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Polishing the Tin	By : Negaduck9 Category: Titles in the Public Domain > Oz Series Views: 1531 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work fiction, based on the Oz series by L Frank Baum.

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- 1-Polishing the Tin
- 1
POLISHING THE TIN
By Kim McFarland

*****

The Tin Woodman had been unusually quiet since he and the Scarecrow had returned to the Tin Castle in Winkie country. They had returned from Munchkinland, where they had traveled in search of the Woodman's fiancée, Nimmie Amee. He had been startled to find that she was now married to another. He could not blame her or consider her faithless; he had rusted in a rainstorm and missed their wedding day, then had never sought her out again because the heart the Wizard gave him was kind, but not loving. Of course she had believed herself abandoned, and gone on with her life.
The Scarecrow had no heart either, but he had a good brain, and recognized that something was still troubling his friend. Rather than go back to his own home in the cornfields he chose to keep the Woodman company until he felt better. Night had fallen, and the castle's staff had gone home to their families. The Tin Woodman remarked, "There are times I wish I could sleep."
"Why?" asked the Scarecrow. He had never known sleep, never having been flesh, and did not understand the appeal of becoming unconscious.
"For a while you can forget everything. It brings relief from your cares for a few hours, at least."
"What are you worried about, Nick?"
"Nothing. I'm just thinking... it really is better this way, that Nimmie married a man of flesh," he said, gazing out the window of the throne room.
That statement puzzled the Scarecrow. Nimmie had been the servant of the Witch of the East, who had not taken kindly to Nick Chopper's plan to marry Nimmie and take her away. She had enchanted his axe, causing it to hack at him. A skilled tinsmith named Ku-Klip had replaced the missing parts one by one, until he became all tin. Nimmie had remained loyal to him, and had even claimed to take pride in the prospect of having a husband for whom she would not need to cook or wash clothes.
Nick looked back and saw the Scarecrow's expression. He said with a wistful smile, "You wonder why? For one thing, he could give her something I couldn't - a child."
"How?" the Scarecrow asked.
It was Nick's turn to look startled. "How?" he repeated.
"Yes, how?" the Scarecrow asked.
For a moment the tin man was amazed. The Scarecrow was widely known as the wisest man in all of Oz. However, Nick told himself, such matters were considered very private, and who would discuss that with a man made of straw? The Scarecrow could hardly be blamed for his ignorance on such topics. Just to be sure, he said, "Scarecrow, do you know where people come from?"
The Scarecrow shook his head, embarrassed by an unsuspected gap in his knowledge. "When you met Woot the Wanderer, you told him that you would answer any reasonable question. So, please answer mine: how is it that Chopfyt could give Nimmie a child if you couldn't?"
"Because they are both flesh," he told the Scarecrow. "You've noticed, I'm sure, that children resemble both parents in most cases. That's because they must both work together to make their children."
That still did not answer the Scarecrow's question. "How?"
Nick realized that there was no way around it short of refusing to answer, which would not have been reasonable or polite. He described the process in the way he remembered his father had explained it to him, one memorable day long ago. The Scarecrow's reactions varied between shock and hilarity. The Woodman had to smile too - it was pretty ridiculous, when one thought about it objectively. When he finished the Scarecrow choked back his laughter and said, "I'm sorry. I understand that meat people take that very seriously. But it sounds perfectly absurd!"
"Maybe it looks that way too. But to the people involved that doesn't matter," Nick answered with a grin.
"I suppose, if it is as fascinating as you say it is. But all the same, I'm glad that I've been spared that complication in my life!"
"Sometimes I wish I had too," Nick said, again looking out the window.
He had that wistful expression again. The Scarecrow asked, "How can you miss that? Since you're now tin, things of that kind aren't possible, any more than eating and sleeping are."
Nick looked back at the Scarecrow. He said in a low voice, "There is one thing I have never told you - not because I wanted to keep a secret from you, but because I have never told anybody. Only one other knows of this, and you must keep it to yourself."
"Of course," the Scarecrow answered in a very serious tone.
At this moment Nick was glad that all his staff left at night; he would not be able to talk about this if anyone else was nearby. He said, "Ku-Klip knew of my plan to marry Nimmie. He did his best to rebuild me, but, as excellent a job as he did, it was imperfect. He did not give me a heart, tin or otherwise; he did not understand the importance of a heart in a young man's life. But he did supply me with what he was certain I would need as a husband."
The Scarecrow looked his friend up and down. The tin that made his body was neatly welded to look like a fine coat; there was no hint of anatomical complication on his frame. Nick, seeing no easier way to explain, sighed, then picked up his axe and carried it to the door. He threaded it through the handles, effectively barring the doors shut, then returned to the Scarecrow. He reached down and pressed on the metal beneath the parting of his "coat." What the Scarecrow had never known was a panel came off in the tin man's hand, revealing a space below. Within it was an oddly-shaped piece of tin. The woodman said, "Ku-Klip built me with this, believing that it would serve as well as the rest of my body would. His heart was in the right place, of course, and his craftsmanship was, as always, superb. But he didn't think enough about it. Hard, cold metal - what woman would want that?"
