Start reading on 3 September:

Ayden stretches and jumps but after several attempts she still has not managed to retrieve any fruit from the tree.  Gasping for air she plops her weary body down on the bench to think.  Catching her breath she looks at the ground thinking and then up at the fruit in the tree above her.  She sits there for a moment and then as a smile spreads across her face she brings the palm of her hand up and hits herself softly in the forehead.  Shaking her head and laughing silently she looks over at the old man who is leaning back in his chair watching her and is clearly amused by her antics.  Still smiling she stands up keeping her eyes fixed on the old man, braces herself on the back of the bench and clambers up to stand on the bench.  He grins at her and winks as she easily reaches up into the tree and grabs two of the largest and the ripest of the fruit above her head and jumps off the bench with a triumphant thud.

Ayden saunters across the pier to the old man’s shop.  It is a rustic looking building with an open portico.  There is a rough hewn board hanging over the open front with delicate wrought iron letters spelling out, “Laothoe’s Artisan”.  She walks up to the elderly man and holds out one of the fruits to him.  He raises up his hands; waving her off, “Oh no, those are all yours, Girlie.  You earned them.  Besides they are not really my first choice.  I prefer something that is juicy and sweet all of the way through.”  He takes a deep breath and looks Ayden over and with a deep sigh says, “Alright Girlie, head inside.  There is a bucket in the back.  It does not look like much but the water is cool and clean.  The bucket and ladle are clean too or my work would be ruined.  Go inside and get yourself something to drink and then come on back out here and we will figure out what to do with you.”  As Ayden turns to go inside he swats her on the behind with a chuckle and goes back to working on the driftwood. 

Inside Ayden finds a rustic looking shop with simple antique tools.  She wonders at how ancient his craft must be.  In the back corner she finds an old-style milk jug with a metal ladle hanging off the side.  Scooping up the clear water she puts it to her lips and gulps down several ladles full before her thirst is quenched.  Ayden takes a bite of the fruit she has picked and her mouth is flooded with mouth puckering tartness, but it almost instantly changes to a sweet juicy flavor that fills her mouth with a savory sweetness that is more delicious than anything she has ever eaten before.  She wonders if that is just the effect of being so hungry and takes another large bite, bracing for the bitter flavor, but the tartness seems less biting with the second mouthful.  Very quickly she has managed to inhale half of the fruit and her hunger is beginning to abate.

An elderly hag approaches the shop.  Ayden guesses she must be at least as old as the old man.  The old hag walks with a hobbling gait and when she smiles at the old man Ayden notices she is missing several of her front teeth.  Mindlessly, Ayden ladles up another scoop of water as the hag begins a conversation with the old man.  Curious she moves slightly closer to the front of the shop.  The old woman is giving exhaustive details on a piece of jewelry she wants designed.  After going into great detail of the design style, the clasp, how the chain should hang and even how many links should be included she hands over a beautiful green gem to the old man; chiding him to be careful with it and explaining its inimitable value.

Taking a step forward, ready to join the two at the front of the shop Ayden is stopped in her tracks when the aged hag turns to the old man, running her boney finger down his cheek and nearly purrs, “You know I would love to have you come to work for me.”

The Elderly man arches his eyebrows and in a swift movement that topples his chair he stands over her, his fists suddenly balled up tightly at his waist and in a thunderous voice, the likes of which Ayden has never heard him use he growls down at the woman, “Work for you? Just who do you think you are talking to?” Hearing this Ayden tenses and slides back into the shadows not wanting to draw any attention or be noticed.

The hag chokes and clears her throat.  Stammering she corrects herself, lowering her head and dropping into a deep curtsy, “Please do pardon my manners kind Sir.  I, of course, meant that it would honor me greatly if you would leave this meager shop and allow me to serve you by providing you with the most modern of workshops behind my pub.”

As quickly as his mood changed it changes back and the old man relaxes, letting his hands fall loosely to his sides.  With the twinkle returning to his eyes he reaches down, with the crook of his finger, raises her chin up so that she is looking at him and in a much smoother tone he answers to her, “While I do appreciate your offer of service fine lady I much prefer the surroundings here and the ample supply of vessel subs.”

The hag contritely murmurs, “Yes, of course, Sir.  I do see how that would be appealing.  I would be honored if you might stop by, when our business is done or sooner if that appeals to you, and allow me to offer you a large glass my special house ale that you like so well. Just a little offering to make up for this little misunderstanding, Sir.”

He smiles down at her and running his knuckle over her wrinkled cheek he replies, “That would please me greatly.”  With a nod of her head the aged hag then backs away from the old man and out of the shop where she quickly turns and scurries, the best she can, down the street.