joegoda | (no subject)

____ Night Two _____

- Into the Cave of the Twin Mountains -

Let's see.. Last night we left the young man doing what? Hmm.. He had just crossed the Darkling wood, and the Eastern Swamp and climbed one of the Twin Mountains. And why did he do it? Was he particularly brave? I don't think so, unless by brave you mean the sort of bravery anyone has when they wake up in the morning and look at another day. Was he looking for treasure? Perhaps, in his own way he was. He was looking for answers, I think. 'Where am I going? What am I going to do when I get there? What will I have for breakfast?' Yes, I think that was it.. he was looking for answers.... I believe that the last glimpse we had of him was as he was entering the mouth of a dark and rather small looking cave.......

'Humph and Well!' stated the young man. 'I guess if I didn't know where I was going before, I don't see that this is any different. At least I have a direction to go in.' And having said that, he squeezed into the mouth of the cave, into darkness and away from the light.

The entrance to the cave was just barely wide enough for his shoulders, though he did have a bit of trouble with the bundle, as it was wider than he was. He tugged and pulled and finally it popped in, throwing him just a bit off balance. Regaining his feet, he looked at the inside of the cave, just to see what it looked like. He had never been inside of a cave, no matter how small or large it was, and he was curious as to what a cave might just be like.

'Hmmm', thought he, 'it's very dark here. So he pulled from his bundle a stout stick, which he had been intending to use as a stir stick for when he made stew. He tore one of the shirts he had packed into long strips and wound them around one end of the stick. As he tore, he hoped he wouldn't need the shirt later on. Dry, clean shirts are very handy, no matter how old, in the case he was caught in the rain and he wanted to wear something dry. Or , he might meet someone and want to put on something a bit cleaner. The shirt he was wearing was showing a bit of stain from the travel and a bit of wear from all the climbing and scratchy branches and mucky swamp he had been in and about.

When he was satisfied with his wrapping job, he pulled from his pack a flat gray stone, and a sharp piece of metal. The stone was called flint, and the thing about flint is that when it is struck with a sharp piece of metal, it produces sparks. Enough sparks on something dry and flammable, say, a torn up shirt wrapped around a stick, then a flame starts and faster than you can say 'Jiminy Horsefeathers', the young man had made a torch, so he could see his way down into the cave.

The inside of the cave was much larger than he had imagined. This part was as large as the largest house he had ever seen, and there were sharp rocky things growing out of the ceiling, and sharp rocky things growing out of the floor. Here and there were pools of water, and some of the rocky things growing from the floor had flat tops on them, and the flat tops had pools of water in them, too. Some of the cave wall glistened and shone in tiny flickers of reflected torch light, as if tiny jewels had been set in the stone, and as he moved around inside the cave, little twinkles followed the light as they were illuminated by the torch.

The young man had heard of caves, but he had no idea what they were all about. He suspected they were just dim dark holes in the ground, like a mole's warren. He had no idea that it could be so big, or so pretty, or so noisy. Everywhere there was the sound of water dripping, and the sound of small animals scurrying away from the light. And ever so faintly, as if it was some great distance away, and covered with a heavy down comforter, there was another sound. The sound was rather like a heart beating, it was so rhythmical. But it was very far away, and the young man couldn't quite make it out.

The sound, as soft as it was, seemed to be coming from a place hidden in darkness. As the young man walked toward it, he could see that it was most definitely a tunnel downward, into the very bowels of the mountain. Instead of just walking into the tunnel, willy nilly, the young man stopped and thought for a bit.

Now, one must not blame him from hesitating. He had already had a trying day, walking through a woods where he didn't know if he was going to be eaten or not (he wasn't), and mucking about in a swamp where he didn't know if he was going to be eaten (and again he wasn't), and there was all that climbing that he had done. He was actually getting very tired of not knowing where he was going. And he was just getting tired, anyway. Sleepy tired. Tired to the bone tired, where all you want to do is rest on a nice bed with clean sheets and let the land of dreams come and take you away from the tired. So, he hesitated, yawning and scratching. He didn't know if he wanted to go on, or if he wanted to sleep and then go on, or if he wanted to go on just a little ways and then sleep.. well, you get the idea. He just simply didn't know. So his legs made his decision for him.

He sat down heavily, and started to nod off. Before he was completely stolen away to the Land of Asleep though, he jerked himself awake and dowsed the torch by rolling it around on the ground. It wouldn't do to wake up and have no light at all simply because he forgot to turn the light out. And so, putting the bundle under his head, and stretching out best he could, he muttered 'Just an hour or so' and was fast asleep, softly snoring in the soft noisy darkness of the cave.

He dreamed of dark tunnels and strange sounds. Of deep pools of water and pits that dropped to nowhere at all, and just kept going. He dreamed that he met himself on a road that climbed a mountain and his other self didn't recognize who he was. In this dream, he sat down and had dinner with himself and each talked about their lives.

    'I don't know where I'm going, but I think I'm on the right road', he said.

    'Hmm. I'm pretty sure I do know where I'm going, and the road doesn't matter much to me' said his other self.

