A Fisherman’s Lament – by Sir Hemlock – narrated by Asclepius
Hello everyone, this is Asclepius, with a fine story from Sir Hemlock, entitled
A Fisherman’s Lament
Background music “Leap into Eternity” by Matthew Pablo at www.matthewpablo.com
JOURNAL OF THE PROCEEDINGS
DAY 1: [Morning] Strong E. header. Sighted gulls circling brine offshore from Kingsport. Sighted sudden diving of Herring to depths to escape large predator. Fishing net strangely shredded.
[Late morning] Meandering. Adrift from Kingsport at 4knots. Weather inclement. Squall forming. Sighted shark fins.
[Midday] Sighted heavy rainclouds flashing with lightning bolts due NE. Sea tempestuous. Light downpour. Inspection of hull revealed steerage loss due to rudder linkage failure. Absence of insect or bird life. Sighted sail moving away in distance. Sighted landforms ahead.
[Mid-afternoon] Frequent heavy rain. Seized by current, stranded on course. Westerly squall blowing boat E. toward larger of two mist-shrouded isles. Progress swift despite moderate waves. High tide should ensure safe passage through reef. Sighted sail again through fog.
[Late-afternoon] Sighted seabirds diving for herring off starboard bow. Mild zephyr. Weather icy. Sea foamy with presence of flotsam and jetsam. Sky clement, thinly clouded. Sighted peculiar thrashing of large shark in tentacles in turbulent dark water patch. Sighted lighthouse.
[Nightfall] Landed ashore. Sighted glow of arrow-slits in Palladium balistraria from sandbank. Sighted sail from earlier belonging to docked Baron ship upshore. Winds fierce. Repaired rudder.
Under a palm on a sandy loft sat I pouring my last skerrick of rum into a Flagon I pilfered from Fire Lotus Tavern whilst a patron distracted that foolhardy barkeep.
…a skeletal Lich ascended from blackness and sat itself upon a throne of carnage, said he! The fool has taken seriously the drunken ramblings of seamen. The last such spectre sighted was vanquished decades ago.
Chart indicates I am on the largest of two sister isles due W. of Kingsport. Not that I am in the least perturbed, for she surely is prettiest of the two.
DAY2: Darkness seceded into dawn as I whiled away the hours in dreary stupor after troubled broken sleep.
With sunlight encroaching slowly over the isle I swaggered to a trail winding up a nearby hill blanketed in dense jungle. A point where I had the previous night glimpsed a dim glow.
Before I could reach the point the wind ebbed, and with it my curiosity. Whilst the weather was clement I set back down to the boat and launched for Kingsport.
[Mid-morning] The return voyage was placid and without incident. Sighed sail fish.
DAY 3; Ashore. From Kingsport I set off Sth. through a grand habitation amidst an Oakridge abloom with bluebells and flowered shrubbery to a wooded Towne, Pax Lair, in which I watched a local chef garnish exquisite culinary dishes with locally grown herbs. After which I mingled among the entourage of farmers and visitors arriving at the market.
A venerable community garden grows in the center of town, overlooked by a hilltop monastery a short walk East. The belfry tolls 3 times daily signifying the beginning, middle and end of the working day.
A bullock drawn mill grinds chaff into flour sold on to local bakers. And the distillery produces Hidden Vales finest wine extracted from grapes harvested from nearby vineyards.
One enters and leaves via iconic archways cut by the regions skilled masons from bluestone extracted from a disused road.
The distinct call of the shy blue-jacket and speckled bush hen are often heard within waterway reeds. The astute observer would note the red bellied finch nesting in thicket, and the occasional shadow of Great Eagles passing over paddocks occupied by newborn lambs.
Most noteworthy, however, is a curious hedge maze constructed by farmers to entertain children and visitors. For a mere 2gp one can wander about the maze in search of hidden prizes.
As much as I enjoyed the fine local hospitality and partisanship, I had to press on for I was overdue in meeting my beloved wife in OwlsHead, for whom I acquired a flask of the finest primrose oil.
The way led Nth. along a decrepit path that often disappeared beneath dense vegetation. Eventually it opened into a clearing where my journey resumed…