I liked looking into your eyes when you were absorbed watching out from the window glass. You still looked like a child, with that expectation that shone in your face, hidden just by the collar of the wool coat.
With your brown hair, long enough to frame your face, and the clear eyes of who after all, in spite of everything, had never betrayed himself. How old were you? Thirty or ninety? You, who had lived experiences, and always fell in love with everything.
You waited for the first snow, as a blessing, as a good reason to cry, to hope, to believe in the return of something, that you knew to have left, like everything else, in the river of time… Continue reading “The First Snow”
We breathed heavily through the forest. Clouds of white steam came out of our mouth. Bows and arrows on the shoulders, the fast pace of our steps. We followed the trail of the Sacred Deer, Lord of the Woods, walking for days to his search.
We had interrogated the runes to know where to go. Where was Madim, the Sword of the Force, the weapon that carried the Ancient Warrior? The sword that had hidden the Druids in the forest.
The runes had answered us saying to look for the place where the Sacred Deer rests, down there, near the Source. The Sacred Deer, the Spirit of the Wood, the Keeper of the Forest. Nobody had ever seen him… Continue reading “Following the Sacred Deer.”
I remember the dust, dry on clothes, glued on me. The desire for a warm place, protected from the cold winds of winter … interminable was our journey. My wife walked quiet and silent. A heavy bundle balanced on the head, and our little Isaac on his back, three weeks of life, tied tight with a white linen band.
Sometimes my wife sang a sweet song, to cradle the baby during the journey. So he was at peace, my little gift of Immense, my child. His dark eyes watched the world all around him, and on his little face two dimples dug out of the habit of a smile.
We were already three days’ walk away from our village, but I was still restless, worried. I could not stay. We heard voices of the occupation brought by enemy troops a little further to the north. In the assaulted villages the men were killed and the women reduced to slavery. I had to protect my family. Continue reading “Isaac’s laughter”
Shortly before the shadow enveloped the world in her mantle, on the longest night of the year, at the gates of Winter, I watched the fire so that it did not go out.
The party we would have celebrated, shortly thereafter, would have warmed our hearts. The cider from the recent harvest would have reddened our cheeks, and the good beer, aged in larch barrels, would have us singing, all night long, until dawn.
I had polished the bagpipe that my father had taught me to play, that I was little more than a child, and I was going through the notes of my dearest songs.
I wanted to stay awake, to play, to sing, to wait the great Spirit of Winter! Continue reading “Waiting for the Spirit of Winter: the longest night”
So tell me a new story, one of the many stories you saw in the Wheel of Time. Was I there? And what eyes did I have? What are the hair, the lips and the smile? What are the adventures you thought, Lord of Time?
On the back of a wild horse did I ride the endless expanses of the Northland? Or did I fall asleep with fatigue, in front of a fire, waiting for the dawn of a day of fight?
So many impressions that crowd my mind, when I jump in the Dark Sea of Time. And then suddenly I seem to see them, I almost hear the voices, the perfumes, the strongest feelings, as if they had stuck on me. Like the fine sand that sticks to you. Continue reading “Snippets Of Time”