The Sorcerer’s New Apprentice (Five minutes freewrite)

There is but a short line in front of the wise man’s hut. Although the offer sounds tempting, few are willing to let their boys go on what may very well turn out to be a wild goose chase in the company of one, who, however wise, is also more than a bit weird. And quite possibly a sorcerer, as many believe his curing potions and ointments have more to do with wizardry than learning. Yet, the old man is said to have their king’s ear and it would be a blessing for their sons to secure even a menial job at the palace. For this is where the old man is going and this is why his looking for an apprentice - to carry his bags and offer a steady arm to lean on when his legs fail him.
No one knows precisely how old he is, but there are many wrinkled faces in the village ready to swear Abellard was already stooped with age when they themselves where children. But they might be wrong - so used are the people to seeing him wandering barefoot in the woods that it seems like he’s always been part of the village. Some say he’s probably lost a few marbles - obviously the king would not want to lay eyes on such an old fool with his travelling coat so faded it defies attempts of being assigned any known color. However, the wise man is willing to pay two gold coins as wages for the boy who’ll walk in his footsteps for one year - and that’s a lot of money for simple folks still used to trading a sack of potatoes for two egg-laying hens.

Samuel, the iron-monger’s son, is the first one to enter the hut. They do not talk for long and he emerges all flustered and quite angry at the ‘damn old fool’.
‘Shoes! How dare he laugh at my shoes? They’re good shiny leather, the best Ma could find for me!’
As he stomps away muttering, the second boy goes in, a bit unsure if the old man will find his clothes fit to wear at the palace. He should have worn his Sunday coat, the one his mother had recently dyed. ‘Here, looks like new’. A few minutes later, he too walks out, without a word, though. He’s smart enough to know not to anger the sorcerer.
The third boy goes in and stands uncomfortable in front of the old man, seated by the fire, an old cat sleeping in his laps. An ordinary striped tabby, not a black cat you’d expect in a wizard’s lair.
‘Describe your shoes’, Abellard asks, motioning vaguely with his hand between the dark windows and his small bird-like eyes to explain he’s poor of sight.
The boy, Jeremy, is already trembling and his voice is faltering, but his mother has taught him to always tell the truth, so he confesses he’s wearing his late father’s shoes, worn, but sturdy. ‘We’ve had old Joseph mend the soles not two months ago.’
The wizard doesn’t answer to this, but goes on to ask all sorts of questions - what sort of man his father was, what does he like most in the village, even his favorite food, and Abellard nods with a smile when he says cottage pie.

The journey to the king’s court is long, but pleasant and the old man proves much more resilient than it could be expected of someone his age, whatever that might be. And quite a nice man to talk to, not a preachy old bore like other men who call themselves learned.
They share one more meal and the last night in the open, down at the foot of the hill where the palace sits. They dust their coats and wash their faces in a brook, before they set out in the morning. The old master takes the lead, still barefoot on the winding path. Young Jeremy feels he has earned enough trust to risk saying what’s bothering him.
‘Why are you still barefoot master? Don’t you think the king might be offended to see your dirty feet?’
Old Abellard turns around and smiles at his apprentice: ‘Shoes have nothing to do, my boy. If you open your mouth to say smart things, no one will notice your feet!’

Story written for @mariannewest's freewrite challenge. Today's prompt was: describe your shoes! Check out her blog and join our freewrite community.

Thanks for reading!

Images:1, 2.