Just something short, about something else I imagine lives on that mountain. Watching. Watching... That mountain has this habit of being watchful. And if it does, there's probably only Skiver to blame.
I am pretty sure that Skiver is some kind of elf or elf-like creature; I'm still not 100 percent on that, and never really intend to be. But she is quite impish and childlike. She enjoys an extremely long lifespan, being probably a few thousand years old, yet appearing no older than 11 or 12. She lives alone on the mountain, per the dragon's allowance—all of which will be explained in due course. There will likely be a sketch of her on DeviantArt soonish.
So, she lives up there on the mountain and keeps an eye on things, and was lucky enough to see some things that happened while other heroes weren't looking. Just, you know, filling in some interludes and plotholes that I would have very much liked to see filled. This is what happens, when a fan isn't given closure for 8 years. :/
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The Mountain's Eyes
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I have no idea how this came to be all the way up here. Probably dropped and left behind by the last healer who came up here, several decades ago. And to think—it's been lying here under the trees all this time, and I never noticed. Some guardian I turned out to be!
Never have I seen a book so empty. I have so few, as it is. It has no story in it, which makes me feel kind of sad for it. Books are meant to hold great stories and useful information. But this one is blank. I suppose I shall just have to fill it with my own stories and information. It would be a shame if such a nice little book never met its destiny.
Sadly, there isn't much to tell today. It is fall, and it is getting colder. It's hard to tell farther up the summit, where it's always cold; but I guess Finlair feels it, too. The dragon has no name—he told me he is too ancient and powerful for one—so I call him Finlair. It sounds good for him, I think.
So, this big mountain is his home, and he has lived at the top of it for thousands of years. He likes it especially, because of the lake of gold at its heart. He is extremely proud of it. He doesn't let just anybody near it, you know. He's a dragon, after all. But he lets me hang around up here, as long as I keep an eye on the place. I guard the mountain for him, and he never has to worry. It's worked out nicely for the past several centuries, and I intend for it to go on working out nicely for many more to come. It's not like I could skip my purple and gray, pointy-eared self down to the village in the valley and make a home there. Those people seem awfully suspicious, from a distance.
At any rate, if anything unusual happens, you're going to hear about it, now. This may take a decade or two...
... ... ... ... ...
(A few months later)
Winter comes earlier and earlier every year, it seems, and tries to last as long as it can. And every year, there are more creepers crawling around. I don't even like a normal winter. I really don't like what all this is adding up to down the road.
... ... ... ... ...
(Several months later)
I watched the sunset today. Or, at least I tried to. Sunrise and sunset are always hard to see from up here, because of Finlair. He has to use his fire to clear the ice from his lair at least twice a day. I keep telling him that this wouldn't be a problem if he made a new lair further down the mountain side, but he keeps telling me no. He says that it must be this way. I don't understand dragons sometimes.
... ... ... ... ...
(Weeks later)
Sometimes I lay on my belly from a rise on the summit, and look down into the valley. I can see all the little people running around, and they look like ants. And whenever I watch them, I wonder what it must be like to live for less than a century. I've been alive for hundreds of them, and it seems like I never have enough to do with all that time. If I knew I had less than a hundred years to be alive, I would spend all of it trying to get things done. I would maybe panic, because a hundred years isn't a whole lot of time to get anything done.
And I wonder, if they ever wonder what it's like to live for thousands of years, and think of all the things they would do if they had all that time. The way I wonder about them.
They wouldn't like me much. But I think I would like them very much, if ever I met them.
... ... ... ... ...
(Fall again)
I must have been very tired last night. Usually, Finlair's roaring from the summit wakes me up at dawn every morning; I almost never sleep later, because that kind of fuss is hard to sleep through. But I woke on my own today, and it was late-the sun was already high overhead. Very strange... Probably the most unusual thing that will happen for the next decade.
Later: Curious. The sun is setting now, and fast. It will be gone, soon. But I haven't heard a peep from the summit yet. I wonder if Finlair is already asleep. Or if he's simply decided that he's used to the ice, after all these years, and doesn't need to melt it out anymore. I'd sure like to know why he's been so quiet all day. Perhaps in the morning, I should pay him a visit. Just pop my head in and make sure he's alright. Part of me is a bit worried...
... ... ... ... ...
(Next day)
That visit went poorly.
Finlair is rarely happy to see me, but at least he speaks politely and answers me when I have questions. He never snaps or roars or tries to eat me whole.
But that is precisely what he did when I reached his lair. He was terribly unhappy to see me today, and I don't know why. He didn't even speak to me-he just roared like a monster and snapped his jaws toward me, until I finally had to run back the way I had come in.
...I had forgotten that Finlair is a dragon. But I never have thought of him as a vicious monster before. That's what everyone else thinks of him. But he really is wise and powerful, and good, as dragons go. It's been a long time since I've been afraid of him...
I wonder what the trouble could be. What could have made him so angry? Was it something I did? Now I'm very worried.
... ... ... ... ...
(Days later)
It has been four days. Finlair still hasn't made a sound, and he still won't speak to me. Also, there has been no fire from his lair, and I am beginning to see why it is so important that he stay in his lair, melting the ice twice a day. I always thought it was dumb, and a waste of time. I think I finally see, though.
I looked down into the valley, to see if the people had noticed how quiet it's been lately. And I suddenly realized that there was supposed to be a stream running through the valley. The stream has always been there. I guess that after all these years of gazing upon it, I quit noticing it. And now it's just not there anymore.
That's just a weird thought to me. Now I'm thinking about the people in the village, and I'm beginning to understand what Finlair meant, about the way things must be. The ice builds up in his lair. He melts it with his flame. All that water flows down through the mountain and becomes the stream. It feeds everything in its path.
The village relies on that stream, in more than one way. The people will be missing it. I feel sort of bad about not appreciating it before.
I've grown more and more worried about Finlair every day. He is acting so strange, and everything around us is being affected by it. He still won't tell me what's wrong, but I think he may be sick. Very sick. And what am I supposed to do about that? I'm just a guardian, little more than his groundskeeper. It's not like I have any business nursing one of the most ancient creatures in the world! Even if I did, I lack the skill. I'm terrific at watching things, but actually kind of terrible at healing them.
I'm beginning to wonder if I should go down there, after all, and find some help. Where there are human beings, there are books, and medicine, and skilled hands.
And I hate to admit it, but I need help. I need it badly, and I need it right now! I'm getting kind of scared...
... ... ... ... ...
(A few more days later)
Wow, am I lucky! I got my wish: a bunch of humans just turned up here, on the mountain. And from what I've gathered from a safe distance, they mean to reach the summit and see to Finlair. Even if some of them don't seem to believe he is real. That's a silly idea, that he wouldn't be real. Of course he is real! How could he not be? Humans are stranger than dragons.
I was just hanging around on my usual ledge—it overlooks the tunnel where the steam usually flows from within the cliff, and sits a short distance from a small forest. Just as I was thinking about steeling my nerves and going down there, these people appeared below me. Then they tossed a rope up to the ledge, so they could climb.
Of course, they missed the first time. On the second try, I caught the end and looped it around a good, sturdy rock, before getting the heck out of their sight. I'm glad they've come, and I sure do want them here, but I don't think they would feel too kindly about me.
So they climbed up the cliff and sat on the ledge for a while, while I sat in a tree and kept an eye on them. There are seven of them altogether, and it seems that no others will join them. They're enormous, now that I can see them up close; the tallest of them is six feet, at least. Except for the boy. He's tiny! Hardly bigger than little old me.
But he seems to be their navigator. He has this map-it reeks of magic, and if I've understood the others proper, it can only be read if he is touching it. Happily, I was close enough to see it, too. They headed off into the trees-amazingly managing not to elbow me in the face a few times-toward the spider's den.
