked up from her dough rolling, and smiled. "I don't suppose I can tempt you with a fresh cinnanmon bun, eh?" she asked, without much hope. Nzico just grinned. Missy sighed and jerked her head towards the cellar. "I saved you a turkey leg from last night." She muttered something under her breath that might have sounded a little like "daft elf".

 

She knawed on her cold turkey leg awkwardly while trying to get ready for the day one-handed. She had taken on a job with a local cleric, translating scrolls for the winter to help pay her keep. While she didn't mind the work, it was irritating to be stuck indoors, inactive, when all she really wanted was to get back to work on her strength and endurance. She tried to squeeze in what she could, where she could: walking lunges to get more supplies, squats while she thought. She always volunteered to do any errand running, which was gratefully accepted, considering the bitter wind. She supposed it could be worse.. and she had to pay her way somehow. Maybe next year she would try to find a position as a stablehand. Lowly, certainly, but mucking out stables was one heck of a workout!

[Skywalker]

Nzico's story is inspiring.  I feel like lunging to the stationery cupboard.

 

I wish I had the creativity to write in character.  I'm looking forward to reading the next installment and finding out how Nzico gets the job done.

[Fonzico]

She could feel herself growing stronger. Each workout, she could eke out one additional rep. It was getting easier and easier to swing Missy’s son, Hunter, up in the air, despite his rapidly increasing mass. Her abdominal area still waved the banner of a season of sloth, but she knew the muscles underneath were growing harder. She paused to thank her body; it put up with so much abuse, but eagerly responded as soon as she renewed her expectations of it. She had to remind herself not to get too self-congratulatory, though. She had really only just begun – and while a good start was key, she knew she had several long months of grueling effort before the real payoff.

 

However, that was no excuse not to have fun! She begged off her clerical duties early, in order to catch some remaining sunlight. She dashed down the street to the inn, and popped into the kitchen, where she found Missy, attempting to prepare the massive quantities of food needed each evening, with 4-year-old Hunter latched firmly onto her leg. He let go, however, upon seeing Nzico, and almost bowled her over with a hug/attack combo. Nzico giggled as she hung him upside down over her shoulder, and turned to his mother.

 

“I thought perhaps you might enjoy a little break from the monster,†as she sidled over to the pile of crisply cooked pork belly. Hunter, familiar with this routine, quickly stuffed as many slices as he could fit into his pocket. “I’m going to take a tromp around the woods behind the mill, shall I take him with me?â€

 

The look of relief on Missy’s face was repayment enough for the offer. Although she did have an ulterior motive: she knew Hunter wouldn’t last long in the deep snow, and she would end up carrying him. It would be excellent practice for the days when she would be carrying a heavy pack around, and it at least accomplished a greater purpose than carrying a pack of rocks.

 

“Are you sure? You don’t have to, he’ll only slow you down,†Missy said, although her eyes pleaded for her not to change her mind.

 

“I’m sure. It’ll be good for him to work off some energy! You ready, Hunter-boo?â€

 

“Oh yes! But I want to be the robber this time. You can be the lady, and then the sheriff.†Without further comment, he dashed off. “Coco, come on!â€

 

And she went.

[Fonzico]

Thanks for the encouragement, Storm! It's good to know someone's reading..  I mean, you can see the number of views, but when no one comments, you wonder. Not that I'm doing this for anyone other than myself It's fun though, and gets me doing a little something creative every few days.

[N'doSnow]

I just discovered your writings here! It's awesome! You are a great writer, and I think the story is such a cool lens to view your transformation through. I look forward to the rest of it.

[Heranje]

Wow, Fonzico! Your writing is great. Looking forward to hearing how Nzico's story progresses.

Would you mind if I copied you and started writing my own story? :3

[Fonzico]

Thanks, guys! I love to write.. but I never know what to write about. So it never gets far. This is fun though.

 

And Heranje, of course I don't mind! I stole the idea from someone else myself!

[Fonzico]

Nzico winced as she went through her stretches. She had done *something* to her shoulder while rough-housing with Hunter, and it had already set her back almost a week in her training. Coupled with the wearing off of her initial burst of enthusiasm, this last week had not gone well.

 

After she finished limbering up, she grabbed a pillow from her bed, and set herself up, cross-legged, on the floor. She has learned this routine from a halfling druid from a far away land whom she had traveled with for a spell a couple years ago. Although she had fallen out of the habit, she remembered how the minutes of quiet in the morning had buffered her mental clarity for the rest of the day. She calmed her mind, and spent a few minutes simply focusing on her breathing, falling into a slight trance. Once her heart rate had slowed and her mind once again fell into sync with her body, she deliberately called up the thought of her perceived failure from the week before, and contemplated it without emotion. While no obvious solution came to her immediately, it felt good to remove the judgement and negative emotion from the situation. Nothing external had changed - her ultimate motivation, her abilities and her game plan were constant. The consistency in behavior was forming.

 

She took a final long breath, and sent a small prayer of thankfulness out into the universe. Her people did not personify the supernatural as she had come to realize many cultures did, but she couldn't help but feel that some entity out there might be grateful for an acknowledgment of their works. Whomever they might be.

[Pookie]

*smiles* I too have taken on writing like this, I think it will be fun.

 

I'm enjoying your story and looking forward to more.

[Skywalker]

I wish I had met that halfling Druid - I'm going to try that meditation / contemplation on my last week

[MonsterDigs]

loving your style of writing it is very entertaining and easy to read. Thanks,

MD

[Fonzico]

Nzico rolled out of bed, accompanied by a tremendous yawn, followed by a groan as she looked out the window. It had snowed yet again. This was one of the worst years in living memory for the white stuff, according to the elderly fellows who populated the admittedly cosy common room downstairs. As a result, the majority of her outdoor activities lately had consisted of shovelling the blasted stuff off the paths and streets of the small village she was wintering in.

 

At least it was a good workout – and certainly appreciated by the others. Plus, it ensured she kept up with her stretching, in order to keep her back happy! She supposed she shouldn’t complain.

 

After clearing the path to the stables and other outbuildings, she dashed past the kitchens – “I’ll be right there, Missy! -  and up to her rooms to change; shovelling did tend to work up a sweat! She paused mid-way to examine her physical progress: arms, beginning to reveal the muscles beneath, tummy, perhaps a little less round? Face, decidedly less chipmunk like.

 

This is working.

 

With a grin, she donned fresh garments, and returned to the kitchens. She was going to show Missy how to make her Grandmother’s rabbit stew – she was starting to get a little sick of picking the things she wanted to eat out from the less-than-ideal but entirely tempting concoctions the innkeeper’s wife was famous for – in fact, she didn’t doubt that Missy would want to add a biscuit crust, or a heap of white potatoes to the stew anyways. But perhaps the promise of assistance in the kitchens once a week would be a sweet enough deal to get some of her own items added to the menu.

 

As the two women chopped and chatted, Nzico couldn’t help but reflect on her often solitary, nomadic lifestyle. I could get used to this, she thought. Maybe someday I will settle down for good.

 

But deep down, she knew that the spring melt would bring the intoxicating call of the wilderness as it ever did. And she would follow, as always.