Mirabelle's Boots - Chapter 9 (Patreon)

Mirabelle's Boots has been updated, edited and uploaded to Royalroad with 8 chapters! This is the first advance chapter. 

https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/64119/mirabelles-boots-the-cruel-fairys-wish-a-shoe-making 

______________________________________

~ Gisopi Minari’s, The Cobbler’s Art, Chapter Nine - Boot Anatomy - The Heel

The elevated portion of a boot that acts as a support and stabilizing structure for the foot is called the heel. It can be made of the same material as the outsole, or it can be a distinct piece that is bonded to the outsole. It can be found at the rear of the boot, beneath the heel of the foot.

Within a boot, the heel is responsible for a variety of critical functions. It helps to balance the weight of the body and distribute it equally over the foot, thereby lessening the pressure that is placed on the arch and the heel. It not only serves to lessen the impact of walking or running on the feet, but it also helps to absorb shock.

The height and width of the heel of a boot can change based on the design of the boot as well as the activity that will be performed while wearing the boot. For instance, a heel that is higher may be more appropriate for a dress boot, but a heel that is lower and wider could be more appropriate for a hiking boot. It is also possible for the fit and comfort of the boot to be affected by the height of the heel. This is because a heel that is either too high or too low might result in pain or instability.

_________________________

Birds sing outside of Mirabelle’s nest, sitting up high on the branches of the summertide green trees. Their songs are carried away, together with the gentle rustling of the full crown, by the ever-present softly blowing gust, which flows through the world like a stream.

As it blows and as the daytime life of the city unfolds, a soft ‘clacking’ sound comes from inside the tree, together with the voice of someone humming excitedly.

It has been two weeks since the completion of her first boot.

Mirabelle hums to herself, strolling through her nest as she gets everything in order. The fairy spares a minute to look over her shoulder, towards the flap of burlap covering the entrance, which moves softly as the breeze finds even her inside of here, bringing a breath of fresh air to her home.

Mirabelle, the cruel fairy, smiles a surprisingly wide smile as she watches it blow around, before her eyes wander downwards, down towards the two boots that she’s wearing. One is a little better than the other, given that one was her first attempt and the other her second, but they’re both good in her eyes. Sure, they’re not as good as the shoemaker’s work, but she can’t help but smile when she looks at them, even now.

Mirabelle, standing on one heel, turns her other foot around a few times so that she can admire her work.

Nodding in satisfaction, she returns to her housework, listening to the clacking of her two boots ring out around her as she gets her home in order.

Fairies, like birds, like to build nests. So, the inside of the tree has been filled with tufts of colorful fabric and many soft things that she has found. A few hollowed out nutshells and acorns serve as her storage for smaller, crumblier things like pieces of muffin or any scraps she’s found. Sure, it’s not exactly dignified living — eating literal garbage — but she feels happy, strong, and fed, and most importantly, her feet feel warm and secure.

Mirabelle closes her eyes as she walks across the room, around the jumble of fabric that is her bed, listening to the sounds echoing out all around her inside the hollow space. The many thuds of her echoing boots almost make the room sound like it's full of other people.

Today is going to be a good day.

________________________________________________________________

“- And that’s when he asked me to marry him, you know?” asks the old woman.

*Quack* sings the duck, letting loose a siren call that sends the hairs on Mirabelle’s neck standing on end. The old woman laughs, throwing some more bread crumbs to the hungry ducks.

Mirabelle sits on a branch in the bush behind the bench and listens to her story. The old woman comes here just about every day, and just about every day, she brings bread with herself to throw to the ducks as payment now, as Mirabelle has come to understand. It isn't a tribute to their glorious, pristine beauty or presence, as she had initially thought. No, rather, the old woman is paying them in bread for listening to her story.

That is the thing — the service that the ducks provide.

The fairy turns her head, watching the old woman. This is the part where she laughs.

