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Copyright© 2009 by Yoron
Chapter 1
The first tale...
Losing Time. Of getting lost finding a way
We are all lost, ourselves unbeknownst he thought. Standing on the edge of the precipice enjoying a spectacular vista spreading out in front of him far below. He felt sublimely separated from all human endeavors as he took in the view. The scenery was one of misty green valleys separated by mountain chains, stretching all the way to the horizon filled with forests and sprinkled by iceblue lakes glittering in the cold morning as star sapphires. He was so high up that he actually had believed the fog clinging to the mountain under him to be clouds. Letting his imagination soar he easily could see himself, same as the hawk above him, uncaringly sailing the skies. Slowly turning into the wind watching it all in a constant search for movements. Under him the fog was starting to shrivel up with tendrils of mist tardily undulating, dissolving under the weak morning's light into tiny droplets of water. Standing there free and above it all he felt as a king. As if some long lost puzzle pieces finally were falling into place, it wasn't as if he was entirely happy but there was a certain feeling of peace in it.
Thinking back it all seemed inevitable, as if his losses had steered him, like an arrow loosened, to this place and time. Did there really exist a free choice he wondered as he looked out over the valley or was it all preordained? For a moment he got this overwhelming feeling that no matter what paths he might have chosen they all, in the end, would have left him at this here and now. So much gone he thought friends as well as love. It was as if his memories belonged to someone else as he looked back at his life, like an endless maze of paths, which once chosen never would lead you back. At least he knew the beginning of the play but the ending he thought wryly, what about that? There no longer seemed to be any reason except that damned cowardice. So is that why we come he wondered, to make some new life and then? And when exactly do we become disposable, like strange toys once working, now broken. And love? Would that just be another word for the fear of facing life alone, companionship for the offering with us as the merchandise? His brooding didn't do him any good, he knew that, but it gave him the impartial eyes of a God to look on all human folly, his own included. Although, however rational that view might seem at times, it still left him nothing but a foul taste in his mouth.
Trying to break loose from those mordant musings he stooped down to lift his backpack, fastening it to his back. Giving his camp a last look over, once more checking that it was cleared with no revealing traces left, he slowly started his trek down the mountain. On the move again, leaving as small footprints as possible. He was slightly amused realizing just how hard some habits died especially when stemming, as his did, all the way from the Service. In a way it was bittersweet being on the march again, one last charge into the unknown, but thinking of it, wasn't that the same for all kinds of walks he mused, if it so only was going out for milk. It's all a question of proportions he thought, my saliva becoming your phlegm. The dawn was still chilly so he had put on an extra sweater for that first stroll down. Listening he noticed that there only were a few birds to be heard now and looking up there was a infinite sweep of empty blue sky, promising him a clear and hot day.
It was good to be walking again he thought with a wry smile as he shook of his sleepiness, one foot before the other, moving as if in a trance while watching the sun clearing its way through the misty stillness of the mountain. He couldn't help but notice how the sounds seemed to magnify themselves as he carefully made his way down, he knew that sound traveled faster in water so perhaps the dampness had something to do with it. The fog made it hard to pinpoint wherefrom the sounds came too which he found even stranger. He really should have waited for the sun to dry it up he realized as he stumbled on some unseen stone, this was downright dangerous. Only a fool would go blundering down a mountain unable to see more than a few feet before him he thought with another wry smile fleetingly passing, but he was too damned impatient to wait. As he had looked down at the vista before he had this sudden urge to finally see those forests and lakes at close range. And as long as he kept to the trail it shouldn't be too dangerous he reasoned. Not that is manmade he admitted to himself but it was at least walk able.
