Post by uthas on Jul 14, 2006 3:18:38 GMT -5
'Hookin' the fish, son, now that's the easy part. Just a sharp tug o' tha line when tha 'ooks in tha sweet spot 'n yer got 'im. It's findin' whar 'e be 'idin' 'isself, and givin' 'im tha bait as wot 'e wants as is tha 'ard part." The small twig bobbed in the water once, and then twice, before Giorgi jerked the line taught. The small boy beside him gave a whoop of delight as the fish broke the surface, leaping in a vain attempt to escape its fate.
Giorgi let out a chuckle as he handed the pole over to the boy. "Reel 'im in nice 'n slow, lad, with steady even pulls. Ifn ya pull too quick, tha line'll . . . snap." He let out a sigh as the loose end of the now hookless fishing line spooled on the water. "'ere now, lemme get that set up fer ya agin. That'un 'll be a bit smarter now, but maybe 'is friends ain't." The boy laughed as Giorgi winked at him.
The sun hung low over the waters of Booty Bay. The goblin statue cast long shadows over the bay, reaching all the way to the pier where the old man and young boy sat with legs dangling off the planks. The hustle and bustle of the day's fishing and shipping trades had petered away to the evening's port town laziness. A couple walked hand in hand down the pier, oblivious to the world around them, and a few other children were playing with a crab unfortunate enough to be left behind in a tidepool.
"'ere lad, now you try 'n 'ook one." Giorgi passed the pole with freshly rehooked line back to the boy. "Now remember lad, it's starts in tha shoulder 'n ends in tha wrist. Gooooood." The line sailed over the waves and plunked into the sea, the driftwood bobber rocking up and down rhythmically. "Good 'un lad."
Giorgi removed the cold pipe from the corner of his mouth and tapped it against the edge of the pier, shaking ash into the ocean. The soft pad of well oiled leather shoes alerted him to the man approaching behind him, along the pier. Shoes much too expensive to be on this sort of pier, in this sort of town. Much like Padraeg Hightower, the man wearing them.
"Simeon. Simeon, come away from there immediately. Good Light, what if you fall in! Get over here this instant!" The boy started visibly at the high pitched voice of the well dressed man. "But, Father, I was just learning how -" He didn't have time to complete his sentence as Padraeg cut him off. "I don't care what you were learning, come away from there!"
Casting a lazy look over his shoulder at the aristocrat, Giorgi put his arm around the shoulders of the boy. "Come on now, guv'na. Ain't no 'arm in a boy wastin' a bit 'o 'is youth in fishin', now is thar?" He flashed a wide grin at the man, who seemed taken aback at the familiar tone the old man took. "'sides, ifn yer worried 'bout tha boy, I wouldn't be. Ol' Giorgi 'ere 'll take care o' 'im. Ain't tha right, Simeon." Giorgi winked once more at the boy, who laughed and nodded eagerly. "See guv'na. No 'arm done. No, I ain't seen a real serious accident 'appen from a boy fishin' in a dog's age, I ain't. It'd almost take an act o' tha Light fer it ta 'appen these days, 'n seein' as I'm shore yer in wit' tha Light 'n all, I wouldn't worry 'bout it none. Right, sar? Yerself bein' on tha right side o' tha Light got nuthin' ta worry 'bout when it comes ta yer son."
A gentle wind carried the smell of the salt to the men's noses as they regarded each other silently. The gulls nearby fed on the remains of the day's catch, crying intermittently, trying to scare the others away from their food, their domain. Giorgi continued to grin at the well dressed man, who shivered, though the wind wasn't cold. The still moment was broken by Simeon's excited shout as the bobber dipped out of sight.
"Thar ya go, lad, caught 'un ya did. Nice job thar." Giorgi patted the boy's shoulder. "See guv'na, 'es learnin' already." The old man tightened his grip on the boy's shoulders.
