Disclaimer * I do not own Firefly*
"There ain't no gorram point." The young teen shouted angrily.
"The only foolish point here Malcolm Reynolds is arguing with your mother," an exasperated Grace Reynolds huffed, folding her arms across her chest, immovable, against her raging teenage son. "Also, you would do well to remember that if I don't allow the hands to use that type of language in my presence I certainly won't tolerate it out of you."
Malcolm hung his head. "I'm no use to no one sittin' here, readin' a bunch of useless words that make no sense. I should be out in the fields, helpin' the hands and pullin' my weight."
Looking around, Grace walked over to the front stairs on their cabin and sat down signaling to her son to sit beside her. Wearily, Malcolm sagged beside her, resting his head on her shoulder.
"I can do actions, Ma. I ain't no good with words. They get all scrambled and such in my head. Takes too much work to put 'em straight."
Grace looked at her son shrewdly, "Hard work in your head can be equally valuable to hard work with your muscles, Malcolm. I know you look up the hands since your Pa passed on, but one day you may need to use your head to get you and, heaven help you if it does, others home to their Mama's in one piece. Fists can't solve everything."
"Can solve a whole bundle if you're good enough," Malcolm muttered under his breath.
Grace looked wearily at her son, he had his father's look and, unfortunately, just as ornery as his Pa had been. She wasn't the only mother who heard the rumours of war and worried for the future. Without some wisdom tempering the passion Malcolm kept so close to the surface, she wondered if she might not find herself burying another Reynolds man before his time.
"Ain't no point in readin' this luh suh anyhow. Ain't no one in the whole verse 'cept me that has this forced down their throats."
"That is because not everyone has access to poems from Earth that was, Malcolm Reynolds! You are lucky, young man, that our family has passed this down so that some bit of learning can be drilled into that thick skull. I don't care if the words cause you pain. The only thing foolish is to turn down the chance to learn, to grow as a person. "She looked down pointedly.
"Ma."
"Since you seem all-fired determined to keep that mouth moving, you can read your homework to me. I'll help you when you struggle son." Grace's face softened taking in her son's defeated posture. "We all need someone to carry us sometime Mal, ain't no shame in that. Only shame is not asking when it's there and you know you need it."
"Yes Ma'am. Can I least start where I left oft? Save us all a mite of time." he asked with an eager grin lightening his face.
"No, Malcolm, the extra practice will do you good." Grace answered slowly grabbing the broom off the steps beside her and rising to being sweeping the porch.
Sighing loudly, Malcolm dragged the beaten papers out of his bag and began to read.
"The Rime of the Ancyent Marinere . . ."