I'm not going to worry too much about that, I don't think. Those things are scary looking, but pretty tame if you leave them alone. The humans will be fine. I'm more worried about what could happen ahead, in the swamp. Even I have problems in there. I'm thinking, I should jump ahead and make sure at least a few of them make it through.
I'm looking forward to finding out more about these people. Each of them is very different from the others. I sense there is tension in their party, and I keeping thinking that this could cause them problems. This is no place to be at odds with your companions, after all. I've heard a few names thrown around, but I can't quite place them to their owners.
I take that back, actually. The boy is called Rowan. They talked to and about him a lot. Some of them are pretty mad that he's here, and I guess I can't blame them. Others seem less so. For myself, I'm not sure what to make of him. He sure stands out against his companions.
I sense that Rowan is special. Really special. I feel as if I've seen his face somewhere before. Hm...
... ... ... ... ...
(Evening)
I think they are safe for now. Smaller in number than they were, but safe.
I didn't dare go into the death trap that is the swamp. No one can cross it alone. I learned that the hard way in my early days on the mountain. So I went around to the other side to wait for them. I thought to head them off before they wandered into the swamp, to show them the safe way around it... But they are just humans. They couldn't have gone the way I go. And anyway, I have a creeping feeling that I need to just let them follow their map.
Rowan's map, forgive me. It's apparently useless without him.
They eventually made it out of the swamp, but it took them all afternoon and into the evening. When they collapsed on the bank, mere feet from where I've been hiding, I decided not to bother them. This dumb place is exhausting just to sit near for hours.
And three of them are missing. Their two tallest are no longer with them, and that short, bossy lady is gone, too. Whether they are dead, or just couldn't handle the swamp and turned back, I don't know yet. I imagine, when the remaining party wakes, they may talk more about it. Oddly, I don't think they will be too upset. Their missing members felt like the source of their party's tension. I kind of didn't like them much, either.
In the meantime, they're all fast asleep. Being the guardian that I am, I'll just sit here in the shadows, just out of their immediate sight, and make sure nothing happens to them.
This feeling that I know Rowan's face is gnawing the back of my brain to tatters. This is getting frustrating.
Later: It is decided. I like these people.
After another few hours of sleeping, they slowly woke up and began putting together a camp. Once they had a fire and were really settled, they began talking. Not about their journey, but about each other. And people I've never heard of, and things I didn't know happened. And their home. They talked a lot about their home. It sounds like a home worth all the trouble they're going through.
I could finally call them by their names if I had to, and so I shall. There is Marlie, the only lady left in their party, who I think is very pretty and very nice. Then there is Allun, who is very silly; he keeps making me laugh. I'm going to blow my cover, for sure, if he tells any more jokes or stories. But then, would that be so bad? Lastly, there is John, who appears to be the closest they have to a leader. He looks kind of scary, but I don't think he knows how snuggly he is inside. Someone needs to give him a hug. That someone may just end up being me, because he also seems very sad for some reason.
And then, of course, there is still Rowan... I've spent most of this time trying not to look too hard at him, because my head could explode if I think about his face much harder. Ug. What is it about him? Maybe it's just the very obviously magical map he's carried all this way, probably without realizing what it is.
Or maybe it's just his courage. He reminds me a little of myself, perhaps. So small, so easily overlooked, unnoticed, in this big, dangerous place. Stuck here, with people who don't exactly care for his company. But here he is, making the best of it, moving forward, being brave. Being stronger than people would have guessed he could be. But he has something worth moving forward and being strong for.
Which makes me wonder, what am I moving forward and being strong for...?
Later still: Finlair told me about human beings once, a long, long time ago. He said they were usually foolish, proud, greedy creatures; but he also said that they experience things that beings like us can maybe never know. We can feel things like pleasure, fear, sorrow, and affection, like any creature can. But humans are different. They feels those same things a hundredfold, if the occasion is fitting.
He said those things are called joy, terror, grief, and love. He said that humans can be moved to uncountable strength and power by such things, in ways he and I will never know. Even though they make a mess of our world, humans aren't to be underestimated or slighted. Their ability to be so moved by mere feelings is rare and beautiful. Perhaps, even worthy of coveting.
I didn't understand what he meant by that, then. But I tried for a long time to imagine what that looks like. I'm not sure what I expected, but it wasn't this. Not at all.
It comes up quietly, and wraps itself around you like a warm dry cloak. And just like that, it me: I was sitting just outside a bright, glowing circle of what Finlair called Love.
These humans are absolutely filled with Love. And all kinds of it—there's more than just one Love! They love their home, but not the same as they love their families, and not the same as they love each other. These four people really love each other a lot. And even then, there are different loves they have. Loves I don't know the names of. It is so complicated. I don't know what to say about it, other than it is there.
And that I wish I could feel something that big. I wonder if I could ever be taught to feel such things...?
... ... ... ... ...
(Morning of the following day)
The map has led them into one of the caves. The one with that weird face and the trap tunnels at the end. That's one way to get to the top, I suppose. Not the way I would have picked-there are lots of ways to Finlair's den nearby, which even the four humans could have climbed well enough. I, personally, never go that way. One tunnel leads to a sheer drop, onto sharp rocks. The other is just a rabbit hole that spirals upward and upward for perhaps a day or more. None of them but little Rowan would be able to squeeze into it, anyway; I'm nearly too big for it.
Both ways are truly terrible. I would have picked any other way to the summit. Even the one that passes close to the mountains' heart, where the treasure is hidden. I feel conflicted now. I really should have stopped them before they went into the caves, and taken them down a safer path. But a shiver went down my spine, and I remembered that they must follow the map. To whatever end it is taking them down. Perhaps there is a purpose?
'Tis a mean purpose, whatever it is.
I don't think it necessary to follow them down there. They have each other, and the map, after all. I should look in on Finlair instead. I haven't been to check on him since the day before last. He might not even know that there are humans on the mountain, looking for him. He should know. I hope he isn't too angry that I didn't come sooner...
Later: I fear that Finlair will never speak to me again. It is enough to make me want to cry. He chased me off before I could even explain what's been going on. I don't think he's even been eating, and I have no idea why. I have no idea what is going on around here anymore, and I am getting a bad feeling that if I can't do anything about it, then there is very little the humans can do.
I've returned to the cave entrance, and now feel less dismal and more puzzled by what I have found. For some reason, Allun has left the others, and is sitting out here by himself, weeping abysmally. Something really awful must have happened in there. And to think, he was so happy just hours ago. All I've seen of him is silliness and smiles. But he is sad now. I've never seen someone so sad...
Finlair once said that grief is a sadness so deep and painful, it makes your heart feel as if it is breaking.
So. That is what grief looks like. Perhaps this is what it feels like. I don't know what happened in the cave, but my heart hurts for this man. To be so alone, and far away from the people he loves so much... I've never known such feelings for myself; but now that I've seen them, I can imagine. If so much love can give him so much strength, this kind of sorrow must be killing him. How can he survive it?
What in the stars happened in there? And where are the other three? They haven't really tried to crawl up that rabbit hole, have they...?
Oh, if they have, poor silly Allun will never see his friends again. That's a crushing thought. Now I really will cry...
Later still: Now, this was interesting. These humans are entirely too full of surprises and feelings, but I think I like it.
Not five minutes had passed, after I finished writing the last entry and stuck this journal back in my pocket. The sound of footsteps was echoing out of the cave, growing louder; and if I listened carefully, I could hear someone sniffling and shivering from cold. And, amazingly, even though it was faint and still far off, Allun seemed to hear it about the same time as I did.
He got up and went back into the cave, and I was left to sit and wait outside in my hiding place. I had only waited a few moments before he came shuffling back out again; but he had brought someone out with him. I had to blink a couple of times before I realized who it was. It was just Marlie, dripping wet, and sort of wilted. She's been so strong and sturdy all this time, and she is so very tall. She had become so small, I didn't recognize her at all.