Some time later the sun's beams finally succeeded in boring their way down the fog, painting the scenery in streaks of gold, giving him glimpses of the valley below leaving only the most distant parts shrouded. Making a estimate of the time passed he guessed that he had been trekking just over two weeks now, he had actually lost count of the days just understanding it when finding that his food almost was gone. I'm on my walkabout of a lifetime he thought smiling at his own folly. He had hoped against all odds, and what a weak hope that had been shown to be, that there might be something more to it than just a means to an end, but cold logic seemed to prove it wrong. It might be his final walkabout he admitted, then again, he knew worse ways to go than this. Though it would be nice to see something new, while one still could enjoy it he thought a little wistfully but as always with that feeling of time hiding just around the next corner, just waiting to pounce upon him once and for all. But he found himself strangely at peace with it today. One step at a time, one at a time boy'o, he thought as he carefully found his way down, methodically putting one foot before the other while enjoying the suns play with shadows and light.
After some indefinite time he found himself in a little glade. Standing there he didn't have a clue to where he might be any more, but looking back he could see the mountain towering over him. I must have been sleepwalking there he thought. The sun that by now stood high and strong in the sky finally unveiled those last parts of the valley that he had observed from above. He just stood there for a moment grateful to be warm again, just enjoying this moment of peace, then he put down his backpack and took of his sweater, it was all to warm for him now he thought. He lifted his canteen as if to toast the glade before he drank, enjoying a pleasant tang of single malt in it, his last drops of that precious fluid, almost empty now just like his food. Over by the bushes he could hear the clear sound of running water, a brook perhaps? There was a timeless quality to the glade with summer ripe bushes clad in small red and white flowers imperceptibly turning after the sun. Standing there he for a short breathless moment became a part of it, disappearing to himself.
Definitely hunger he decided, looking around again he decided that this was as good a place as anywhere, having made up his mind he went over by the brook to make his lunch. There was a sense of peace and a calm here and to keep walking without goal or purpose seemed meaningless. Behind the bushes he found a small darkly reflecting spring. The last fog was breaking up now giving him a clear view of the mountain magnifying it making him feel like an ant. He could see himself darkly reflected inside the spring as he looked down, he leaned over to see his reflection. It felt as if he was drawn to it and suddenly sucked right into it, now inside that pool looking out watching that infinity of blue sky rushing at him, or maybe him rushing at it? The glade had by now shrunk into a deep green bowl with him in its center being studied by a deep blue eye above. When he woke up he found himself lying on the grass beside the spring with the backpack at his side. He stayed where he was for a moment, trying to ascertain what just had happened, looking around feeling strangely disconnected. I must be weaker than I thought he thought as he carefully sat up finding his bearings again. As far as he could see everything was the same, although he didn't remember the greenery to be this green and lush before. Checking the sun he decided that he couldn't have been out for more than a minute or two. He got up rubbing his eyes wondering if he had dreamt it all, but somehow it just didn't seem to fit.
The last thing seen was that deep blue eye merrily laughing at him, no he thought wondering, not at him but with him. Now, how the hell can a eye laugh he asked himself, but there you were, it was as if he had been company to a really good joke even though he for the life of him couldn't understand what the joke had been about. Worrying that his trekking finally had gotten to him he lifted his backpack, while putting it right he happened to look at a small bush with big leathery blades slightly to the side of the clearing. Tangled in it he thought he had caught a glimpse of something glimmering so out of curiosity he went over to have a closer look. It was a locket entangled in the bush, he decided that it had to have been there for quite some time as the bush seemed to have grown up around it. Engraved on it was a finely chiseled unicorn but with a tarnished old look to it. It hung there by a finely wrought silver chain swept in and out around its roots. It must have been lifted up from the earth as the bush grew he thought as he unchained it, holding it in his hand. Turning it over he found the small spring that sprung it, opening it he found a small piece of yellowish stuff that looked very much like some old parchment.
Unfolding it he became surprised of its size, it was much larger than one could expect seeing it folded. And it wasn't paper at all, more like some very thin silk. Studying it he made it out t be a map of some sort, there were also finely writings on it but in no script he could recognize. While looking at it he found both the spring and the mountain depicted on it, it could even start exactly from this very spring he realized as a spring was placed in its middle. It really didn't make any sense, on the other hand, nothing seemed to make any sense today he had to admit to himself, smiling at his sudden iMage of himself staring dumbfounded at some yellow wrinkled silk parchment. So there was a last adventure waiting then? "Well" he said to himself his voice slightly rusty from disuse, "let's follow that yellow brick road then" suddenly unexplainably happy with a sense as if some dark weight at long last was loosening its hold of him.
