The Fish and The Fisherman

[ImCookiie 1909]

Spoiler

 

 

 

{ Art by Sandara }

 

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THE FISH AND THE FISHERMAN

The short-lived tale of the Tresery that became a fisherman, in a day.

 

Laedrad is a creature prone to mishap and troublesome ventures. If he was faced with a challenge— or the prospect of leaving the comfort of his bed on a cold morning— he’d find the bright-side, amidst low grumblings that exuded the moody 'Ame. The young Tresery had a quest to embark on, at the crack of a chilly autumn morning; preparing a small satchel of belongings that included a hand-crafted spear, a notebook, a meal and a spare set of garments.

 

He departed into the grand forests that surrounded the Citadel at the first sign of sun-rise, surveying various rivers and lakes that he saw, to find the optimal location for his next adventure. Once he had arrived at a desired location, Laedrad descended onto the grass with a soft huff— golden-orbs surveying the calm motions of water that crashed against the shore; unpacking the leather-pouch to reveal the notebook which held previous teachings he had jotted down, and prepared to face a mortal enemy — drowning.

 

There was no movement in the shallow depths of the silent-lake, apart from the random splashes of cold water produced by pebbles, or the soft whistles of wind against the trees. Laedrad waited patiently for a potential catch, regarding each odd movement in the water with the eyes of a predator. At the first sight of a fish— or what could have been— the Elf cried out to the sky, and tumbled towards the clearing of water. He grasped and grappled whatever he found beneath him with inelegance in his movements, sending immense amounts of cold, cold water above him. He had done it. The Tresery had begun his quest and successfully caught something, albeit it was not what he had set out to hunt. Once the drenched Elf stopped, he found that in his hands lay a fallen branch from a nearby tree and the fish that had startled him, simply stared at him from afar.

 

“Don’t mock me, sardine. I haven’t done this before.” Laedrad commented aloud, an evident scowl manifesting upon his countenance. He growled loudly, raising his arm above his head in a valiant attempt to toss the wooden-stick at the soon-to-be seafood. Albeit when he thrusted his arm forth, the branch slammed forcefully against the back of his head. The Elf yelped abruptly, falling into the near-freezing pond. He trembled greatly, gasping for air once he had returned to his feet— the spare garments in his satchel finding a purpose, rather quickly.

 

Few fish gathered around the Elf once the scene had returned to its calm state, and chose to create intricate paths around the immobile Tresery. He watched their movements carefully, akin to a battle where he studied their next attack; although he was not prey, this time. Laedrad found the spear he had constructed days prior to prove useful for such a quest. “I am one with the fish.” He meditated, ivory-teeth chattering against each other. Laedrad found comfort in their fluid motions, thin fingers replicating the movements above the water. He inhaled sharply, dipping his right arm into the water; he’d wait until the fish found themselves nearest and try to gently grasp their small beings at the tail. 

 

There were a multitude of unsuccessful attempts to catch the crimson-fish. Each time he’d thrust the head of the wooden-spear into the water, it’d crash in thunderous audio, frightening any living being that roamed around the Elf. He continued to study their movements, inhaling sharply at the sight of a valiant fish; thrusting the spear into the water again, in such forceful manner that it’d nearly attack his own foot. He spent hours trying to hunt a single fish— if he wished to return home and feast on it— until he became so tired, he could barely hold pointed-weapon. It was then he realised that he could not chase the fish in their habitat; his plan had suddenly become to wait patiently until a fish found itself amidst calm waters. The Elf then practiced control over the wooden-spear, piercing the water with enough strength to pierce the body of a fish, but not his own. 

 

“Again. Again. Again." The Sun began to fall over the horizon before Laedrad had caught his first fish. After hours of practice of his grip against the spear— the thrust that led into it the water and his militant stance— Laedrad had done it. He had successfully pierced unsuspecting prey through the quiet waves of the lake; tossing it to the shore. The Elf waited for the chaotic scene to fall silent again, and continued his quest. Once he had caught each of the five fish, he’d transport them to land hastily and provide them a swift death— a simple insertion of his short-blade at their neck with a gruesome crack down.

 

Laedrad is a creature prone to mishap and troublesome ventures. He often finds himself in trouble, but procures resolution in the knowledge given to him— it might take him some time, or he might not be successful at all— although, the young Tresery does not cower from a challenge and chooses to relish in the hardships he faces. The Elf gathered his fish with a knotted-rope, collected his belongings and prepared for the hefty return to his humble abode. 

 

It had been a successful day.

 

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[WestCarolina 1779]

Now, amidst the rivers that ran through the Vale, Miven and Laedrad could be seen on an outing for food. "What are fishing rods anyways?" The grinning Caerme'onn called across her perched rock whilst mimicking the actions of a bear, stabbing her spear into the water.