Fraz's Blog, page 8

Dragons

Chapter 1

“Elena!” he called out.

When he received no response, he slightly opened the wooden door of the small shack; the one that stood at the far end of the village.

“Elena?”

He stepped inside the small living space. It was pretty much the usual build as the other houses. A roof made of heat-reflecting stones, earthen floors and plastered walls, and furniture made from the dead wood of small trees. The only thing that set the house apart were the huge piles of paper strewn across the entire area with weird writings and sketches all over them. As he walked through them, he noticed a sweet smell emanating from a pot kept on the fireplace. He walked towards it and took a look inside.

“The hell is she doing keeping unattended stew over the fire?”

He inhaled the flavors and then took up a ladle to stir the contents of the pot around; making sure it hadn’t already burned at the bottom. After giving it a thorough mix, he tasted it a little.

“The girl can certainly cook but always messes up the salt,” he sighed.

He added some, gave it a final stir, and raised the pot higher so that the contents would stop cooking but still be warm when it was time to serve. Then, he headed out. If Elena wasn’t to be found cooped up in her little home, there was only one other place she’d be at. He skipped stones instead of using the bridge to cross the little stream. The currents weren’t quite strong so there was not much to fear. Once across, he made his way deep into the forest.

“You know, you shouldn’t be leaving your home unlatched when heading out,” he said as he came up behind her.

Elena was busy greasing her latest contraption. A little trap to catch fresh elk. Elk venison and hide were always in high demand, especially since the hunters were all drafted for the war with the neighboring lands. She didn’t even look up to greet the boy in his late teenage years. Instead, continued to work, placing the lure inside her trap. The boy, who had inherited his father’s broad shoulders and brown hair, crossed his arms in front of his chest; awaiting her response. His mother’s blue eyes staring down at the girl from their six foot high vantage point.

“You still there Ramie?”

“Yes.”

She sighed.

“Well, make yourself useful and hand me the hammer from my bag over there.”

“Quite the delay in acknowledging me, no?” he asked as he bent over the bag with her tools.

“I didn’t find merit in answering.”

“You’d rather have thieves steal your stuff?”

“You knew there are no thieves in Glendale. There isn’t anything worth taking here anyway.”

“What about those plans you and your father drew? At least be wary of Mrs. Buick’s rabbits.”

“That’s why there’s a door. I don’t think a rabbit can manage to open it. Unless they’re smart enough, in which case, we’d all be dead already; murdered while they run amok overthrowing us in their coup.”

“You and your imagination,” he sighed crouching down with her. “What are you up to anyway?”

“The innkeeper said he’d give me three silver coins for some elk venison. And the blacksmith promised me two for its hide.”

“That reminds me, what were you cooking in your pot?”

“Pheasant stew.”

“Right. It was delicious.”

She finished calibrating her trap and stood up. She removed the wooden safety glasses that she’d made from her forehead and wiped the sweat forming underneath them. Then returned them to their previous position. Finally, she retied her rather cute bun held together with paintbrushes before packing up and preparing to leave.

“Too lazy to buy actual accessories?”

“They cost money. These are multi-functional.”

“Fair enough.”

They walked back to the village together.

“I guess you’d be joining me for lunch,” she asked as they neared her house.

“And also for the trek to Mount Thunder thereafter.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“But I do. I made a promise to your father after all. Although, I do sometimes wonder when you’d be giving up on your obsession with mythical creatures like dragons.”

“Never?” she said as she opened the door and let him in.

“I knew you’d say that.”

“You want to eat what I cooked, don’t you?” she threatened.

“Okay, okay. You win!”

*****

Chapter 2

“You know, for someone whose father focused solely upon an abstract concept called science, it’s rather amazing that you still believe in magic,” said Ramie as he walked up the narrow cliff path.

“I believe the two are unrelated.”

“Agreed. One relies upon evidence, while the other upon rumors,” he teased.

“I meant me and my father believing in separate ideologies.”

“Don’t you know what a joke is?”

“Anyway, just because there is no evidence, doesn’t mean something doesn’t exist,” she replied in an annoyed tone.

“Neither does it certify its existence.”

“Well, that’s why I’m here, looking for evidence. Why are you here again?”

