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Dunstor was furious but had to reach down and pull the shredded flap of cloth back up and hold it in place so that his dignity could be rescued and was so preoccupied by that he had no time for a snarky angry comment or a physical rebuttal. At that moment Ferson emerged back from his walk on the beach and Dunstor not wanting to deal with any of it. He wanted to slink off upstream towards the monastery.. he mumbled something about payback but it couldn't be distinguished from the laughter and the reenactment of the most epic of fishing lessons. But then Dunstor, his face red with rage and embarrassment, lunged at Zelnard. Ferson stepped between them, his calm demeanour a stark contrast to the situation. “That’s enough, boys,” Ferson said firmly, his voice cutting through the tension with the authority of someone accustomed to brokering peace. Yet, a tiny, almost invisible smile played at the corners of his eyes.....the whole debacle clearly amused him on some level. He directed his gaze at the still seething Dunstor. “Dunstor, I believe you have a message for us?”
Dunstor scowled, holding his torn pants together with one hand. “You’re supposed to come back to the monastery. “Someone missed the morning clean up and the dining hall needs preparing for lunch. So there’s work to be done.”
“Right,” Ferson said, his soothing voice calming the volatile situation. “We’ll head back now. But first, let’s see what Jabar has on his line. We can’t leave a promising catch unattended and all those worms need to serve their purpose.”
As if a switch had been thrown, all attention immediately shifted to Jabar, who had been a model of quiet focus once the line had felt a tug. Even through some of the explosive commotion. His rod was bent into a satisfying, deep arc, and the line was stretched taut, vibrating faintly under the strain. He looked a perfect mixture of terror and delight. “I think… I think I’ve got something!” Jabar exclaimed, his voice cracking with the sheer adrenaline of the moment, his earlier squeamishness about handling fish entirely forgotten.
Ferson moved beside him, offering quiet, precise guidance. "Keep the tip up, Jabar. Slowly, reel in. Steady now." Under Ferson's calm direction, Jabar worked the reel with not wanting to lose this opportunity and bragging rights and moments later, a magnificent, gleaming Bulbous Eel broke the water’s surface in a shower of spray. It was almost the mythical leviathan they often dreamed of and it was a respectable catch, and to Jabar, it was an unqualified victory, a triumph over his own apprehension. A cheer erupted from the three boys.....it was a Jabar’s first ever eel and it was so proud.
As they hurriedly walked back to the monastery to make sure they could clean and set the dining hall for lunch, the sun was just racing its zenith, there was a sense of camaraderie among them. Even with Dunstor fuming silently at the back of the group, the day felt like a success.
Zelnard couldn’t suppress a wide, mischievous smile. He glanced back, catching a glimpse of Dunstor desperately attempting to cover the gaping hole in his trousers, a patch of pale skin visible through the tear. The sight of the older boy enduring, mortifying embarrassment was the perfect icing on the cake, an emotional payment that made the tense confrontation with Dunstor entirely worthwhile.
When they finally reached the monastery, the boys were tired but content. They hadn’t just spent the morning fishing; they had learned new skills, shared dreams, and, most importantly to Zelnard, had a laugh at Dunstor’s expense.
As the boys settled back into the comforting rhythm of their lunch time routines....the smell of simmering stew, the low murmurs of older monks.....the master Borna, a man known for his ancient wisdom and knowledge paused as Zelnard passed him.
“Catch anything today, Zelnard?” the old man asked, his eyes twinkling inquisitively.
“Sure did, Master Borna,” Zelnard replied, leaning in with a conspiratorial grin, “a butt.”
The old master paused, stroking his long, white beard, a puzzled frown slowly creasing his brow. "A Butt Eel," he mumbled thoughtfully to himself, looking out into the distance. “I’ve never heard of that eel.”
What does this page of the story suggest about pride and embarrassment? Use at least two moments from the text to explain your answer in Thy Quests to continue.
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