Shiz's eastern branch held the two largest rooms on campus- the Briscoe Hall Library and the Introduction to Literary Analysis lecture hall. The latter was the most widely taken Ozish course on campus- it appealed to the depths of students by allowing them to temporarily cast away the shackles of confined thinking and let their minds explore the vast, endless possibilities of literary meanings. The professor of the course was Artemis Young- an attractive, charismatic man in his early thirties that had students of all majors hanging onto his every word (not to mention many of the girls on campus hanging onto him). He was Gillikin-oriented; his wispy blonde hair that he always had tied back into a pony-tail and sparkling blue eyes made this much blatant. His liberated attitude, however, contrasted sharply with the etiquette-teachings one would usually see reflected in the Gillikinese people. With this combination of tolerable looks and an enthralling topic of interest, Fiyero concluded that is was by far his favorite class of the morning.
If only he could stay awake.
His eyes were stinging with fatigue and, more than once, his eyelids had dipped down low enough that he had actually fallen asleep for a moment or two. The coffee he had grabbed on his way to this building was having little to no effect- if anything, the warm beverage had made him even drowsier. How Boq could wake up in the wee hours of the morning and be quelling with energy was beyond him.
Artemis suddenly stopped the ecstatic rant he had been going on and slapped some massive text down onto his desk. Fiyero- as well as most of the other students- jumped. The prince receded slightly from his stupor and trained his eyes on the far-off lecturer (although he had arrived early, students and visitors already crowded the closer seats, forcing him to be at a far –range. Definitely not helping him in his struggle to stay awake and focused.)
"I assume that you're all familiar with the works of Ba'ami?" he queried, his eyes moving over the vast collection of students who were all muttering in agreement (save Fiyero, of course). A satisfied smile unraveled over his thin, pale lips as he turned back to the volume on his desk. He flipped open the elegant, leather-bound cover and began to mindlessly paw through the pages. "Excellent. The majority of you have decent taste in poetry." A group chuckle rose up and died down in a matter of seconds. "For those of you who don't know, however-"
His magnificent blue eyes flickered up and caught Fiyero in their gaze for a split second.
"-Ba'ami is a Quadling poet who gained renown during the period of rebellion in the south. His short, simple pieces that reflected the southern providence's view on the tensions between Quadling Country and the EC contributed most to his immortalization as a poet. For example:"
He paused abruptly in the midst of turning a page. Placing the page in hand gingerly back down, he slid his slender fingers over a faded collection of words, taking them in for himself before reciting them to the room.
"Lingering on the lips of a leaf,
A caterpillar shifts,
Inching onto the adjacent branch.
A gale wind blows,
And the leaf is pulled into oblivion,
While the caterpillar clutches onto safety."
Artemis raised his eyes from the archaic, yellow paper to look at the class once more. Everyone was silent- taking in the poem, deciphering and analyzing the subtext.
"Thoughts anyone?" Artemis finally asked after a couple of seconds of reticence slid past. Several hands shot up without missing a beat. The blonde professor's eyes scanned the raised appendages before he gestured towards one at random. "Yes?"
"The caterpillar is a metaphor for the Quadling country, while the leaf, the Emerald City," a lanky, redheaded boy stated, as-a-matter-of-factly. "Ba'ami is implying that the southerners would not be as harmed as everyone suggested they would be if they seceded from the EC's control. In fact, he's trying to say that when hard times come upon Oz- the "gale wind" in this case- the southerners are more likely to survive it on their own, while the Capitol is… well, "blown away" by it."
"Precisely," Artemis responded, turning away from the boy. The redhead smiled smugly as he settled back down in his seat. "Would anyone else care to contribute to that?"
Another series of hands were lifted. Among them was the very distinct, diamond-speckled palm of Fiyero Tiggular.
"Master Fiyero," Artemis said, his tone verging on surprise. "I'm touched that you finally decided to grace us with your presence." A light bustle of laughter filled the room. Fiyero retaliated with a smirk. "Have you any thoughts on the poem or are you just going to inquire where the restrooms are?" Again, laughter chorused among the students, more boisterously this time.