“Looking after you of course!” he exclaimed with a grin.

Young Ramie was the son of the previous village head. His father had died in battle while fighting alongside Elena’s. Then, her father took him in. Ramie was like the son he never had. When Elena’s father was drafted into the army again for his prowess as an inventor of war contraptions, he’d asked Ramie to take care of his daughter. And he had sworn to do so upon his life.

“Like I can’t look after myself,” she scoffed.

They were almost at the entrance to the cave that she’d marked for the next excavation. During their prior visit, they’d covered most of the surrounding area and found nothing significant.

“I wonder what gave you the idea of finding dragons here to begin with?”

“This,” she said moving her poncho aside.

The pendant that came into view was a polished fossil. An egg-like and mostly translucent crystalline structure that seemed like it housed a partly formed serpent inside.

“It could just be a snake’s egg.”

“My dad has seen all kinds of snakes found in the region. He didn’t come across one that laid an egg like this.”

“So we’re actually on a snake hunt now?”

“Dragons are said to be the ancestors of serpents.”

“Right.”

They arrived at the entrance and Elena lit up her torch. The cave walls were lined with rich mineral ores. She noticed iron, silver and gold. There was also copper and tin. Even if their search for a creature of the legends were to fail, her journey wouldn’t be worthless. Ores were always in demand, especially with a war at hand.

“Did your dad ever tell you where he found that egg-like thing to begin with?”

“He said he found it in one of the caves.”

“Have you considered the option that it could just be a rather interesting stone?”

“Yes. However, I wish to further investigate regardless. Now shut up or I won’t ever be taking you along with me on future adventures.”

“You win.”

“I always do,” she grinned.

They navigated the inner labyrinths of the cave, investigating every nook and cranny. It seemed like the cave in itself was quite large with many diverging paths. Some meeting each other, while some others reaching out to the far reaches of the volcanic mountains. Every now and then Elena would stop and start sketching in one of her journals, mapping every location to the best of her abilities. And once in a while, Ramie had to fight off small cave-dwelling creatures that attacked them due to them trespassing into their domains.

“You know, you could get a job as a scribe any day.”

“And you can go be a soldier soon. What’s your point?”

“Just that there are safer jobs out there which cater to your skill set.”

“Perhaps. But, I see my talent for sketching and drawing as more of a passive skill. Furthermore, I love adventure.”

Hours later, they were exploring one of the last few paths left within the cave. It stretched on and on, twirling downwards.

“Elena, do you think it’s safe to continue on our way?” asked Ramie sounding worried.

“Well, there’s always a risk involved when discovering new places.”

As they walked deeper into the mountain, the atmosphere around them was getting warmer by the second and the ground would tremble more often than sometimes.

“Perhaps we should head back. I don’t like where this is going.”

“You can go back if you like. I need to see where this tunnel leads.”

She took further steps forward. Ramie just sighed and followed her. It hadn’t even been twenty steps when all of a sudden the ground gave way. Elena almost fell into the lava that revealed itself as the ground underneath her feet collapsed. Ramie lunged forward and grabbed her hand in just the nick of time, keeping her from falling to her doom.

“Jeez… That was close. This was why I said we should head back.”

He started pulling her back up. In the process however, her necklace was dragged against the edge and broke off. Before she could do anything, it fell into the lava down below. Tears streamed down her and she struggled to break free from Ramie’s grip but he forcibly pulled her up and to safety.

*****

Chapter 3

“How long are you going to sulk about that pendant?” he asked when they were back in the village and in Elena’s home.

“Shut up. It was a gift from my father!”

“I know. But, I don’t think your father would want you to value it more than your own life.”

“Just leave me alone Ramie.”

“I’ll come see you later,” he said as he left.

Elena went and plopped down on her bed. Tears started to well up in her eyes yet again. She buried her face in her pillow and cried hard. She hadn’t told Ramie yet but she’d gotten a letter from a soldier in her father’s division saying that her father had died in battle. She couldn’t bear the fact that she’d lost the last gift her father ever gave her. She cried and she cried, until she fell asleep.