The old woman laughs. “Well, I told him no, right there on the spot!” she says, chuckling to herself as if this were a fond memory. “’Told him he had to beat me in a fight first, you know?” she asks, waving the ducks off. “I was bigger back then,” she explains, as if the ducks’ questioning looks were meant for her story rather than for her withholding of the bread.

*Quack*

________________________________________________________________

The man is throwing sticks again.

Mirabelle sits up on the high branch of her tree, her legs dangling down, as she watches the man, the one she had seen on her first day here in the city. He stands by the water as always and cracks twigs and sticks into pieces, casting them into the pond, as he seems to be lost in thought like he seems to be just about every day.

Mirabelle has never really deciphered what exactly his problems are, but he seems to have them, and he seems to find his peace here, by the water.

He breaks off another piece of his twig, throwing it into the pond.

She turns her head, watching him. She can’t really make out what his expression is supposed to be. Troubled? Worried? Excited? Confused? It’s really sort of a mix of everything, and the man just doesn’t seem to know what to choose for himself. So instead, he breaks another piece off of the stick and throws it into the water.

________________________________________________________________

Mirabelle lays on her stomach, her head resting in her hands, and her feet kicking excitedly in the air behind her as she watches her favorite scene unfold.

The young man is here again, the one with the very nice hair. It looks like a golden bird’s nest. He is sitting strategically by the water of the pond, straight across it in the direction that her branch points toward. He comes here every two or three days, always with someone new — some girl, always a different one. These are always her favorite scenes to watch. It’s become a real source of joy for her.

Excitedly, she picks off another piece of the old spice-bread she’s nibbling on. He always comes here; he always picks the same spot to rest, the bench, suggesting that they sit and relax for a moment, looking around and spotting the bench as if he had never seen it before in his life. He plays the situation off as if it were sheer fate that had brought him and the girl here, right at this moment, right to this scenic place.

Mirabelle can’t help but snort as she holds down a giddy giggle. He’s making his move. It's the same move he’s made with at least a half-dozen other girls, all to varying degrees of success. Although the last two were failures. The biggest consistency of it all though is his hair and tightly fitting, spring-colored outfit. It’s immaculate. It’s all just as coordinated and predetermined as this entire set-up.

Mimicking him, she lifts a hand, running her fingers through the side of her hair exactly like him, so that she doesn’t ruin the front, deepening her voice as she recites his lines, which she has memorized at this point, down to the cadence. He always uses the same set-up for everything. A master planner.

The fairy holds her spice-bread out in front of herself, pretending that it’s someone else.

“You know,” she says in her deepest voice. “I can't help but think…” she says, turning her away to look mysteriously over the water as her hand finds its way from the tufts of her hair to the ‘chin’ of the bread. “That the sunset over this water holds the same light as your eyes,” she recites, barely able to keep herself from laughing. “- Sad, but beautiful.” Mirabelle excitedly looks ahead, over her beloved spice-bread towards the man. 

“AIH!” she yelps in confused surprise. It worked. They’re kissing.

She snorts again, falling onto her back and laughing.

________________________________________________________________

Mirabelle hovers excitedly, pressing her face against the window as she watches the shoemaker work. She can’t get enough of it. She’s here every day, just like him, watching every single step unfold. Every detail, every intricacy, every minute of every long, repetitive, monotonous process, she watches and absorbs.

Now that she’s made two boots and then several more practice attempts, she’s getting much better at it. Her second pair of boots were better than her first. Her third ones, oddly enough, were worse than the second pair. But after watching the man some more, she realizes that she picked up a bad habit along the way.

She had done the steps in the wrong order. It seemed more comfortable for her to do it the other way around, but now she realizes her mistake.

Her wings buzz in excitement as she presses her face and hands against the window. Today, the shoemaker is working on a pair of sleek, dark-green leather boots that have the same color as the water in her pond.

“Sad, but beautiful,” mutters Mirabelle beneath her breath, having to duck away and hide before she breaks out laughing again.

