Dedicated to Kiril and Tzsuco, without who this could never happen.
Thanks from all my heart to C.G.Jung and his “Grandfather” – Phylemon.

The stories in this book are absolutely authentic and true. The author's interruption is minimal and only in some places, helping for the better construction of the narrative. Some of the stories are collected folklore, notes and diaries. Others are a kindly gift from the participants themselves, to whom I give my heartily thanks for the friendly and loving hand reached out to our world.
Who knows, the Mists of the Belt could rise some day. But, in order to this to be happen, we should know each other well!

Stories of Kruton the Duffer, the Shaman of Lucknoisers
Written by his own hand

I wanted to tell my survivals, as I think now, because of two reasons. To share with someone what was before and to put order, just for myself, in all the stories, relations, events, to have at least a little orientation about the reason of what all the things are going on like this or other way. I’m absolutely out of experience what is good or not, what is right and what is wrong. It is clear, that it’s too heavy for my strength. There are Clever ones for this work, if its possible someone to do this at all. I gave up the feeling, that what happens is happening only to me. According to what I hear to be told, from old, old times, the things are going on and on, in the same way, in the same order and as I see, they will stay the same even in the deepest future. But this truth doesn’t make the things easier for me, because it makes me sad not only for myself, but and for the others, too; It makes me feel less stupid, because its not only me, involved in the whole huge everlasting Life.
I will tell the entire true story, without keeping anything. More of that – it is doubtful, that anyone will read all about my survivals. For me – survivals, what I do deserve – for others; for third – nothing important had happened.
For the good story, I think it should be better if I start from earlier. I need it for myself, because the troubles may be come from far away, when I was still a little. If I search the things in the past, may be it will be easier to explain – isn’t it true, that the things don’t come like that, for a moment; but we increase them far and long, until we get their fruit.
I was born in the village Winding River, very beautiful, little village at the foot of a mountain. My fellow villagers are from the tribe of the Lucknoisers, from the kind of the Bushters. Compared to the other talking creatures, we are small, with long and thickly fur, big eyes and extremely curious. My people explain the name “Lucknoisers” as “lucky” and “hard working”. Our neighbors, the Hornies tribe, talk, that “Lucknoisers” mean lazy people, who love to mess the others. My people are sure, that “Hornies” means the same. Both our tribes have a long, long history living, trading, and working together, somehow.
This is about my birthplace and my brothers. About myself- my name is Kruton, the Duffer. The Duffer is because of my fellow-villagers, to whom, by the way, I am a Shaman. The Lucknoisers worship the Moon. My teacher, the old Shaman Rootcrop, let him rest in peace, explained me the reason for this like that:” It is very practical.” When the Moon shines, it’s at night and only when not cloudy. Then the Lucknoisers sleep sound. They don’t do anything bad, funny or stupid. In few words – they don’t go out. That’s why, not seeing them, their god can’t punish them for anything. If the Moon, as it happens sometimes, appears in the daytime, they believe it spies them. Then Lucknoisers leave all the work they do out unfinished, winking each other. Hornies worship the Sun. When disaster comes to them, my people laugh at what happened, because “Hornies were too stupid to show themselves out”. For the Hornies’ disasters is guilty the Sun; for ours – its me. That’s why they called me the Duffer. I can’t protect them from all the bad things happen, this is the truth itself.
Being a Shaman originates in events, because of which grandfather Rootcrop gave me the name Kruton. Our custom is the Shaman to give name to the newborns. We make a ritual in which in the Windy River, this one that passes through the village, on moonlight – before the eyes of our god, the Shaman throws the baby into the water. In the river there live big six legged fish, who bring the baby out on the shore. We don’t eat those fish, they are holy. So, when the baby is out on the ground, the Shaman can give its name. If the fish don’t bring the baby, it should be drowned and stays Unnamed. In the same situation, as a newborn, they threw me in the waters. But I didn’t sink at all. They were waiting more and more, but I didn’t go down. Then The Shaman called me Kruton – like they call the fried bread pieces in the soup. Everyone decided that this is a very special phenomenon and this predicted my fate, to apprentice me to grandfather Rootcrop. When this happens, he becomes a mother and a father to me; I no longer have parents. I wasn’t unpleased, we were great together. He could do different things – to put right the broken bones, to make bandage, to foment wounds with suitable herbs; he knew what herbal tea for what disease is responsible. Very helpful things. He taught me, too. To write and read. And to reckon. He had books, I read them all. And to predict the weather – when a storm is coming, should the summer be hot, to deliver from woman or cow, to heal fever.