It was almost dawn when she woke up. Her heart was heavy and she felt a knot in her stomach. Her hazel eyes were swollen red and her light brown hair was damp from her own tears. She tied them back into a neat bun and moved to her desk. The fire at the fireplace had died and it was getting rather chilly. But, she couldn’t be bothered to rekindle the embers. In fact, she found the cold rather soothing to her heart in a way. She opened the journal on her desk and studied the map she had drawn. She had marked the place where she’d lost her pendant. Ramie would probably scream at her but it was something she just had to do. Although, she was skeptical as to whether she’d find the pendant at all. She packed up her bag and was just about to leave when a warmth spread across the room.

Looking towards the fireplace, she found that there was a fire burning strong within. The heat radiating from it warmed her heart. At the same time though, it brought back the same sorrowful hurt.

“You here somewhere Ramie? Quit hiding,” she called out.

However, there was no response. Not an immediate one at least.

“You can’t stop me,” she tried again.

“Why, on the contrary, I’d like to join you my dear!” came a rather unusual voice.

Her heart skipped a beat.

“W-who are you?”

“Who me? In my current form, I believe we’d be strangers. In my previous form howsoever, I speculate we’d be called acquaintances. And perhaps in the future, we’d be friends?”

She couldn’t pin the source of the voice, for it was speaking directly into her consciousness. However, she wasn’t able to realize that.

“Where are you? Show yourself!” she demanded.

“I’m right here, behind you.”

When she did turn, her jaw dropped and she stood stunned with shock. There, right in front of her was a small serpent like figure with pair of hands and wings. It was afloat right next to her face and holding a paintbrush.

“For you,” it said.

She couldn’t believe her eyes. It was a dragon! The creature she’d been searching for since the day her father gave her the pendent. A being that she was only acquainted with through fairy tales that her father would spin in order to put her to sleep.

“Fear not, I’m not evil. I can’t say the same for the whole of my kind. Nevertheless, I mean you no harm. Take this tool and fix your hair,” it said once again.

It was rather interesting for she could hear the words but not see its lips moving.

“How are you able to talk?” she asked taking the paintbrush and fixing her hair.

“Ah! Humans!” he said in a tone rather similar to parental disappointment. “We’ve lived long before your time. Speech is rudimentary for our kind. However, we’d rather use telepathy. It transcends elementary languages.”

It took a while for her to gather her thoughts, but she was slightly catching up.

“You said we were acquaintances?”

“Remember the pendant that fell into the volcano? I was tricked and trapped inside it for ages; looking for a way escape.”

“It was not an egg, but a cage?”

“You were always smart Elena!” he said flying away to the far side of the room and retrieving the crystal without its serpent like inhabitant and handing it to the girl. “It’ll take more than some hot metal to destroy my prison.”

“Who trapped you?”

“It’s a long story. Perhaps best suited for another occasion. Before that, we must prepare.”

“Prepare for what?”

Things were moving fast. Way too fast. And Elena was trying her best to wrap her head around everything and grasp the situation to the best of her knowledge and understanding.

“For war, my dear! For war!” it said. “The dragons shall soon rise once again. And so shall the ones seeking their power for their own greed.”

“What are we to do?”

“First things first, gather an army.”

“Soldiers?” she asked out of curiosity.

“No my dear,” it said with a twinkle in its eyes. “Dragons!”

Prologue

“Rumpelstiltskin… Rumpelstiltskin…” his mother called out.

Rumpelstiltskin, a boy in his early teenage years with eyes and hair as brown as the wood in a cold winter’s fireplace just waiting to be lit up, lay in a bed of straws. His tanned skin as if kissed by the sun a clear contrast to the yellow of the dry grass. Inside the manor, his father was occupied in noting down the measurements for the Baron of the land; preparations to create an exquisite ballroom attire, for the glorified knight of the kingdom.

Although he was there to help his father, when he was told his assistance would not be required, he had instead made himself cosy in Sir Farias’ barn. With nothing to do on a bright sunny day, the young lad had decided to spend the day lazing in the barn where he could not help but take an afternoon nap, enjoying the cool summer breeze from the mountains up north.

“Rumpelstiltskin…” she called out once more before talking to herself. “Where, in the Lord’s name, has this boy gone?”