"She was happy to marry you, though you're all tin," the Scarecrow said.
Of course, his stuffed friend had missed the point. "Yes. But if I were to try to use that with her, I would have very likely hurt her! No, she never knew, because I did not tell her."
The Scarecrow, who was still hazy on the details of anatomy, asked, "How could Ku-Klip have thought that would work, then?"
"The same way your eyes do, though they're just paint," the Tin Woodman replied. "The paint looks like an eye, and is in the right place for an eye, so it works as an eye." He raised his hand and moved his fingers. "He shaped tin into a hand, and attached it where a hand should be, and it works exactly as a hand does."
"But if you can't use that to make children, what is it for?" the Scarecrow asked.
The Woodman shrugged. "For pleasure."
"Oh, that's right, you mentioned that," the Scarecrow mused. Being made of cloth and straw, he had never experienced pain or pleasure of any kind. He found it strange that people enjoyed eating, or sleeping, or any of the other odd things that flesh people did to live, but he accepted those behaviors. Then he made a connection: people like to be touched under friendly circumstances. People often embraced and kissed to show their happiness at being together. Perhaps this was a more intense version of the same principle. He asked, "Does it feel good to touch it?"
Nick startled. Under any other circumstances he would have considered that an improper question. But his friend was so innocent... "Yes. People can touch themselves for pleasure. But it's different when it's tin against tin. It scrapes." And it had made his elbow and wrist joints squeak embarrassingly before he had given it up as futile.
"What if it was something besides tin against tin?"
"What?"
The Scarecrow opened the cotton-stuffed glove he used as a hand. "Would this be uncomfortable?"
Carefully the Woodman asked, "What are you suggesting?"
Gently the Scarecrow said, "I'd like to please you, Nick. If you would not dislike that."
As a human, Nick Chopper had never been attracted by other men, but he had not been repelled either. He loved the Scarecrow dearly, but had never considered his feelings to be physical or romantic. And, come to that, the Scarecrow wasn't really male or female, as he was made of straw-stuffed-clothes. And Nick knew he was trying to justify saying yes. A glance down showed the proof. Just as when he had been flesh, that part responded to his emotions, not his will. He said, "Let me sit down."
He sat in his tin throne. The Scarecrow pulled a fine chair, which was light because it was made of straw wicker and which was always beside the Woodman's throne when he was visiting, over in front of it. He sat, the chairs so close that his knees were inside the Woodman's, held out his hands, and said, "Show me what to do."
Nick guided the Scarecrow's hands into place. "Grip me. As firmly as you like; you can't hurt tin. Now move them up and down."
The Scarecrow did. It was a strange thing to do, but if it made his friend happy, he was glad to do it. He glanced up, and grinned at Nick's expression. He looked like Eureka, Dorothy's cat, when someone scratched her behind the ears.
Nick was unaware that the Scarecrow was watching his face. He had closed his eyes, and at first tried to imagine that he was with Nimmie, that it was her hands stroking him. They had spent time alone when they were engaged. They had had to be very careful; their experiences had been infrequent but intense. But his memories, once vivid, had dimmed over the years. And she had never worn cotton gloves. He let the image of Nimmie fade away without regret. When he opened his eyes he saw the smile of the Scarecrow, who had been his closest friend from they day they had met. That filled him with as much warmth as she once had.
The Scarecrow continued stroking him, watching his friend's reactions with interest. Though he did not experience physical pleasure himself, he knew that it was important to those who did. He went to many banquets, not to eat, but because he enjoyed being sociable. He did not mind not being able to experience some things; it made him happy to see others enjoying themselves in their own way. For the Scarecrow, the pleasure in this act was in helping his closest friend, and in the process learning something about flesh people that he had never imagined before.
Nick felt himself approaching his peak. He did not need to warn his friend; he had nothing to ejaculate. Unless… an image flashed into his mind, and he burst into startled laughter just as he climaxed.
"What's the joke?" the Scarecrow asked.
The Woodman laid one hand on his chest and covered his mouth with the other. When he had controlled his laughter he said, "Thank you, Scarecrow. That's enough, you can stop." The Scarecrow released him. As he fitted the metal panel back into place he explained, "I just pictured… oil!"
The Scarecrow replied, "That might be useful if you had a tin wife, but otherwise I think your oil can is more practical."
That set the Woodman off again. It was a minute before he could speak. He leaned forward and embraced the Scarecrow warmly. "Thank you. I feel much better now."
"You're welcome," the Scarecrow replied cheerfully. "Always glad to lend a helping hand."
In his current frame of mind, even that remark made Nick laugh.

*****

This story is copyright 2010 Kim McFarland. All characters depicted within were created by L. Frank Baum and are now in the public domain. Permission is given to copy this story for personal use only.
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Polishing the Tin