I began to furiously imagine what had been going on in this cave, to force these people apart from each other. Perhaps they began fighting amongst themselves, turning each other away one by one. Or perhaps these two had been injured somehow and couldn't continue? What could be so big and so important, to make not one, but two of them abandon their friends?
Of course, as soon as they were settled again, Allun asked what had happened, and Marlie explained briefly. Very briefly, because she was suddenly in tears, as well. The others have taken the rabbit hole, after all, and she had meant to go with them; except, for some reason that she didn't bother explaining, she wasn't able to and had to turn back. And now she feels like a failure and a bad excuse for a friend. She wept over some broken promise, and a damn fear she doesn't have the nerve to overcome, and having to go back down there and facing everyone like this.
It was just, I don't know. I had no idea that one person could feel so much sorrow—or rather, grief—at one time. I expected her to split in two at any second. I'm sure that I would, if so much raw emotion took me over for too long. It was awful to watch. I've really come to like these people; seeing them so upset is upsetting me, too. At the same time, though, it was strangely beautiful. At least they are capable of such things.
These huge feelings of theirs really are powerful, just like Finlair said they were. And, if you can believe it, I got to see something even bigger than anything else I've seen from them. So, there sat Marlie on the cold ground, still soaked to the skin, and weeping so hard I thought she would dissolve and seep into the earth. And she kept whispering over and over again that she was a worthless failure. (Which I don't think is true in the very least. I think she is impressive.)
Over and over, until Allun took her face in his hands and made her look up at him. The look on his own face suddenly changed everything. There was this warmth and comfort in his face, like I hadn't seen in any of them yet. And then, the words that came out of his head... Being the guardian of a literal lake of gold, the words he chose struck me right in the chest. As if an arrow had been shot into my heart, sharp, and out of the blue, unexpected. I'll never forget it, for as long as I live.
"If I had to choose between you and all the gold in the world," he said, "I would pick you. You, with all your failures and triumphs, fears and strengths, and everything inside and out. You are worth more to me than gold. More than the world."
I know he meant every word of it. And I know that she did, too. It instantly changed her grief to what I suppose must have been joy. Then she did something unusual: as I watched, she pulled him even closer and pressed her face hard against his. It was strange, but I've heard of this. It is one of the greatest gestures of affection humans have.
And I thought to myself, this must be one of the greatest kinds of Love there is. I sat in wonder, watching it, feeling a sort of magic I never would have imagined possible in my dizziest, loneliest daydreams. No one has ever looked at me or spoken to me like that. No one ever will.
I feel blessed to have been able to share this moment with them. Even if they have no idea that I am here. I may never think of magic the same way again.
Later still: Oh, I've done something I maybe should not have done. If this works out the way it did last time, I could be in big trouble.
But I couldn't help it! The humans have almost no food or water left, and they have a hard journey ahead of them. It took them two days to get as far as they did in the first place, and now they have to go all the way back. All by themselves, with no help. I watched as they spent several minutes going over their supplies, attempting to divide it up sensibly. I, personally, was extremely doubtful about their efforts; and I am certain that their optimism about it was forced.
As I went on watching this, trying to think of a way I could help them without jumping not and scaring them to death, I suddenly had a thought. A thought that, you know, what's a couple of berries, in the end? There were a couple of bushes growing near where I had been hiding, and there was tons of fruit. The berries themselves are surprisingly filling, and they are full of juice that can be drunk.
So, yeah, what's a few berries, I decided. Still keeping out of their sight, I chose to toss some pebbles at them until I got their attention. And I sure didn't mean to pelt Allun in the eye, but at least it worked. He got up and came over to investigate-once again managing to miss me by a few measly inches.
He didn't find what had hit him, of course, but I think he was still pretty pleased with what he found. He had all the fruit picked in a matter of minutes. They both looked extremely relieved, and I think the berries cheered them immensely. It's hard not to be cheered up by their flavor, or their smell.
And then, the thing I had kind of hoped wouldn't happen happened. Marlie might have finished off her share of the berries right then and there, which is what I would have preferred. But Allun stopped her before she could eat many more.
"We should save some for when we get home. At least we will have one good thing to show for our trouble."
To which I had to suppress a groan of nervousness. Humans always do this.
With that, they packed up the berries they hadn't eaten, and started cautiously back into the swamp. That was about an hour ago, now. I hope that their progress is better than it was the first time, now that they sort of know the way, and are traveling lighter than before.
But I feel awful for them. I don't know who they saw in the swamp the first time; but I'd bet my pointy ears that this time they're seeing Rowan and John everywhere. I wonder how far up the tunnel they've gotten by now? Probably not very. Their friends have probably made better progress by now.
A pity, all this. I never did figure out who Rowan reminds me of. I guess I never will, now.
Seeing as I won't be seeing any of these people again, and Finlair still refuses to see me, I should probably make sure Allun and Marlie get back to the ledge in one piece. I wonder if I can stall them, or maybe trick them somehow, so they'll finish the berries before they get back? The fewer of those things make it off this rock, the better.
Later still: They are gone, at last. I shall never see them again. I shall miss them terribly. However, I have a small token to remember their visit by. Well ahead of them, back in the spider's den, I found an object lying on the path. It has turned out to be a little mirror with a handle. It must have belonged to one of them, it wasn't here before. But they have left it behind, and now it is mine.
... ... ... ... ...
(Following morning)
It's been a shame to see these people go, and perhaps even killed. They've made feel things I never knew could be felt. They made me feel bigger. Now that it's just me, alone on the mountain, the place seems much smaller. I never even spoke to them. They never even knew I was there. I think. Maybe one or two of them knew I was there, without knowing I was there.
This is dumb. I feel as though they became my friends. That's a stupid idea, of course. They don't know that a purple skinned imp named Skiver just spent two days of her time following them across some of the more dangerous parts of this mountain. They never will. And now, I'm never going to see any of them again.
It's just a shame, I suppose. And I'm still going to have to find someone to take care of Finlair for me. I had hoped maybe one of these people could do it... But it looks like that was a bust. I guess it's all up to me, now.
... ... ... ... ...
(Days later)
It's been exactly a week since that last entry, and everything has worked out, after all! All that misery seems silly, now. Everything fell into place just as it was supposed to.
Finlair finally explained it all several days ago, when he was more himself again. His fire is back and as good as ever, and the stream is flowing as it is supposed to, which is a relief. He isn't exactly sorry for how he behaved to me, but he admits that he was a bit foolish for chasing me away all the time. He was not in his right mind all that time. He pointed at the jagged end of a bone, stuck in a crevice of the lair, and told me to pick it up and hold onto it for him.
Apparently, it had been stuck in his throat the whole time. He said the pain was excruciating, and it kept him from eating or using his fire. He had tried to remove it himself, but was never able to. He says he should have asked my help when I offered it—I could have popped it out easily. It was a simple enough task for the boy to accomplish, he said.
I tilted my head at that remark. They boy? He didn't really mean Rowan, did he? I had thought he was dead by then. Seeing my obvious confusion and disbelief, he chuckled in his dragonish way.
"Whenever there is trouble, the land sends an answer," he explained. "It is rarely the answer we expect. In this instance, I was too relieved that an answer had appeared to waste time questioning it. The boy did what he was meant to do, and then went on his way. And that is the end of that."
Finlair is good at explaining things so that I can try to understand. In the meantime, he wants me to add the bone fragment to his pile of special things. Even though it caused him a lot of pain, it has become special to him. For the first time in many centuries, he and a human being shared something really deep and important. They touched him. And they touched me, too.
He says that every one of them that came left with a lesson to hold onto. He also says that we, two, learned something from them. Everything is connected, he says. I think I can really appreciate that, now.