But my fellow villagers are not sure what the true reason of the Shaman is about. So they impose upon me different duties and remove others the time. This makes my work very difficult. They believe only what they want. Sometimes they even don’t want or like something, but just because of a habit they continue how they know from before. For example, I offered not to throw babies in the river any more, to repeal the ritual. I don’t think they like it – what for liking can you find in this? But they got used to it, without knowing why. Even didn’t want to listen – this is and that’s all! Then I put my dearest friend Perko (translated as Fin) for a dummy under the water. He is the best swimmer and diver. When the kid sink in the deep, he catch it, good hidden under the place where I make the throwing. Then quietly he put it, completely safe, at the other shore. No longer drowned; everybody think, that the Moon is very pleased with them. If they only suspect something, my second name won’t be enough punishment. But this doesn’t bother me from a long time ago.
Before was too heavy. I confess – I always wanted to be Kruton the Glorious or the Talented. I think everybody wants. And grandfather Rootcrop, let him rest in peace, wanted. They had determinate him, too – as the Rootcrop the Wrong. But I think its not as bad as mine is. Because, from one side, it means, that he is not good enough, but from the other – they have chosen not the suitable one. In my case it’s only me, who is incorrect. May be it only seems to me – that the situation of the other one is better than mine. This is in the normal order of the things, too. If you ask Lucknoisers now, the former Shaman was the best, much, much more than any other, especially than me, and in general, all the things were better, uh, oh, what times were, you cannot imagine! But this is in the normal order of how the things are going on. And always is.
I endeavor to do what I can, as my conscience whispers me. If possible, not irritating them or myself. Doesn’t work all the time!

The wheat is gone and so the story begins

Hranko is the mayor of our village. My friend Barzan (translated as Quicker) and I helped him to gather the wheat from his field. This is how is accepted here – to help each other and the work to go on easier and faster. In the past days Perko helped us, too, but this day was ill and I left him to keep the bed with a big bottle with tightening tea. Perko is big, toll, ruddy cheeked, works hard and fast and so much, after that he needs much food and water. He is so much kind and helpful, everything in him is so much. The special situation because of the summer disease enforced him staying home today. I still fret and fume about he wasn’t then with me, but this is life – you have to bend depending on the shape of its pattern.
Barzan is different – always drops down everything he holds, always in hurry and in waste of time, couldn’t catch and manage the things right. He spins around in vain, from left to right, in confusion, with misunderstanding. Remembers poorly and makes the mess. If you send him for mushrooms, he brings you woods. This is my good friend Barzan. Nothing can be done – but, whatever is, it is help. He always has good intentions to do his best from all his heart. They slander about him, but I like Barzan. They slander about everybody.
This day, when the noon came, we decided to have a rest, to enjoy the lunch. The water was over, so we had to bring from the forest spring that is near the Hranko’s field, until he prepares the lunch. As said – as done, we go and we see, before even to step into the forest: huge flock of Stareballs is coming. The Stareballs, as the country people call them, are also named Bargunders. These are flying small red creatures, like balls, with black spots on their backs, with big staring green eyes. They steal the collected wheat from the barns of the villages and are real scourge. They don’t fly only with their wings, but also have short hairy straws on their heads, that spin around and help them fly. However, we saw haw a big red-black cloud is coming, buzzing and whizzing. They are not stupid at all. And the Shaman’s work is to talk with their chief and if possible, anything to be substituted for keeping the wheat for the village or any other negotiations. Once we have been talked with their chief, it was when grandfather Rootcrop was alive, let him rest in peace. The chief had thick bumptious voice, flying with dignity – real boss indeed. However, now the menace happened. The things happened so quickly. In the forest lives Halcho. He is small furry eight-legged fellow, who throws stones and rods over everyone, who passes from Vast field through the forest, or from the village to Vast field, through the forest. In few words, everything alive, that moves, Halcho throws at it and doesn’t let anyone to pass. Now, when he saw the Bargunders, began a powerful attack. Barzan instead to hide somewhere or to run away, began his usual spinning around, not understood what happens. Until I shout, Halcho hit him in the forehead with a short and approximately thick rod. Barzan, as he weighs poorly, ran away to hide in the barn. We built the barn out of the village, in the fields, to be easy to collect the harvest there. So, Barzan came inside it, slamming the door. But, from outside I hear him screaming! Without watching at all, because he holds his hitting forehead with hands on his eyes, he have stepped on a pile of woods and there jammed his calf and it turned blue. He screams inside, I’m outside. In this very moment, the entire village already saw the coming trouble in the shape of a cloud, were on their way to call me from the field, to talk with the Bargunders’ chief. I wanted to help my screaming friend.
