#norwrites

Walking towards the mountain feels… different, somehow, today. Jimmy is shaken by some kind of shiver. He puts it on to the heavy rain and the anticipation. Finally, the conditions are met for him to catch the legendary fish Martyn been teasing him about. 

He’s half convinced Martyn is just making stuff up. But he’s also been in the valley long enough to believe that weird fish exist. Joel has mentioned that in passing. And he’s determined to get better at finish and impress both of those fools. 

He walks decidedly on the long plank to reach the little island in the middle of the lake and stops in his tracks when he sees a black blob on it. 

“Etho?”

The blob slightly turns towards him and sure enough, it’s the hermit of the mountain. 

Etho is wearing a big black rain coat, his face us half covered as usual, but he’s holding a fishing rod. Jimmy didn’t peg him as the type for that, but he guesses that when you live in a valley like this, it’s a perfectly common pastime. 

Etho looks at him from head to toe, and Jimmy stops breathing. Everyone always behaves like Etho is a celebrity, like they want his approval. Jimmy doesn’t get it, but here, under the watch of that one intense black eye, he feels very naked. 

But Etho nods, and Jimmy feels like he’s presence is allowed now. 

“Can I fish next to you?” he asks still. He just gets a customary hum in return but the atmosphere is light and fresh in the rain. 

Jimmy cast his line and waits. 

He’s never been great with silence, though, so after the second catch, he says, “All of those are great, but I’m going for a special fish.”

Etho turns slightly his head towards him but doesn’t say anything. That means he’s listening, right? 

Jimmy licks the rains off his lips and continues,“ It’s one of a kind or something, and supposedly it lives around that log. You can only catch it when it rains like this.”

“The Legend Fish,” Etho says. 

Jimmy chuckles. “Yeah, Martyn says that. I don’t even know what kind of fish it is.”

Maybe it’s stupid of him to be there, catching a fish he doesn’t even know. He hadn’t known about many fish and their property before catching them. If that stopped him, he wouldn’t have gotten so far. 

“No, that’s its name,” the hermit says, cutting his throughs, casting his line again after catching a carp. “Legend. The king of all fish. People of the village have been trying to catch it in each generation.”

This makes Jimmy gasp. “Oh, so it’s been seen before?”

He can’t be sure of it in the rain, but Etho’s visible eye curves like a sideways crescent, 

almost like he’s smiling or amused. “That’s how the story stays alive.” 

“Are you also here for it?” 

“Maybe,” Etho says, cryptically. 

The silence falls back after that.  There’s this giddy feeling every time either one of them is riling up a catch. It’s a good way to spend the day. 

At some point, after getting a particularly fiesty largemouth bass, Etho takes a water bottle out of his coat and takes a long sip. 

“Want some?” he asks Jimmy. 

The new farmer nods, realising just now how long it’s been since he’s had some water and how thirsty he is. He takes the handed bottle, the clear liquid swaying gently at the motion, and brings it to his mouth– 

– only for the drink to burn his throat. 

The surprise makes him spit the rest of his mouthful out like a water mister.

“Is that vodka?!” he all but squeals.

“Keeps you warm in days like these,” Etho shrugs, like he doesn’t understand Jimmy’s outrage. “Is that your first time drinking alcohol or something?”

Jimmy sputters, his face getting red with the shame of being treated as a little kid. Then he thinks that Etho must see this and assume it’s the alcohol going to his head and he’s even more embarrassed– 

“IT’S NOT! I JUST THOUGHT IT WAS WATER!”

“Sure, sure,” Etho says, goodheartedly. 

No matter how much Jimmy protests, that just earns him amused hums and chuckles. He just goes back to fishing. But for the corner of his field of vision, he still sees how Etho seems a bit more relaxed (which is weird, because Etho always seems boneless, but somehow it’s true), how his eyes are crescent-shaped like he’s smiling, how the air, despite the rain, feels lighter. 

They cast their lines in companionable silence. Jimmy is still nervous, standing next to this enigma of a man, but now, he’s a bit more settled. 

“Oh gosh!” Jimmy exclaims when his line starts pulling with a strength he’s never felt before from a fish. He reals it back but the catch is feisty. 

“It’s a strong one,” Etho comments. “Good luck.”

It feels like an eternity of pushing and pulling before Jimmy’s catch finally briech the water’s frontier. 

The fish is big, green and rounder than it should be. It looks like a largemouthbass on steroide. 

“The King of all fish,” Etho breathes out. “You caught him.”

“I caught him,” Jimmy repeats, and he stares at the fish, not really getting it. 

