He was sitting on top of a tree stump, merely content to mill about and enjoy the evening. It was as if he had not a care in the world, at least, that was how it seemed from where I stood, which was still a good bit off. I crept forward with an uneven pace as my head began to pour possibilities like a spilled glass on a table. There were too many to even analyze or discredit as foolish in any way. The most prominent questions that ruled over the rest of the buzzing were simple: how and why.
I was just half-conscious as I stepped forward, completely overwhelmed by everything that had been thrust upon me to the point that I wished to turn and run. It was impossible, as he lay between my abode which in turn lay between where I stood and what ought to happen the very next day. My feet scraped the ground, leaving behind bits of hardened dirt and wet mud in such a trail that even the most novice of trackers could immediately pick up the exact path and pace I had trudged on.
Finally, the visitor had swung his head at me. Our eyes met, with his pair being lively, narrow, and sharp while mine were half away, wide and dull. It took moments to mobilize myself as I encouraged myself within my mind. Nearer, and nearer I became and my eyes narrowed to his, and my jaw clenched. I could not stop myself from gnawing and gnashing my teeth ever so subtly. At last, I met him close to his person.
He wore a brown angler’s hat which bore wrinkles and a wide brim. His eyebrows were thin and barely furrowed. Below were his eyes, which were bored deep into his sockets and were sharp and dark brown. I was nearly lost in them and what lay behind them was far beyond me. He wore simple peasant clothing but had thick brown leather boots but what struck me was how dry he was. Having forded three rivers in near succession, little droplets of water were still dripping off my clothes and strands of hair. I immediately surmised that he had been sitting in the sun, on top of that stump, for quite some time.
“Ah, good afternoon!” he said, leaping off the stump with an outstretched hand to meet mine. “I have been waiting here, but not too long, hehe. No, in earnest, I have not been waiting long at all! Please, tell me that I have found correctly, that you live in this very shack?”
I met my hand with his and shook it. His skin was ice cold. “This is, indeed, my abode. And, if you’ll excuse me, I would very, very, very much like to engross myself within it.” Seeking not to converse with anybody, I began to step past him and onward to my home.
As he was next to me, he said, “Say, stranger, would it be possible that I could rest for the incoming night here? Just for one night, that’s all, and no more! Not one second more! The nearest town is too far to reach before dark, that I know that you know.”
I stopped. “You fish around here?”
“Sometimes. Most often I throw my rods into this same river but only just north of here. Fish around this swamp are a bit nasty and squeamish, in a way, perhaps even quarrelsome, hehe. Fish up north, though, oh yes, they’re quite quiet and easier to catch, but older and less fresh. I figured that I’d try and fish down here after traveling down here, from the north.”
“My quarters are not of the highest standard, even for an angler.”
“Hehe, I could not care less! Nope! For as long as there is a roof and some semblance of warmth, I- Oh ha, stranger, what’s that sword on doing by your hip?”
“Indeed, there is a roof and four walls,” I said whilst ignoring his question and turning to him. What struck me was his voice’s betrayal of his face. He seemed awfully jolly and merry but his eyes and mouth remained pursed and observant. My stomach turned over itself in my gut. “You wish to stay just the night?”
“Just the night. I’ll pay, in ducats! But when I have them on hand..”
“Bah!” I cried. “Just stay the damned night! In return, I would rather you never venture near my home ever again.” I got near to him and hunched over, ever so slightly, “You see, fisherman, I am not the most gregarious of men. Indeed, I am not, and that I know very well! Oh yes, I know myself inside and out better than any creature that roams our very plane of existence. I seek solitude, don’t you understand? I want to sit… and to sit and think! But also, act? Bah! I am getting far too ahead of myself. My words are tripping over one another and my tongue has tied itself into a terrible knot! So yes, yes, you can stay ‘the night’, just I ask that you leave a hermit such as myself, as alone as you could possibly muster.”
“Ah, I see you are quite ‘stretched too thin’, yes? Hehe, very well, very well, I merely ask to stay the night and not a second longer. From tonight, I imagine that we shall never cross paths ever again if that is what you desire.”
“Perfect… yes very much ideal,” I mumbled and marched onto my abode with the fisherman trailing me. It was the oddest of moments, him following up to my door. Even though the sun was blazing as she began to dip below the horizon and we were in the very center of a swamp with hot air trapped between the confines of great cypress and willow trees, my hand and up to my wrist remained cool, clearly still reeling from my hand gripping his. If it were possible, I would cut him down with my sword right there. Yet, the moment when I had finally thoroughly thought through the act, I winced in disgust. Thank God he could not see my face, as no doubt, my eyes, nose and mouth must have convulsed and contorted in the most odd of manners. Oh how I wished if he were to simply turn around and flee, or perhaps, I could fly away or somehow burrow into the ground like a mole. Much to my utter dissatisfaction, he did not and I neared closer to the door of my home.
