Fletcherize
[flech-uh-rahyz]
1. to chew (food) slowly and thoroughly.
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The youth groaned and opened his eyes. He slowly sat up and clutched at his
stomach. He felt a stinging pain there,
but it wasn’t because of any injury h had suffered. He was painfully hungry. And, from the way his throat and mouth felt,
just as thirsty.
“Easy
there, lad, easy.” A big but friendly
voice said. “You’ve been out for awhile
now. Best not to push yourself too much
right after waking up.” The man who spoke
had the thick accent of a northerner, but it wasn’t so bad that the boy couldn’t
understand his host.
The boy
tried to ask where he was, but no words came.
His throat and tongue were too dry to form anything that could be
considered words.
“Don’t
try and talk. You’ve been out a good
week. I don’t doubt you’ve got a mighty
thirst to deal with before you can say anything, am I right?”
The boy nodded. The man stood and made his way through the
room. The boy’ eyes followed the large,
sturdy man through the simple dwelling.
The man picked up a small bucket and brought it over to the boy. The youth could tell right away what was in
it. He made a sound and reached for the
life giving water, but his host refused to give it to him.
“Now let’s not be hasty then,
yeah? Best not to drink too fast. Don’t worry, I’ll give you your fill, just
not all at once. Here, drink from this.”
The big man dipped small ladle into
the bucket and brought it to the youth’s lips.
The boy drank the offering quickly, and kept trying to drink even after
the ladle was empty. His host refilled
the ladle as many times as the boy could drink it down, and soon enough he felt
able to talk.
“Thank you.” He said. His voice was thin and hoarse, and his throat
still felt like it was filled with sand.
“Of course, of course. And don’t worry, my wife’s getting some good
food ready for you, but that’ll be awhile yet.”
The youth’s stomach roared at the
mention of food. His thirst had yet to be
fully slaked, and his stomach still demanded to be filled. The boy felt his face turning red. His host just laughed heartily at the sound.
“No need to be embarrassed,
lad. Like I said, you’ve been out for a
week. It’s only natural you’d be hungry
as well. Don’t worry though, the wait is
worth it. My wife’s the best cook you’re
ever likely to meet, lest you be dining at some palace somewhere.” That wasn’t
likely, given the youth’s situation. “For
now though, we should at least know what to call each other. Name’s Gavin.” He said with and outstretched hand.
The youth was hesitant to
answer. “Jack.” He said, taking the offered hand. His small hand was completely enveloped by
that of his host.
“Good to meet you, Jack. Now then, might I be so bold as to ask what
happened to you? I’m not normally one to
pry, but a man sees a boy lying unconscious outside his door, and well, he gets
a bit curious.”
Jack looked away from his host’s
eyes. The big man looked rough, but he
had warm, friendly eyes. It would be
hard to lie to eyes like that. It was
hard enough to give a false name.
“Ah, don’t worry about it. Everyone’s entitled to their own secrets”
Gavin said, picking up on John’s hesitance.
“Oh my, is he finally awake?” Said
a woman from the door. She had the same
accent as Gavin did, and sounded just as friendly. “Oh dear, now I’m wondering if I made enough.”
Jack turned to face Gavin’s
wife. She was much different than her
husband. While Gavin was tall and thick,
his wife was small and slender. She wasn’t
a great beauty, but she had her charm.
“Ah, don’t worry about it,
love. I’m sure whatever you’ve got will
be fine.” Gavin said. “Ah, yes, this is
my wife, Maddy. Lovely, isn’t she?”
“Oh stop it you.” Maddy said though
red cheeks and a light smile. “Hold on
then, the two of you. I’ll be right
back.”
She disappeared into the room she
had exited from and came out holding a small pot. The smell of meat, potatoes and other
vegetables wafted from it, and John’s mouth started using up what little water
his body had been given.
A simple wooden bowl and spoon was
given to John, and the former was filled with good, hearty beef stew. John eagerly scooped up as much as he could
and shoved it in his mouth. It filled
his throat too much, and he coughed much of it back up. Both his hosts laughed at that.
“Take it easy now.” Gavin
said. “I know you’re hungry, but it’s
best not to eat too fast. You’ve got to
let it sit in your mouth for a bit. Take
small bites and chew them up good. That’s
the best thing for you now. Eat slow,
let every bite get soft in your mouth before you swallow it. That’s the way to fill your belly properly.”
John nodded and followed the advice
of his host. Sure enough, chewing each
small mouthful as thoroughly as possible made it much easier to eat. And he had been right about Maddy’s culinary
skills as well. The stew was simple, but
full of rich flavor. He wondered that it
had been made with such simple ingredients.
“Feel better then?” Gavin
asked. John nodded. “Good, good.
Maddy, you have another success under your belt.”
“I do what I can.” She said.
“And then some, I’m sure. Now then, John, I’m wondering where you came
from. I won’t ask what happened to you,
but from the way you were dressed, I’d say it was somewhere far from here.”
John didn’t see the harm in telling
that much. “Greevin.”
“Long way away. Well, I won’t ask what made you come all the
way out here, but what did you do for your work? Well, I’d say you’re an apprentice,
yeah? So, what were you working towards?” John said nothing. He couldn’t say. “Ah, that’s fine. We just met, after all. Take your time answering. As for me, I’m a Fletcher.” He said.
John looked behind the big man.
Long sticks and piles of feathers and twine covered a small table in the
corner. “If you’d like, you can stay,
and if you have the need to do something with your hands, you can help me with
that. At least until you’re ready to
move on, of course.”
“Y-yes, yes, that’d be fine.” John
said. He had rarely worked with his
hands in such a way before, but it couldn’t hurt. Manual dexterity was an important part of his
real profession anyway.
Gavin seemed very happy with John’s
answer. John wasn’t so sure if he was
doing the right thing though. He knew he
shouldn’t stay any longer than was needed to recover. Every day he remained in Gavin and Maddy’s
care was a big risk, not only to himself, but to them as well. After all, for normal folk like them, no good
could come of knowing a magic born.
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You know, it's funny how a few letters can change a word's meaning so much. A Fletcher is, as shown in this story, a person who makes arrows. But just three letters change it into something completely different. Heck, it even sounds like it should be the process by which an arrow is made, but it's not. And these aren't the only words out there like this either. Larrup and larruping are the same. Larrup means to beat or thrash, while larruping means very or exceedingly, with an implication of something good or exciting.
Ours is a funny language, isn't it?
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