It happened on one morning in high summer that I was making sport before the grand entrance of my castle, as is my wont. This is a place of marvelous wide expanse, replete with grassy spaces, a road particularly beloved to me, and many stout trees overshading great gardens manicured with skill both beautiful and magical. On this morning I was with my dearest companions, Sir George and Sir Steven, and my venerable father was also attending me.
My dear father is an ancient creature of enormous height, much beloved to me and to all the people of the world. His voice is as a rumbling sound, and his grizzled visage is covered in hair and fur. Although he is wise and kind, he must always be wearied by his many years, for neither he nor my beautiful mother are joyed to run and to quest as I do, but they are always laying or sitting themselves down as if burdened my much toil. Indeed, I have seen my giant father sprawled low on the floor as if fast asleep, although I know in my heart that he sleeps not. When I see this to happen I will inquire of him many questions and urge him to remember his valor and rise, yet sometimes I think a great hurricane could blow over him and he would not stir.
It was thus that my old father sat upon the ground before my castle whilst I made trial of my swift legs. I strode as a stallion and could hardly keep myself aright with the joy of my running and my swiftness, such that many times I careered into a bush and pretended to beat it back as a foeman. Sir George ran with me, as was his wont, although Sir Steven I entrusted to the care of my father, lest he be wearied with the heat of toil.
On this morning I made resolve in my heart to set out upon a great adventure, and I opened my mind to my ancient father. Because he is deaf and I fear that sometimes he does not know me I spake my intentions many time to make journey across the vast plains of our land unto a certain shrine dearly beloved to me. Yet before I would embark I in my wisdom made provision for days to come, for I climbed atop a great rock which jutted forth from the black earth, and though my ascent was perilous I summoned all my courage to grasp hold of the limbs of the towering apple tree which overspreads this great rock. There by the skill of my fingers I picked countless apples, and though I could not number them I filled to the brim a secret crevice of my rock where no living thing would have knowledge or discernment. Sir George and Sir Steven, my beloved companions, were of great assistance in my labor, though when Sir George sat upon the tree I could scarce stand by the violence of my laughter at his sight. Indeed, it is beyond recounting how Sir George had clomb the tree as the monkey that he is, and even now my spirit trembles with mirth inside me to remember such a prank.
With many steps did my ancient father and I start our journey north to the great shrine of the tractor. Such space lay before us that no man could see the end of green expanse. Here are the fields of the tractor's country, which my ancient father has called "The Courtyard." I know not whence or in what manner this marvel is possible, but it happens in this country that the tractor should mow The Courtyard, enormous though it be, upon every Friday. This is a most sacred ritual, and my heart burns glad within me even now to think upon it. As I made the great journey with my father I disburdened my tongue of all this joy, and spake to him in solemn tones about my joy for the tractor, my eagerness to visit the tractor's shrine, my wonder that the tractor should perform this portent each Friday, and what manner of veneration we might perform when we had reached the end of our long pilgrimage.
My old father, as he went, was much weakened and confused. He went looking into a book of prodigious size and weight, but yet I think that the book was no book at all. For earlier I had looked upon it with the cleverness of my own eyes, and not one picture did I see. Oft I think that my ancient father's mind has softened in the weakness of his old age, and that mayhaps he is distracted in his understanding as he pretends to understand pictures where none would be.
After countless days had passed we came to a spot in the verdure of the courtyard where I espied with my keen eye some powerful object lying in the grass. At first I was startled by this omen, for as yet I was discoursing upon the merits of the tractor and its shrine. Yet as I beheld the object and considered it, my courage returned and I ran with great swiftness to seize it in my hand. As I lifted this strange piece of treasure in my hand I learned of it that the texture was most curious, something like coarse dirt, but unlike dirt in many other ways. I should have thought it would be a might stone, yet its weight was too light for this. There were sundry colors upon its course face, yet all the rest was black as darkest night and smooth. Because of the blackness I considered whether it might not be an evil object, and I offered it to the ancient wisdom of my father.
My father recognized the strange stone forthwith, and declared it a piece of shingle which fallen from the roof. I gazed up far beyond the courtyard and looked upon the eternal castles which girded the green plains of the tractor. There I noted for the first time, though many times I had beheld this in the length of my years, that shingles covered all the top surface of these mighty castles. I held my own piece reverently and considered its immense worth and importance. Holding it aloft I declared upon my own valor that I would guard and keep my shingle as an unparalleled treasure until the time should come when I might stand on the banks of my grandfather's sacred pond and cast it into the holy waters there.
You must understand my surprise, after I had resumed my long journey to the tractor's shrine, when I found a second treasure of immense worth upon the verdant grass. There before me, by some heavenly grace, was a flower of immense beauty and fragrance. I knelt before this wonder and surveyed the splendor before me in rapt silence. Surely, I thought, I would not leave this treasure unguarded in the wild wasteland of the Courtyard. No, even if I should be able to stand and guard it myself for all time, I must needs pluck this beautiful flower and bear it in all its glory unto the shores of my grandfather's sacred pond where I might cast it in. I entrusted my faithful companions, Sir George and Sir Steven, unto the care of my ancient father, and when I resumed my journey I held one hand the precious treasure of the shingle, and in the other hand, the fairest dandelion that ever grew upon green grass.
As I made my journey I could scarcely control the excitement of my praise, not only for the tractor which mows the grass on Fridays, but yet still for the possession of the shingle (what joy it is to teach one's tongue the name of a new and hitherto unknown word) and the beauty of the dandelion.
And yet my journey nearly ended in calamity, for even as I came in sight of the tractor's shrine, a hideous old man appeared from his own castle who I had never seen before. He was even more ancient than my old father, disfigured by the weight of innumerable years and yet moving with a swiftness that portended much danger and illdoing. Here I confess my courage failed me and dread panic coursed through my very bones. Forgetting my own strength I made ready to protect my treasures by fleeing behind the knees of my ancient father, and there amidst his bristly limbs I averted my face from the stranger's gaze, lest he bewitch me or attempt to elicit some speech from my mouth. (I find that wicked strangers almost always try to ensnare you in their magic by compelling you to speak some word, whether it be a greeting or the description of your years or name.)
Yet where my bravery to fight had failed, I still endured the trial of the stranger and the danger passed as he went to other parts of his country. So it passed after many days of travel (I am afraid I did not reckon the number) I arrived at the shrine of the tractor possessed of two inestimable treasures. Thus was my adventure.
No comments:
Post a Comment