Opening his backpack he localized his pan and the last of his dried meat, checking the water quality he found it perfectly sufficient with the spring having a constant flow to it. Building a little fireplace beside with some stones he had found he sat himself down to wait for his breakfast. He took out the map to take another look at it, in fact it seemed to describe a place similar to where he was, with a spring as well as mountains in it. One of the things he found strange about the map was that it had what he believed to be a rising sun depicted, but on the map it was coming up in the west instead of the east if compared to ordinary maps. Feeling consternated he turned it around and suddenly it made sense with the mountain and the spring in it easily recognizable but he still couldn't make any sense of the strange markings, accompanied by small notes that was scribbled on it in some unknown language. He realized with a pang of excitement that one of them seemed to be just where he was not far from the spring at all. It looked to his eyes as some artist's deranged description of a moon resting on a tree. Feeling full and satisfied and for once with a simple goal he finally put out his fire and moved the stones back to where he had found them. Not that anyone would notice, but that didn't seem reason enough for a man to break his habits he thought slightly sarcastically.
At last satisfied with its pristine look he went on to see if he could find that mark. It took him quite some time as well as some rather clever deductions to find it but at last he was reasonably sure that he had it pinpointed. A lot had changed over the years since that map first had been drawn but he strongly believed the tree to have been there then too. It was an old oak, gnarly old and high, with a mighty spread of leafy green branches growing out from it and with its trunk wider in girth than any tree he had seen before. Walking around it he made it out to roughly measure forty feet. Looking at the map once more it suddenly seemed to him that whatever mystery there was it only could be solved above ground, the marking on the map seemed to indicate that too as it was placed halfway up the tree. Giving the ground and the oak a last lingering look he decided to try it. "What the hell Toto. Let's see if I still know how to climb a tree." He said as he went for a low hanging branch. It was harder than he had thought climbing that oak, not at all as when he had been a boy. But he could still feel the anticipation build as he was making his way up the tree. "Yep, this is surely the grandfather of all oaks." he muttered sourly some time later, finding himself in dire need of some rest and only halfway up at that. He choose a thick forked branch to sit on, taking great care in not slipping while doing so.
Dangling his legs over the abyss he felt like Tom Sawyer, a pipe, some tobacco and a jug, that's all that's missing here he thought as he leaned backwards once more to look up at that green canopy above, teasing him and just out of reach. "This damned tree is definitely higher than I expected." he mumbled as he opened the map again. Okay, so maybe he couldn't understand it he acknowledged but he still got a queer feeling that something was mighty peculiar with it, that marking of the moon seemed to have gotten itself a totally unearthly color. "Gotta be some trick of the light." he mumbled to himself as he fruitlessly tried to spot what exactly had changed with his map. Suddenly he found himself staring straight past it down at the ground, it seemed far away now, much farther than one would expect from what little climbing he had done so it was with a slight touch of vertigo he started to raise himself from the branch. Suddenly his hand slipped, it was as if the branch itself somehow pulled itself away, he lost his balance. Desperately he held on to a thin branch just to find it breaking in his hand and by now having no way to stop it he started falling. In what to him felt as a slow motion he toppled over his fall accelerating as he stared fascinated on the ground rushing in to meet him. It's not that bad, he found himself unexplainably thinking as he without fear and almost with gratitude, waited for the fall to end. Everything disappeared in some sort of tunnel vision leaving him only the slowly rotating ground and his own breath.