And I'm grinning and giggling to myself. I had thought Rowan seemed special. I guess I now know why.
... ... ... ... ...
(Only two months later)
Yuck, it is definitely winter now. My least favorite part of the year. It didn't used to be, but that was way back when it lasted a reasonable length of time. With all these stupid creepers running around up here, the cold just sticks longer and harder than it's supposed to. There are so many of them now.
I remember when those big, fuzzy things used to parade up the mountain every winter to weed them out. It's all they really do, in the grand scheme of things, but it's a pretty big job. I sure can't do it. I haven't the teeth, horns, or claws for it. The last people who lived here didn't get it, either. If someone doesn't figure it out soon, bad things are going to happen.
Finlair says to wait, because everything will right itself on its own. He says it always does. I think that's stupid, but it's not my job to do anything about. I will just have to wait, like everyone else. I hate waiting.
... ... ... ... ...
(Spring)
Yep. I'm in trouble. Finlair looked down at the valley this morning, and noticed what I already knew was there. The red bushes are slowly taking over the valley. They've been spreading rapidly since the first thaw, which, honestly, wasn't that long ago.
Now Finlair is angry with me. He still blames me for what happened last time. It was only one time. How was I supposed to know he would take five whole bushes worth of berries? I was only trying to help.
The dragon doesn't care. He growled something about a wheel that I've set turning once more, and muttered thanks that the stewards were already aware of the danger and on their way. They know nearly everything about the land, and how to care for it. If the land is in trouble, they will fix it.
So, while this is a problem, I'm not going to fuss and fret over it. If the stewards are coming, I'm sure that everything will be perfectly fine.
And I know, I know, I am partly to blame for what happened with that valley. If I hadn't sent them home with the mountain berries that time, their home wouldn't have been overrun. I had only meant to help them, then. They needed all the help they could get. Most of them had been hauled off in chains, you know. I felt bad for them. So I gave them food and shelter for a few weeks until the fighting down there was done, and sent them home with a bunch of berries to plant for themselves.
And then we all found out that the berries are one of the dragon's treasures I'm supposed to be guarding. And that they turn quickly into man-eating monsters if they get outside the gold fields. Those few survivors are dead now because of that mistake. That is entirely my fault. There's really no "partly" about it.
And when I led Allun right to the berry patch, back in the fall, I was thinking just about the same thing. They were in trouble, they needed help, I helped them out. I'm really much better at observing quietly than I am at reacting.
I guess that now, we just wait here for the stewards to arrive. There's nothing much else we can do about it.
... ... ... ... ...
(Mere weeks later)
Boy, what a night this has been. Finlair made me go down into the pit; he said he had a suspicion that something was happening there. Just another one of his treasures I'm supposed to be guarding, though he doesn't blame me for avoiding the place. The pit is terrible. And the protective elixir I have is running low. Luckily, the trees don't seem to like my blood that much, and largely leave me alone. Having silver blood has its benefits after all.
So I slunk down the northwest side of the mountain, into the remains of the valley, to have a look around. It seemed normal enough, at first. Nothing much is ever happening in there these days. Dawn came, and it was quiet as ever. As I was getting ready to back, and perched on the old wall at the far end of the valley, I suddenly heard voices screaming in panic.
I couldn't see who it was. They were still hidden behind the stand of trees that's clustered around the old lake. (It's really more of a marsh now.) It dawned on me that whoever it was might be stuck or lost, but I wasn't sure if I should reveal myself. Instead, I pulled the mirror out of my pocket and used it to catch the first light of the dawn, creating a beacon.
I could clearly hear a girl's voice, yelling that she saw a light ahead. Satisfied that I had played enough of a part for one day, I climbed back up the wall and up the cliff, hiding myself from whoever was coming.
After a moment, a steward girl came running into view, headed for the wall, with tree roots crawling after her in every direction. And who should she be dragging behind her, but my old friend Rowan! I have to admit, after he did such a good job helping Finlair while I was completely useless, I was happy to see him again so soon.
They scrambled up onto the wall where I had been only minutes before, and promptly passed out. I didn't blame them. I would have done the same, if I had come all the way through the pit, being chased by the trees. I did my job and guarded them while they rested. But the girl revived quickly, and sent a call out to the other stewards. Knowing that someone would come flying in to pick them up shortly, I headed back up the mountain to tell Finlair what I had seen.
Finlair seemed pleased by the news, and told me to watch the valley for signs of change. Which is where I am right now, as I write this down. Change is happening, even now. I can see it: the stewards are flying and running all around the village below, and the red trees are dying rapidly in their wake. So they have figured the whole thing out, and are setting it to rights. Probably because Rowan was involved in this, somehow. I can feel it. Why else would he have been down there, in that horrible place?
This whole thing is shaking out just fine. Thank goodness. It didn't take the trees a long time to take the last valley over. It was only a matter of months. These people will be spared the result of my mistakes. And this time, there's someone to warn other people of the danger. If only the last valley had left some survivors, these people would have known better.
As soon as the last blotch of red has vanished, I shall let Finlair know that the danger has passed. Then I am going to bed. I am exhausted. Though I suppose that Rowan and his companion are infinitely more so.
... ... ... ... ...
(Following fall)
Finlair told me today that something big has happened near the coast. There has been a change. He has mentioned a great power there has been slowly fading over the last few years; he has felt its presence in the world growing smaller and smaller with time. He said it nearly flickered out, and then suddenly roared back to full strength.
He also senses that a tiny fragment of that power is moving steadily closer to the mountain. He can taste the deepness and mystery of ancient waters in the air, like he has never known before. He doesn't know what it means, but he doesn't feel threatened or troubled by it. If anything, he feels good about it. I wish he knew what it was. I am now burning with curiosity.
... ... ... ... ...
(A month later)
Almost a year since the people were up here, getting lost in the swamp and unwittingly teaching me about love and grief and joy and such. I wonder how they are all doing now. I wonder if they are remembering this place even now, and everything they saw. Stupid creepers will be acting up soon. It's going to be a bad winter, if the fuzzies don't make it up here this year.
... ... ... ... ...
(Winter. Yuck.)
A nest of creepers broke lose this afternoon. It sent a rockslide tumbling down the far side of the mountain, and the babies exploded everywhere. I'm glad they're easily dispatched by a little fire. They make a mess wherever they go. If they get into the valley again, there will be nothing I can do to contain them. I hope I don't get blamed for this.
One of them also managed to get its fangs in my ankle, which is a peeve like no other. My whole leg feels like it's been turned to ice, and walking is difficult. It took ages and most of the bandages I have for the bleeding to let up, and now I shall have to wash them all. This is so aggravating.
... ... ... ... ...
(Spring. Finally.)
Springtime once again. It looks like the stewards have come back to the valley. This is the third year in a row they've come. They normally only turn up every other year. Last year was different; they came to fix a serious problem. I wonder why they've come again. Is there something going on we don't know about? I find that hard to believe. Nothing happens around here that we don't know about. I'll be keeping an eye on them.
... ... ... ... ...
(Following afternoon)
Who or what would be stupid enough to fly right into Finlair's own territory without an invitation? Something big did just this afternoon. It happened so suddenly, and without warning, we didn't even realize it was there until it was already gone. Finlair is furious, and so am I, a little.
Stewards are one thing. They take care of the land, and they fly low, keeping respectfully out of his way. But whatever this thing was, it barged right into the open air, right across the mountain summit, without even bothering to acknowledge that there is a whole dragon living up here.
And then, as quickly as it had come, it was gone again. Now we can't even do anything about it.
Finlair is in a rage over this. He also said that something is stirring far away. Something that hasn't been over here in a while, but is about to come back. Whatever it is, they would be wise to keep to their own space. If they come into his bubble again, he'll kill them all.
... ... ... ... ...