The boy, upon hearing his mother’s call, got up from his comfortable padding and patted the hay off his clothes. He ran his hands through his hair to get some of the strands out before running up the hill to the small shack; which, by the grace of Sir Farias, was his home. When he reached the doorstep, panting heavily, his mother smiled and beckoned him to sit down at the table.

“Eat up my boy. You would require strength to assist your father,” she said lovingly as she gave him a piece of bread and some stew.

“Mother, father told me he did not need me. I was just having a nap in the barn. Father needs this more than me. He does most of the work.”

“And he shall have it as well. Once you finish eating, you should take some for your father like the good son that you are,” his mother said tending to the fire.

“Aye,” replied Rumpelstiltskin with his mouth full of bread.

“Now-now child, you should not speak with your mouth full. Where are your manners? You should carry yourself properly as well. You were given the grace of being able to stand under our Lord Sir Farias’ roof after all. I hope you will not sully his favour.”

The boy nodded in order to affirm his understanding. He was a good boy, very much obedient, and everybody loved him. While he ate, his mother poured some stew into a small earthen pot. She tied together some bread within leaves using made strings of hay. Then, she handed them to the boy.

“Now hurry along. You should not keep your father waiting,” she said with a smile as she ruffled her son’s hair with her hand. She also removed strands of hay he had missed and made tidy his mane. “Make sure you put forth your best in our Lord’s presence.”

“I shall mother.”

And with that he was off again, running down the hill to the Baron’s mansion.

“Hold your horses! Where are you off to in such hurry lad?” the guard asked at the gates.

“I only wish to give my father his meal sir,” he replied.

“You are Hansdieter’s lad, are you not?” the guard asked.

“Aye sir.”

“Ah, in that case, convey this message of mine dear boy. I require that your father come to my quarters this evening and take my measurements. It seems as if my armour is in need of some adjustments since ’tis a tad tight.”

“Certainly sir. Shall I take my leave?”

“Aye, run along little one,” said the guard before shouting behind him “Tell him ’tis Sir Ronald’s request.”

“Aye sir!” Rumpelstiltskin replied over his shoulders.

He hurriedly made his way inside, almost tripping down the butler in between. He apologized after the man instructed him not to run inside the passageways and then continued to walk onwards to where his father was working. He knocked twice and waited for the Baron to grant him permission before entering.

“Ah, if it is not your boy Hansdieter. Pray, what is it that brings you here to my chambers lad?”

His father continued to take measurements even as the Baron spoke and did not even acknowledge his son’s presence. The boy knelt down on one knee before the knight and bowed before answering.

“My Lord, my mother sends the afternoon meal for my father and also I have a message to convey to him from one of the guards at the gate.”

“Ah well, I believe it is late after all. Hansdieter, you will take your leave now. I believe you were able to conclude your work here?”

“I have my Lord,” he replied bowing his head after noting down the final measurement on a little parchment he had brought with him.

“In that case, I shall take leave first to attend the court. Stay and work on the cloth once you are well provided for with the food your son carries. Be cautious and very thorough with your work howsoever. I shall not tolerate anything but perfection,” the Baron said.

“Of course my Lord. I shall spare neither expense nor effort. In addition, I would like to thank you for your generosity my Lord, and ask that you forgive my son’s rudeness. He is yet young and lacking.”

“He seems like a good boy. He most certainly is your lad my dear Hansdieter. Make sure you take home some grain once you prepare to leave the premises. I shall notify the clerk. I believe I shall not be returning tonight. Also, convey my warm regards to your wife. Tell her Fiona enjoyed the bouquet of flowers she had sent her.”

“We are very much obliged and grateful for your kindness my Lord,” Hansdieter replied bowing his head followed by Rumpelstiltskin.

The Baron made his way out of the room followed by the two. Rumpelstiltskin handed his father his meal and conveyed the message of the guard.

“Son, tell your mother I shall not be coming home tonight. I shall be making rather merry with Heisenberg at the tavern and shall be accompanying him to his forge to assist thereafter. You should collect the grain our Lord so graciously promised us come evening in my stead from the clerk. Now run along boy, you should not stretch our Lord’s kindness thin by prolonging your stay here any longer than you are supposed to.”