"Um...yes, yes, I see that. Simeon, be careful there." The man's voice now trembled slightly, emotion rippling across the surface before sinking back into the depths. "Yes, yes, I can see that he's in good hands. Thank you, sir, for watching over him while I was at business. What can I give you for your trouble?" Sweat trickled down Paedrig's forehead, and he absentmindedly plucked a kerchief from his pocket to dab at it.
"Oh, yer misunderstandin' me guv'na. I was jes' watchin' over a lad 'is all. Weren't nuthin' I wouldn't do fer anyone who's got 'imself right by tha Light. I'm shore yerself and yer buser-ness parteners 've all got yerselves right by tha Light. And . . . 'o'd ya say yer was doin' business with 'ere?"
******************
"An interesting gambit, sir. What would you have done if he hadn't given you the names?" The small man leaning against the side of the bait shack looked decided out of place on the pier, though not quite so much as the noble making his way quickly away, son in tow. Perspiration covered his face, and his breathing was laboured in the heat. The long green feather of his hat hung damp and sallow with humidity.
"I didn't think yer would come yerself. It's far south fer yer bein' used to tha cold air up north 'n all." Giorgi coiled the fishing line around his pole, and began to untie the hook.
"Some things are too important to leave to lesser men, as I'm sure you know." Giorgi snorted, and stood. "Lesser men, eh? I'm not bein' too shore men could be lesser 'n you without bein' a dwarf, har!" Giorgi cackled wickedly, and plucked his pipe out of his teeth.
The man's cheeks grew even redder for an instant, his face tensing, and then abruptly relaxing again. "You didn't answer my question, old man. What would you have done if he hadn't given you the names?"
Giorgi turned back to the sea, staring out over the waves. The last rays of the sun danced across the crests, each beginning to foam to white. "Sea's gettin' choppy. Storm's comin' soon. Yer better be gettin' yerself off 'ome, Rohan." There was silence behind him for a moment, and then footfalls of booted feet on wood.
Day passed into night as Giorgi stood, staring at the sea, watching the clouds gather on the horizon. One by one the gulls left as the stars began to appear in the sky. The full moon of Elune broke in the heavens as Giorgi turned back to the lights of Booty Bay, illuminating a smile on his face. "Ya jes' gotta know wha' kind 'o bait ta' use, 'n whar they be 'idin' they selves." He shouldered the fishing pole, and with a jaunty whistle began to walk up the pier.
Giorgi let out a chuckle as he handed the pole over to the boy. "Reel 'im in nice 'n slow, lad, with steady even pulls. Ifn ya pull too quick, tha line'll . . . snap." He let out a sigh as the loose end of the now hookless fishing line spooled on the water. "'ere now, lemme get that set up fer ya agin. That'un 'll be a bit smarter now, but maybe 'is friends ain't." The boy laughed as Giorgi winked at him.
The sun hung low over the waters of Booty Bay. The goblin statue cast long shadows over the bay, reaching all the way to the pier where the old man and young boy sat with legs dangling off the planks. The hustle and bustle of the day's fishing and shipping trades had petered away to the evening's port town laziness. A couple walked hand in hand down the pier, oblivious to the world around them, and a few other children were playing with a crab unfortunate enough to be left behind in a tidepool.
"'ere lad, now you try 'n 'ook one." Giorgi passed the pole with freshly rehooked line back to the boy. "Now remember lad, it's starts in tha shoulder 'n ends in tha wrist. Gooooood." The line sailed over the waves and plunked into the sea, the driftwood bobber rocking up and down rhythmically. "Good 'un lad."
Giorgi removed the cold pipe from the corner of his mouth and tapped it against the edge of the pier, shaking ash into the ocean. The soft pad of well oiled leather shoes alerted him to the man approaching behind him, along the pier. Shoes much too expensive to be on this sort of pier, in this sort of town. Much like Padraeg Hightower, the man wearing them.
"Simeon. Simeon, come away from there immediately. Good Light, what if you fall in! Get over here this instant!" The boy started visibly at the high pitched voice of the well dressed man. "But, Father, I was just learning how -" He didn't have time to complete his sentence as Padraeg cut him off. "I don't care what you were learning, come away from there!"
