In the next room, Bifur could hear laughter. His brother and his cousin were talking together in the front, making merry as they liked best to do.
He smiled.
The work in his hands was coming together nicely. The wood was soft under his hands. The wing curved, smoothed under the side of his knife. A small point was all as was needed to bring the feathers out. The grain of the wood made the texture look real, like any bird of the air. The arc of the neck gave the feeling that the tiny bird would leap from his hand at any moment. He checked the movement of the wing. The little wooden hinges fitted together neatly.
There'd been a day. A day long ago. A day when the toys to come from his shop had been wondrous indeed.
He watched the movement of the tiny wing. This work could bring forth magic too. It could bring the smile of a child. And that was all the wonder that Bifur wanted.
He heard the laughter from the front room. Going back to his carving, Bifur smiled.