It was a lazy day. The wind stirred the trees, but only with a breath. The wheat swayed but gently in the fields. Even the summer cicadas, normally filling the woods with their incessant buzz, had fallen to a low hum, as if too tired to play their obnoxious instruments. Ales too, felt lazy. He always had his chores, of course, and weapons practice in the woods, but after that he thought that he would work on building his fort. But as he came in from milking the cow, Morowna, his mother, called from the side of the house, where she was hanging up washing to dry from a line stretched between two trees.
"Son, listen closely, because I have an extremely difficult job for you."
Ales looked up, intrigued. He did not mind hard work, so long as it was not boring, and he was interested to see if his mother had actually come up with something that would truly challenge him.
"Son, I have a craving for some fresh salmon. Once you are finished with your chores, I need you to go down to the river, and spend the rest of the day fishing. Think you can do that?"
Rolling his eyes, Ales grinned at his mother. "I don't know, that's a lot of work. Maybe if you pack me a lunch..."
Laughing, his mother swiped at him with one of her bedsheets. "Aye, and when have I not? I declare, did you think I was going to let you go hungry? Just for that, you get a pack of stone and bark! Not pack you a lunch indeed! You just get along and finish your chores, laddie, or you'll be the one that's finished!
Snickering mischievously, Ales dashed off, leaving the bucket of milk at Morowna's feet. Rushing through his chores, he ran to the little shed he had built to store farming equipment and brought out his fishing rod and a wooden practice blade. All he needed now was a lunch, and he knew just where to find that. Throwing open the door to the log cabin in which they lived, he snatched a lunch pail his mother had made for him and ran out. Stopping where his mother now labored at pulling weeds from her garden, he gave her a quick hug.
"I'm off now, Mom. Anything I should know before I leave?"
Straightening with a grunt, Morowna looked up and down her son, and smiled. But that smile quickly turned to a frown when she noticed the wooden sword in Ales' hand.
"Why do you have that thing?"
Ales looked down, surprised. "Why, Mom, you know it's my favorite sword. What do you mean?
"I mean, son, why are you bringing it with you? Are you planning on dueling fish?"
"I don't know, it just feels right in my hand. I guess I just like carrying it around. Why, does it matter?
Sighing, Morowna shook her head. "You're just like your father. Fine, bring the blade, but be back by sunset. I want to talk to you about something."
Ales grinned at his mother and loped off, heading for the river Erundil. The excitement of going fishing was almost enough to drown out the question he was asking himself for the hundredth time.
Why did his mother hate it when he used weapons?
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