Robert the Clumsy Orc

My name is Robert. I am an Orc, and I am very clumsy. I wish I could say I had friends, but nobody wants to talk to me because they think I’ll accidentally break something of theirs. I don’t do it on purpose! Just because I’m a bit too big for my feet to keep up with, I fall down a lot. And my arms are sometimes a bit stronger than I think they are, so I knock things down. I can’t help it, but people think that I’m just trying to be annoying. It all started when my family moved to our new hut. We aren’t rich enough to afford a proper house that’s big enough for a family of Orcs, but we make do with our hut. This happened when I was a baby, and so I don’t remember where we used to live, but all I know is that we lived in a new hut. As I grew older, I kept forgetting how strong my arms were, and so hit (and broke) the walls and furniture a lot, and because the walls were very thin, I made a lot of dents that my father had to fill in with dirt. He kept on getting angry at me because he thought that eventually the whole hut would need replacing because I would have knocked it all down. He was right.
After several months of knocking holes in the walls, the hut gave up and crumbled into a pile of hay, dirt, and wood. My father was furious. He kept on saying that I should be more like my brother and just go outside with my friends so I didn’t get in his way during the day, and that he would have to buy the materials for the house using the money that him and my mother would buy my clothes with. He wasn’t joking, either. I wore the same three sets of clothes for a whole year, and then I had managed to save up enough coins to buy some new clothes for myself. People kept on laughing at me because I looked like I lived on the streets, without a family to look after me. Sometimes I even felt like my family just didn’t want to have me around because I was so unpopular and bringing shame to the family name.
As I grew older, I tried to stop worrying as much about what other people thought of me and tried to pursue a hobby or two to be useful to my family once again. The first thing I tried was fishing - perhaps if I bought some food into the house then I could redeem myself a little bit? I asked the local fisherman if he could teach me how to fish, which he did, I think it was out of pity, though. Anyway, he taught me the ropes and let me borrow an old and battered fishing rod as long as I returned it when I was done. I sat by the river for hours, waiting for a fish to come and bite on the end of my rope. Hours went by and still, nothing happened. As the last of the sun disappeared over the horizon, I decided to give up and return the rod to Mr. Garton. As I stood up, a silvery flash caught my eye, and I saw that a minnow had leapt up into the air a few yards upstream of the place were my rod sat. I quickly stumbled to reach where the minnow was about to pass, and tripped over the fishing rod as I attempted to catch the fish in my hand. I heard a loud SNAP as I fell into the river, but soon felt a flapping fish between my fingers! It was the first time in my life I had done something right. Although the fish was miniscule, surely my father would be happy that I’d caught something rather than nothing. My happiness was soon downcast as my eyes turned to see the rod that I’d promised to return to Mr. Garton. It was snapped clean in half where I had tripped over and put my full weight on it before falling into the river. I felt my body trembling as I place the fish in my pocket to take home, and took the two pieces of the rod back to the fishing hut to try and apologise.
After Mr. Garton saw the pieces in my hands, he thanked me for returning them to him, although became very angry when he found out that I had only caught one fish and hadn’t asked him for help catching more. He gave me a small pouch full of bait for me to use the next time, and told me he’d get the rod fixed when he had spare time for me to use when I next wanted to come by and do some more fishing. It’s safe to say it wasn’t the response I was expecting, but I was pleased that he didn’t shout at me like my father would have!
I walked home to my family’s newly built hut, hoping that my father would be happy with me for doing something useful for the family. I went into our eating area and presented the small fish to him, and he through it out of my hands with one fluid movement. He shouted at me for not even being good enough to catch a real fish, that a minnow might as well be thrown back into the river for all it’s worth. I tried to hide my tears as my father kept on shouting at me, but he noticed them and shouted even more and calling me weak, pathetic, and useless. It went on and on until I ran off to my sleeping mat to be alone with my thoughts.
The next day, before the sun had crept over the horizon and my family had woken up, I ran off into the nearby forest to try and make my father proud of me with something somehow. And decided that I should try and kill the biggest beast I could find and bring it back for my father to see, and maybe keep as a trophy. It was unlikely, but I had the whole day to burn and there were many-a beast in this particular forest.
I grabbed the biggest branch I could find and sharpened it with the small knife Mr. Garton had given me the day before. Eventually the branch was sharp enough to kill, or at least injure, something with and I went off into the woods in search for something to test it with. After a short walk, I found a small rabbit which I promptly tried to stab with my makeshift spear, missing it by metres. I put all of my weight into the thrust, causing me to lose my balance and crush the rabbit with the weight of my Orc frame. I eventually got to my feet, placing the now dead rabbit into my satchel that I’d picked up on the way out of our hut. Time to find something bigger!
I ventured further into the forest and started hearing eerie noises around me, feeling somebody watching me every five minutes. Finally, the eerie noises turned into a deep growl. I turned around sharply to see a huge creature, circling me. Finally, a beast that my father would be proud of me for bringing home. It ran forward towards me, and I stood my ground, holding my makeshift spear out in front of me. It tried to bite it, and succeeded, ripping the branch from my hands. My mind began to become clouded as the adrenaline kicked in. I remember running forward towards the beast and tripping over a gathering of mushrooms at some point and falling right onto the face off the beast. My Orc weight was too much for the strangely fragile skeleton of this towering beast to handle, and it took its final breath.
I picked myself up and dusted myself up before looking to see how far away the entrance to the forest was. I took a few minutes to regain my energy before mounting the beast upon my shoulders and dragging it for what seemed like miles to where I entered the forest. The sun was barely setting as I emerged from the thick layer of trees and made way for our hut, the beast I had killed becoming heavier and heavier by the second. I ducked my head under the doorway of our hut and lay the beast in front of my father. It took me a moment to look up to see his expression, and it was one I hadn’t seen in a while; pride. He grasped my shoulders before hoisting up the beast onto his shoulders to take outside to cook for dinner. It would last us at least a few days, maybe more.
I guess maybe my clumsiness came in handy, after hindering me for so many years. Now I can’t wait to try my hand at fishing again and maybe catch something a bit bigger than a minnow!