Old Man Side Story
“Hey, old man. Off to sea?”
The young man talking to Tulland’s uncle was as perfect a fisherman as could be imagined. He was all muscles without being large anywhere that didn’t contribute to his work, a marvel of balance and finely developed reflexes perfectly suited for the work. He was, as far as the island’s fishermen were concerned, the hope of the next generation of men who worked on the water to feed the island.
Tulland’s uncle tied a knot in a rope and hooked it to the inside of the boat, temporarily keeping the small sail furled and out of the way. His muscles complained with every move. He hadn’t been in as good of shape as the boy in front of him even in his youth, and he had decades of wear-and-tear on every joint in his body now. At this point, he had exhausted all the little tricks that the island’s healers said might help with the pain.
If anything, he was just happy his body wasn’t betraying him by popping and groaning as he worked. In front of the older men, he wouldn’t have cared. In front of this boy, he would have somehow been embarrassed.
“Yes,” the old man said. “I thought I’d try to bring in some bigger fish. Before the currents change.”
“Without any help?” The boy looked the old man up and down, afraid to say something they both knew. Tulland’s uncle was getting a little old to bring in the bigger fish by himself. Tulland, bless him, had never noticed the old man’s age, somehow. He seemed to not consider the man to have an age at all, or else to completely ignore every practicality related to it. But Tulland’s uncle was the much older brother of Tulland’s father, and was starting to feel less than young even before he had taken on the responsibility of raising the young orphan years ago. “I could gaff for you, if you want.”
Tulland’s uncle looked at the long hook in the boy’s hand and considered it. Hooking the kind of fish he was going for would be hard enough, and keeping it on the line would be even harder. Having help with each of the tasks would make what he was doing a whole lot easier. He’d get back to his fire a whole lot quicker and a lot less beat up.
Which would ruin the point.
“No, I think I’ve got it.”