[Flashback] Fishing for Compliments (Solo)

[Orin Fenix]

Orin Fenix Food Equals Love 66th of Fall, 511 AV Orin lay in bed staring at the ceiling. The family who was currently taking care of him had a daughter they were about to marry off. Orin had been roped into the wedding preparation with wild abandon. Of course, the family had been giving Orin the most distasteful of jobs. However, knowing that Orin was turning into a bona fide cook, despite the Outpost and Orin’s deceased father’s best efforts. So, his foster family had grudging allowed Orin to cook for the wedding. Honestly, Orin figured it had more to do with getting him out of the way and saving the money on an actual caterer. And this way they could get away with not buying Orin a fancy new suit of clothes since he’d be cooking and they could say they wanted him in something that could stain easily. Whatever the reason, they had delegated this task to Orin and he was going to make the most of the opportunity. Dawn hadn’t quite arrived yet, and everyone was still sleeping peacefully, obviously waiting for the joyous occasion. Orin didn’t want to get roped in to helping the bride get dressed and other useless activities in his mind. He slipped into his boots, already being clothed. The spare blankets went to the actual children of this household so more often than not Orin didn’t undress before bed. On the bright side, it did make sneaking out in the mornings significantly easier. Stepping carefully over laying forms and the half-seen shapes of the tables and chairs Orin made his escape. He grabbed the fishing pole and the two buckets he’d left by the door the night before. Slipping outside, he closed the door carefully to prevent the thump from waking anyone within. Fall was quickly edging into winter, but the season wasn’t giving up without a fight. The harvest was in, so the majority of the farmers were enjoying the respite from their nearly never-ending work. Soon enough, the winter days would be filled with mending and sewing and weaving and carving and all the little repairs that there simply wasn’t time for when the planting and harvest had to get done. For now, there was a holiday of sorts, especially with the upcoming wedding. While the wedding party itself would only be composed of the bride and grooms family’s an their closest friends as well as some of the community officials, the entire Outpost would probably show up. Luckily, Orin was only responsible for the main event; other families were bringing their own contributions as part of the wedding gift. Orin soon passed through the gates of the outposts, giving a jaunty wave to the guard on duty, who nodded tiredly back. Orin wasn’t sure if this was the end of the night shift or the beginning of the morning shift. Either could be responsible for the guard’s lackluster response. The sky was just imperceptibly lightening, heralding the eminent arrival of dawn. Orin began marching towards the nearest set of trees, soon leaving the beaten road and entering the forest proper. He had only been to the destination he was heading to once before but the path was clear in his mind. The trees were almost bare of leaves, but the ones that still had some were a riot of autumn gold, brown, and red. The scattered pines were a shock of green against the browns and grays of the rest of the woods. And the forest floor was littered with piles of dead and fallen leaves that crunched underfoot. Orin arrived at the pond as the first fingers of color began appearing in the sky, the vivid pinks, oranges and reds making a vivid contrast to the midnight blue of the night. He simply stood there and soaked in the atmosphere for a precious moment. The last time he had been here it had been with his father, Alexander. And it was one of Orin’s most cherished memories, one of the few times his father had showed him any kind of kindness or approval. The pond, despite several years and it being a different season, looked remarkably unchanged. A fleeting smile crossed Orin’s face before he resolutely pushed all fond thoughts out of his mind. He had work to do. Making his way to the water, Orin dipped one buckets in, filling it almost all the way to the top. Setting it aside for now, Orin sent his fingers digging deep into the moist earth. Overturning it in his hands, he soon spotted a wriggling shape trying to escape the shock of the sudden air and sunlight. Orin was faster though, as he plucked the worm from the ground. He speared it on his hook. Standing up, Orin made his way to the pond’s edge. It had been a long time since he’d fished before, and he hoped he remembered all the steps properly. Throwing his rod up and slightly back over his right shoulder, Orin cast it forward and watched the hook, worm still writhing, sail out across the surface of the pond. It plopped near the center of the water and ripples spread outward towards the water’s edge. Orin settled in to wait. Orin’s patience was much greater than when he’d come here as a child. So he was willing and able to take all the time he needed to get what he wanted.

