A Midday Rest by the Frozen Lake

The Northern Frontier sunlight, filtering through thin clouds, lost its warmth and coldly spilled onto the frozen lake, refracting into tiny, dazzling rays. The lake, like a vast, flawless ice crystal, stretched smoothly towards the foot of the distant mountains. Surrounded by coniferous forests capped with thick snow, all was silent except for the low, mournful murmur of the wind rustling through the treetops.

Lowell and Frieren walked one after the other along the lakeshore, their boots crunching softly on the compacted snow. Frieren was wrapped in a thick, silver-grey cloak trimmed with fur, like a silver fox preparing for winter, with only her small face, slightly reddened by the cold wind, and a few strands of silver hair sticking up visible. Her emerald eyes calmly swept across the frozen lake, as if assessing the "value" of this patch of ice.

Lowell, who was walking ahead, stopped and turned to look at her, his dark hair fluttering slightly in the cold wind. He pointed to a smooth patch of ice in the middle of the lake that seemed no different from its surroundings. "This will do. The ice is thick enough, the water is deep enough, and there are plenty of fish."

Frieren didn't speak, but walked to where he pointed, squatted down, and extended her gloved hand, her fingertips gently touching the ice. A faint ripple of magic Swirl from her fingertip, and a ghostly blue light seemed to flash beneath the ice. She listened intently for a moment, then stood up, brushed the ice shards off her gloves, and nodded. "Hmm. Okay."

Lowell took out two small folding stools, a low coffee table, and a thick wool blanket from his personal storage space and spread them on the ice. He also took out two very ordinary-looking ice fishing rods with reels and hooks at the top, as well as a small jar of wriggling red worms that seemed to be bait.

Frieren looked at the jar of insects, her emerald eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly, a subtle hint of disdain appearing on her small face. She silently sat down on the stool covered with a blanket, wrapping herself even tighter, clearly not intending to touch the bait.

Lowell skillfully baited the hook, then handed her one of the fishing rods. "Here, this is yours. You don't need to do this."

Frieren took the fishing rod and, imitating him, slowly lowered the fishing line into a small hole that had just been magically melted into the ice. Her movements were a little clumsy, but she was very earnest.

The two sat side by side, and for a moment, the only sounds were the wind rustling through the bare branches and the occasional soft click of the reel turning. Ice fishing requires patience, which is precisely what the immortal species have in abundance.

Time flowed slowly in the silence. Lowell occasionally adjusted the depth of the fishing line. Frieren remained in a position with her knees wrapped around her body, her chin resting on her knees, her emerald eyes fixed intently on the small ice hole, her expression as focused as if she were deciphering an ancient magical rune. In her eyes, there was little expectation of a fish taking the bait, but rather a calm, observer's gaze.

After an unknown amount of time, the tip of Frieren's fishing rod trembled very slightly. Her ears twitched almost imperceptibly, but her body remained still, maintaining the same posture, only her gaze became more focused.

The trembling became more noticeable. She finally began to slowly turn the reel, her movements so slow it was as if time itself had stood still.

Lowell remained silent, watching quietly.

A fish that wasn't too big, with silvery scales, was pulled out of the water and thrashed helplessly on the ice.

Frieren looked at the fish, her face expressionless. She stretched out two fingers, carefully pinched the gills, unhooked it from the hook, and placed it in the bucket. Then, she sat up straight again, dusted off her gloves, and returned to her knee-hugging position.

Lowell watched her actions, and a smile involuntarily crept onto his lips. He retrieved his previously silent fishing rod, rebaited it, and casually spoke as he worked, his voice carrying clearly across the vast, frozen lake:

"Sure, no empty-handed fishing. Speaking of which, about three hundred years ago, on a similar icy lake in the north, you didn't have this kind of patience. You'd pull hard the moment the line moved, and nine times out of ten the bait would be gone and the fish would get away."

Frieren finally looked away from the ice cave, glanced at Lowell, and said in a flat tone, "Really? Forgot. The fish were more cunning back then."

"Yes, yes, fish are cunning." Lowell nodded readily, his smile deepening. "Later, I don't know who got into a fight with a cod, and it sat like a snow sculpture by the ice cave. In the end, they had to use magic to get it out?"

Frieren was silent for a few seconds, then buried her chin in her knees, her voice muffled. "... You said its swim bladders could be used to make excellent soundproofing material." She paused, then added softly, "The earplugs made from them are indeed very effective."

"Hmm, it worked well. You even wore it to bed afterwards, complaining that I was making noise while flipping through books." Lowell shook his head with a smile, his gaze drifting to the distant snow-covered forest. "Back then you were even more... stubborn than you are now."

Frieren fell silent, her gaze returning to the ice cave, only the tips of her ears turning slightly red. After a while, she gave a very soft hum. "... It's still better than some person who fell asleep while fishing and almost fell into the ice cave."

This time, Lowell choked for a moment, touching his nose. "Ahem... unexpected, I went to bed late the night before last..."

Frieren's lips twitched slightly, but quickly returned to their straight shape.

The sunlight gradually became somewhat lazy, gilding the cold lake surface with a faint golden hue. Three or four shimmering silver fish had already appeared in the wooden bucket. Lowell put away his fishing rod and took out a jar tightly wrapped in thick cloth from his spatial storage. Opening the lid, a rich, sweet aroma of hot cocoa instantly filled the air, dispelling the surrounding chill.

He poured a glass and handed it to Frieren. She took it, held it with both hands, and sipped it, her eyes squinting from the steam, like a contented cat.

Lowell took a sip of his drink, gazing at the snow-capped mountains edged in gold by the setting sun, and suddenly spoke, his tone casual as if in a leisurely conversation. "After Lupa and the others have settled things here and returned, where do you plan to go next? Heading south would be warmer, and the fruits of the Southern Islands should be ripe at this time of year."

Frieren held her cup, her emerald eyes gazing at the sunset reflected on the lake's surface, her long eyelashes casting a small shadow beneath her eyes. She pondered for a moment before slowly replying, "I've heard that there's a kind of blue pineapple in the southern islands; it tastes very unique, and perhaps they also have some magical books."

"Alright, let's go try the blue pineapple. But it'll be a bit later, Himmel and the others should be returning soon." Lowell nodded, his tone natural.

A moment of silence followed... Frieren finished the last sip of her hot cocoa and handed the empty cup back to Lowell. Watching Lowell tidy up, she suddenly asked softly, "The biggest one, shall we make smoked fish?"

Lowell paused, looked up at her, met her clear blue eyes that seemed especially bright in the twilight, and smiled, "Okay. But smoking takes some time, so we might only be able to have roasted tonight. Smoking will have to wait a few days."

"Oh," Frieren responded, sounding fairly satisfied. She stood up and stretched her slightly numb legs.

Lowell packed his things and naturally extended his hand to her. Frieren looked at his hand, then at the road back, and silently placed her hand in his palm.

Following their footprints, the two slowly walked down the mountain towards the small town where lights were lit. Their shadows stretched long across the snow, blending into the vast twilight. The frozen lake returned to silence, with only the small ice hole and the occasional fish wagging its tail in the bucket testifying to the existence of this afternoon.