He pulled the sledge to a hilltop and left it. Striking out through the woods he ranged around, searching for a downed oak or chestnut, seasoned and hard.
The first logs he located in the brush were rotted and soft, lain there in the wet too many seasons.
Under a chestnut shrub in late flower he spied another. Investigating he found the bark not rotting nor sloughing off; not mossy.
Some hard wood? By the bark perhaps an oak.
Here it had lain sheltered for a season or two. The brush had been browsed by wildlife, chewed and scattered by rodents. Just the log and large branches remained.
Pressing it with his fingers he found it hard. Pulling off some bark with an effort, the wood under was dry.
The axe would tell all! He marked the location in his mind, returned to the hilltop to fetch his tools.
It took a moment to re-find the log, hidden in the shrubs. Once found he laid aside the saw and took up the axe.
Dressed as he was in, well, nothing, he had to take care or he'd do himself grave injury.
Clearing a spot of scrub and planting his feet, he took careful strokes at first. Chipping away at the bark he hit solid wood. A stronger stroke to test it and Thwack! The axe stuck.
Just what he'd hoped to find - seasoned not green, bark still attached so few bugs had been at it. Hard wood!
He wrenched the axe free, switched to the saw.
For wedges he wanted hard straight wood near a knot where the grain was dense.
That was also the hardest place to saw. No matter, it would just take longer.
Selecting his first cut he carefully drew the sawblade across the spot to set a mark. Then he began in earnest, bent to the task, back and shoulders making the effort and not just arms and hands.
Making full strokes, using the entire length of the blade with each stroke, he made relatively quick progress. In a quarter hour he was most of the way through.
Leaving that for now he took a break, stood tall and let the breeze cool him. Sweat beaded his back, his brow. It trickled across his chest, his stomach, tickled a bit.
When his arms felt whole again he started his second cut, not far from the first.
This took longer as it was nearer a fork and the woodgrain grown close and hard. But that made for better wedges so no matter.
His body ached by the time he had made it nearly through. Now he was crouching to reach the log near the ground.
When it crack!ed and rolled, he stepped carefully back, watched it come to rest again.
The free part, his part, was smaller and near the top. The branches compressed when it fell those years ago still had some spring. It had been that which moved the log.
His first cut was now rolled toward the top. Setting the saw down, crouching and grasping the fresh-cut end with both arms, he heaved! with his legs and shoulders.
The muscles of his legs, ass and back bulged and banded with the effort! His neck grew thick, his face twisted in the effort.
With a crunching cracking sound the first cut broke through! His section of the log was free.
He lifted it, carried it to the sledge and set it on its side.
A narrow spool not as long as his forearm and no thicker through, it would be trimmed to a block on his bench. Wedges could be sawn from the block as needed.
The rest of this hard wood log could be used for the planks. But it was heavy, the day was growing shorter, and his body had done enough.
In his weakened state he knew it was time to stop or he'd likely slip up and injure something.
Stowing tools and harnessing himself, he trudged with his load back to the homestead.
...
She saw him return, prize on the sledge, toiling at the load, legs and back and oh! that butt flexing with each step. Naked body slick with sweat and shining all over.
Her heart twitched in her chest at the sight, her legs clenched involuntarily. She felt a girl of 16 again, seeing her first naked man.
Praise the day the muses had directed him to her home, to be her laborer. It was the best thing that had happened to her in years.
She sat down to enjoy what came next: his bath at the well.
...
He sluiced the cool, cool water over his limbs, his chest, his hips with both hands and rinsed the sawdust from his skin and fur. It cooled him wonderfully, his face had become red from all his efforts.
He tilted his neck back and poured the rest of the bucket over his head, enjoying the feel of water streaming through his hair, down his shoulders, across his torso. Streaming from his chin, fingers and dick.
Letting the bucket fall he walked wearily to where his pants and shirt lay, drying in the small breezes. Still a little damp but never mind so was he. He donned them, cinched and bound the toggles.
Going to his axe yard he toppled a spool and sat on it. Reaching to his sledge he tipped his block of hardwood from it, heaved it over to land near his feet.
Once the sides were trimmed flat, it would be fairly square. Easy to saw or split wedges. He'd prefer to split them, as that created less waste.
A splitting wedge didn't have to be sharp. It was inserted in a crack in a log and pounded in to make the crack wider. It never had to bite into wood on its own.
The number of wedges he would need depended on the length of the log being split. One every two feet or so meant, for his table maybe 3 or four wedges.
Sometimes a log didn't split at first, and he'd have to double them up. So, six to start with.
When the log did split, the wedges simply fell to the ground and got re-used.
He was startled by footsteps approaching though the grass.
"You've been working hard!"
It was his Mistress.
"Yes, ma'am! I'm starting on the storage table."
She looked critically at his block. "That's a pretty small table!"
He smiled. "A hardwood log will have to be split, to make planks. This is just the blank for creating splitting wedges."
She shook her head. "So much to prepare, before the actual work begins! You are a wonder, the skills!
"Anyway, extra work needs extra fuel. Here is something to fill your stomach."
He saw she had a half-loaf of bread, and a pot of something. Taking the bread with thanks, he set it on his block.
Taking the pot he sniffed - lard? Spiced with something. Very filling indeed!
"It's got onion, apple, some bacon for flavor."
He grinned. This was going to be good!
He tore a piece of bread, and lacking utensils used a bit of crust to dip some lard from the pot, smear it on his chunk.
It melted in his mouth, rich and fatty and flavorful! Without meaning to, he moaned his pleasure.
"You keep that up. some young thing will marry you just to hear your delight! She won't need anything else to please her."
He blushed, astonished at how forward his Mistress had become.
She laughed at his shyness.
"Men! Always talking of sex and women to each other. But let a woman say a word, and they become like children!"
He grinned despite himself. It was silly to be shy. She was a very mature woman, certainly worldly and unashamed by bodies and sex.
Her trade as healer was in such things.
"If a woman would have me, I'd work hard to please her! If that was what she needed, then so she would have it!"
Mistress looked shocked.