Everybody saw me how I open the gate of the barn and how the entire Stareballs cloud disappears in it.
What to say – it is nonsense to apologize. We become wheatless and it left too little for me to become homeless forever, to be banished from the village. But I made a situation to bring it back that is described in the following adventures.

How to bring the wheat back

How can I leave the entire gallimaufry without doing anything! My name should not be Kruton, the Duffer if I could not succeed! That’s how I said to myself. And then I suddenly felt confused – a contradiction appeared, I’m a Duffer, don’t I. The duffers make mess, can’t do things better. But this didn’t stop me.
Hranko called the entire village to lash me for what happened and to be decided what should be done. I didn’t complain and explain – it’s clear, as the bright sun is that I’m guilty. I kept silence and suffered everything, everything.
- Bad and evil! – Said someone - Lets beat him and lock him at home, not to appear to our eyes!
My ears burned red of shame. But none saw them, because of my thick red fur.
- To cut his fur and to banish him away! – Offered another.
- Let your house to burn in flames! To see no good…
- Good - for - nothing! Duffer!
After all expresses and proclamations, granny Martei came personally to me to pull up my ears. My friends stayed, staring at the ground, blushed, like they were guilty themselves. Sopsy, who was a little boy, began to sniff and finally cried. Hranko told me well – founded insulting things…and stuff like that. It came to me by itself, escaping from my mouth:
- I will leave the village and will return back with the wheat before the winter comes!
After a short moment of silence, everybody began shouting and screaming again. They whistled and clattered, knocked and insulted. But, Hranko found my suggestion good. They don’t need no Shaman, he said; I was doing more bad massy things, than good and helpful. It’s fine to leave at least for a while, not to appear in front of their eyes; to think alone, very well – what kind of a person am I, what should I do in the future. And to come back, if I feel no shame. I felt so sad. They didn’t take me serious at all, from the very beginning. I did have no Authority.
- I’m leaving! – I said and felt extremely pity for myself.
“Look at me now, because it’s the last time for you that you can see me! And none ever forever should not even peep at me anywhere! And if I can’t find the wheat, you see me now for the last time in your entire lives. And I shall be no more!” That was what I thought and felt tears to well up in my eyes.
Anyway, the gathering finished. After that, everyone, wherever see me, began to scold and blame. I prepared a bag with different things needed for my way – at first place – my Shaman’s rod, some tobacco, bread, onion, apples…things like that. In front of the forest, from the side of the village, ours were put a battered basin for communal use of the villagers. For those, who wants to pass across the forest, to protect himself from Halcho – at least his head to be safe. They didn’t want to give it to me, because I should not return back, they thought. Then I create something important. I went to Branko (translated from Bran – means protection), the blacksmith, and gave him a picture, made by myself – how to form for me a little basin, with the size of my head. Low, from two sides, there to be two holes, in order a piece of a cord to be pushed and tied there, under my chin and to be fit and stay sure on my head. Branko laughed at me, but made it. I repaid him with a bottle of towards rheumatism tea for his grandma. And lavender and pine straws for his chest, to keep away the moths from the wooden clothing and blankets, because he always complains. So, I was prepared for my way, everybody laughed at me so much. Well, at least they farewell with me being happy. A long time after that it became clear, that I was invented something important, that is in the practice from long ago, but for my fellow villagers its without importance.