There’s a moment where the world stills around him. He almost feels like even the water is pausing. 

“I caught him!!” he exclaims, when he finally processes it. “I caught a legendary fish!”

“The Legend,” Etho adds. “Congratulations.”

Jimmy’s breath catches in his throat at the praise. His heart is singing in his chest. He finally understands a bit more what the other villagers always seem to be so eager to have Etho’s opinion and, especially, his approval. It’s a wonderful feeling.

“You– I—, Oh, I need to  show Joel, he’ll never believe it!”

Jimmy carefully wraps the fish and puts it in his icebox. Then he turns around to see Etho getting up, stretching like a cat, and starting to tidy his things. 

“Are you leaving?” he asks, and he hates how he sounds like a disappointed child. 

“You’ve caught the fish I was going for and I have plenty of regular ones for home.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

Etho turns toward him and stares at him for a long second. “Don’t apologise. You’ve done well. I can see your skills. And don’t worry about me, I’ll catch the next legendary fish faster than you.”

Jimmy swallows. His throat feels a little too dry. “Is that a challenge?”

I hate this life.

Jimmy doesn’t remember a day in the last year he has not thought this. He’s staring at a computer screen, as he has been for the last seven hours, when it hits him. He hates this life. In fact, it could barely be qualified as a life. 

He misses nature. Running around in the grass, playing, talking to people… He turns his head around to look at the window, but there isn’t even any on the office walls. He looks around him and only sees rows and rows of cubicles with other lifeless people slaving all day. The clicking of keyboards and mouths, the buzzing of the neon lights, it’s all too much.

I can’t stand it anymore, he thinks to himself. I need a way out.

Suddenly, he remembers a conversation he had with his grandpa, when he was young, about the burden of modern life. He hadn’t really realised what it had meant before today. Jimmy, like his parents, had dismissed it as the stubbornness of an old man who was made to live in the countryside. But it must have stayed on the back of his mind, because he kept the letter. 

In fact… 

He opens the drawer of his desk and there it is. A fancy old letter with a fancy purple seal. 

(He’s definitely not going to think about the fact that he kept it in his drawer at work and the possible implication of that. Nope.)

With shaky hands, he breaks the seal and opens it. The swoosh of the paper unfolding is the loudest sound he’s ever heard in his life. 

The letter says: 

Dear Jimmy, 

If you’re reading this, you must be in dire need of a change.

The same thing happened to me, long ago. I’d lost sight of what mattered most in life… real connections with other people and nature. So I dropped everything and moved to the place I truly belong. 

I’ve enclosed the deed to that place… my pride and joy: The Ranch. It’s located in Stardew Valley, on the southern coast. It’s the perfect place to start your new life. 

This was my most precious gift of all, and now it’s yours. I know you’ll honour the family name, my boy. Good luck. 

Love, Grandpa. 

PS: If the Sherrif is still alive say hi to the old guy for me, will ya? 

He puts the letter down and looks up at the ceiling for a second. 

In all the emptiness he feels, it’s like he’s just grown wing. 

🌿 loading🌿

The bus startles to a stop and Jimmy wakes up. 

“Pelican Town!” The driver screams. 

Jimmy looks around. There’s no else on anymore. He quickly grabs his travel bag and gets out. He says his thanks to the bus driver who just hums unhappily. Guess he really didn’t want to go that far out for just one person. 

On the side of the road is just a small clearing, with broken fences and dirt path. Someone is waiting for him, though. A man with cyan blue hair and an easygoing smile. 

“Hello, you must be Jimmy,” he sayswith a cheerful voice. “I’m Scott, the local florist. Mayor Grian sent me here to fetch you and show you the way to your new home. He’s there right now, tidying things up for your arrival.”

It takes a second for Jimmy to find his words. The reality of what he’s done hitting him finally. He quit his job. He moved out of his appartment. He sold his things and bought a ticket for this small town in the middle of nowhere to become a farmer. 

“Nice to meet you, Scott,” he says after swallowing. “I…”

Gosh, he cannot screw this up. This isn’t like in the city. The people he meets are going to be the community he’s going to live with. He wants to make a good impression. 

Scott smiles, tilting his head to the side. He looks Jimmy up and down with mischief in his eyes in a way that makes Jimmy blush a little. He must be tired. 

“The farm’s right over here, if you’ll follow me.”

Jimmy nods and follows him on the dirt path until they reach an area with a… house. Supposedly. 

“This is the Ranch,” Scott announces, waving his arm around to show the land that stretches before them.. 

