5. The Maze

Even as he fell, David could not be certain whether he was actually falling or merely floating down. Somewhere along the way, he got the odd sensation that he was being handed down, like a helpless child to a fireman, by a thick knot of hands. But then he had pitched over headfirst, and all he could feel was empty space rising up toward him and then passing on behind him.

He was well bored with falling, and heartily cursing Pim and the alley and the manhole and even George for putting him in this insufferable situation, when he finally hit ground. The difference between falling and stopping was so violent that it knocked him quite silly for a while. Pieces of the world were still flittering about as little squares of light when he finally came to.

What he had landed on was a hedge. A very tall hedge. His arms and head dangled off one side, while his legs, stiff and sore, dangled off the other. The ground was pretty far down. After much struggling, David managed to sit up on the ledge. From that vantage point it became quite clear that he had landed in a maze. Precise rows, u-bends, turns and twists and dead ends spread out below and for several miles beyond him. The entire maze was made out of manicured hedges, although they had seen better days. Most were overgrown and chocked with weeds, while others had nearly reverted to a wild, natural state. David spotted one headless bust and an empty, debris filled birdbath.

"Well this is a fine mess," he mused, chin on his hand.

He clambered down the hedge, brushing twigs and leaves out of his hair and clothes after he was done.

"Hello!" he called. "Anybody here?" There wasn't even an echo. He cupped his hands around his mouth. "Pim! Hello! I'm here! Now what?"

Now what indeed. David put his hands on his hips. For the second time that day, he was regretting ever having asked to be taken down that circle. It was all well and good to push him, but was he not owed directions? A map? Some explanation as to why he had been tossed down in a maze? He heaved a miserable, betrayed sigh.

Fine, he reasoned. I'm here. Someone has to be here too. Mazes like the one he had fallen into usually belonged to a palace or a chateau, so following it through was bound to lead him to someone. And someone would lead to food and suggestions as to a place to stay and (perhaps) some work.

Start a new life.

That had been the point, right? To start a new life.

David looked around at nothing but overgrown hedges, and he had a hard time believing that. Still, he had wished this. He looked down at the shadows on the ground. If he kept them at his left at all times, he figured, he would be heading east.

He walked, and walked, and walked and walked and walked. After two hours, he clambered up a particularly unkempt hedge to check his progress. His heart contracted in a very unpleasant way as he saw that he had barely made a dent on the maze. Still fine, he said to himself. I'll walk along the top of the hedges, and then I'll know exactly where I'm going.

It proved trickier than he had anticipated, with his feet sinking into gnarled branches every third step or so. He tried crawling for a while, then sitting on the edge and bouncing and sliding along on his bum. The maze seemed no smaller. Frustrated, he jumped down to the ground.

A loud rip followed him down. "Oh blast it all," he groaned. He held up one end of his leather coat, staring despondently at a large tear. "It's ruined. Blast and curse this stupid maze."

"You'll never get out if that's your attitude."

The coat was instantly forgotten. David whirled round. "You," he called. "You're someone, at last. Where are you?"

"I'm sitting right over here." The voice grunted. It was deep and flinty, and it reminded David of somebody's crotchety grandfather. "And I aim to remain sitting right over here, if it's all the same to you."

"Oh, I'm pretty sure that I don't mind," David said. He pulled himself arm over arm up a hedge again. "You just stay right there and I'll come to you." He surveyed the maze below him, brows furrowed in concentration. Where—?

"There you are," David said.

A man sat right below him, his back against the hedge. He sounded like a crotchety grandfather, and he looked like one too. He wore a red leather cap over white, straggly hair, and a large, bulbous nose was partially obscured by heavy, bushy grey eyebrows. Gnarled hands held a cane fishing rod, the end of which bobbed within a tin bucket. He paid no attention to David as he scrambled to drop down beside him.

"Hello there," David said. "Do you live nearby?"

The man said nothing. He pulled his rod up, checked that nothing had bitten yet, and lowered it.

"I've only just gotten here," David said, "and I'm trying to find my way out of this maze. Could you point me in the right direction? It's rather confusing, this maze."

"Well of course it is. What did you expect?" He picked up a battered straw hat from the ground beside him and clapped it down on his head. "Now be quiet and shoo along. You're scaring the fish."

"But—"

"Move along, kid!"

David wanted to protest, but saw that it was useless. Feeling spiteful, he turned to go, muttering, "Not that I needed your help anyway, you bent old bat."

"I'm a dwarf," he heard from behind him. David didn't bother to turn around. He would find the way out all by himself, and a pox on that old dwarf. Fishing out of a bucket, of all stupid things. Obviously shy of a full deck, that one. David would be very glad to never run into him again.

So he was somewhat annoyed to walk right into his side of the hedge again within less than ten minutes of (stomping in a huff) walking. David spluttered, then headed off in the opposite direction. That led back to the dwarf as well. So did the right turn, and the left, and a good five minutes of blind running and scrambling.

The dwarf seemed pretty annoyed as well. He stood with his fists on his hips, one foot tapping the ground in a cross way, by the seventh time David had stumbled upon him. "What are you doing?" he snapped. "Didn't I tell you to shoo off?"

"I'm trying. Believe you me, I'm trying."

"Well try harder."

By the tenth time David found himself glaring at the dwarf (and vice versa), a certain truth became imminent.

The dwarf heaved a long suffering sigh and shook his head. He looked up at the sky, dotted with clouds and dyed a dirty orange-brown. "Don't suppose you could stop that?" he said.

At first, David thought the dwarf was talking to him, but the way he looked at the clouds and the sky soon made it clear that he was talking to… Who? What? David felt uneasy.

The dwarf picked up his fishing rod. He tipped over the bucket and pulled the straw hat further down his head. "Thought as much," he muttered. He trudged over to David and glared up at him. "What's your name, then?"

"Me? I'm David. David Jones." He whipped his palm over his leather jacket and held it out. "And you are?"

His hand went ignored.

"I'm apparently meant to lead you somewhere," the dwarf said. He took in David's tatty, torn leather jacket and messy, mousy brown hair and scratched face and scuffed boots and dirty fingernails. His stare lingered on his face for a moment, taking note of David's mismatched eyes. After a while, he shrugged. "Hoggle," he said. With that, he turned and began walking down a path to the left.

"Is that your name?"

"Move along, kid. I don't aim to spend all day leading you out of here."

"You mean you'll help me get out of here? Thank you. Thank you ve—"

"Move along, kid!" Hoggle shook his head, muttering darkly to himself.

Feeling a great deal more hopeful than before, David followed.