[Orin Fenix]

Orin Fenix Food Equals Love A sudden jerk on Orin’s line broke him out of his reverie. True day had dawned and Orin had been half dozing, his eyes half-closed against the growing light. Day had come finally and Syna’s light was shining strong, with the sun dominating a cloudless sky. Despite the faint chill of the fall air, Orin was quite warm from the rays baking his sensitive skin. Coming to a fully awake state, Orin began pulling furiously. He’d forgotten how difficult this was. Of course, the last time he’d done it, he’d been much smaller and much weaker. But still it took a surprising amount of strength. Orin remembered his father needing Orin’s help to pull the enormous pike they’d captured. It had taken the two of them using basically every muscle in their body to pull that monster out of the water. Although, thinking about it, Orin’s contribution had to have been incredibly small, considering his lack of fully developed muscle. It was probably more his moral support that had turned the tide more than anything else. His father had probably just been spurred to pull harder. But those thoughts were immaterial now as Orin fought to secure his catch. He watched the line dart back and forth as the fish on the other end tried desperately to make its escape. Unfortunately for it, and fortunately for Orin, it never had a chance. It was drawn backwards, slowly and inexorably, until with a splash it emerged from the water. It flailed mightily, but to no avail, in the open air, gills flapping furiously. It appeared to be a catfish, if the whiskers by its mouth were any indication. It was fairly large, but not abnormally so. Its scales were a yellowish brown, darker on top and lightening noticeably as they moved to the bottom of the fish. Its upper lip, which the hook was caught on, extended just slightly over the lower one. It had three sets of fins on the sides and two fins on top, the one closer to the front significantly larger than the one in the back. Its tail was large and square. It looked almost comical, with its bulging eyes. Orin quickly pulled it to him, and wrestled the hook out of its mouth. When it finally popped free, Orin deposited it into his bucket. It started swimming lazily around in the small circles allowed by the small bucket, butting its head against the walls as it explored its new prison. Orin imagined it was probably dissatisfied with the confines, but it wouldn’t have to worry about it for long. Scrabbling in the dirt, Orin soon had another worm on his hook, and then soon after that, his line was in the water again. Orin wasn’t expecting another bite for a while. The issue with such a small body of water such as this was that when one fish disappeared suddenly, the other fish scattered and it took a while for them to come back, and even longer for their curiosity to get the better of them and investigate the strange object in the water. Orin was expecting this, having been informed by an older fisherman who had passed through Mithryn on the way to Syliras of the issue. That was why he’d gotten up so early this morning, so he’d have time to make the trek here and back and still have plenty of time to cook up his catch before the wedding proper started.

[Orin Fenix]

Orin Fenix Food Equals Love At least two bells and numerous chimes later, Orin pulled his last fish from the pond. He’d managed to catch another reasonably sized catfish, which seemed to thrive in this pond. His last fish was still on the line. Orin wasn’t an expert on fish species, but he guessed that he had snagged a trout. It had the grayish brown speckled scaled pattern and yellow underbelly that Orin had seen when the occasional trout passed through the kitchen. Its sleek streamlined body looked the same as well. Regardless, whatever it was, it was now Orin’s to take. As always, he removed the hook. Setting aside his rod for now, Orin removed his belt knife. Holding it carefully between and slightly above the trout’s eyes, he rapped it with the pommel. Unfortunately, while dazed, the trout was still conscious as evidenced by its slight twitch. Orin bashed it again, harder this time and aiming for, and this time it stilled. Slipping his knife under the gill plate, Orin severed it, the held the trout gingerly as it bled out, the crimson liquid pouring out into the ground. When it slowed to the barest of trickles, Orin settled the trout firmly in his left hand. Its underbelly was facing him and the head was close to his body. Orin stared at it not really sure where to begin. It had been a while since Orin had cleaned a fish from scratch and his memory was more than a bit rusty. Starting with the basics in the hope that it might trigger his reflexes, Orin lopped off the head of the trout just below its gills. Next, Orin knew that he had to remove the scales. Flipping his knife over, Orin scraped with the back of the knife, his strokes quick and applying just a light amount of pressure. The scales came off easily and Orin flipped it over to repeat the process on the other side. Moving the fish onto its back again, Orin made a slight incision at the front of the fish. Orin carefully sliced along the length of the fish’s body from the head to the tail. He really didn’t want to cut his entire hand open, especially with the oil on the fish. Thankfully, especially considering how slippery wet trout were, Orin kept his blade smooth and steady. Twisting his knife around to widen the opening, Orin turned the fish over and shook it slightly to let the guts fall out. That done, Orin placed the trout into the empty bucket and cleaned his knife with a spare scrap of cloth in his pouch, before returning to the two living catfish. With a more sure touch this time, Orin brained the catfish with just one touch, and then sliced its gills. Unfortunately, Orin had forgotten about the spines and sharpness of the catfish’s fins. So, his fingers were soon peppered with small cuts before Orin wised up and removed the fish’s front and back fins on top. He also began gripping the fish more carefully, watching where he was placing his fingers. Orin turned the empty bucket on its side to help provide him with a surface to cut with. On reflection, he hadn’t really planned out this process well at all. He had to be careful to make sure the trout didn’t spill out completely. Holding the head to prevent it from slipping, Orin sliced along the catfish’s spine. He made a slight perpendicular slice along his original cut. Orin tried to peel the skin off in one fell swoop. Unfortunately, in his enthusiasm, he tore it essentially in half and was left staring at the partially exposed meat. Groaning, Orin tossed his flap of skin aside. His reckless action had caused the skin to split in multiple places. Instead of the nice easy peel, Orin had to start scraping the skin off using his nails mostly. Bits of meat usually came off with it. Flipping the fish over, Orin saw with dismay that the damage continued to the other side. He started with the larger chunks and moved to the steadily smaller ones. Finally, it was skinned, and he cut of the head and tossed it aside before slipping it into the bucket alongside the trout. Thankfully he had another chance to practice. He took each motion slowly and carefully, peeling the skin from under the head down to the tail at what felt like a snails pace. It worked the second time much better, and Orin scooped up his buckets and rod, ready to return to the Outpost.

