The Legend of Hookswain

One day a young man decided to go fishing on a familiar stretch of water. He left his cottage and walked through the forest to the river. He moved carefully upstream along the edge of the water catching small fish here and there on his way to his favorite pool. 

When he arrived at the tail out of the pool, he was surprised to find another angler already fishing. Not recognizing the stranger, he chose to remain quiet and watch before making his presence known. So he hid in a thicket of bushes and waited.

The angler was perched on the edge of the pool with a long slender rod in hand. He wore a simple tunic, like that of a monk, and a wide brimmed hat woven from reeds and grasses. The young man watched as the angler delivered delicate but precise casts into the pool. The young man was awed by the angler’s accuracy and ease. 

On nearly every cast, the angler’s rod tensed and bowed. A fish would splash for a moment on the surface of the pool and then disappear. Each time this happened the angler would laugh, a soulful laugh, rich with delight. 

As the young man watched he grew increasingly frustrated. Who was this old man who did not know how to hook and land fish? And why, when each fish escaped, did he laugh like a fool?

After a time the young man could bear it no longer. He leapt from the thicket and approached the angler beside the pool who smiled when he saw him.

“Good day, sir. Do you need some help catching these fish?” asked the young man. “Perhaps I can help you.”

“Good day,” replied the angler. “The fish do seem eager today.”

“Let me show you,” said the young man. 

He released his fly and cast it into the heart of the pool and waited, but no fish ate. The young man cast again, and again nothing happened. 

“Perhaps it is my fly,” said the angler. He snipped the fly from his line and handed it to the young man. 

The young man took the fly and inspected it. 

“Aha!” he exclaimed. “Here is the problem. Your hook point is missing! No wonder you have not caught any fish from this pool.”

The angler smiled and handed the young man a small leather pouch of flies. 

“If you would be so kind,” he said softly, “choose another and tie it on for me? My eyes are tired and my hands are stiff.”

The young man opened the pouch and looked inside. There he saw a handful of beautifully tied flies – barred feathers, tufts of fur, and careful wraps of golden silk. He removed a fly from the pouch and examined it. It too was missing its hook point. The young man searched, but to his frustration, every fly he found was without a point. 

“Silly old man,” he muttered to himself. 

But when he raised his head again to return the pouch, he was shocked to see the angler had disappeared without a trace. Confused and perturbed, the young man tossed the pouch on the river bank and began to fish the pool. 

Despite his best efforts, no fish would take his fly. After a time, he recalled the pouch, and the beautifully-tied flies finished in golden silk. He retrieved it from the bank, removed a fly, and tied it to his line. On his first cast, a large healthy fish took the fly. The young man set instinctually. He felt the big fish shake its head and then was gone. 

The young man chuckled. “Silly old man,” he said. 

He made another cast.

Again a large fish rose and took the fly. Again he set, and again he felt a brief throbbing head shake before the fish disappeared.

The young man laughed a hearty laugh that echoed across the pool.