Perko and Barzan wanted to come with me, but the mayor stopped them, because even Barzan was helpful for anything. It was what I preferred – to be alone; because I really had no idea what should I do, where should I go. Moreover, I knew, it shouldn’t be safe.
So, that was the way my leaving happened. I took a deep breath, turned my back to the village, aimed to the forest and…started on my journey!

I travel forward to the unknown

I was still confused and thought about all the things. All were mixed in my mind – about village, about Barzan in the barn, about after that – the shaming gathering in the village – hall and many others. After few steps in the forest Halcho started throwing with all his eight legs, like a mill. The basin kept me from the pain, but not from the noise. It was ringing loudly with every strike. I began feeling my head ringing already not only outside, but inside, too. But I was still walking. Halcho stopped for a while, but speeded up again. I tried to imagine, that on my basin are falling big drops of rain, but didn’t feel much comfortable. However, the forest isn’t too big. I will stand it somehow anyway. Little left to be crossed and I will be at the Vast field. And, then, as a beginning of my mission, I must reveal where the Bargunders live. No idea how. I walked longer more. And more. More than hour. Of what was left as a remembrance in my mind, the forest wasn’t so huge – I already had to be at Vast field; not once, but ten times in this long journey! But may be I’m wrong. I walked this way still a long time and finally understood – I’ve been lost. I took a wrong path in a wrong direction. At least Halcho was stopped his throwing, but looking at the high tops of the trees, how their branches are moving, I understood he follows me up from above. My stomach began to call more and more often, so I set in the foot of a big tree to eat a little from my provisions. Probably I’ve been taken a nap, yes; sure I had to be slept, because it was already twilight all around me. Uh, now, I was in a completely new situation. I’ve never been overtaken by the night in a forest. I’ve never was so away from the village. And the others are now by the fire, talking, laughing each other; they are cooking the dinner. Together. As I thought about Perko and Barzan, I felt I want to cry. I felt myself completely discouraged. And I didn’t want to walk any more! I was staying there, looking around. I’m doomed. I didn’t dare even to whisper to myself, because here, in the quiet, the words made the silence stronger, making me more lonely and scared. It became so ominous. Well, Kruton the Duffer, your glorious journey lasted only one day and you already want suddenly to return back home, weeping and with empty hands. And everybody will laugh at you again and will mock you and they will be right! No, it’s better to die here, alone, in the forest from something scary and awful, than to die of shame in the village. I encouraged myself – there is nothing frightening in the forest. See, nothing – only trees and birds. And small animals – smaller than me. How lives Halcho here – here sleeps, here is good for him. But he lives on the trees! Wait, I shall climb up. I tied tight my bag over my shoulder and huddled up on one thicker branch. But I couldn’t sleep at all. More over I was slept all the afternoon, now just stayed lurking and dreamed eagerly the night to be dragged out most quickly.
So, in the way I was sheltered, I suddenly noticed two lighting spots. At the next tree, over there, just towards me. They were faded and lighted again. This thing is winking, I thought. Alive it is, it means. And my heart began banging loudly. Let this be Halcho! But these eyes were too big, Halcho is small. “Your grandma has big eyes! You see all those because of your fear; Duffer!” – I said to myself purposely, but it didn’t help. I even held my breath. I was almost suffocated, and the animal was stared right into me. Spotting darkness came on to my lids, my ears rumbled. Now, now I’m dropping down from the branch…and this will be the end. So. That’s it, over.
- Are you hungry, too? - Babbled. I had no strength to answer.
- Well, don’t answer me, if you like staying silent. Your will.
I opened my mouth, but from it escaped nothing but thin squawking.
- Do what you want, but don’t move so much; you may scare the mice.
It means, it eats mice. That’s it, I could make a consideration. That’s better. If it eats mice, it shouldn’t want to eat me. I’m much, much larger than a rat, even the biggest one.
- What are you? – I whispered very quietly, but it heard me.