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My abode was as humble as humble could be, it was only a single-story building, completely made of wood with not a single stone laid for the foundation, and inside lay one room. I had found it there, all lonesome and vacant, a magnificent find it had truly been. The roof was a better shape than the walls (for I had repaired the wood and replaced much of it, making it perhaps a bit lighter in terms of a shade of brown haha!) but the door was nearly rotting off its hinges. There was a lock on the door but in name only, as one simply needed to insert a digit, press upward and the door was opened.
When I reached the door, I turned back to see if his eyes remained on me, and they were! There was no way around it. A raging stormcloud hovered above me and rained down misery. My damned desire to be hospitable cost me my satisfaction and excitement to fully rest for tomorrow. Then perhaps, a distant roar of thunder came to my attention, both inside my mind and very much the sky. Indeed as I swung my head eastward, and past a dense canopy of trees, dark clouds were gathering and threatened to break the silence that nature had provided me since my departure from Norvin. I suspected, and without any evidence or clear logical reasoning, that the angler had caused that gathering storm.
My hand still rested, just below the useless lock when I had a sudden urge to tell him off and drive him off with the sword at my hip. His sincerity was dubious, that I knew and as such, I could not discern whether to confront him maliciously or mercifully. I crushed the urge and quickly as it arrived but remained adamant to quench some of the many doubts rustling about behind my eyes.
Before I opened my abode, I turned to him once more, “If you are indeed, a fisherman, an angler, or any man of that type… where is your boat? Wouldn’t it be wise to tug it near the door and flip it over?”
“Ah, don’t you worry nothing about that. Nope! You see, kind hermit, I’ve already tugged it ashore and stashed it a good few yards inland! Haha! It’s rather close, yep, very much nearby. It’s just northeast of your wondrous manor, and before you ask, it is flipped over, and underneath it lay all my fishing goods and bits and odds and such.” He paused then posed, “Say, lucky man will by chance stumble upon my livelihood and take it? I figured this ‘island’, if you wish to call it, is quite isolated.”
“You, fisherman, are my first visitor,” I stated, with a hint of disgust in my voice. Despite the unsubstantiated explanations he had trotted out, it did quell some of my suspicions. I pressed further, “How did you manage to stumble upon me? No doubt you are aware that my condition is rather clandestine and isolated. Yet, here you are, seeming to arrive out of the hinterland, regions that are outside my vision, just to arrive without warning. So, how did you manage? Were you looking for me?”
His silence, even if it lasted for just a moment too long, immediately put him back under my close eye. Each second drew out longer than the last as I waited impatiently for his response. It was a minuscule but noticeable amount of time, but for a man who is a quick speaker and prone to seize upon words, the tempo was thrown off. I could not tell whether I had thrown him off or he had anticipated a question of the likes and was furiously revising a more satisfying response to my suspicious interrogation. He quickly corrected, “It would be more correct to say that you had found me!” A violent laugh escaped his lips; I stood silently, ready to ram my sword through his abdomen. A look of horror flashed across my face, from right to left, which I quickly steeled. It was too late, as he remarked, “Oh please, it’s a manner of speech, in a way that is. We stumbled upon each other by sheer luck! No other word can describe it. Stumbling! To fall into place, almost accidentally but perhaps with the slightest bit of intention as the steps preceding the loss of balance had long since been put in motion. But ah! I am rambling, but please note that I am very grateful for your hospitality and have duly noted your request and will carry it out to the best of my ability.”
A great blanket of darkness fell upon my mind which left me feeling cowardly and suspicious. His laugh had grated my nerves in the most spectacular of fashion leaving me bewildered and again, cowardly. The urge to tell him off and drive him off reared its head once more but once more, I had suppressed it.
My eyes steered themselves back to my door and lock. I lent my hand, stuck out a finger to circumvent the lock, and shoved the door open. I crossed the threshold with him following me right afterward. From the clouds above, a tempest roared. At least, I had arrived home, right on time as I would have been able to avoid being drenched from the storm.
The inside of the abode was, again, only one room. In the far left corner was my bed, and to the right some cabinets that contained supplies (pipe and tobacco being the most important of course!). There was a crate beside that cabinet with traveling equipment. At the center was a table and a single chair, both were dusty as I had not eaten for over two weeks, with the white dust helping lighten up the dark wood which comprised them. In the corner to my right was a fishing rod, another bucket with bait with nothing else. To my left were two barrels of foodstuffs, mostly salted food and bread. On the floor beside them was a lantern with a dying flame that barely emitted but a shred of light. There were three window frames which were placed on all three sides, other than the door. Each was boarded up with wood and only small bits of evening sun shone through the western window. Beside the entry door was a bucket, teeming to the brim with water for me to drink and I happily obliged.
The angler meanwhile, strutted toward the center table and sat himself down. A hand was raised from his side, which lifted his hat and set it down on the table. What the angler’s hat had hidden was a thick amount of brown hair that dropped down along the sides of his head. The other hand, his left, ran through each blade of hair to slick it back. Then his stature slumped, having gotten himself awfully comfortable in my abode. The room suddenly became dark as the clouds outside and in the sky had finally taken their place, thoroughly blocking the sun. Then, his eyes swung to me.