Rumpelstiltskin bid his father farewell and made his way back to the house. He walked slowly taking deep breaths. The air was filled with the fragrance of a waning spring. And in the distance, he could hear the birds chirping away merrily as if to celebrate the onset of summer.

“Rum!” a voice call out to him.

Far away, sitting on an apple tree, was his friend Christof. With his dirty hay-like hair drifting in the wind and a grin from ear to ear, he was waving to Rumpelstiltskin, beckoning him to come close.

“Here, catch!” said Christof, throwing him an apple when he got close enough.

Rumpelstiltskin caught it, rubbed it against his shirt and took a bite.

“What are you doing on top of the tree Christof?” he asked.

“Just waiting for the sun to set. It is a rather beautiful sight to witness. You should join me,” Christof replied, his blue eyes set upon the horizon.

Rumpelstiltskin put the apple inside the pocket of his trousers and started to climb. He was almost at the branch where Christof was sitting when he lost his footing. He ended up holding on for dear life as he clung to the bark of the tree with just his bare hands.

“Give me your hand, will you?” he said asking Christof for help.

“You are still such a baby,” Christof said coming to his rescue and pulling him up.

“And you are such a grown up that you still wet the bed,” Rumpelstiltskin retorted sitting next to him.

“Quit your lies! That was a long time ago. Just watch, I shall be a knight soon and you will see view me with great respect as I ride down into the sunset like a legend!” Christof said looking into the distance.

“Why do you want to be a soldier?”

“Because they are my heroes! Without them protecting us, dreams both yours and mine, would be shattered right in our sleeps. If you were to ask me, there would not be anything more painful than dreams that shall never be realized. I want to be a protector of them so that such a fate may never ring true.”

“I wonder what makes you say that. And also, if it has more to do with the affection you harbour for the baker’s daughter than the love of riding upon a horse,” said Rumpelstiltskin chuckling.

“Hold that tongue of yours, you little devil! And do not speak that out loud! I swear, one of these days, you will be the death of me!” he said as Rumpelstiltskin grinned. “That aside, what is your dream Rum?”

“My dream?” Rumpelstiltskin asked gazing out towards the setting sun. “I believe I am yet to dream of a destiny that is worth dreaming.”

“You and your riddles…” Christof said putting his hand around his friend’s shoulders. “But then again, it is what makes you who you are!”

“A jolly good fellow?” asked Rumpelstiltskin smiling.

“Aye, a jolly good fellow.” Christof replied, smiling back.

They watched as the setting sun turned the sky a beautiful hue of crimson. Two young boys, atop a tree, with not much as a care in the world.

Nationalists – Termites infesting humanity!

Honestly, Einstein’s quote serves as a better title. But it’s best not to plagiarize upon his thoughts alone when the opinion’s mine. Aye, I believe nationalists to be a pest and nationalism a disease. Its purpose? To further divide… As if mankind wasn’t divide enough to begin with! Caste, race, religion, gender, tradition, food, clothing, literature, art… So many things to divide us. And only one thing to unite – Humanity! The one thing we all so conveniently ignore.

So why this rant? Because there’s this thing called hope…

I fear that blinded by the veil of nationalism, we might trod down the path of our own demise. As Einstein well observed… “Nationalism, in my opinion, is nothing more than an idealistic rationalization for militarism and aggression”. It is a tool for political manipulation. Arrogant as the dominant species upon Earth, at the top of the food chain, it seems ecological balance shall soon inspire cannibalism. Not of the gruesome graphic kind with blood and gore but rather a more silent one preying upon thoughts and ideologies. Soon enough, we might witness another war fueled by man’s greed.

My friends call me unpatriotic when I ask that they show empathy to fellow human beings. They belittle me and mock my words. They feel they should fight fire with fire. Perhaps they forget to notice, the ash left in its wake. Am I wrong to care and love people without looking at the flags they bear? Charles de Gaulle said “Patriotism is when love of your own people comes first; nationalism, when hate for people other than your own comes first”. Aye, then I am an anti-national. But, I claim to be patriotic; patriotic to humanity! In this day and age, where we live in a global world, I’d like to ask every human being out there… Do we really need a nationalistic divide? Can we not see what Nationalism truly is?

“Nationalism is power-hunger tempered by self-deception.” -George Orwell.