    'How so? If you are going somewhere, and you know where you are going, then you must be on the right road.'. he asked, puzzled.

    'No, not always.', answered his other self. 'Knowing that I know where I'm going, means that I'm on the right road, regardless of what road that may be. Pass me the salt, please.'

    'But how can that be?', he cried. 'To get somewhere, you simply have to be on the right road, or you will never know if you have gotten to where you are going!'

    'Hmmmmm,' pondered the other self. 'Do you suppose it's that simple? To find the right road means that you will go where you are going? I don't know. It seems to me that just by going you will get to where you are going. Don't you think so? And if you know that you are going the right direction, then you must indeed be going to the right place. And if you know that you are going to the right place, then any road you are on must, therefore, be the right road. Do you see?'

    'Arrrrgh!' he arghed. 'I'm not sure I understand you at all. How can you be sure you are going to the right place if you don't know that you are on the right road? How can you be so sure that the road you are on is the one that you need to be on? How, how, how?'

    'Ahhhh', his other self ahhed, 'that is a very good question. To know, and to be sure may not be the same thing. If you were to ask me "Is this the road to Anondale?", I would not be so sure, but I would certainly know if this road would get me there. And if I were going to Anondale, then I would certainly know that this road would get me there, though I might not be so sure that the road went there.'

    'You present ponderous puzzles. And it makes my head hurt', he said sourly.

    'Look,' said the other self, 'here's a key. Hold onto it.'

    And his other self passed over a very large key indeed. It was very ornately carved and seemed as if it would be very heavy, but it wasn't. It shown with a golden silverish light that might have been blinding, but it was too soft for that. There was a green loop of some rugged material that was large enough to loop over his head, and so he did so, wearing the key like some great necklace.

    'What am I ever to do with this?' he asked.

    'It's a key,' the other self said, 'hold on to it.' right before he deflated like a popped balloon, and his voice faded into a fuzzy sort of light darkness that means one is waking up.

And that is exactly what the young man did. He woke up, confused and dazed, not knowing where he was. Slowly it all came back. The woods, the bird, the mountain.. all of it. He blinked and rubbed at his eyes a few times because there was an awful lot of light around, and it was making them smart a bit. Which was very surprising to the young man, because he was inside a cave! Where did the light come from? he wondered.

Standing up, and gathering his pack, he saw what was causing the light. A tremendous swarm of fireflies had gathered in a spot near him. He could hear their buzzing rising and falling in intensity. Experience is indeed a teacher, so he asked 'Well? Did you have something you wanted to say?'

The swarm quickly moved back a bit. It was surprised that it had been spoken to. Nobody ever spoke to it first. It was always the first to speak, so it was understandably alarmed for the moment. A bit frightened too, I would imagine. After all, the young man was so very very large, and they were just tiny little fireflies. One swat of his giant hand and.. well, it was just to horrible to think about. Slowly they regained their composure.

"Well?', asked the young man, impatiently.

'Ahem', said the swarm. 'Ahem.. The kkkkey. Hhhhold on tttto it.'

'Key?', asked the young man, a bit dumbly. 'What key?' And he felt around his body as if there was a key in his pockets. If he had had any pockets. Which he didn't. But there, strung around his neck on a rough piece of green cloth was the very same key that he had dreamed of. 'Oh.', he said. 'That key. What's it to, anyway?'

'Ahem', said the swarm. 'Ahem.. The kkkkey. Hhhhold on tttto it.'

'All right. I'll hold onto it. I won't let it out of my sight. Is all right if I have a bit of breakfast before we go?'

'Ahem', said the swarm. Breakfast? What was breakfast? The swarm had never heard of breakfast, which wasn't at all surprising. Fireflies like these never ate. The individual fireflies that made up the swarm only lived about 24 hours, taking time to be born, bring a little light into someone's life, have a few babies and then pass away to the eternal light from which all fireflies come. So, they never had breakfast, lunch, dinner, supper or even a snack. They just simply didn't have time. And rather than waste a lot of that time asking a number of questions they probably wouldn't understand, they simply said 'Fffollow mmmmeeeee' and swarmed down the tunnel as only a swarm could.

Sighing a mighty sigh, the young man pulled a cold biscuit from his bundle and followed as best he could, munching as he walked into the tunnel.

Down and down and down and more down and even further down than that they went. The fireflies leading the way, and sometimes having to wait for the young man to catch up. He was moving slower because he was becoming a bit of a grumpy person. He was still tired, though not bone tired tired, and he was hungry, not having any breakfast. But then, he wondered, if it wasn't morning, then it wouldn't matter if it was breakfast or not. But then he decided that it must be breakfast because that is what the word meant. Break Fast. To eat after not eating for a long time. And he certainly felt like he had not eaten for a very long time.

Down and down and still more down they went. For a while, it got terribly cold, and a wind whipped up that tried it's best to chill the skin right off of the young man. It was a damp sort of cold that nobody likes. Which is why the wind was so mean, probably. It had no friends, so it just decided to be as mean as possible.

'Would you please stop blowing so hard?' called the young man to the wind. 'It is hard enough having to follow these fireflies without any breakfast. If you would just let up a little, I would be ever so grateful.'