________________________________________________________________

She hums to herself, working late into the night on her next pair of shoes. This time, she isn’t trying to make boots. Rather, she’s opting to make some simple sandals. She supposes that it would have made more sense to start her practicing with something like this, something simple and plain. But she was so enamored with the idea of boots that she didn’t really stop to think about it.

Sandals are a bit easier to make. Well, actually, they’re a lot easier to make. The sole is similar to that of a boot, but it isn’t nailed anywhere, as it’s just a few stacked layers of hard leather, pressed and glued together, and then cut out in the rough shape of a foot. This cutting of leather is always a challenge for her, given that she only has a piece of glass to cut with and that it’s hardly a precise tool. But she’s been doing well enough so far, she thinks. Before the night is even half over, she has two soles ready, and then she sets to work making a strap to go over the foot.

There are different kinds of sandals. Sometimes the straps are just plain bands that go across from left to right. Sometimes there is a special third one that goes between one’s big toe and the one next to it. Sometimes there is another band in the back that presses against the heel in order to hold the shoe in place and stop it from flopping, as many sandals are wont to do.

The choice of design seems to be left up to the customer, depending on their own personal needs. But the type with just one or two straps going over the side horizontally seems to be the most common and the cheapest, so she starts with that.

And honestly, there isn’t much to do either. She just cuts a piece of fabric into a square and then rolls that together into a rope that can reach either side of the sole, slides her foot in it, and then pulls it down so that it sits tightly enough to hold the shoe in place but also not squish her foot. Once she has the measurement, she cuts the cloth with the glass and then attaches it to the thick sole with two tiny nails on either side, which is much easier now that she can just use her ability to do so rather than trying to hammer them in with something hard.

(Mirabelle) uses [Shoemaker: Fasten]

Before the night is over, to her surprise, Mirabelle has made two complete sandals. The fairy stands there in confusion, looking at her completed work and pondering. It had taken her weeks to make two boots. Boots really do seem to be the most complicated of normal footwear.

- (Low)[Leather Sandal]{Size: Fairy(Small)} -

- Quality Effects -

-25% Durability

- Components -

(Low)[Leather Sole]

(Low)[Leather Midsole]

(Low)[Leather Insole]

(Low)[Fabric Strap]

A single leather sandal.

 ‘Made by Mirabelle, the cruel fairy’

+1 DEX

Weight: 0.33kg

Durability: 09/09

Value: 000 Obols

Mirabelle beams, looking at her newest work. They’re nowhere near the beautiful things that the shoemaker makes, but they’re much nicer than her first boots. Mirabelle sits down and takes off the thick, heavy, crude boots, slipping her feet into the sandals.

The fairy stretches out her leg, looking cheerfully at her foot as she wiggles her toes. These are much lighter and more freeing on her feet than the boots. Plus, she was getting sweaty feet and a blister on her heel from the non-pliant leather on her boots rubbing her foot raw.

She moves her toes, flopping the sandal against her sole, laughing quietly to herself. After a minute, she gets up and tries walking. It’s a little different, walking in these sandals instead of her boots. It’s not like being barefoot. She feels like she has to adjust her way of walking as she moves so that the sandals don’t fly off of her feet as she moves.

She’s really happy with these. What kind of shoes should she make next? Her eyes excitedly dart around the room, searching for inspiration.

- Something cracks.

A noise comes from another room as somebody moves through the house.

Mirabelle lets out a quiet yelp, quickly grabbing all of her things into a bundle and flies away, zooming up through the chimney before someone can catch her.

She spends the rest of her night alone in the tree, admiring the many soft, new, pleasant things that she has found and made. But she is also feeling a little lonely as she lays in her home, sheltered by the heavy curtain from the looming night outside.

An owl sits on a branch somewhere on her tree and hoots through the night. She makes sure the entrance to her home is secure by fastening the burlap covering with some nails to the inside of the tree.

Owls are bad news for fairies.