(Next day)
The village is uneasy from yesterday's sudden visit, as Finlair and I are. There's almost nothing going on down there. The only things I can see moving are the fuzzies, who seem anxious to me, and the steward flyers, who've been circling the sky without stop since yesterday. They're preparing for something. It must be whatever Finlair sensed was stirring. Humans may be messy and foolish, but every now and again they manage to get it right. I hope that every now and again is right now.
... ... ... ... ...
(Two days later)
They really are stupid. Not a week later, and a whole gaggle of them flew into Finlair's airspace earlier today! Needless to say, all of them are dead.
Except for the one I managed to see. I was on my ledge as usual, when it came darting by. Flying lower than the others, and carrying the most unusual but precious cargo. I don't know if Finlair would have shot it down, after all. The lumpy little dragon-shaped thing came whizzing by, only about as high as the ledge; but even from the distance, I could see all its riders. Almost not surprisingly, good old Rowan was one of them. His steward friend from last spring was also there, and I'm pretty sure I recognized Allun, too. I have no idea who the others were, but these three, at least, were there.
Naturally, this struck me as odd. And off in the east, I could see a small flock of things headed for us—taking up all the airspace they could, the disrespectful buggers. I skipped off to warn Finlair; but I was only halfway up the summit when I saw the ribbon of flame shoot through the air.
That small flock is dead now, say for the one that was smart enough to keep its distance. Whatever was stirring, I have a pretty good suspicion that it's been dealt with soundly.
... ... ... ... ...
(A whole year later)
Winter again, and the fuzzies still haven't shown up. This is going to be the worst winter ever. Maybe worse than the last time this happened. And I was bitten on the exact same ankle as last year. They always go for the ankles, little pests. I don't expect my leg to thaw out until springtime. Where's our Rowan when you need him?
... ... ... ... ...
(A few months later)
Finally, the fuzzies escaped and made it up here. But they keep getting all turned around, silly things. They know exactly what they have to do—it's in their blood to deal with the creepers and make this miserable cold go the heck away. But they haven't done it in so long, they have no idea what to do or where they should go. It's comic.
So I've been doing my best to lead them. It's hard though, as my ankle is still hard to walk on. They don't trust me; which is fitting, because I don't know if I trust them, either. The little black one keeps looking at me funny. I have no patience for these creatures. I'm about ready to give up and leave them to their own devices, if they're so stubborn.
But I know I can't do that. It's supposed to be spring now, but it had may as well be the dead of winter. There are too many creepers. The winter just won't end on its own. The fuzzies have to get to the nest and root the things out, and I have no choice but to help them. They'll never get to the nest at this rate. They'll get themselves killed this way.
I say again, where is Rowan when you need him? He took excellent care of Finlair when he needed help. These dumb fuzzies would be pathetically easy for him to deal with...
... ... ... ... ...
(Following day)
Oh, there he is! Took him long enough.
At least he is here now, and will get to the bottom of this. As always, I will keep an eye on him and his friends. Do my best to make sure they stay alive, without popping out and getting in the way. This would be easier if I could reveal myself, but in get the impression again that I need to stay out of it and let him do it himself. I hate that.
I'm getting that feeling again that I know him from a long time ago. He suddenly looks so familiar to me, and so do his companions. I could swear, I've seen the three of them before, in exactly this same spot, doing exactly the same things. I'm getting mighty tired of this...
Later: Finally, a change in scenery. Rowan's steward friend came flying in out of nowhere, which makes me even more optimistic. If he's got a steward with him, he's sure to get this together. They're still pretty far behind the fuzzies, but they'll catch up eventually.
Now I have to make a decision. Do I stay here and keep tailing them, or check on the fuzzies? Perhaps stall them so the humans can catch up faster? The humans are walking right into another danger zone, and I feel like I should keep an eye on them, make sure they live through it. Even if the fuzzies don't know what they're doing, at least they have an idea.
Mere moments later: I don't even know anymore. These people. I swear.
I can't believe I didn't notice it before. Rowan's brought something up here—something very magical, even more so than the map from the other year. One of his friends was saying something I couldn't hear, and all of a sudden, bam! It happened. I felt magic flying through the air, and my old friend went stiff as a plank. He muttered something else I couldn't hear, and promptly passed out. He passes out a lot, now that I think of it.
His friends were very upset, of course, but he came around quickly. After discussing it briefly, they continued forward, into the place I lovingly call the courtyard of illusions. If there's anything else alive in there with you, it seems like something you hate. Something you generally want to kill. For me, it's usually baby creepers. I've ended up accidentally killing a lot of squirrels in there...
Anyway, in they went, and somehow had the sense to hold onto each other and keep their eyes down. Until the big guy looked up, and ruined everything. He attacked them, and they attacked him, except for the little dark haired girl, who just started screaming and crying and nearly had her head sliced off a few times. Again, I should have intervened; but this time my good sense stopped me. Too many blades flying around. I would have been impaled on the spot, or at least been badly damaged. My ankle still isn't as reliable as it normally is.
So this went on for several minutes, and I heard all kinds of illusions addressed—creepers, something called an ishkin, something else called a Zebak fiend which actually sounds vaguely familiar to me—until something typically unusual happened. Through quite a bit of trial and error, they actually found a way to stop the illusions. The dark haired girl's tears, of all things, from what I saw and heard. Luckily, they had plenty of those.
I swear. Who would have ever thought of something like that? This mountain is just mean on purpose, sometimes.
Now they are sitting around fixing themselves, and looking like they feel generally bad about themselves. I think they'll be okay for a while on their own, now. There isn't much danger in their immediate path. Now may be a good time to go see where the fuzzies are now. Then I can cleverly lead the humans forward.
The dark haired girl has this box. A long wooden box, and no one has mentioned what may be inside it, but she is extremely protective about it. It was damaged in the scuffle, and it's made her very anxious. Whatever she's holding onto must be very powerful and valuable. I have half a mind to pinch it and see what it is. And maybe figure out what sort of magical trinket Rowan has brought with him this time. It's just killing me to know.
Actually a while later: I found the fuzzies a hours ago, riddled with parasites. Not surprising, and not at all terrible, when you know what you're doing. The sulfur spring takes care of those, quick as you like.
The sulfur spring being the problem of the moment. Even I haven't been this way in a while, and we have all found dead trees covering the good pool. The fuzzies could probably just lift up the trunks with their horns and have it done with, and are trying to do just that right now. But it's been too long already, and the parasites are weakening them. Three of them together don't have the strength for it.
And, sadly, neither do I. I don't even have any parasites, but I'm only one imp with a bad ankle. I could use a human or two, or four, to help me with this right about now. If they struggle out of the trees and figure it out fast enough, they could maybe do it. Where in the blazes are they? They should have been this way by now...
Honestly. This is the most difficult, problematic winter I have ever seen. What the deuce is going on around here these days? I'm so fed up.
... ... ... ... ...
(Next morning)
The humans finally showed up, but it's pretty obvious that they've been through something while I wasn't watching. I spent the whole night watching the fuzzies, making sure none of them died, thinking, how much trouble can four humans really get into in a few hours? They're doing alright... Sort of. Anyway, I wasn't too concerned about them; but I probably should have been, because they were a wreck when they got here.
The big guy has kind of limping around the first time I saw him; I think he's been attacked by a creeper since then, which bites. Literally. He looked especially terrible. Which was an amazing feat, because they were all covered in parasites by the time they made it out of the trees. I think the steward even tried to burn one of them off her hand with a torch at one point, which I could have told her wouldn't work.
All these things were technicalities, of course. The sulfur springs would fix all that, if only they could move the dead trees. Fortunately, Rowan surveyed the area and figured out that this was exactly what the fuzzies were trying to do. He sure catches on fast. I can really appreciate that about him, not many humans are great at that.