The Ranch is an old building made out of wood. It looks like it’s been built in the last century. The farmland around, which was included in Scott’s gesture, is littered with some kind of forest. There are different types of trees, dead wood on the ground, bushes, and even some rocks! Is this really the farm his grandfather loved ? 

“What’s the matter?” Scott asks in a light voice. He’s got his arms crossed in front of him and an air of challenge about him. “Sure, it’s a bit overgrown, but there’s some good soil underneath that mess! With a little dedication, you’ll have it cleaned up in no time.”

He turns back towards the house itself. Jimmy notes that there’s plenty of firewood on the side of the house. Someone must have stacked it for him. That thought settles in his chest, fluttering like a bird. He won’t sleep in the cold tonight, and that’s thanks to strangers. 

“... And here we are, your new home,” Scott says. 

Just like his words summoned him, a man opens the door and gets down the few steps of his porch to stop in front of them. He pulls the sleeves of his red sweater back to his writs and offers his hand to Jimmy. 

“Ah, the new farmer! Welcome, I’m Grian, the Mayor of Pelican Town.”

Jimmy shakes his hand and introduces himself. Grian nods, seemingly satisfied. 

“You know, everyone’s been asking about you. It’s not every day that someone new moves in. It’s quite a big deal.” He turns to look back at the house. “So… you’re moving into your grandfather’s old cottage. It’s a good house… very ‘rustic’.”

“Rustic?” Scott chimes in. “That’s one way to put it… ‘Crusty’ might be a little more apt, though.”

“Rude,” Grian says under his breath, his eyebrows frowning. “Don’t listen to him, Jimmy. He’s just trying to make you dissatisfied so that you buy one of Gem’s house upgrades.”

“Gem?” Jimmy asks.

“She’s the local carpenter. She lives north of the valley, near the mountain.”

Gem, the local carpenter. Jimmy tries to mentally catalogue. She makes house upgrades.  He turns his eyes towards Scott. He doesn’t remember if he said what he was doing. 

“Anyway… You must be tired from the long journey,” Grian says, looking back at the house. “You should get some rest. Tomorrow you ought to explore the town a bit and introduce yourself. The townspeople would appreciate that.”

He turns to leave and sees the box placed next to the mailbox. 

 “Oh, I almost forgot. If you have anything to sell, just place it in the box here. I’ll come by during the night to collect it. Well… Good luck!”

They are gone before Jimmy can really say anything else. But it might be for the better, because he’s exhausted. 

“I’m here,” he says to no one. Maybe to himself. Or maybe to his grandfather. 

Jimmy walks into the house, which, by the sound of the bell ringing when he pushes the door, he figures is a shop. There is indeed a counter directly in front of the entryway and further away a huge furnace with an anvil. 

A man is standing next to it, with his back to him. He’s wearing a sturdy leather apron, gloves and goggles. He’s using a hammer to it on something. 

The blacksmith, Jimmy thinks. 

He puts whatever he was hammering into a bucket of water - the water puffs as it cools the hot metal down. The man straightens up and clicks his tongue. 

“I told you, Impulse, I already gave you all the gold I- Oh.” 

His surprise makes Jimmy flounder uncomfortably. He removes his protective gear and approaches quickly, hesitating before offering a hand to shake. 

“Er. Hi. I’m Tango. I'm the town blacksmith. If you ever need to upgrade your tools, I'm your guy.”

His hand is warm and firm, and a bit rough. It’s the hand of someone who’s used to manual labour. Pretty typical around here, Jimmy’s realizing. 

“Oh. I didn’t realise I would need to upgrade them,” he comments stupidly, staring into the man’s reddish eyes. 

“Well, I’ve only given you spare ones,” Tango says. “They’re good for the basics, but they could be more efficient. I don’t have the materials to make them though, so you’ll have to procure me copper, steel, and so on.”

They’re still holding each other’s hand, even though they’ve stopped shaking after Tango’s first sentence. Jimmy clears his throat and lets go. 

“Sorry. I’m Jimmy, by the way. I moved here yesterday, in the-”

“The Ranch, right? I used to go there when I was a kid. I’m glad someone’s taking care of the old thing.”

Jimmy smiles timidly. “I’ll try.” 

Tango returns his smile, chasing a bit of his anxiety. Perhaps meeting people can be easy. It feels very easy with Tango. 

“Imma head out. Thank you for the tools. I’ll see you around?”

He kinda hates how hopeful and pathetic his voice sounds. But Tango grins at him and nods several times, so he guesses it’s OK. 

The blaze is incredibly cute, turns out. 

Sure, people make fun of him for it –

“It’s just a small ball of fire, that’s all.”

“It’s not even a full blaze!”