Waking up it felt as if that breath never ended, also his sight seemed to be gone as everything was dark. It seemed as if he was lying on his back with his backpack under his head, but for his life he couldn't understand where he was. Trying to remember just seemed to make him more confused. Every time he tried to the fog in his head became worse just as his headache. "Lie still, friend" he heard a clear low voice behind him, "I'll see to your hurts in a moment, don't move if you can". He tried to turn his head, immediately wishing he hadn't as every move compounded to his headache. "Please be still I said friend" he heard that same low voice.
"You must have fallen a long way, a long way indeed Sir, it's a wonder you didn't break any bones" "But I can't see?" he said. "Have I gone blind?" "No." The voice answered. "You're not blind but your eyes are swollen tight, it seems you crossed a wasps nest on your way down and crossed you made them indeed. But please, try to be still now so I can help you." Trying to touch his eyes had been excruciating so he didn't much want to move any way. The voice sounded very sweet he thought, comforting him by its sound alone. "How long was I out?" he asked in vain trying to remember what had happened, he had a vague memory of himself falling but for his world he couldn't remember much of anything before that moment. Just that he had been trekking on a 'walkabout', was it?
"Am I on a walkabout?" he asked himself wonderingly. "And just what is a 'walkabout' friend?" he heard the voice asking as he felt her hands wrapping something around his head covering his eyes, it had a herbal fragrance to it and made the pain reduce somewhat. "I don't know?" he said confused. " You don't know?" "I do and I don't." Rolandanswered somewhat annoyed. "I do know the word, but its meaning makes no sense." He heard her laugh, now he was definite that it must be girl. "If it means that you were walking I tend to agree. There were to traces of a horse where I found you, only you and that old medallion you held in your hand." Yes, the locket, he thought, as he started to remember a little more. "And you are a girl?" He asked cautiously. "No offence meant." he hastily added, if he now was mistaken in his deduction. "Now, what's wrong with being a girl?" The voice asked, suddenly sounding suspicious. "Do you have a problem with girls?" "No, of course not" He said. "I just meant that your voice." "Ah, rest assured friend" She answered, now with a barely suppressed mirth to her voice. "I am indeed that rarest of breeds, a woman and I will most hard try not to take offence to that fact."
Shit, he thought. "Look, I'm sorry." he said under his breath. "There was no insult meant, I just wondered, that's all." "Oh, no insult taken, so, would you like to introduce yourself?" "Of course, I'm Roland ah..." It was so hard trying to remember his last name, strange. "Plain Roland miss, at your service." "Oh no." she answered. "No Mistress here 'Plain Roland', just a simple hedge-witch placed here by the guild to help my community, by the grace of our Lady." Hedge witch? Now, what on earth is she talking about here he thought? And why can't I remember my last name? Did she think that miss stood for mistress? Are we then both deranged he wondered. But she sounded nice enough and as she otherwise seemed as normal as him he decided to give them both the benefit of a doubt and leave it be. There wasn't anything he could do anyway he realized as even his slightest motion gave him a headache. "And your name would be, ah, miss?"
"You poor thing you" he heard her mutter "Your hearing gone too?" She raised her voice. "As I said Master Roland, No Mistress for me, I'm only a ordinary hedge-witch by the name of Marigold if you please, you can call me Mari if you like" Roland who wasn't prepared for this sudden onslaught on his ears twitched helplessly finding his headache reaching cosmic proportions. "I'm sorry Roland, did I startle you" she asked contritely as she observed the effect her voice had had on him, she continued in a slightly subdued manner. "I've called for two men from the hamlet to help us to my cottage. It might take some time before they arrive though so try to relax." Roland tried in vain to find a restful position, finally dropping of in an uneasy sleep visited by vague uneasy dreams in which he was falling, time and time again. When he woke up he found that he at last could open his eyes marginally, but with his vision really blurry. Rubbing them he belatedly realized that Marigold must have used some ointment as the only thing he succeeded in was spreading it all over his face. As Mari saw him move she went over to him.