- Ordinary Goblin. And you – why have you wrinkled yourself there? Sure you are afraid. But there is nothing for. The Muun passed from here at a new moon and may be will come back when the next new moon comes, when get hungry. The Khaldons sleep at night. So, take breath calmly!
- It’s the first time that I hear about you.
- Hear? Aren’t you someone crazy, from that village, at the river?
- I am from there, but I’m not crazy. I’m a Duffer. I wanted to say, that I’ve never heard about such…like you.
- Well, now you even saw.
We kept silence for a while. Then the Goblin babbled again.
- Don’t be offended. I didn’t want to insult you.
- You didn’t.
The silence came again. The stars were twinkling above the quiet forest and only here – there any lonely night bird hailed. Nor leaf was moving.
- May I ask you something?
- Go on.
- Do you know where can I find the Bargunders?
- What you need them for?
And I began telling him all my trespassing to the village – we had all night for talking. I told about the wheat and everything. And, until I was talking, my voice began trembling, a little left to weep.
- You, Kruton, are a honorable creature – said the Goblin after a short reflection. – I will try to help you, but don’t promise anything. You need someone clever, to create a plan for you to Manage all of your Work. That’s why. I already think about one Really Clever for you. But the dawn is coming and I must go to sleep. Do you see that high poplar over there, that projects among the other trees? A little bit Eastern is the end of the forest and the beginning of the Vast field.
- Who clever?
- Don’t scream you’re killing me! I can hear you even from the other side of the forest! Whou, how rushing you are! Listen to me, am I telling you exactly this!
- Sorry! – I whispered
- So, when you go out, to the field, you should meet an old Grandfather from the Mavals. They are the cleverest and I’m sure he will help you.
- But…where to find him?
- Oh, that’s easy. He is big, red and feathery. Also loves to sing him and if you want him to appear for you, you must stand still in the field and sing. Loudly, loudly, very loudly. Then he comes.
- But I can’t sing. I sing poorly and I don’t know any songs, at all!
- Well, then go home and forget about the wheat. Who cannot do one or another, to stay home with his grandma by the fire and to fight the flies, not catching the forest, instead.
- I will, I will sing! But, you only tell me what songs to sing, because I can’t remind even a single one!
- Make one.
- What kind, for example, it should be like?
- A Serious one. About Life, Love, about Valour and Strength, children, nature…that stuff. Now I’m going in my hollow. The sun is rising! In the evening I will be back here and if you are still spinning around, we’ll meet again. Now I wish you good luck from all my heart! And…don’t meet a Khaldon in the forest! Good luck!
- How does the Khaldon look like?
- If you see one, you will surely know that it is.
- And what should be done to me?
But the Goblin was flied off. The sun was up for its travel through sky and ground, prepared to scatter the shadows once more and again - Today.
Well, at least I knew the direction for the Vast field. It’s unbelievable – it is too dangerous to be lost in the forest, but I realized now, that this was the safest. I thought the night was scary, but now I understood, that I should be afraid more from the day! Creature of the night helped me warning for the danger of the day – creature! The Khaldon! Amazing, amazing!
So, I was walking and thinking. I stepped faster and faster, almost running, I jumped through stumps and fallen trees. May be half of hour and I will be out of the dangerous forest. I was thinking about Valour and Strength, about things of the life…what to compose…I have to work some words and suitable melody. What should be? Something good. And clever, and full of wisdom and poetry, very beautiful. And tender, and heroic and of general significance about…for example...that kind of things were running in my mind. I already had seen the loose last trees’ stables of the forest and was peeping impatiently through them to the lush grass in the field with no more trees there! And because I already had a task to fulfill, it became easier and lighter to my heart – I follow a way and have an aim! And I was hurry, so hurry…
In this very moment, oh, I feel breathlessness when I remember! In this moment, just in front of me, eyes to eyes, strong blue eyes, completely blue, without any other colour in them! It was creeping among the grass only by hands; the big, flaking tail was following from behind. It was whispering, mumbling something shrilly, melodious and chanting, as this was a woman’s tender voice. It increased higher and higher, in a babbling, unholy song. It makes me spellbound, bewitches me, I was thinking very quickly. Sounds like “Minnie – Minnie – Maine- mo…”as we were playing sometimes, a long time ago, a long, long ago, when I was still alive. I run quickly, very quickly, and here it is – I’m out of the forest and behind me – the sound of broken branches and bewitching song. I was thoroughly out of my voice, but in the moment of my flying out of the woods, my entire voice flow out, too. I was screaming: “ Grandfather from the field, he-e-e-lp, HELP ME…- a song, yes, yes, a song, a love song…Once I was so in love,
For a year and a half,
But she left me and now,
I feel myself so small…
How stupid is this, damn it! Something about…Valour and Strength…better to try about it….Once there lived a strong and very cultured man,
Uhh, damn it; you fool, you duffer; about the children and life, I think will be successful! So, this time will be like this: There, by the river,
Where we drink the beer,
The children surrounded Branko
And he should treat them well,
‘cause otherwise it’s living hell!
