Nobuo Uematsu - Over The Hill
...
(Before the trip to Vube's desert, Bartholomew Brandford and Prescott Highwind shared a moment of contemplation, sitting on a hillside of Poplos heights, above the Mist. Covered in Grand Dragon's blood, like the rest of the squadron, retrieving the dead carcass of that creature while taking it to Burmecia, where these fortunate souls will have a short time, still an opportunity unlike any other, to see their families. The Alexandrians aren't the only menace at the horizon...)
BART: ... (stares at the skies)
PRESCOTT: A beautiful day, don't you think?
BART: ... (nods with head, positively)
PRESCOTT: The skies are so blue...
BART: ... (doesn't nod, stares below, feels an awful scent)
PRESCOTT: ...And the sea of Mist, insignificant compared to the floating rivers coming at Burmecia...
BART: ... (with hands on head, washing dry tears)
PRESCOTT: ...When I see it all, I feel so... so tiny.
BART: ...I feel sad.
(pause)
BART: Don't know why, but all I feel is sadness.
PRESCOTT: Come on, pal. It ain't all you feel. Is it something like a twinge in your heart, isn't it?
BART: ...Yeah. Like that.
PRESCOTT: Well, that's not sadness. It's pathos.
(pause)
BART: Ain't the same thing?
(pause)
PRESCOTT: No.
(sigh)
PRESCOTT: With a world beautiful like this, I am not surprised that you feel this way.
(pause)
BART: What do you mean?
PRESCOTT: What do I mean is that it's natural for a being to feel things like this from a while to another.
BART: A being like me?
(pause)
PRESCOTT: Yes. A meditative being like you.
(pause)
PRESCOTT: I once met a hermit, who lived in a cave. He was like you, but the beard was bigger.
(long pause)
BART: Did this hermit felt sad? I mean, how did he felt without company?
PRESCOTT: He was never thirsty. Drank a lot of water.
BART: It ain't healthy to drink tons of water without boiling it.
PRESCOTT: Animals drink the water out of a river without complaining.
BART: I ain't an animal!
(pause)
BART: ...I mean, covered in blood like this... who am I supposed to be?
PRESCOTT: Someone who thinks.
(pause)
BART: ...That wasn't me. I haven't thought for a while, only now I realized... I was angry... so much angry...
PRESCOTT: ... (staring at clouds)
BART: ...I lose teeth, but they grew back again. That's... I... I can't believe it...
PRESCOTT: There are things you believe, and things you shouldn't. It either comes by experience, or personal belief, or whatever makes you think long enough.
(pause)
BART: I feel sad watching the clouds.
PRESCOTT: Why? They always come back.
BART: Yes... they come back and leave, like longing for someone.
PRESCOTT: Wife and child, right?
(pause)
BART: Lenneth and Jack for me.
PRESCOTT: Sophia. We had five kids. Can't remember their names, except for Marsh, Fratley, Prescott... but that's my name, I carry it on with me. I think I have a Jack too. Everyone has a brat called Jack these days... It's one of the first names that comes to mind. Easy to remember.
(pause)
BART: ...Why do those clouds look so big, while I feel so low?
PRESCOTT: So, that's what bothers you?
(pause)
PRESCOTT: You are unable to see yourself in what the world offers to you. The whole world, I mean, since you are used to live in a small world like Burmecia. That's the why of the dissociation between your being and the being in himself.
(long pause)
BART: ...Look at that cloud. Does it ever feels sad? It cries when its gray, and when it's white... does it know it's white?
(pause)
BART: Now, when I see a white cloud like that, upon the thick Mist... I think about Over The Hill's melody.
PRESCOTT: 'Over The Hill'?
BART: Yes. Over The Hill, Crossing Those Hills, something like that... I remember when I heard it being played outside the Royal Palace, arranged for dad's funeral. I hate that song as much as I like it. I don't hate it because of my dad's demise, but it's because it reminds me of how small I am in this big world.
(pause)
PRESCOTT: A lot of emotions come afloat when hearing a song. It's the speaker/listener intermediate that makes it possible for emotions to be brought from deep inside. The giver, and receiver... You know, it's common for those traveling to Burmecia to feel sad, not because of rainy days, but because they miss the sun who once shone on their faces. It's the longing you feel that makes you feel these conflicting emotions.
(pause)
BART:... When I look to the Mist, I think about the melody of that mellow song I mentioned before, its chords, the coldness preceded of a soulful flute... that part, in special, I don't know how to describe it in a way you can understand, but... it gets stuck in your teeth, like caramel. It brings uneasiness, as much as it embraces you with comfort. But, since we're speaking about a song, the teeth are replaced by your ears, and in my case, the heart.
(pause)
(long pause)
BART: ...My whole existence is a conflict in itself.
PRESCOTT: Combined with the existence of others, you mean.
BART: Yes. Without Alexandrians or Lindbluniams, or any kind of competition... I can't think of a world dominated by our kind.
PRESCOTT: I don't believe that one should subdue another. There must be an exchange between parts, that's my dream, my idea of an utopia. Now that it seems so far away, I have plans, less pretentious, but as long as I care for what I have... they'll be worth a try. If I came back alive, which I hope, I want to teach one of the kids how to fish with the tail. Ever tried to do it?
BART: ...Yes. Clyde threw me on the lake.
PRESCOTT: I don't think I'll do the same with one of my kids.
...