I am not as great as these people I quote. In fact, I’m quite insignificant. However, the insignificant many are just as important as the significant few. For leaders require followers and rulers need a kingdom to rule. Let not the dominance foster demise.

“Nationalism of one kind or another was the cause of most of the genocide of the twentieth century.” – Arundhati Roy.

Perhaps we should learn from our history rather than just observing them as facts. If not, the twenty first century will not be any different. I, as an individual, am easy to silence; easy to oppress. After all, I am weak. But if you’re strong, pay heed to the voice of your own conscience and wisdom. Until that day, I shall hold my peace and pay homage in my heart to the words of Karl Kraus who once said…

“Nationalism is the love which ties me to the blockheads of my country, to the insultors of my way of life, and to the desecrators of my language.”

Calcul de vie…

Mathematics doesn’t lie,

It’s elementary my dear!

Everything’s got a value,

Be it a smile or a tear.

If I were to assign,

A number to myself…

I’d pick the number one and,

Leave the rest in the shelf.

Why that and not something else?

Am I some kind of a special one?

Perhaps the answer to it is yes,

For being one is no fun!

All alone, one makes no difference.

Unless one were to add another.

Or rather subtract one instead,

And eliminate the value of the other.

Don’t believe me,

Have a try yourself!

Pair it with any other operator

By its lonesome self.

Perhaps its wisdom, or just a bad pun.

Square it, root it or make it a cube;

The laws dictate that it’ll end up as one.

But, perhaps, I am just a noob!

A dream’s wish…

I dream…

I dream of an encounter.

Of a rendezvous with an acquaintance, that was once a stranger.

I dream of a stroll.

Of footsteps in the sand, washed away by waves of fate.

And I dream…

I dream of grass.

Of the wetness of the morning dew, crushed beneath the weight of my feet.

I dream of a smile.

Of a blossom in spring, the breeze through my hair and a hand by my side.

Still I dream…

I dream of fireflies.

Of a lit up night, and stars that can be held were I to reach out.

I dream of rain.

Of a fire crackling as it dies, while embers of passion turn into a flame.

Yet I dream…

I dream of joy.

Of a cackle of life, a sound which now is the greatest of melodies.

I dream of life.

Of spending and being spent, all for the sake of the ones I love.

So I dream…

And when I dream, I dream of home…

The calm before the storm…

A silence ensues,

The vision grows bleak.

Reflections full of hues,

Uncertainty is what I seek.

A lonesome cup of café,

And dew forming on the side.

Showers outside the window sill,

And a storm brewing inside.

But here I sit and wait,

Shunned by the judgement of worthy folk.

What reason have I to exist when,

Not an ear heeds the words I spoke?

Will my lonesome cup ever find solace,

Or is it but the mirage of a hopeful heart?

I know not of what was or what will be,

But was I not aware of it from the start?

Uncertainty is what I sought,

But living it proves harder than I first thought.

My grace…

I hide from the world,

Not because I’m afraid,

But because my painted lips,

Don’t feel like keeping up pace.

 

Arms around me, I would like to feel,

But the world isn’t such an easy place.

I wonder if there would be someone,

Who’d look beneath the mask of my face,

 

Delve deeper than the flesh of my bosom,

And find my heart that still holds its grace.

For that time I wait, maybe it may never come,

But if it does, I wouldn’t mind if it stopped, in that lovely place.

Voyage to a frozen dell…

We are but pirates!

Stranded on a lonesome shore,

Searching for treasure.

 

A map of linen,

By a forgotten legend,

Leads us on our way.

 

Fallen leaves trampled,

A ray of sudden despair,

Had it been too late.

 

The breeze soothes our toil.

The warm sun, the gloomy moon.

Gold waiting to shine.

 

To the captain’s call,

Unaware of the result,

Efforts carried on.

 

Sooner or later,

The captain’s question drowns deep,

In a roar of Aye!

Conspiracy of the universe…

I do not know you,

You do not know me.

To each other, we are but new.

 

Like honey and the bee,

The universe conspired.

And that’s how we met, you see.

 

Fate has not transpired,

Words are yet to leave the lip.

But, it’s the heart’s desire,

A new world full of friendship.