Fried Fish

Tindle spent his days and nights at the water’s edge, looking out into the vast blur of greys and blues across the horizon. He scanned the skies for birds and clouds, and angelic beings; he would spot the odd fishing boat with its flapping flags, and sometimes wave cordially to the silhouetted fishermen, who were clanking their baskets in the misty distance.

He often wondered obsessively about his new friend Jon, and Jon’s spectre-love.

Yes, he had seen her, and it was because of Fatima and her intimacy with Jon he had felt the need to return home. He found it incredibly hard to be around the couple, and admonished himself about the rise of feelings he would experience when he enviously thought of her etherial seductiveness.

He also had visions of Sylphs that came to taunt him on a nightly basis. They would call to him whilst he dreamt, and Tindle would wake in a fever of both disappointment and delight come the morning.

On this day a strange visitor appeared at the cove in the frosty hours - the rocks were wet with the dew of the sea, and the clammy sprays showered all around. Tindle was intrigued to see this man, wearing a leathered hood and cloak, watching him in the distance. In all of his adult life he had never been in the company of someone who was as tall as he, who could speak face to face with him naturally. 

The Elvish Adept Puck/Robin strode the beach just metres before him. The sand at the soles of his feet were aggravating, and he stopped to displace them - some shards worked their way into his boots and he rested his weight from one foot to the other alternating. It looked something like a slow dance.

The Puck had been watching Tindle for some time before he realised.

Tindle approached, and said respectfully to the stranger “Aye greetings vagrant”, (The term vagrant meant displaced: i.e to not belong directly to the local vicinity - it was not a slur on the stranger’s aptitude or character.)

Puck smiled a smile as a prelude to a friendship that had just begun. His long curly hair exceeded his shoulders and glinted gold in the early light. His boots still irked him, and so he sat upon a rock to cast them off and shake them out. Several small silver eels slid out of his boots into the sand, then glided away into the cracks of the dune. 

He glanced up behind Tindle to where a mermaid was leaning on a mottled mound. Nathan could not see her, but she seemed to be fixated with him. Puck waved to her, however she did not acknowledge his greeting, except to turn her back and slip into the waters with a splash.

Tindle turned and looked behind him but could not see who the stranger was waving at.

“I have a gift for you - sit boy - and I will explain to you my thoughts.” He drew from a leather satchel a parcel of white linen paper; steam appeared to be rising from it. He solemnly handed it to Nathan, who momentarily winced as the heat which was coming from the package felt as hot as a burning coal.

“Here, come and sit closer so that you may see what is inside” the Elvish master said importantly.

Captivated with this very important moment, Tindle could feel his own history in the making. He carefully unfolded the pages of paper: there appeared to be many layers, and the parcel became hotter the more he unfurled.

A delicious smell preceded the battered fillets of fish and salted potato within.

“What is this packet Master?” the tall boy asked the stranger.

Puck helped himself to a chip and ate it. Nathan did the same.

“This is to be your future Nathan - this handsome meal has a coating of batter and some splendid hot frying … it is to be called ‘Fish and Chippys’ and it will make you your fortune in the days and years to come.”

And so it was, the beginning of a trend that saw Tindle into employment and fortune, with a little batter and a frying, and a paper to wrap and carry the fare. 

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Finding Self - Second Guesses- Azlander Series