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Lake Vonafel, early morning.

There are many different ways to prepare a fish. Perhaps as many methods as there are fish in the world. Preparation is two-thirds of the battle with making a meal. Although, Gellion reflected, the first true step to a victory meal was catching the food.
He sat at a regular fishing post, wrapped heavily in warm furs and gripping the line of his pole, thin rope leading below a chip in the ice's surface to the water below. Other individuals journeyed here for supposed magical healing of the water. What did he care for such mystical mumbo-jumbo. A lake had two purposes exactly; fish and fresh-water crustaceans. He could suppose that the water from this lake probably tasted better; perhaps it affected the brew of tea-- but magical who-ha was a little out of his interest.

Gellion shifted at his post, his back already sore from sitting on a little stool on the ice for so long. How did the locals handle this? There were wizened old men not yards away, chuckling away and puffing on their pipes, having a merry old morning and already hauling in a bite or two. Perhaps he didn't have the patients for this task, he reasoned. Fishing was a serious pursuit of not just the all-important food source, but also income for the locals. Although they probably had enough income from selling icy water to cripples inland. He rested his chin on his hand, staring down into the cloudy crystal water below. Perhaps he'd been sold a bad spot.

After the heat of Eowyn and the roughness of the very air there, he had been happy to investigate the amazing chilli dishes that a traveller had told him about in Aisko-- spices and exotic fish; a chowder that would burn both holes- and a friendly local people. Gellion snorted. Well, here he was, and no one was cooking much of anything so exotic. The only inn in the whole little town had been packed full and barely had enough meat for scraps in their flavorless soup. No, he needed to find someone who could actually cook whatever he caught.

The line tugged lightly and Gellion jumped to his feet with a small whoop of excitement, hauling on the catch.

The fish was a fighter, Gellion could admire that in his catch as he braced himself against the ground and began to haul. The beast struggled and the line went taunt. Gellion was quickly finding that despite the fact he was fighting a fish, it was a somewhat worthy opponent. The fish jerked on his line, rocketting to one side or another, but he relaxed into the battle, not letting the line break. A tug later and it lunged forward, toward his hole, thinking to be wily; a foolish move on the swimmer's part as Gellion grinned and wrenched backward with the line; pulling the rather large salmon from the hole in a clear sweep.

He twisted and the arm-length beastie flew through the air behind him- right at the head of the older Orderite *Kadryn* some paces behind him.

The young oblivionite's eyes widened as he saw the fish he had hauled; all glittering red and blue scales, the body the length of his arm- it was possibly the biggest haul of the morning, let alone large enough to feed a whole family; it was fat, heavy looking--- and very aerodynamic.

Gellion's gaze fell on the Orderite behind him and his lip twisted slightly downward and then upward, as though his mouth had not settled on an emotion. It settled back into a controlled grin, as his gaze travelled across the older, obviously well-travelled Orderite. He could tell from her relaxed form that there was a vast difference in their fighting ability.

He did not normally share food. It was a little personal, but it wasn't like he could stop this obviously hungry wanderer from helping herself. He crossed his arms over his chest and shrugged. "Only if you can cook it. That's a delicacy you're holding there- I was going to fry it in a batter with spices and chilli."

Gellion had precisely one passion outside of combat, and that was cooking. He cocked his head to one side; nodding admiration at the idea of honey and chili with this particular fish.

"Grilled with the right spices would also be an appropriate method." He concurred, His expression shifted a little, his smile relaxed, seeming less strained until he gave the Orderite a neutral expression. "I respect a woman who knows her food." He nodded at the fish. "And I'll concede to sharing." Like the gravity of sharing food was more delicate than marriage or something. For Gellion; it sort of was. He wasn't too troubled by how the dish was served; so long as it was well prepared. his own culinery skills were somewhat basic; nothing exotic; but Orderite's were known for skill in the kitchen, were-they-not?

Gellion nodded gravely and packed his rod and gear away neatly, motioning that the Orderite should lead on; it was freezing and he didn't know if it would be wise to be seen with her- what if people talked?

It wasn't like he really minded people thinking he sympathised with the Orderites; but he didn't want too many to get the wrong impression; otherwise they'd think he was a soft, peace-lover or something.

"What sort of sauce are you thinking?" It was clear that he had a pretty focused mind when it came to food, and doubtful much else interested him at all.

It was clear that this Oderite knew what she was doing. After a brief moment of indecision like a wary animal, Gellion moved closer and watched as she began to strip the rare catch in an expert manner. She had the look of a woman who knew what she was doing in the kitchen with a knife and that was a look that Gel could respect. He didn't care much about laws or politics; he didn't have much time for fools; but a good chef was worth their wait in gold.

"Put some of the chili in with the broth, won't you? It's not warm unless its warm." He murmured as he saw her rather impressive array. He'd used most of these himself; but he didn't always carry as many on him. His posture relaxed a lot more; from wary tiger to curious cat, and he nudged forward, pulling a long stemmed spoon from his pack to stir the tomato soup base that she had started over the coals.

A moment later he glanced up. Right; names. "Gellion. But a good chef can call me Gel."

Gel shrugged, not sure how to answer the question; how had he grown up? Hard and roughly. But he wasn't going to share that with an Orderite; it wasn't so much being selective, but their species weren't friends. Reason dictated he shouldn't have even let her talk him into this amiable company, but Gel was not the most reasonable of men.

He couldn't sense any ill-intention from the woman, which was strange in and of itself; normally... well normally he had to cook his own food. It was good not having to muck about as much. Instead he could just watch her prepare the meal. Ah, he loved everything about cooking; from the task itself, to watching it happen.

"I appreciate good food. There was a time when it was... hard to come by." He murmured. He glanced at the Orderite under his lashes and gave a small shrug. "Food is the best part of the day. And good food, made right, is a blessing."