They couldn't move the trees, either. Just as I was getting ready to scream in frustration, the big guy suddenly started pulling stuff out of his pack, babbling excitedly about an idea, and set his friends to putting it place. Because, you see, he couldn't really move at the moment. After an hour or so, they had ropes rigged up over the low hanging branches of the standing trees, and looped around the dead ones below. With a little teamwork and a lot more effort from everyone, now that they were all weakened from the parasites, they hoisted the trees out of the way and uncovered the spring.
I always forget how bad it smells, which is why I always end up forgetting why I usually go around the place. But at least it gets rid of the parasites. And they all figured this out pretty easily, once the fuzzies started jumping in the spring. The big guy came out completely fixed up, hardly even limping anymore. You should have seen the steward's face when she pulled her hand out of the spring, and the burn was completely gone. I don't think I've ever seen anyone so delighted with anything on this mountain. But I suppose I would be pretty thrilled, too.
So now, the whole herd of fuzzies and all four humans will have bathed in the spring, and will be able to move forward with little difficulty for a while. All the same, I'll be sticking close. It's good that they've finally found each other. Now I'm not torn between two opposite ends of this rock. That has been exhausting.
Whenever the humans are talking about the fuzzies, they keep using this strange word. Buksha, I think—I don't even pretend to know how to spell such a word. It simply sounds odd to me. But it is what the humans call them. I don't think I was aware they had a name. Like Finlair, they are ancient. He said that they were already here when he chose to dwell on this mountain. They are ancient and wise. Perhaps too much so for a name.
But, like Finlair, we have to call them something. I call him Finlair; the humans simply call him "the dragon". I call them fuzzies, because they are extremely fuzzy; the humans call them buksha, probably because they decided it sounded good for them. Which is why Finlair is Finlair to me, after all.
I'm still calling them fuzzies. Humans can do what they want, but buksha sounds stupid to me. What's that even supposed to mean?
Each of the fuzzies appears to have a name of its own, and Rowan appears to know them all. I don't know how he does that. They all look exactly the same to me, except for the obnoxious little black one, who keeps staring at my hiding place in the trees. He'll give me away if he keeps doing that. In particular, though, Rowan keeps coming back to the one who leads the herd, and I believe I heard him call her Star. He seems worried about her for some reason, but she plainly has no time for him. She's ready to get going again. She's uncommonly impatient for a dumb beast. She's got sass. I like that.
They'll be moving again in a moment or two. The last few fuzzies are climbing out of the water. As soon as they pull back together, sassy Star will have her wish. I hope I can keep up without making myself too obvious. If the black one doesn't stop shooting nasty looks in my direction, it just might... Go accidentally missing, maliciously...
... ... ... ... ...
(Evening)
I am the worst guard ever. It's official. The humans found the heart of the mountain. The thing that my only purpose in being here is to keep other things from finding. They walked right into it, and now I am sort of hiding for my life. If Finlair finds out that I let them just stumble into his dearest treasure, he'll kill me for sure.
But, the humans kept me entertained and on my toes for the rest of the journey. They always manage to do that. And at least, the fuzzies got where they were supposed to be, and are doing what they were made to do. The creepers in the immediate area are being slaughtered in droves, in numbers I could never hope to achieve by myself. Already, I can feel the cold letting up. It will be a normal spring again in no time. I sure hope I live to see it...
Oh. And this happened on our way. I was able to get really close, and could actually see and hear everything—which was a real treat, because I haven't seen things like this since the last time Rowan was up here, just a couple of years ago. I can't believe I had already forgotten that humans have an amazing ability to feel feelings without exploding. Well, today I learned that they can apparently feel all that while single handedly holding up the weight of a small world. Still without exploding. Even Rowan can do that, and he isn't much bigger than he was before. It's amazing.
So, it happened this way. Just as I was sensing that the journey was nearing its end, he stopped his friends and suddenly insisted that they go back the way they had come, while he went on all by himself. And, of course, his friends sort of scoffed at him and basically said, no, stupid, we're not going to do that.
When they refused, a horrible sadness fell over him. Grief, remember? Yeah, that's what it was. And I could tell, he was about to do something that was really hard for him. Something he'd give pretty much anything to not have to do. Then he told them a short story from a few days ago, which I was able to follow with unexpected ease.
The first thing he mentioned was an old woman named Sheba, which suddenly made something click in my memory. I remember Sheba! She wasn't an old woman when I met her; she had just become the village healer, and part of the task involves a short trip up the mountain side. The healers have always done this, as a sort of initiation, I suppose. I remember when the healer before her came here, and then the first of them before her.
Apparently, Sheba is now a crabby old lady with a cruel sense of humor, which makes me kind of sad. She was so nice before...
Anyway, she sent Rowan back up the mountain to make sure the fuzzies did what they were supposed to do. And she sent her medallion with her. All the healers have worn it. It's a relic from the old valley, which is now the pit on the northwest side of the mountain. I know little of it, other than it has the power to grant brief glimpses of the near future, and cryptic, rhyming clues for how to deal with immediate problems. This I know, because Rowan explained it all. This has been happening to him ever since he came up here, and he clearly hates it,
But this one clue he was given a while back had been bothering him, because it was something about making a sacrifice. To make an emotionally complicated story simple, he just didn't want his friends to have to be part of whatever that sacrifice was. He just wanted them to get out of the way, so he could take it all by himself, whatever it was.
In a word, I realized: Love. I had forgotten that one love looks different from another love, but all loves have unnatural power and strange beauty. And there was just as much Love among this group of people as there was among the last. They love each other dearly. Yet he was trying his best to get rid of them, so they wouldn't be in danger.
I'm not sure what he had expected to happen. Sitting silent, watching all this, I never expected for a moment that his story would make them cave that easily. And I was right. They stared at him in disbelief for a moment, before generally agreeing, that's it? That's why you've been acting weirder than normal? You've been carrying that around all this time and didn't think we'd like to help you? The only reason we came was to help you, dumb. You should have said something. You don't have to do this alone, mister hero. We're you're friends, and it's what we do.
And no, we're not leaving you here all by yourself, stupid. What kind of friends do you think we are? We're not like Skiver, who can't do her job to save her own skin. We're way better at being friends than she is at being mountain guardian.
He looked kind of disappointed, which is also stupid, I think, as I have never had a friend like that and probably never will. But just as he looked ready to get over it and move forward, more creepers happened. I missed most of that because I was knocked out of my hiding tree and hit my head slightly. By the time I could see straight again, the humans were already far ahead, and I had to creep around, myself, to catch up again.
But when I found them, they were already there. The entrance to the mountain's heart was sealed off ages ago by a rockslide—also the creepers' fault, from the last time they got out of hand like this. But for some reason, the fuzzies had decided they wanted to start there, and were trying to clear the rocks away. The humans jumped in to help, and that was the point where I should have popped out at last and chased them away.
But I was stopped again, by that feeling I always get when they're around, that I need to let them do what they have to do, because it's important. I still can't believe I listened to it instead of doing my job, but I did. Eventually, they had a space cleared so that they could squeeze through, and did so.
And then, knowing that my career just ended and that my life probably won't last much longer, I slunk off to hide. And I figured, as long as Finlair is going to eat me pretty soon, I'd may as well write down the last thing of consequence I saw. Who knows? Maybe Rowan will find it for himself. Maybe he is reading this right now?
In which case, I want you to know that I've seen amazing things because of you. The last thing that truly happened to me was big and powerful and beautiful, and the only reason I got to see it was because you were here. You humans and your emotions are insane, but I'm happy I got to see them in you and your friends. I've had a sneaking feeling that you were special, from the moment I saw you two years ago. You're more special than either of us ever did realize.
That said, you're a peeve and you keep me from doing my job every time you come up here. If the dragon has killed me by now, it's entirely your fault. So there. I hope you're happy.