He saw a blurred image lean over him and then felt someone help him up, giving him some smelly broth to drink. "Try to drink it, it's good for you." She reproached as he hesitated, after some consideration he bravely did as she told finding it every bit as vile as its smell had warned him about, soon to fall into a deep sleep again. Again he had those weird dreams about falling but now into the water. As he woke up the next time he felt much better though, his headache becoming almost bearable. Straining to open his eyes he found himself resting in a bed weakly redolent of some sweet aroma. It stood in the corner of what seemed to be a rather big room. Placed in the middle there was an old table with an unevenly made green ceramic pot standing on it. It was filled with flowers spreading a fresh aroma through the cottage and the table was surrounded by an odd assortment of chairs coming from various designs and colors. At the far corner of the cottage there was an old blackened hearth. It had a weathered, once red stone chimney, following the wall out through the roof, in it there a small fire was dancing with a big black kettle hanging above it simmering.
He noticed that whoever it was living here had gone to quite some length trying to create a warm and welcoming atmosphere. The cottage had two windows open to catch the air letting in the morning's light, each one framed in a warm green color. The windows themselves consisted of a lot of small differently colored glass panes soldered together into a eye-pleasing manner. The leaded windowpanes seemed old and uneven to his eyes, leading his thoughts to those stained glass windows you could see in old churches. All taken together it made him wonder if he had woken up inside someone else's fairytale. What worried him most though was the fact that as soon as he tried to remember anything past that oak his headache seemed to reach immense proportions, that sure was some fall he thought as he finally gave up on it. The sunbeams falling in through the panes seemed perfectly normal to him, rather reassuringly so he thought as he watched how they filled the room with a golden hue vaguely reminding of some old painting. Strangely enough it made him feel as if he was a child waking up at Christmas day, impatiently waiting to open his presents or maybe as if it was the very first day of a summer vacation. As he didn't really know what to do he decided to take it easy and enjoy his rest, and wait for that sweet voice's owner.
But it was becoming very strange and stranger yet that it felt so consolingly familiar, as if he knew it by heart. "Through and beyond then." he mumbled, pleasantly surprised over his eloquence this early in the morning. He couldn't really reconcile himself with the notion of this being heaven though, it seemed all too real to him and also a little to, ah, common perhaps, to resemble any heaven he knew of at least. Nope, it ain't Valhalla at all he decided as he languorously tried to find that perfect position for a relaxed meditation. It was a creaking sound that woke him, it came from the front door softly opening and he saw a lithe silhouette swept in the sunlight falling in behind it. "Welcome back to the land of the living Roland." Mari said as she closed the door going directly to check on the kettle simmering over the fire. "Yes. Coming along nicely." She mumbled to herself, sounding well pleased as she turned back to him. "Now my friend, let me have a look at you," she came over to lean over him bringing a fresh smell of mint with her. "Now, where is your bandage Roland?" "What bandage?" Roland asked confused. "Ah, there it is," she said as she found it under his pillow. "Don't worry, it must have came loose as you slept, anyway your eyes seems much better and the swelling is down too. How is your headache Roland?" "It's almost gone Miss." answered Roland. "I haven't said thanks yet, have I? Thanks a lot Mari"
He was treating himself to another surreptitious look when he found himself caught in those green flecked eyes. Not able to take his eyes away from hers and in a vain attempt too hide his confusion he said. "Without your help Mari, I think I would have been a goner." She studied him frankly and with curiosity filling her eyes, a woman of indeterminable age he thought neither to young nor too old, ageless might be the word he sought after here. She was of delicate features and dressed in a simple homespun brown garment with green eyes sparkling of life and laughter. "A 'goner' Roland? You certainly have a strange use of words. Still, it was my pleasure helping you." She found herself wondering about him anew, there was definitely magic involved somewhere she thought. His sudden appearance out of nowhere that day she saw him fall, and the strange materials of his clothes and that remarkable haversack he had was all unknown to her and very cleverly made. Although with him lying there looking at her with an awed expression on his face he didn't struck her as being particularly dangerous to anyone. More like some eager Pup wagging his tail wanting to please she thought, starting to smile.