[Orin Fenix]

Orin Fenix Food Equals Love Orin got back to his kitchen with a sigh of relief. Although calling it his kitchen wasn’t entirely true seeing as it belonged to his guardians. But when they had discovered Orin actually knew what he was doing they’d assigned him to kitchen duty with relief. It made his life much better, having a place that he could fool himself into thinking his own. Thankfully the cottage was entirely abandoned as the women were off preparing the bride at the seamstress’ shop while the men were likely down at the tavern getting a head start on the festivities. Wherever they were, it didn’t really matter to Orin, as long as they weren’t here, right now. For once, he’d been given full access to a kitchen and he was planning to make the most of it. Placing his bucket on the counter, Orin went to the washbasin. He scrubbed his hands. The slight cuts from the catfish stung from the cheap soap but Orin didn’t want them to get infected or something from whatever might have been on the catfish’s spines. He dried his hands on his trousers, which might not have been the most hygienic option, but unfortunately they were out of cloths and Orin was running out of time. Moving to the stack of firewood just outside the door, Orin grabbed an armload and lugged it over to the stove and oven. He split the wood equally between the two. He opened the door of the stove and threw it on to the coals smoldering slowly there, adding kindling until the larger logs caught, then repeated the process with the brick oven. He let it burn for a while, then carefully scooped coals into a pot. Carrying it over, he spilled those coals onto the grill, the raked them all to one side. Grabbing the two catfish first, Orin began filleting them, removing the smaller bones from them carefully. Splitting his fillets into two piles, Orin sprinkle salt and pepper on all of them, making sure he flipped them over to get both sides. He placed half the fillets by a small pan and the other half he left by the grill. Slipping a half a stick of butter on, Orin placed it on the stove. As it melted, Orin added a splash of white wine, pilfered from the family patriarch’s alcohol stash, which Orin had long ago discovered the key to, some crushed garlic cloves and just a pinch of mustard seed to give the fish some kick. Then he added the fish themselves. He let that all shimmer on the stove for approximately two chimes, then removed it and slid it into the oven. Orin took another pan down. He next grabbed the precious olive oil from its shelf above his stove and greased the skillet thoroughly, placing it on the stove when he was done. He added more crushed garlic to the salt and pepper mixture already on the fish, as well as some thyme. Throwing the fillets on the pan. Flipping over a premeasured hourglass, Orin watched it carefully. The top would empty after five chimes. When it was nearing the bottom, he flipped them over, and then did the same to the hourglass. They were nicely browned and Orin grinned at the site. Orin took out two serving platters and placed them by the vegetable stew he’d started last night, and left to shimmer while Orin was sleeping. Orin watched the last grains trickle through the funnel. When they hit the small mound already there, he took the pan off the stove and slid the fish steaks onto one of the serving dishes. His first dish finished, Orin set the first pan down practically on top of the washbasin. Next, he went to the oven and removed the second pan and put those fillets on a separate dish. Two fish down, one to go.