Also, as long as I am here, pondering everything that just happened, it's just dawning on me: what are you doing with the medallion, anyway? I remember when the first of your healers first came up here, a century or two ago. Her name was Risa. I made the sad mistake of trying to pinch the medallion, and ended up with a bruise that didn't heal for months. She scolded me, said the thing is thick with powerful magic. Only one can handle all its power, and it certainly wasn't me. Only one. Only one.
So, you must be the new One, huh? Are you to be the next healer, or what? Why else should Sheba have sent it with you, if she didn't mean to prepare you for what's next? Healers don't usually do random things like that, after all. There's a reason behind everything you've done so far, so why not this, too?
Later still: It finally came to me! I was dozing, dreaming and thinking vaguely about everything that happened today. I was remembering the mountain's heart, and the rockslide, and feeling like my job was mostly being done for me. Now no one could find the treasure.
And half asleep, I suddenly thought, now, why should I have been so concerned about someone finding the treasure in the first place? Even the people in the old valley stayed mostly off the mountain. Again, I only ever saw their healers. They came and went all the time, looking for plants and things, but they never came with any use for a hoard of gold. (If anything, I think they did what they could to convince everyone else that it didn't exist.)
Except the last healer they had, I remembered. She used to send her little brother, because she was lame or something and couldn't make the journey. I never met her, but I know her name was Nyahm, because her brother told me. It was him that I used to see all the time. And then, not too long after the invasion, and the last bad winter, and the survivors taking all those berries back with them, he just vanished. I never did see him again. I assume the trees ate him, like the others.
By now, I was wide awake, because I knew I was remembering something important. This is thinking back about a thousand years—I haven't thought of this stuff in a long, long time. But I tried hard to think of the last time I saw him. It was the bad winter. He and two of his friends had come up looking for the fuzzies, who had left the valley, just like they have in the last few days.
Kind of like the whole thing is happening over again, which is just strange.
And then his name came back to me. Evan! His name was Evan. I don't remember the names of his two friends, but I remember him. And then I tried hard to remember his face, and the memory that came back to me was so shocking it made me squeal and fall backwards.
I always knew that Rowan reminded me of someone. I kept feeling like I had seen him somewhere before, or met him once a long time ago. But I finally figured out why. He looks exactly like my old friend Evan. If he were still alive, they could be brothers. Twin brothers, the look so alike. And, if I think about it closely, his two friends look a lot like the boy and girl who were with Evan the last time I saw him.
And then he seriously just disappeared. He left the mountain without even saying goodbye, which is weird to admit hurt my feelings a bit. He never left without saying goodbye. He was always too sweet and nice for that. But he forgot that time, and I never saw him again.
Then, over the last several centuries, I suppose I just slowly stopped thinking about it until I forgot altogether.
Which, I realize, is why books are great. If only I had been writing things down the whole time I've been up here, the humans in the valley wouldn't keep surprising me unpleasantly like this. I wouldn't keep getting caught off guard and being bad at my only, pitifully easy job when they come around.
And now I'm rambling. The point is, it's good to finally have that sorted out. It's been bothering me for a couple of years, now. And it is especially nice to remember my last real friend for the first time in a thousand years. Evan was a friend worth more remembering than this.
I'm not sure what I should do, now that I see all this clearly. Should I go out there and say hello for the first time? Should I maybe dare to ask Finlair about it? I know he could help me. Oh, what should I do...?
I think I know what I should do, after all. I should just do what I do best: silently observe, and not interfere or react in any manner. Whenever I try to get involved with human affairs, I end up making them make messes. Finlair is right, after all. When there is a problem, the land provides an answer—not usually the one you expect, or even one that is useful right away. But it must be that way, for the sake of human kind, because that is the only way they can grow stronger or wiser. Sometimes, they have to make messes, so they can learn how to clean up again.
And Finlair and I like to think that we don't need such lessons, because we aren't human. We know how to respect the land and keep it peaceful; we're not the ones trampling it and tearing it up and beating it to our will. But whenever the humans come up here, looking for answers, the two of us often find ourselves learning a few things of our own, right along with them.
Everything is connected, after all. He says so himself, frequently.
... ... ... ... ...
(Days later)
Finlair isn't angry with me, after all! This time, he said, the humans were meant to find the treasure. It was the answer they came seeking, and it did, indeed, answer all their questions. He says they've found a piece of their people that's been missing for a very long. A piece they needed, without realizing they needed it. And they were able to find it, he explained, because they didn't come in greed or jealousy or pride. They didn't come seeking the gold of the mountain's heart-just the answer the gold had waiting for them.
And, at any rate, they didn't even take any of it. They went in, hung around for a bit, and went right back the way they had come, as I understand it. I never saw when they left. I was still busy cowering in my cave, trying to devise a clever escape. Again, I've missed saying goodbye. This is depressing.
But I'm glad they all got back down alright, and I'm happy they found what they were looking for. They left the fuzzies behind, while they weed out the hundreds and hundreds of creepers in the mountain, and headed home. Probably so they can sleep for a few days. I know that's what I would do. The fuzzies are getting around to another part of the mountain side to work some more, now. They'll be finished here in another couple of days, I think, and then they will be going home, as well.
Now that they've seen why the fuzzies have to come up here, I don't think the humans will try to stop them the next time they parade up here. Feh. I could have told them that, if it were my job.
I told Finlair about why I didn't try to stop the humans from going into the mountain's heart-it was more like a desperate plea that I hoped he would understand. That I just got this feeling that I should leave them to do whatever they needed to, and not get in their way. Instead of eating me whole like I had expected, he chuckled calmly to himself. Which, in a way, is just as terrifying.
"You were right, to listen when the land spoke to you," he said. "It speaks to us often, gently guiding us, to do whatever is best for it. The mountain knew what the humans had to do, in order to make things right again; and though your intentions were noble and honorable, you had to be stopped. It takes strength to trust the land when it speaks in your heart. Perhaps you have learned such strength from watching these humans."
I think he is right about that last part. A long time ago, I would have shrugged off that feeling and done my job. I would have jumped out and chased them away, maybe even attacked them if they didn't do as I said. I would have ruined everything, then. But this time, I listened. And it was terrifying, thinking that I had done everything wrong, and knowing what would happen to me.
But, naturally, the whole thing worked out just fine. I am still the mountain guardian, and life is as it should be.
Best of all, it is certainly spring. The sun is out shining, the snow is completely gone, and it is good and warm. The village below will be out of sorts for a while, but they will right themselves eventually. By now, they have normally planted their usual crops, and you can see young wheat blowing around in the fields. They have missed that this year. It doesn't matter how short the coming winter will be—this will be a hard, hungry year for them.
But they did survive the trees the other year. The mess those things left behind was infinitely bigger. The humans will be perfectly fine.
Speaking of which, I hadn't seen when they had left. Apparently, most of them did. They took off for the east at some point last week, while I had either been dealing with our creeper infestation, or trying not to leave my snug little cave. So I never saw when this happened, but I can see them in the distance, coming back. It seems the only ones who stayed behind were Rowan and his friends. But they clearly knew what they were doing. Sort of. They got the job done, in the end.
I wonder if the steward has left to return to her people, or if she will stay with her friends until her people come back around? If they come again this year, it will have been the fourth year in a row. But then, things have been strange lately. We've needed them close to the mountain. Doubtless, they will want to come and see for themselves what has been going on. It's a far into the spring to see them, but I have a feeling that they will come, anyway.
With any luck, the madness is over. Finlair seems satisfied that everything is back in order, finally balanced the way it should be. That is a relief. Now maybe I can sleep normally, and guard this rock in peace.
... ... ... ... ...
(Several years later)
Today is a sad day. Even I felt a change in the summer air. I went up to ask Finlair what that was all about, and he bowed his great head sadly. The village healer died today, he said. The power of the gold medallion has passed to another.