Roland who by now had started to feel more than a little stupid wondered just how long he had stared at her, she must think me an idiot he thought seeing the smile. "I'm sorry Mari, it's just that I'm so pleased to be able to see the person hiding behind that lovely voice." He tried to sound relaxed. "I'm not usually like this, it's just such a pleasure finding myself here with you." And so it was, he had been right in that there was a present waiting, she had to be his gift from the gods he thought waiting for the unwrapping. Slightly distressed over the slippery road his thoughts now seemed to take he tried his best to think of something else. They didn't address where the hell he was for example? But considering it all he had to admit that nothing seemed normal any more, hadn't she told him that she was a hedge witch? "We're definitely not in Kansas anymore Toto." He mumbled feeling a vague sense of dread. Mari gave him a look. Yes, his fever is definitely rising she decided, he's starting to imagine things again.
"I am confused." He admitted, proving her diagnose to be a hundred percent certain. "I have a diffuse memory of me traveling, and I'm pretty sure that wherever I was then it must have been a really fair distance from this." She shook her head listening to him. "Don't be impatient Roland, you've got to give it some time." she soothed as she lifted her sooty black copper kettle off the hook. Carefully she set it down on that old darkly varnished table, There was a strange but not unpleasant herbal scent coming from it, infused with a whiff of liquorice and mint, then she turned to him again. "Now Roland, while you were sleeping I took the opportunity to wash your clothes." Clothes? Roland who suddenly realized that he was in her bed without a thread on him except his smile moved restlessly. Mari found herself quite taken by seeing a grown man blush. "Oh, are you worrying again Roland?" She asked trying her best to reassure him. "I've seen men before, you know." Will this torture never end Roland thought helplessly as he felt himself turning into a living carrot. "Do you mean you have another?" He asked trying to turn it into a joke finding himself hoping against all odds that there was no such man in her life.
She studied him appraisingly, what exactly did he mean by that she wondered,, was he coming on to her? Nah, he was much too weak and tired she though, smiling at the ridiculous notion of him trying to flirt with one foot in the grave, well, not really, but near enough. He's still in a state of shock she decided, it was after all an easy diagnosis to do with him having no memory, even hallucinating at times and using such weird sayings. He was clearly not himself she thought. She decided to diversify herself from her growing but slightly unbecoming curiosity by sorting out the herbs she had collected. Lifting the sack up in her lap she said. "Roland, enough is enough. All said and done I am still a healer." But she couldn't help a secretive smile as she started to sort. Roland who by now had realized that his feeble attempts of levity just had fallen on its stomach decided to ease her mind. Smiling at her reassuringly he said, trying for that debonair air. "I'm so sorry Mari, I just can't accept a lovely lass like you and no man there to take care of you?" Mari who by now started to feel slightly confused herself sternly answered. "Sir, would you mind, surely we can find other matters of interest?" But by this time Roland's mouth already had a life of its own. "Oh, but I do mind Mari, I mind terribly." He heard himself say.
Falling into that green ocean again, his whole universe consisting of two disappointed green eyes subtly flecked in brown. "And I'm an idiot Mari." He told her contritely. "I didn't mean, that is, I couldn't stop myself." Mari who could hear the remorse clinging to his voice decided to give him a second chance. "You wasn't hurting me Roland, but you were definitely confusing me." She bent over to touch his forehead. "It must be your fever talking," acting cool and professionally again. "Just relax and let me make some soup, everything will straighten itself out, given time." Roland wondered what had came over him, he was sure he that he kept his cool under most circumstances but something about Mari made him into a bumbling nincompoop. He just couldn't take his eyes of her and even though he tried to be subtle about it Mari noticed. In fact it made her feel very self-aware as well as making her into an uncoordinated stumbling mess, finally ending with her helplessly looking at him as caught as a deer under the headlights, Roland who realized that he was doing it again closed his eyes. "Time to catch up on my sleep." He mumbled decisively turning to the wall while desperately wishing that he just were a spot on it.
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