My cries had to be so very loud. I was screaming with all my possibilities with my eyes strongly compressed and the basin was all over my face, so I could see nothing. After a while I slightly opened the basin’s fringe and saw through my red furs approximately short, green and fury creature. It was looking at me with surprised insistence straight into my eyes. More over I was without heart and strength because of my huge fear, so now, as I was singing I continued only with “AAAAAA…” but now I shouted with all my power, really. The creature didn’t do anything. It only enlarge his eyes, opened them more and more and stepped back, dumbfounded. It waited me to calm down, probably. I stopped my shouting and in the air drooped a false and decreasing: “AAAaaargh…”. We stood silently. I was benumbed, out of living power for thinking, running or sounding any voice from my mouth. May be a minute later – I don’t know, in such a moment the time is going different, the creature asked me:
- Do you understand what I’m talking?
I nodded assent.
- Do you know what season is now?
- S-s-summer.
- Do you have a name?
- Kruton the Duffer from Winding River.
- Nice to meet you, too. – He reached his hand out to me. – I’m Grandfather Tiholan, from Vast field.
I nodded assent.
- Do you know, Kruton, how old are you?
- One hundred and fifty three.
- Is this so much?
- I’m very young.
- And why you are here, not in Winding River?
- I’m looking for a Big, Clever and Red.
- What?
- As the Goblin said. He told me about the old grandfather Maval – he is that animal.
The creature set on the grass, stroking his long green beard. I became indifferent already; suddenly I felt myself totally calm.
- I am Grandfather Maval.
- But, bu-uut, you aren’t…
- Big and red? Yes, I’m surely not big and red. Clever? I don’t know. But it’s me who is Grandfather Maval, I know this for sure. And there is no other, at least not around here.
- So why he told me so?
- The Goblins are not bad, but aren’t very reliable. What they don’t know, they describe as they imagine. Even when they know, they fantasize a lot. He likes to be educated and important, but he is not bad. And you, why were shouting and screaming such crazy songs and words?
- I don’t know others and I work them quickly. To sing any songs.
- But why? Why you needed to sing at all? I understand the need to scream, when someone is scared, but those songs…? Because you wanted to sing, or because of you fear you began to do…rambling things?
- He told me you like songs about life, love and honour, and dignity and…this is the only way for me to call you, can you understand, this is the only way you can appear to me…and I needed you to come, very important…and no other way…
- Uhhh…- he took a deep breath, fixing eyes on the ground. In this moment the thing what I wanted was I, five heights under the ground, away from his eyes.
- Little left to awake the dead ones with that noise. I thought you’re someone crazy!
- Everybody thinks that.
I manifested myself brilliantly once again! Nothing to say, it always happens! Whatever to explain, the situation stays stupid, from the beginning to the end! My ears burned of shame like firebrands. Can you believe, he gave me simple questions, to see am I speechless noisy animal or crazy thing, without any direction!
- Well, I’m here now, your shouting brought me here, one way, or another, so it was helpful, don’t worry! How much time you were eyes in eyes with the Khaldon?
- Don’t know.
- This basin saved your life.
- I thrilled again.
Wahhh, how awful it was!
- Look at yourself; you’re just like a dry aspen leaf! I suggest you to come with me in my house, to eat something, your little soul to return back, and after this to talk. As I see you, you’re not out for a walk; you need help.
