Master Above All Masters

I love folk tales. This one is from Norway. I took the liberty of adding some flesh to its bones.
Enjoy.

Chapter 1 -
An old woman sat slumped at her kitchen table, lost in thought. Behind her was a very large hearth, containing a perky peat-fueled stove. There were pots bubbling, and bread rising in the top corner. Occasionally she rose to stir a pot, or check on the bread, or pace about muttering to herself. She was tall, even statuesque, dressed in a gown of finest quality, if a bit worn with age. Over her gown was a large pocketed apron to protect it from soiling.
Near evening old Nilas came home, with their son.
“Good evening, Margrete, my love! Your hearth smells wonderful! Young Niklas and I had good luck today, and we have two fat ducks for you. We were down to the pond, and managed to avoid that old boar as he was muzzling around in the peat. He loosened up a lot of it, and we’ll be able to go back tomorrow and collect all we want!”
Margrete snatched the birds from her husband’s outstretched hands, scowling.
“Always work, work and more work! Who will pluck and dress these nasty things? When we married I never dreamed I would become a common kitchen wench! Thank goodness my father can’t see what I’ve sunk to.”
Niklas brightened, “I can do it, Mother! Let me hang them in the shed, and I’ll field dress them later. Father has shown me how, many times.”
He reached out to take the ducks from his mother, and she handed them over quickly and wiped her hands roughly on her apron.
“It breaks my heart to know you are learning such things! You should be reading books, studying art and law, not,” she sniffed in disgust, “field dressing!”
Old Nilas smiled sadly. This was a common topic now that Niklas was about to become a man. “I know you are right, my dove. But what are we to do, alone here in the woods? There is no school nearby, and the castle of your childhood is three days’ ride, if we had a horse, or a week’s journey on foot.
Margrete was ready with an answer, as she had been mulling over this very thing all the while they were away.
“He must be apprenticed! And not to just anyone, mind you. His mentor must make him Master Above All Masters, the best, and the finest practitioner of whatever skill he is trained in.” With that, she turned to the stove, popped the risen bread into the oven, and began energetically stirring the contents of the pots. Clearly it was all settled.
Nilas and his son looked at each other with resignation and settled down at the table to wait, and wonder where such a person could be found.