A Lucky Concurrence (closed)

[Laramie]

It was time to fish. Fish or starve. What a bother. The winding road Laramie had been trudging down was endless in both directions now, with only waving tall grass and wheat stalks on either side. He had tried to eat wheat seeds before, and it was more of a bother than it was worth. He was so thirsty he could almost smell the shimmering band of water he saw through a thicket of willows straight ahead and to the right. It was about noon, and Laramie forgot what direction in which he had originally off, so after he ate, hopefully the sun would give him some bearing as to where to go. Luckily, the day was warm for the season, and the sky was cloudless. Fishing would less of a bother than he expected.

Laramie loved the sound willow bark made when he stripped it. He tied together a cast net without much internal grumbling, and after attaching polished pebbles at each of the four corners, began to search for the telltale eddies on the surface of the water that meant fish milled about underneath. A considerable period of strolling the stream and avoiding the shade later, A sparkle in his peripherals caught his attention. Freshwater eel.

What luck! Eel were usually only active at night, and were typically deep lake dwellers. Of course, these thoughts were blessedly absent from Laramie's mind at the moment. He drooled for a while and watched the eels with murderous intent. Perception from above water could be deceiving, but it looked like 5 or 6 eels were swarming over some bloody bones in the water. Laramie tried to ignore his roaring stomach and hurled the net past the swarm. He gave it about two-thirds of a second to sink and then yanked it back so hard his body twisted around, and he almost fell over. The wriggling bundle was heavy in his hands, and Laramie suddenly felt more tired than he had been in ages.

Further inspection of the net revealed that he had caught all but one lucky eel. He let them wriggle on the shore awhile, and set to firemaking. Now was a good time for a smoke. Rolling them was always such a bother, and he never wanted to roll more than one at a time. Laramie smoked and watched the now motionless eels laid out next the tinder for a moment, and then his satisfaction was interrupted by another grumble from his empty belly. Time for more work. He let out an audible smoky sigh and drew another paper match from the box in his shirt. After some difficulty and most of another cigarette later, the willow bark shavings from his now-dry bark strip net caught light and began to smolder. The sun had begun its westward descent, but the sky was still bright. Another few minutes, and the maddening scent of cooking eels washed over any sentient thought Laramie was having at the moment. It was time to eat.

[Sol Drugont]

Unfortunately for Sol, the opportunity for food was not as readily available. He too had attempted to eat the wild grains growing near the road, but he lacked the knowledge of how to properly consume them. His former lifestyle in his castle back home had rendered the young man unable and ignorant of how to feed himself with whatever was at hand. This fact had not driven Sol to starving desperation quite yet, but it would probably be two more days before the hunger would break him.

It was then that fate decided to give a gift of mercy. A smell—some sort of meat was being cooked nearby. Instinct immediately took over Sol’s consciousness, commanding his legs to carry him to the odor’s source. He could hear the light crackling of burning wood mixing with the smooth trickling of water in a nearby stream. Passing through the willows that lined the stream’s edge, he came upon Laramie’s spot rather abruptly. Sol was surprised at first to find a young man seated before the cooking eels, smoking nonchalantly. Well of course there was someone there. It was not as if eel readily leapt from water to suffocate, skewer, and burn themselves to generously offer their flesh to hungry passersby.

“Um…,” Sol mumbled nervously, hoping not to frighten the man. “I apologize for happening upon you so suddenly and apologize further for the rude question I am about to ask. May I have a portion of the eel you have caught? I have full intention on returning the favor with payment or labor of which you seem suitable.” Sol opened his hands in a gesture of harmlessness and offering while his eyes focused on the man with a pleading gaze.

[Laramie]

This kid had to be dreaming. After all that work? Laramie looked up at the aristocrat in awe, unaware of the string of drool drooping from his bottom lip. The sun was behind the kid, so Laramie couldn't make out any features. But this squirt was tiny, that was for sure. How a kid that small and meek had made it any farther than his front door was amazing.

Laramie inhaled sharply, and exhaled a smoky puff of frustration and mild boredom; he couldn't help from grinning, however. It was in his nature.

"I'll letcha have one to hold ya over, but it don't feel right feedin' a kid who's gonna hit the road again and starve,"

These were the first words he had spoken to a human in days, but his voice rang out clear enough from across the fire.

"Oy. I'll teach you to fish, mate. Maybe you can teach me somethin' yerself."

He looked the newcomer up and down, scrutinizing him the same way he would scan for fish under the gleaming reflections on still water. What could this kid have to teach him?

"Come on, it'll be good for you. How do you expect to eat, without catchin' something first? Me name's Laramie, by the way."

Laramie took a last drag of his smoke, and flicked it into the dust in front of him. He hunkered forward on the toes of his boots and groaned as he leaned forward enough to pluck two eels from their spit over the fire. His calloused hands weren't burnt, but he was feeling particularly lazy and thoughtless this day, and tossed one up in the air, in a high arc towards the newcomer. The thought didn't cross his mind that this eel had just been in a fire.

"Catch"

Laramie bit past the head of the eel he had held onto, and pulled it into his mouth, leaving mostly clean bone behind as he threw his head back and gulped the steaming morsel down his throat, eyes closed.

[Sol Drugont]

Sol eagerly reached for the flying eel, his hunger interrupting the normal cognitive process that would have alerted him to the fact that his free meal was fresh off a fire. He caught it successfully but soon found himself clumsily throwing it from hand to hand only to have it end up spiced with a generous coat of dirt. Sol could only hope that a wild animal had not urinated there previously. He gripped it by the tail and quickly lifted it. As he attempted to wipe off the fresh earth, Sol recalled a queer thing he overheard a child say when he dropped a chunk of bread onto the ground. What was it again? Five-second rule? Apparently children believed it took any harmful diseases a whole five seconds to realize a piece of food had been dropped to the ground and crawl to it with hopes of torturing a person with either a lethal condition or at least a reason to stay in bed after sunrise. Sol discounted the silly theory at first, but in this instance he certainly wished there was some truth to it.

“Fish?” Sol replied, suddenly remembering that this young man had offered to instruct him in the art of fishing. “Oh no, I would not want you to go to such lengths for me. I sincerely appreciate your incredible generosity, but to instruct me in the ways of the fisherman…that would take days if not weeks to accomplish. I merely required sustenance to provide me with enough energy to complete my journey to the nearby city of Milderhan. Although, I do not want to be rude as to not provide anything in return for this meal, so if there is something I could do for you or give you, feel free to ask anything at all.”

He seated himself beside the young fisherman and began biting into the side of the eel. He had never consumed anything in such a crude manner, but he lacked the necessary commodities that would have made his preferred means of eating possible. Sol also did not feel like imitating this fellow by ravenously ripping the meat from the bones like an animal. The eel still retained a taste of dirt, but his raging stomach forced his tongue to habituate to it.

[Taskmienster]

This thread has been sitting for a full year. Since no response has been made to create activity I am going to be moving this. If you would like it to be reopened please feel free to PM myself or another staff member and they will be able to move it for you back to Scara Brae.