Surprising the young man to no end, the wind whispered in his ear 'Would you now? Would you really? Be ever so grateful? Would you now? Would you really?'

'Ummmm,' whispered the young man back. 'Umm yes, I would. Very much so. I would be very very grateful if you wouldn't blow so hard.'

'Would you then, could you then, might you do me a small favor? Would you, could you?' whispered the wind.

'I certainly would, and certainly could, if it were in my power, do you a small favor', replied the young man.

'Then find me a toy, man child, if you would, if you could. A thing to play with, as I've never had such a thing, and I believe that it would be a good thing. If you would, if you could, find me a toy'

A toy, thought the young man. What would the wind use for a toy? Thinking and following the fireflies and pondering and following the fireflies some more, down and down with the cold wind blowing just a bit more fiercely. A toy.... ah ha!

Calling to the Fireflies to hold just a bit, and reaching into his bundle, the young man pulled out a bit of the writing paper he had put there for when he got to where he was going. He was going to use it to write his parents and tell them where he was and what he was doing, but he thought they wouldn't mind receiving just one less letter from him. Working swiftly, he made three folds in the paper. Once down the middle, and two times diagonally so there was a point on one end. On the other end, the end away from the point, it was wide and if looked at straight on looked like a large 'V'. He had made something that he had seen the other children play with, a paper bird.

'Does this, can this, will this please you as a toy?' he asked the wind. And holding it with one hand, and with his tongue tip sticking ever so slightly out of his mouth, he tossed the paper bird high into the air with a might throw, grunting with the exertion.

The wind, catching the paper in its arms, pushed and shoved the paper about the cavern. As expected, the paper bird acted like a.. well, a bird, and rode the gust and breezes of the wind, not really falling, but always just floating, soaring, and dipping. After awhile, the wind started to chuckle, and then to laugh, and giggle and the young man could feel the wind blowing much less on him than before.

'Yes!', whispered the wind in the young man's ear. 'Yes! This is what a toy is! Thank you, man child. I shall call you my First Friend. For rather than curse me, you did not. And rather than ignore me, you listened. You are my First Friend, and shall be forever more. This is indeed a toy! Yes! Yes!' And with that, the wind went blowing away, spiraling up higher and higher pushing the paper bird before it. When the wind had died down to just the merest puff of breeze, the young man heard one more whisper. 'If you ever have a need of me, First Friend, come to the cavern and ask, if you ever have a need'

And all was still and quiet, except for the constant drip of water and the ever present sound of ... whatever it was. The sound was very obviously coming from somewhere down below. Still very far, but if he listened closely, the young man could just barely make out the sound.

'Tock..... tick...... tock..... tick.'

It was such an odd sound, and the young man simply could not decide what it was. 'Lead on Fireflies', he said, knowing that the answer to this puzzle lay where the fireflies were taking him. Reaching up and touching the key, they young man wondered if he was still dreaming maybe. When he stubbed his toe on one of the tiny little sharp things coming from the floor, he knew it wasn't a dream, so all he could do was follow the fireflies and wonder.

As they went even further, ever downward, it became warmer. It became warm enough that the young man needed to rest more often, because it wasn't just simply warm, it was Hot, with a capital H. It became so hot that the young man had to take of his shirt and tie it around his forehead to keep the sweat from stinging his eyes so much. 'Fireflies!', he called. 'Why is it so hot here? What is causing it to be so when it was much cooler up above?'

The fireflies hmmmmed and ahemmmed quite a bit, until they understood the questions. 'MMmmiddle of the Earrrrth', they said. 'Mmmmmuch hotterrrr than the toppppp'

'Middle of the Earth? The middle? Towards the centerish type of middle? That middle of the earth?', he asked.

'Ahem.' said the fireflies, 'Yesssss'. And that was all they said, no matter how many questions the young man asked. And he asked a lot of them, too.

Down and down and as down as down can go and then down a little bit more than that and even more downish they traveled.

'Tock... tick... tock....tick....tock', the sound was getting louder all the time, and eventually the fireflies led the young man far enough that the sound was almost deafening. With his hands over his ears and his eyes screwed almost shut, he didn't even notice when the fireflies suddenly stopped and so he walked right through them. He didn't notice that he kept right on walking over a small bridge where a trickle of water flowed. He didn't notice that it wasn't as hot as it had been, and it was actually quite pleasant. In fact, he would have simply kept on walking if something had not stopped him. And it did, by bumping him on his nose.

'Owwww', cried the young man. He pulled his hands away from his ears to rub his nose, and at the same time opened his eyes to see what he had bumped into. Then he opened his eyes a bit wider. And maybe a bit wider than that. One of his hands reached out and touched what it was that he had bumped into.

It was a door.

And that, dear ones, is where I will stop for the night. My old head is simply too tired to carry any more stories tonight, and it's getting late. But don't give up hope! Perhaps the young man will walk through the door and find his answers tomorrow! Then again.......

Have a delicious night and dreams of wondrous things that you have only imagined might have existed, but probably did.

"'Knowing that I know where I'm going, means that I'm on the right road, regardless of what road that may be."