"Actually," Fiyero replied, no offense or embarrassment blatant in his voice. "I do have a thought about the… symbols in this poem."
Artemis raised his brow. "I see. Do extrapolate then."
Fiyero was silent for a moment, mentally sorting out his answer. Drawing in a breath, he finally responded, his tone not digressing from nonchalance.
"The caterpillar is a caterpillar. The leaf is a leaf. The gale wind is a gale wind. And that's all there is to it."
Everyone fell uncomfortably silent. Even the white noise of murmur from some of the students in the back of the room had dissolved completely into reticence. Self-consciously, the prince glanced around the room, meeting lowbrow, pursed-lip stares from the surrounding students.
Artemis's expression remained placid.
"So," the professor said casually. "It is your belief that the author wrote this poem about larvae for the sole intention of writing about larvae. Is that correct, or am I mistaken?" He voice was absent of any condescending or mocking tones, yet Fiyero couldn't help but sense that the question was rigged with a snare.
"Well, yes," he replied cautiously.
A snide smile pulled at the edge of the professor's lips.
"Well, then, Master Fiyero; what a way to make your debut in class," he said, his tone beginning to ease itself into that of humor and, in turn, ease the tension of the room. "On your very first arrival you question the intentions of one of the most famous poets in Quadling history. Quite the daring one, aren't we?"
"Quite the opposite, actually," Fiyero responded, mimicking Artemis's tone. "Why search for something that isn't there? Why fabricate meanings and put words in the author's mouth that he didn't intend to voice? Why can't the caterpillar just be a caterpillar?"
Artemis chuckled, amused, as if he were just told some ridiculous fable by a child. "Because, Master Fiyero, although we can't be certain of Ba'ami's intended meanings, we can take close guesses. Judging by his style, his life, as well as the time period, the formerly suggested meanings are most likely what was intended. It is what most scholars- most readers in general, I should say- have come to agree upon."
"Because popular opinion has always proven to be reliable, correct? Ozma forbid we digress from convention," Fiyero stated, almost vindictively. A hush fell over the students once more, but Fiyero stood his ground. He sat up straight and looked Artemis straight in the eye- abandoning his casual slouch and habit of glancing around, seeking his peers' approval. Artemis seemed determined to not break the silence, nor the mutual, icy gaze the two men shared. It was Fiyero who finally spoke again.
"Maybe this poem really does pertain to the war," Fiyero began. "Even if this is proven, the caterpillar may still hold the role of being nothing but a caterpillar. What if the hidden metaphor is not behind the elements of the poem but the poem itself?"
Artemis's gaze lost its frigid edge. His countenance distorted itself into one of pure curiosity; a cocked eyebrow sending the message for Fiyero to elaborate further.
"Think about it," Fiyero continued. "In the midst of rebellion, with war looming dangerously close on the horizon, this man- Ba'ami- can calmly sit down and watch an insignificant, meaningless insect crawl around on a tree without another thought permeating his brain. The most important thing on his mind at the time was this caterpillar- this mere caterpillar- just barely escaping a gust of wind; not the threats emitted by the Capitol. In a way, with this simple- and, I can't stress enough- meaningless piece of writing he's speaking on behalf of his people and telling the EC, 'you don't scare us.'"
Artemis remained silent, looking absolutely nonplussed. A sense of utter satisfaction compelled Fiyero to add on to his rant.
"Usually, the answer we're looking for is the one swimming right on the surface that we're too distracted by thought to see. Don't complicate things. Dance through life," he grinned.
"Master Fiyero," Artemis breathed. He appeared to remember his native tongue and regained the ability of speech once more. Becoming conscious of the stupor he had fallen into, he quickly withdrew from it. Recomposing himself, he narrowed his brow and allowed himself to smirk, returning to his usual suave, condescending demeanor. "Welcome to Introduction to Literary Analysis."
Fiyero blinked.
"Class dismissed."