Let Me Tell You a Story In those days the Dark Lord ruled. His soldiers swept the lands, killing; sacking homes, and tearing families apart. What before was love vanished from the land. Once a land of beauty, fertility, prospering agriculture this kingdom became arid and barren. Trust abandoned people’s hearts and no one could be trusted anymore. Not even small families remained close. Always there rooted a spy, someone who would be reporting to the Dark Lord. Ears hung out in public places constantly picking up stories, rumors, anything to create more distrust, more darkness, and more destruction. Even in the most private of establishments lies were being sown. Strangers began prowling hired out from the Dark Lord. In desperation even the smallest villages disintegrated. People couldn’t live close anymore and worse no one remained settled for long. Families wandered from place to place taking only what they could carry. It was too dangerous to remain stationary. Yet there was a small group faithful to what had been before. As the land continued to disintegrate around them, they gathered together. “It is time” their leader declared, “It is time to call him up, to bring him back here.” This leader was the Seer, he knew many things. The others agreed. “It will be hard” he continued, “Others will not recognize him.” They sent out a messenger to bring him. He which they were searching for was a wanderer. He had been born and raised with a long since uprooted family. After growing up he hadnt remained in one place for so long, such a thought was foreign to him. Yet he was a king, and his dad had been before him, and his granddad, going way back to before the Kingdom had fallen. This Wanderer carried himself and spoke as a king. Usually everyone knew he was the King. Yet he had never been anything more than a wanderer. Traveling from place to place never settling or taking the authority of kingship to bring about the much needed peace and prosperity; instead he had hidden, slinking through towns, staying inconspicuous especially now since the Dark Lord had risen. After bringing him in, many of the faithful left the land and moved far away to a distant land where there stood a fortress far beyond the Dark Lords reach. The enemy was growing stronger and it wouldnt be long now before he made war on the Faithful. The land was now shrouded in darkness. Those of the faithful who had stayed, waited for the wanderer at a local inn. There were only five of them and they didnt plan to stay long. The Wanderer arrived within a week. He stood strong anyone could see that he was a king. He had it written all over himself. Yet only those who had the eyes to see it knew who he really was. The faithful told him what was up. They updated him on the enemy’s plans. And also what the most recent of the enemy movements had been. Then their leader took him aside. (The leader was the High King’s most trusted servant. A man who knew what was up before any other. He was the Seer.) He explained to the Wanderer where the fortress was, and also that no one was to be trusted here any longer. Then quickly everyone disbanded. Each of the Faithful headed a different direction so as not to be observed. Yet ultimately they were each headed for the High King’s fortress. Lastly the Seer left instructing the Wanderer to remain at the inn until summoned. The Wanderer agreed and settled in for a short wait. The innkeeper, a man under tight control of the enemy had a rule: whoever stayed at the inn must work for their keep. So the Wanderer was put to work. By now the land was completely enslaved. Everywhere marched the Dark Lords soldiers. The commoners who were allowed/deceived into believing they still owned a little were also enslaved. Since there was no trust any longer, people fed off one another’s troubles stealing from each other, deceiving each other, reporting each other until nothing remained. The Wanderer had it no better. In desperation he did whatever it took to remain invisible. This did not work out since he was the strongest of the workers. Against his will he was forced to do the most difficult of the work. The entirety of the work load… Fall time turned to winter. Snow covered the land. The inn workers moved on to warmer lands and areas. Those not given leave escaped. However, the Wanderer could do neither. The Seer hadn’t yet returned. In fact, he was sure the Seer had forgotten him. He had no choice, he must stay. For him his options were either he would stay, or move onto the fortress when a faithful came. The winter became bitterly hard on him. He had no warm clothes to ward off the chill. And no bed in which to sleep. And so began the worst season of his life. Before, people had had some idea of who he was. But now that the Dark Lord ruled no one could remember him, or see him. No one seemed to recognize him for a king any longer. Instead he was forced to do the dirtier deeds, the humiliating jobs which only animals or low woman slaves did. What was even worse still was that though he wasn’t recognized in this disguise and place, somehow they sensed who he was for he was abused constantly. There was never a time when his wounds were healed enough before he became victim to another beating. The Wandering King grew weaker and weaker. One day a group of pilgrims stopped at the inn. They stayed the night. Since so many had long since travelled through the Wanderer did not notice them. His thoughts were upon spring, for that season was just around the corner and he was not looking forward to it. By now he had accepted his fate. He would never be leaving this slavery. He would die here. Soon. Late the following morning the pilgrims were packed and leaving when a little daughter, her small beaming face glowing stopped. She had seen him. She starred recognition brightening her clear blue eyes. ‘Papa!’ She exclaimed tugging on a tall dark haired pilgrim’s sleeve ‘Papa, why is He here!?” The man, fearful, glanced at him, then away as though noticing the king would cause him trouble with the guards. “I don’t know” he whispered. He patted the child’s head attempting to pacify her and draw away her attention. The girl ignored it gazing after the king in excitement. Suddenly she broke from her group and ran to him. The wanderer watched, too exhausted to be surprised. She reached up and grasped his bleeding hands. “You will not be here long.” She declared confidently. Her voice rang clear and strong. To his dismay the King’s heart melted and tears began falling down his cheeks. Stumbling down he sobbed much to his surprise and shame. The small child touched his face with her little hands and kissed his cheek. Running back to her group, she was gone. Her papa caught her up, glancing back at the weeping wanderer. Then gave her a hug. The king attempted to mop his face dry. But to his horror, he could not stop crying. Now he had lost everything. First his social standing so long before. But now his dignity. Now he could never be king. Now he would never be able to conquer the land and be victorious. Simply hearing what the small child had said ruined him. He forgot what she had told him with all these thoughts speaking louder. In shame, he melted into despair. Now this same time in the highlands the Seer and one of the faithful woke from a deep sleep. Not yet morning they lay and discussed their dreams. Upon conversation they discovered that both had dreamed of the Wandering King. In their fortress they had a sword. An ancient sword which belonged to the King’s father. For years it had been kept unused and abandoned. But in this dream, the two men were told to send it to the Wanderer. They were told to send along this specific message also: “Eat it” Remarkably, they asked no questions over this absurd message. Within the next day they had dispatched their messenger. Well aware of the increased danger now settled over the barren land, the messenger travelled as light as possible and with all possible speed. It was now early spring. The snows were beginning to melt. The Wanderer had looked forward to the Seer possibly coming at the beginning of the new season. Yet after the first day of spring and no Seer the poor King’s heart broke. He bowed his head over his ax where he had been chopping wood, and cried. And so the messenger found him. He recognized him without needing to ask for a name. He quickly took the King around to the back. “I have something for you.” He told him hurriedly. He pulled out the bundle and handed it to him. “Eat it!” He whispered forcefully. The messenger shifted nervously, looking over his shoulder wincing. It was too dangerous here! The Wanderer hardly saw him leave. The messenger, his job finished, vaulted the surrounding fence and skedaddled. This barren dangerous land was no place for one of the faithful anymore. Instinctively the Wanderer knew what the bundle contained. His father’s sword. Yet as he grasped it in his hand, all the agony, the pain, the loss, was like a sucker punch to the gut. Here he was, in such a low despondent place, abandoned. The horror of being a slave - he had hardly survived the winter! How much longer could he even last? This sword. And he having to eat it. He vaguely knew what eating it meant. It was a risk into the vast unknown. Except that risk was like none other he had ever took. This one would mean there was no return, no going back to before. But before he hadn’t had any hope. Now with this rick that hope would be even further away. Really, receiving this sword was like a slap in the face. Instead of coming to take him to the fortress, they had come to give him yet another test. And who knows how long that one would take?? Where it would lead?? He sobbed again. This time in agony and with gut-wrenching sobs. “God! let this pass from me! Let it pass! It no longer matters should I be king, could I be king. Before that had been my hope, now that everything is stripped from me. Even my dignity. You ask this of me??” Yet he couldnt send the sword back for the messenger was already gone. He gripped his chopped log, his chest still heaving from the pain of choice.? Should he take it? He could not leave it. It was his father’s. The enemy might find it and kill him. Then I saw his back. Bloodied from recent beatings, scars swelled over and taunt. Formed, then reformed from previous beatings. He had bruises also, and a dark black eye from repeated abuse. He no longer looked the proud mysterious man who had first come to the Seer. He was weak. Spent. He no longer lived by strength. He could barely stand. Yet now this! He was broken. Utterly broken. He had no companions. And worse there was no Seer to come for him. He ate the sword. The pilgrims were once again passing through that day. This time a smaller group for some of them had by then passed on. Yet still the child was with them. She was more subdued now. But she still remembered the king. She looked for him, but couldnt find him. Then she heard. The loud pain filled wailings coming from behind the inn. “What is that? What is it?” she begged tugging at her mother. Her mother shook her head. “He is eating the sword.” A beautiful smile crossed the child’s face. All anxiety lifted. She knew then that her king would be fine. By late spring the Seer arrived. He was old now, though not yet bent with age. His hair had become grizzled, gray-peppered with white. His eyes crackled with age, yet wiser still. Time had only increased his wisdom. Now he came walking towards the inn. Yet instead of entering as was custom, he came around to the back. The king stood beside a growing pile of firewood. A small hatchet in hand hacking at yet another block of wood. He didn’t at first notice the Seer. Not till the old one had walked up. “We’re leaving.” The seer told him quietly, simply. The king lay down his hatchet rolled his shoulders back…Yet all the intense relief, the anger and bitterness planned long ago ready to pour out at this old wizard did not come. He had gone through so many intense wars in his heart by now. All the self-doubts, the traitors: self-pity, rejection, and abandonment. These had all been dealt with somehow, in this wait. He bore a strength now which few ever possessed. Though he didn’t realize it yet, the Wanderer had found and became the King. He unconsciously wore the crown, the dignity, the peace, that only kings possess. “Yes!” The Seer murmured to himself seizing up this strong burly man, “He has eaten the sword, his days here are finished.” He gave the king a pack and a short sword. “You will need this on our journey.” Not bothering once again, to check in with the innkeeper, they left. They only had that short duration to escape the dark kingdom now. The Dark Lord was sending in his armies to the borders to seal them over. There would be no thru traffic anymore. The Seer knew this and desired to use the time wisely. Wisely on his way to collect the king, the Seer had prepared the way to the fortress. A less travelled road, no one could have seen this pathway. Instinctively the seasoned Wanderer trusted this old man and asked no questions as to where they were headed. However had it been before he would have argued the way. The first few days the Seer stopped for no rest. They journeyed fast, speed being all they cared for. Then as the distance put between them and the dark land increased were they able to sleep nights. They had now left civilization by now and they started a regular schedule. Starting early each morning as they continued their way. Yet still the Seer kept his pace. Back at the fortress the Seer’s dream companion spread the news to the others. Excitement mounted. The faithful listened in on any anything they could gather... the king was ready! Preparation for a feast upon his long awaited return began. The fortress they bedecked in banners flags, and celebratory anything’s. Better yet, in expectation they set a date for his coronation. To the Wanderer it seemed many years passed as they continued to journey. Long since they had left the flatlands and now trekked through the mountains and valleys. Beyond these they walked over grasslands and rivers. Now in unexplored territory this beautiful land seemed to belong to no one but the High King, the King’s father. The journey and in company with this trustworthy man, the King/Wanderer was given time to process. Finally he began to understand why these many things had happened. He began to understand and realize the state his heart had been in and was now in. As these revelations occurred to him, he began weeping. Somehow the Seer understood what was going on. What had been, and what now was. And he respected the weeping King’s tears and did not reject him for such apparent weakness. As the journey continued revelation and healing drenched the King’s mind and heart. In his weakness both from his emotional state, and from his slave hood the young King was forced to rely heavily upon this Seer. In so doing, all the remnants of distrust left. And the Seer to him, became as a father. At long last the two came to the great wall. Beyond the wall rose the highlands were not anyone ruled except that high king. Immense spaces, grass plains which extended on forever…that was freedom. Freedom unlike the Wanderer had ever seen. But now they stood at a gatehouse where the people who kept the wall lived. The king expected that they would simply pass through. But the Seer was taking off his pack. The king followed suit. “We’ll stay here.” The Seer replied to his question “For here there are rules, we must be clean before we travel further.” Then the Seer led the way through the door. It was the home of the pilgrims. The King stared astonished. Several people came and took their things, then lead the way to the bathhouse. The bathhouse was stone. Carved out like a cave, but really a building. The inside ceiling rose dome shaped with skylights filtering in clean highland air. Inside the bathhouse swung around in a circle, vast. The only part of the room not filled with water were the walkways around the cavern and the pillars that stretched up from the beneath the bath to the ceiling. These walkways ran around the edges before the sides fell down into the cistern of swirling waters. Heated water constantly rushed through, this current drawing away all impurities and tossing them in a waterfall into a passing river. The Seer and Wanderer immersed themselves quickly. Oh it felt so good to the king! The pilgrims stole their old cloths and in place left good comfortable travel worthy cloths. And the king they gave him royal clothes. The Seer and the King both shaved and gave each other haircuts. Then clean and dressed they came away. Suddenly the king heard a squeal of delights and looking up he saw the little girl of the pilgrims. “I knew you would come!!” The little girl yelled. Everyone rejoiced and celebrated their arrival. And for the first time, the king realized he wore a crown. The pilgrims begged them to stay for a day at least. After constant requests the impatient Seer at last relented and allowed that they would. Satisfied, these wise pilgrims took it upon themselves to teach and uplift the king in whichever way possible. All day long they taught him, building up his moral, explaining the past, answering questions, and showing him whatever kindness and wisdom possible. And at long last the King’s tears stopped. His heart was now open wide and the treasures these faithful gave him proved all his old bitterness wrong, instead proved him God’s love. This time when he cried he was not distressed, for he knew these were not tears of weakness; instead tears of healing. The following day after many wonderful happy goodbyes the King and Seer continued on to the fortress. This time the King knew they were not traveling to a new destination, they were traveling home. And I woke before the final celebrations. Epilog: After his arrival the crowned King finally received the soldiers and everything needed to return to the dark land and conquer.
Posted on: Sat, 18 Oct 2014 14:40:39 +0000
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