My father headed to what I could only assume was a blacksmith, but it was much too clean. The building was made of stone and had no plants wrapped around it. There was a forge in the centre of the building and most of the external walls were open to the world. There was a silver anvil with only a little blackening on the top of it. It looked brand new with not a scratch on it. The male elf wore a black leather apron with a grey and silver garment underneath. There was some soot on him, but not much. It was like a well-dressed man had decided to play the role of a blacksmith in a movie and did not know how to make the dirt authentic. It was a little uncanny.

After a short conversation between my father and the blacksmith, my father pulled out a small bag and dumped the fish scales onto a stone table along with some coins. The blacksmith took them with a nod and put the scales into a smelting container. He said some flowing words and his hands started to glow an amber colour. Then he poured the light from his hands into the container. I had a good view from on top of my father’s shoulders. The light swirled around and then was absorbed into the scales. They began to glow in the same way but did not change shape. He then moved it over to the forge and placed the container into it. It struck me as odd that he had no gloves on as he did this. It was as if the heat of the fire did not bother him at all. He then started the bellows and the entire furnace became ablaze. Much to my delight, we stayed to watch. My father began to point at things, saying a single word for each thing. I did my best to imitate his words and remember what he was pointing at. We continued this game while the blacksmith worked.

The heat from the forge was intense even from the edge of the building where we were standing. I started to perspire and noticed the sweat rolling across my body as if it were being pulled down. I looked down and noticed it was building up on my feet. I had left the skill active after all and with my fascination between the blacksmith and new words I was learning I had not noticed that water was building up on my feet.

Now my attention was divided three ways: between the blacksmith, my father and my wet feet. The blacksmith pulled out the now glowing red container with his bare hands and then moved over to a contraption I did not recognize, but my father told me the elven word for. The blacksmith poured the molten red fluid into it then started to spin a wheel using a hand crank that was attached to the side of the contraption. A glowing thin red thread came out of a nozzle at the front of it. He attached the thread to a spool and continued to spin the wheel filling the spool. Once he was done and the spool was filled, he spoke some more smooth words and his hands glowed a soft blue. He then touched the spool and it changed from red to an amber colour reminiscent of gold. He smiled at this then handed it to my father.

It was then the blacksmith noticed that my feet were covered in a thin layer of water about a centimetre thick. He pointed and said something to my father who looked down and then at me with a perplexed expression. I shrugged. How was I to explain this skill? He touched the water on my feet but when he pulled his hand away it was bone dry. All the water remained on my feet. I deactivated the skill. The water fell off my feet to the ground. He looked back at me and I nodded with a silly grin on my face and I started to giggle. He started to laugh as well. The blacksmith just said some words and went back to work.

I turned the skill back on and mist from the water on the ground started to pull back towards my feet. I pointed in excitement. “Cool, look at that!” I said excitedly. My father looked down and noticed this. He put me down on the ground. I plunged my feet onto the damp soil and the water slid back around my feet, leaving the ground bone dry. My father cocked an eyebrow at me and put me back on his shoulders with my feet once again covered in a thin layer of water.

The next stop looked to be a tailor’s shop. We stopped just outside. My father looked at me and then pointedly at my water-covered feet and gestured between my feet and the ground. “Yes, Dad,” I said as I released the skill and the water flowed to the ground. We entered the building and a female elf wearing an elegantly violet-coloured dress with sapphire gems encrusted in an embroidered flower pattern stood behind a counter talking with another elf. The inside of the building had stacks of cloth neatly bundled on one side from floor to ceiling and completed garments on the other side. My father put me on the ground and I used the opportunity to stretch my legs and wander around the shop. He kept an eye on me as I did so. After the other elf left, he walked up to the female tailor behind the counter and began talking. He handed her the spool of metal thread along with some coins. I was being a little boy and touching absolutely everything. Don’t judge me. I’m five now and apparently lost some of my impulse control... Ignore the fact that my will is apparently high.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

All the different clothes had such unique things about them. A red one that looked like silk felt as rough as a burlap sack. A yellow one smelled of fresh watermelon. Curiosity got the better of me and I had to take a small lick when no one was watching. It tasted like lemon. I made a face and carried on. I found a soft blue one that looked like finely stitched cotton and had a good thickness to it, but when I touched it, it had no feeling to it. It was like I was holding air. I checked out a few others, but that blue cloth was calling to me, so I kept wandering back to look at it and touch it. It smelled of nothing and yes, I licked it as well. It tasted like spring water. Very odd. I was looking at a black and red marbled cloth that made me think of stone when my father looked directly at me and said something then gestured in the universal come over here kind of way. I detoured back to the blue cloth and gently pulled the bundle into my arms before I scurried over. I don’t know why I wanted it. I just did. He shrugged and took it from me, putting it on the counter. The two talked for a bit more and then the tailor came over and measured me. This time we did not stick around to watch the process. I was fine with that. Sewing was nowhere near as interesting as forging.

We started to move across the town into what I felt was a more residential area just behind the main street where all the shops were located. We came up to a modest stone building with more plants growing on it. This seemed to be the building theme for this place. At least the green door was distinctive, I sarcastically thought. I did my best to memorize this area. If this was going to be home, I might need to know how to get back on my own. Once we entered, my nose was gifted with the smell of wonderful homemade bread. I could taste the sweetness of it in the air. This place had a deep home feel to it. I was immediately comfortable and hungry. Dad put me down and, noticing my still wet feet, gave me a slight smirk before letting me scamper off into the kitchen—not leaving a drop of water behind me. My tiny stature betrayed me as the counter was quite high up and I could not snatch a piece off it. I noticed my mother walk in from another room and I gave my best longing look to her. She only shook her head and pointed to a modest table. I sat down and waited. Father sat down and continued to point at things, telling me the name of each. It looks like we have knives, spoons and forks. Could be worse. It could have been hands, chopsticks or something else. I mentally checked off another point to this being a game and not just any game—an American-made one. There is no way a random race of elves from another world would come up with the same things as Western society.

No sooner was the food put on the table than a long, deep horn blast sounded. Everyone paused, tense, then three short, quick, sharp blasts occurred. Father looked me in the eyes, pointed sternly to the ground, and stated a single word. Then both my parents rushed out the door, shutting it behind them. I have no doubt that word was ‘stay’. Did he seriously expect a five-year-old to stay put? Perhaps I should stay. At least while I ate. I grabbed a big slice of bread and what looked like jam. I could hear the commotion outside, so I went to the window hoping to see something. Armed elves were running out of homes towards the walls. We must be under attack. I wonder if it is orcs. I could not see anything else from my window as the streets cleared up. Wherever the action was, it must have been far away as I could not even hear anything. I begrudgingly went back to the table and finished eating. I got bored quickly after I finished and was having a hard time distracting myself just sitting there, so I went exploring. A whole minute later, I had seen the entire house. It consisted of one bedroom, one place I guessed was a washroom—it looked kind of like a hippie’s outhouse—and the main room that was a kitchen-dining room combo. I sure hoped they were not going to make me sleep in their room with them. I know I was kind of getting used to it in the makeshift shelters, but that was camping. This was a home. I hope he renovates soon as I know he can build quickly. I went back to sitting at the table. This lasted for about five minutes before I could not take it anymore and went out the front door.