Casting a lazy look over his shoulder at the aristocrat, Giorgi put his arm around the shoulders of the boy. "Come on now, guv'na. Ain't no 'arm in a boy wastin' a bit 'o 'is youth in fishin', now is thar?" He flashed a wide grin at the man, who seemed taken aback at the familiar tone the old man took. "'sides, ifn yer worried 'bout tha boy, I wouldn't be. Ol' Giorgi 'ere 'll take care o' 'im. Ain't tha right, Simeon." Giorgi winked once more at the boy, who laughed and nodded eagerly. "See guv'na. No 'arm done. No, I ain't seen a real serious accident 'appen from a boy fishin' in a dog's age, I ain't. It'd almost take an act o' tha Light fer it ta 'appen these days, 'n seein' as I'm shore yer in wit' tha Light 'n all, I wouldn't worry 'bout it none. Right, sar? Yerself bein' on tha right side o' tha Light got nuthin' ta worry 'bout when it comes ta yer son."
A gentle wind carried the smell of the salt to the men's noses as they regarded each other silently. The gulls nearby fed on the remains of the day's catch, crying intermittently, trying to scare the others away from their food, their domain. Giorgi continued to grin at the well dressed man, who shivered, though the wind wasn't cold. The still moment was broken by Simeon's excited shout as the bobber dipped out of sight.
"Thar ya go, lad, caught 'un ya did. Nice job thar." Giorgi patted the boy's shoulder. "See guv'na, 'es learnin' already." The old man tightened his grip on the boy's shoulders.
"Um...yes, yes, I see that. Simeon, be careful there." The man's voice now trembled slightly, emotion rippling across the surface before sinking back into the depths. "Yes, yes, I can see that he's in good hands. Thank you, sir, for watching over him while I was at business. What can I give you for your trouble?" Sweat trickled down Paedrig's forehead, and he absentmindedly plucked a kerchief from his pocket to dab at it.
"Oh, yer misunderstandin' me guv'na. I was jes' watchin' over a lad 'is all. Weren't nuthin' I wouldn't do fer anyone who's got 'imself right by tha Light. I'm shore yerself and yer buser-ness parteners 've all got yerselves right by tha Light. And . . . 'o'd ya say yer was doin' business with 'ere?"
******************
"An interesting gambit, sir. What would you have done if he hadn't given you the names?" The small man leaning against the side of the bait shack looked decided out of place on the pier, though not quite so much as the noble making his way quickly away, son in tow. Perspiration covered his face, and his breathing was laboured in the heat. The long green feather of his hat hung damp and sallow with humidity.
"I didn't think yer would come yerself. It's far south fer yer bein' used to tha cold air up north 'n all." Giorgi coiled the fishing line around his pole, and began to untie the hook.
"Some things are too important to leave to lesser men, as I'm sure you know." Giorgi snorted, and stood. "Lesser men, eh? I'm not bein' too shore men could be lesser 'n you without bein' a dwarf, har!" Giorgi cackled wickedly, and plucked his pipe out of his teeth.
The man's cheeks grew even redder for an instant, his face tensing, and then abruptly relaxing again. "You didn't answer my question, old man. What would you have done if he hadn't given you the names?"
Giorgi turned back to the sea, staring out over the waves. The last rays of the sun danced across the crests, each beginning to foam to white. "Sea's gettin' choppy. Storm's comin' soon. Yer better be gettin' yerself off 'ome, Rohan." There was silence behind him for a moment, and then footfalls of booted feet on wood.
Day passed into night as Giorgi stood, staring at the sea, watching the clouds gather on the horizon. One by one the gulls left as the stars began to appear in the sky. The full moon of Elune broke in the heavens as Giorgi turned back to the lights of Booty Bay, illuminating a smile on his face. "Ya jes' gotta know wha' kind 'o bait ta' use, 'n whar they be 'idin' they selves." He shouldered the fishing pole, and with a jaunty whistle began to walk up the pier.