The Saga of Oggin the Ogg

Part One:

It was a dank and dismal day in the permanently damp land of Ogg. A weak and watery sun had crept and crawled into the pale sky and was just creeping over the rich neighbour’s tall trees, as it made its way into the room of Oggin the Ogg. The grime on the windows splashed dapples of light on the hairy, unshaven face of Oggin as he stirred under his sleep sacks. Oggin carefully opened one bloodshot eye to squint blearily at the hour glass next to his bed. His brow furrowed as his brain tried to work out the time and with a grunt of resignation, he realised it must be well after ten o’clock, again.

With a kick from under the sacks, he sent the three cats still sleeping on his feet for an unscheduled flight toward the nearest wall and swung his legs off the bed, taking care to keep them covered. As his feet made contact with the stone floor he allowed the other eye to open. The cats watched him from across the room, their yellow silted stare betraying the malice they held. Oggin, as usual, ignored them and rubbed his face with both large, calloused hands. His beard was rough against his palms but he had decided that since he’d lost all the hair on his head, this would have to do in its place. Uttering a sigh Oggin rose and taking care to avoid looking at his legs and put on his best woollen grubbing trousers and the newish wool shirt, with the ferret trim. He glanced down at his feet and decided that his toe nails could go another day or two before he need see the farrier again for a trim. Oggin started on his way toward his kitchen and already he could hear the sounds of pots and pans being randomly smashed together and loud swearing.

In the kitchen, Kajoa the Tosk was doing her famous Gordon Ramsey impression, with un-natural gusto and a little extra panel beating thrown in. Kajoa was a short, stocky woman of undetermined age, she had come south from the Land of Tosk and had been working as a Hog skinner and part time Ferret wrangler till the Second Great foot and mouth epidemic had put her out of employment. She was dressed in her third best sheep skin skirt, wool side inside, which always put her in a bit of a mood to start with and a Ferret skin, sleeveless, donkey jacket. Her bright red hair was tied back to form a sort of unruly bird’s nest and a length of sausages hung from her collar, like a pink necklace. Oggin stomped into the kitchen, caught sight of this vision and spoke.

“Good Morrow my sweetheart...and how are you faring today?”

“Feck off ya hairy, slovenly, stinky arsed ‘bassa’ ya!”

“Why thank you my ‘dove chick’...I slept very well...so nice of you to enquire...”

“Get te’ fuck wee ya...!”

“Ah...sausages I see...cooked to perfection no doubt and served with the love I have come to expect...only from you...”

“Will ye sit yer big fat arse doon and hush yer mooth!”

Oggin sat at the rough wooden table and watched as Kajoa proceeded to assault the cooking range till sweat started to bead on her bear arms. She then turned and threw down a tin plate with six burnt sausages and a mostly raw fried egg attached to it, resembling a group of greasy Limpets. Oggin pulled an old slice of bread from his shirt pocket and set about the food like a starving man. He knew he’d been lucky to attract such a good looking woman and her cooking skill was just another bonus.