[Orin Fenix]

Orin Fenix Food Equals Love Orin stared at the trout. For once, he was at a loss at what he should cook. His few recipes for fish had already been used up on the catfish. His only option left was to broil them. Taking out his only baking dish and a small bowl, Orin set them both on a counter. He poured the remaining olive oil into the bowl then set the empty bottle aside to be refilled later. Taking out a knife, Orin tested the blade, satisfied at its edge. He then took garlic cloves, parsley leaves, and chives, and sliced them all as finely as he knew how. He frowned at the incredibly uneven cuts. He was a little out of practice with mincing herbs, and the pieces varied widely in size. Sighing, he took the biggest ones and tried to cut them down to a more reasonable slice. When he was finally satisfied, he threw them all into the bowl with the olive oil and mixed it all together. He carefully anointed each trout fillet with the vinaigrette, then placed them skin side down on his grill. Taking up his hourglass and setting the sands to spill one again, Orin replaced the herbs from where he had found them and set his pans to soak. He also made sure to replace the wine and relock the cabinet. By the time this was all done, his fish were done grilling. Carefully removing them from the grill, Orin put them on a third and final serving dish. Orin surveyed his handy-work, pleased with the results. Considering he’d started with almost nothing when he’d started, it was pretty impressive if he did say so himself. Slipping the key to liquor cabinet underneath the pillow Orin had snagged it from, Orin carefully nudged the door open. His hands were full, as he carefully balanced the three plates of fish and the platter of vegetable stew. It was chancy at best but there was no one there to help Orin and he really didn’t want to make two trips. As long as he walked slowly and cautiously, watched his footing, and paused to readjust the burden, Orin thought he could handle it. Sure enough, he arrived at the green where the post wedding party for the invited guests was occurring. It was next to the village green, so people could slip from the more intimate gathering to the larger, romping celebration that would be going on out there. Orin knew he had missed the ceremony itself, not that he cared. No one would have wanted him there and Orin would’ve been uncomfortable intruding on the family’s moment. The timing had worked out better for everyone this way. I don’t mind, truly Orin told himself, and he almost made himself believe it. Orin settled his meal on the table, and then rocked back on his heels to await the happy couple. Sure enough, they arrived shortly, in a swirl of laughter and joy. Apparently all had gone well, if the Cheva marks shimmering on their necks were any indication. Close on their heels were the parents of both newlyweds, their siblings and their closest friends. They swooped down on Orin and soon had plates stacked with the fish. Mostly Orin himself was ignored. They seated themselves at the long table brought out for just this occasion. While none of them thanked Orin, despite the wine flowing and the numerous toasts to everything under the sun, their appreciative noises as they scarfed down his food and came back for second helpings was music to his ears. Too soon, they had finished, and individuals or small groups began detaching themselves to join the dancing and music elsewhere. It sounded like the entire outpost had turned up for this event. Orin was left alone, which, in all honesty, was what he preferred. The only people who would seek him out at parties were the bullies who plagued his life even worse since his father’s death. So Orin contented himself with gathering up the dishes and beginning to bring them back to the cottage. It took him several trips and several bells before he’d dealt with it all, from the collection to the washing to the drying, until he finally had them all put away. While the revelry was still going in full swing, Orin ignored it, choosing instead to slip off to bed.

[Devi]

Your Grades have arrived! Orin Skills: Fishing - 3XP Cooking - 3XP Observation - 1XP Organization - 1XP Cleaning - 1XP Lores: Cooking: How to gut a fish. Cooking: The best seasoning to use with fish. Comments: Good job. The cooking section made me really want to eat some fish... The only thing I'd suggest is to also describe removing the bones when writing about gutting a fish. This might be a handy page to read to learn about that! (Apologies for the invisible link - I haven't quite worked out a way around that yet! Let me know if you have any questions and don't forget to edit your post in the Grade Request Thread. Happy Writing!