So, Sheba is dead. I only met her once, but I liked her. I thought she seemed like she would be a good healer. She was very pretty, and she said that I was very charming. It's been a long time since that afternoon. The healers tend to live much longer than the other humans around them, because they have the medallion's deep magic. And I forget how long it has been, exactly, but it's been well over a hundred years since we met.
Humans rarely live that long. Their bodies grow slow and weary after only a few decades. Sheba must have been very tired...
The new healer will be along shortly, then. That cheers me, slightly. A new chance to make a friendship, a new chance to know these messy, amazing people better. I wonder who will come. I wonder if it will be Rowan.
I bet it will be Rowan.
... ... ... ... ...
(A few weeks later)
I knew it. I just knew it! Who else could it have been, in the end? Today, we finally met for the first time.
He isn't exactly the Rowan I remember from those years ago. He's gotten pretty tall, actually—it's all the good, earthy power in the medallion, he says. And he isn't sad or scared or tired anymore, like he was the last few times I saw him. I mean, he was just a little boy the first time I saw him. He's a grown man, now. He's tall and strong now, just like I always knew he should be. And he's still the bravest person I've ever met.
He's different on the outside. But I know on the inside, he's exactly the same.
Wow, you should have seen the look on his face when he saw me for the first time. Like, he couldn't believe something as big as me could actually make a life up here, and that he had never seen me before. Of course, I quickly explained that I had seen him plenty of times, and he got a little flustered. I'm not sure what it is the healers do when they come up here, but they probably never expect to meet me. Especially, they probably don't expect me to explain that I kind of spent some time stalking them without meaning to.
He was obviously confused and a bit upset, so I invited him back to my cave to sit down. I've done the same for all the healers I've met, and I didn't hear the mountain warning me not to, so why not be polite? He hesitated at first, but followed me anyway, because he was clearly very curious.
When we were in my cave and had some tea set up, I pretty much told him everything I had seen of him. I even let him flip through this very book; there isn't a whole lot in it, still, so he finished it quickly. He glanced up at me several times while he was reading to say, "Wait a minute... That was you? You did that? And that? And that too?"
"Yes," I kept replying. "You're basically only alive because of me."
To that remark, he glared at me and muttered, "Thanks a lot, very helpful."
I kind of deserved that...
He also told me everything I had missed the last time he was up here, because some of my writings from that week were amazingly close to the truth. He and his friends were, in fact, attacked by some creepers while I hadn't been looking, and all four of them are still pleasantly surprised that they survived those few specific minutes. They had spent the night hiding in a cave on the cliff face, just trying to stay alive, which is why it took them so long to catch up with me.
Then, as he finished reading, he slowly closed the book and informed me in a low voice that he knew what had happened to Evan, and that he could tell me, but that I wasn't going to like it. And I didn't like it at all. He and his two friends somehow ended up in the mountain's heart during the rockslide that sealed it shut. They were trapped inside the whole time! I even went by there several times, and never heard or smelled or saw any hint that they were there.
So it wasn't Evan who didn't say goodbye, after all; it was me. I am going to feel perfectly miserable about this for some time to come.
To console me, Rowan changed the topic to everyone else I've written about seeing, as most of them are still alive and doing very well for themselves. I'm not going to bother writing it all down, though, because he gave me a present to remember them all by: a whole book twice as thick as this one, that he wrote himself, detailing his adventures. He says he intends to write more copies of it; people keep asking him to. I can't wait to read the whole thing, and find out what exactly was going on back then. It must be one heck of a story.
We talked and talked about everyone, anyway, and all the things we had learned from them. Of course, Rowan has lived with these people all his life, and has learned a lot more than I have. He was moved by my writings about feelings. He agrees completely, that the ability to feel the whole universe in the space of a few seconds is a gift that can sometimes be a curse. And he says he holds out hope that I could, in fact, learn to bear such feelings, if I ever wanted to come to the village for a time. He says he would welcome me, should I ever choose to take a holiday.
None of the healers in the past have ever invited me to the village. Perhaps that's why I've always felt that the people wouldn't like me. Now I'm wondering if I should maybe take him up on his offer. I should like very much to meet the other people I have watched from a distance. Especially Allun and Marlie, who I frequently take time to remember with a smile. They have two whole children now! They were my favorite update of all. They would like me, too, wouldn't they?
I even let him look around at some things in my cave, and he found quite a relic that even I had forgotten was there. Turns out, I never did put the bone he pulled out of Finlair's throat in a more secure place. He noticed it at once and picked it up, just holding it and staring at it, probably filled with the feelings of the universe again.
"The answer, white and clear," he said absently, more to the bone than to me. Then he turned back to look at me, and gave me nervous smile. "You'll hear all about that, when you read the book," he explained, and put the bone back where he had found it.
So now I really can't wait to start reading...!
We left the cave soon after, because he really was on a mission to find some things. He is the healer now, and it is his job to make magic from now on. He showed me a short list of the things he was looking for—ingredients which probably sound mystical and exotic to him, but are commonplace to me—and I quickly set him in the right direction. I even tore a page from the back of this journal, to sketch him a quick map and write down some helpful advice.
He took the map and gave me an amused, quizzical look.
"That's you, as well, isn't it?" he said. "You're the reason the healers have always known the mountain's secrets. You tell them everything they need to know whenever they come here! Our first journey to the mountain isn't just to gather rare plants—it's to meet you! Everything makes sense now."
I had to stop and think about this for a moment. That was a pretty big thought. Half the magic the humans know of their healers isn't magic at all. It's just me, being a good, polite host.
"Yeah," I finally agreed, feeling pretty proud of myself. "I guess you're right. So, if you have any questions, feel free to pop by and ask. If I can't answer you, I know the dragon can. He likes you. He'd answer you, if you asked."
Rowan sighed to that. "Well, why not?" he asked dryly. "This mountain feels more and more like home to me every year. I'd may as well build my house right here on the ledge, so I never have to leave."
We had a good laugh about that, because it isn't true in the least. Maybe an imp like me can get by happily up here, but no human could do that. They need to eat more than just berries and leaves, and they need clothing to keep warm when it's cold. And anyway, Rowan is a healer now; he can't do his own job unless he's with other humans. Even if he weren't, he still needs to be with them. He loves them, and they love him just as much. He could shrivel up and die without that.
While I'd appreciate the company, he wouldn't last a year up here. He isn't suited to it, and that's perfectly fine.
So he went off on his latest mission, and I returned to my usual spot to watch the valley until he came back. When he returned several hours later, every item on his list had been checked off. He thanked me mightily for my help, made me promise to think about coming to the village to visit him sometime, and then started back down the mountain side.
It's been quite a day. And I still have this whole book to read, and so much to think about.
... ... ... ... ...
(Months later)
I finally finished the book. Now I feel I must go visit my new friend, and all his friends, simply because I need that kind of positive energy in my life. I'm going to ask Finlair if it would be so bad, if I left the mountain for just a few days, on a journey of my own.
Later: The dragon has given me permission. I may leave whenever I wish and take as long as I need, as long as I come right back if something goes wrong. These people have lived in the shadow of this mountain for three centuries, now; the fourth century is soon to begin. And long before they came, their ancestor's lived in its shadow, as well—in the northwestern valley, which I accidentally helped turn into the pit. It's time that they all began to understand that this mountain is hardly to be feared. Simply respected.
And who better to help do that, than me? Finlair can't speak to them, after all. Even if he could, they would be too afraid of him to listen.
... ... ... ... ...
(The following morning)
I'm ready to go. I'll be starting off soon, now, and I have no idea when I will be back. If there is no other entry after this, it is because I never bothered to return. It may very well happen.
So, here we go. I'm feeling quite ready for an adventure of my very own...