“Are you telling me that is a Nether mob? Nether studies must be a joke.”

“It’s nothing like Gemini’s dragon, that’s for sure!”

“He broke the rules for nothing, it’s so pathetic.”

– but if he’s learn something in the two years and a half he’s been living in the Academia, it’s that they will always find a way to twist things so they can feel superior. 

The small ball of flame that follows him almost everywhere is alive. It’s sentient. And it’s adorable. 

He wasn’t aware of it at first. The teachers had had a full meeting about his transgression and wether or not he should be expelled for it. The summoning teacher had been livid, but the headmistress had been more lenient. He had been assigned to Nether classes on top of the rest and would be fully responsible for any damage his familiar would cause, but the blaze was his familiar. There was no way to cut the contract and expelling him would just be irresponsible. 

That meeting had been draining, and utterly humiliating, truth to be told. So when he went back to his room, late at night, he fully planned to just drop in his bed and not get out for the whole week-end. Of course, he tripped on the dirty clothes he’d thrown on the ground in haste that day. 

The blaze laughed. 

It was a giggle, a hiss of air burnt away by the fire. 

He turned his eyes back at it, completely shocked. “Did you just- laugh at me?”

To his amazement, the flame blinked. It now had eyes. And maybe Jimmy was too tired - he had barely slept after all - but he was pretty sure he could see the teasing light in them. 

The blaze got closer, circling him a bit, as if to get a better view of him. So far, it had just flotted at a distance without moving much. Jimmy straightened up and moved a step back when it came right in front of his face. 

You’ll get burnt, he thought idly but a part of him was also convinced he’d be fine. 

After a few seconds of looking him up and down, the blaze nodded. Jimmy never thought a hissy laughter would be so liberating. 

Everyone knows that Jimmy only brings disaster. 

The teachers cringe when they have to call out his name on the first day of class. His fellow students whisper about him behind his back and they stay clear of him otherwise. There’s only a handful of people in the Academy who are willing to have a full conversation with him (and while he’s immensely grateful, he doesn’t think they are a bit crazy as well.) He blows up all his spells, his potions never do anything good, he stumbles over the words of his incantations and they always end up a little bit funny. 

It’s been two years since he started learning magic at the Academy when he was 18, and his reputation is clinging to him like a looming shadow. He hates it. He wants to change it. He’s not a disaster. He’s not a failure. He’s going to be great. 

And so, in his third year, he signs up for the invocation class. 

At the end of the first lesson, his teacher calls him to their desk. 

“Jimmy, invocation is one of the harder disciplines of magic,” they tell him, looking at him over their half-moon glasses. 

“Yes, I am very excited to learn all about it,” he says. One of his hands comes grips at the band of his bag in front of his chest. He tries not to think of the knot of anxiety twisting right below his ribs. 

His teacher sighs. “Listen, it’s nice that you have interest in the course. But I wouldn’t expect too many good results from you.” 

Jimmy smiles at them despite his true feelings. They are not the first teacher to tell him something along those lines. At least, they did not tell him to drop out immediately. 

It’s fine, it’s fine, he tells himself. You’re gonna prove them wrong. 

*

He spends more time on this course than any other. He studies and studies and studies. Sure, his results are mediocre for the first two months, but you can’t be good at something without effort, right? 

When the day arrives for the whole class to attempt a familia ceremony, Jimmy is desperate for just one success. If he can summon something, anything, he’ll be happy. Only 50 percent of students in the invocation course ever succeed in summoning a familiar, and only half of that manages to do it on their first try. He’s going to be one of them.  

When his name gets called, he climbs the stone stage and starts drawing the summoning circle in chalk. He practiced so many times in the last few days that he could do it in his sleep. (Actually, he did it instead of sleeping, but that irrelevant-)

When he’s done, he stands up and recites the incantation. He puts a lot of force into it, and enunciates it loud and clear. Finally, he cuts his thumb and lets the blood drip into the center. 

At this point, the teacher jumps on their feet and exclaims: “Wait you made a mistake! You wrote underworld instead of over-”

It’s too late. The room lights up in flames. Jim puts his arms up to cover his face, as heat flares around him. This is where I die, he thinks, a sudden feeling of shame taking over him. This is it. This is the ultimate confirmation that he is as cursed as they said. 

There’s no pain, though. He expected being burnt alive to hurt. But there’s no pain. The blinding light recedes and he lowers his arms.

When he opens his eyes, he finds a tiny ball of flames, sitting snugly in the palm of his hands. 

The other students slowly get out of their hiding spots and approach, whispering among themselves. 

“Teacher, what is this?” one of them asks.