- A-ha. – I nodded strongly and the Grandfather took my hand to lead me through the field.

I’m Grandfather Tiholan’s guest. I learn about the Bogymen

Amazing! How he understands everything and without asking so much – about what happened with the Khaldon, about when and what the other person (means I) needs. This Grandfather is good. And what a cozy house! Feel like home. And smells tasty!
I set on a stump, left my bag next to it and stared in the burbled caldron in the fire. Bubbles and delicious smelling steam rose from the dish. The Grandfather stirred it up with a big wooden spoon and then put a little embroidered cover upon the short round table. My feet could not reach the floor, because the stump was too high for me, that’s why I could shake legs up and down, impatiently, in expectation of the dinner. The light of the fire turned in my eyes into a soft glowing ball, easily blinking in snatches, warming and enchanting. Its twitching got the rhythm of my breathing – bright, dark, breath in, breath out, again and again…so unnoticeably I fell asleep as I was sitting.
In the morning I found myself awaking in a wonderful wooden bed. I started, because I didn’t get immediately where am I exactly supposed to be. But in a blink of my eyes the yesterday came in my mind piece-by-piece, event-by-event, like a flock of bees. I tried to bring order in my bushy tufts on my head (grandfather Rootcrop, let him rest in peace, had a special name about them, called them “Forelock tufts” and so much took care about them, until combing out his fur in front of the mirror. And he wanted me to comb out, too. But, when he died, I lost the comb, so now I sometimes, rarely, use a hair – brush, to put my furs in order; but I don’t like this brush, so much less to take it with me, to fill up my bag unnecessarily)... I surrendered to my memories. So, now I sleeked down my fur with a little spittle and went out to look for the Grandfather. The door of the little room I’ve been slept in, was leading to a small cabbage garden – everything there put in order, with little pretty ridges and tidy wooden fences. The Grandfather was digging with a hoe and when saw me, smiled:
- I didn’t wake up you for dinner last evening, because you were too exhausted. But now a full plate of blueberry jam and a pile of pancakes are waiting for you! I hope you like them!
- And how! It’s absolutely clear!
I attacked my breakfast with big pleasure, outdoors, under the trellis vine, into the cabbage garden. Light - green butterflies filled the morning freshness with their careless pottering about. It smelled tasty, the fragrance of wide and shiny field, herbs and hay mixed in one whole amazing and joyful happiness. The fragrance increased because of the moisture in the air, like just washed from the rainy night. I already was licking the last drops of jam in the plate and now, after I finished my breakfast, the Grandfather began to talk.
- Yesterday I didn’t tell you more than my name. I should tell you more, even shortly and then you will. Would you, please, stop clattering with your feet under the table? I am from those creatures, who the ordinary villagers call Bogy. They use our names to scare their disobeying children. A long time ago we used to live very close, in their houses…
(“Whether he will lock me somewhere here, to give me food until makes me fat and in the end to eat me, as is told in the tales? Whaw…how trusting I am!” – I looked in my plate – I have already done a total extinction of everything in it. But I stop eating from this moment! That’s it!)
- …we used to help with different things – to protect the home, to bring fertility for the crops, the harvest and the cattle, to bless the fish in the rivers and the fisherman to get more, and other helpful things. But the villagers never connected their wellness with us. They treated us inimically, frightened from us, began tormenting us badly, so we were forced to leave the cozy shelter of their homes and to learn to live alone. It was difficult in the beginning, but after the time passes, we got used. We live very, very long lives, from any point of view, practically – forever, if someone do not kill us or harm us badly. But we don’t have a “natural death”. We are very tough, but even so it’s very hard for us to live alone. The correct way of life for us is the one with mutual aid. But they accused unjustly us as dangerous and lazy.
I was continuing to lick the tops of my fingers from the imaginative remainders of the jam, listening very carefully, with eyes and ears opened wide. Imagine, just imagine what kind of things he’s telling! Do you see, now, where from are the tales about the Bogy! Ha! How many things you don’t know, poor my Kruton, I was told to myself, entirely obsessed by the story.
- Now, as I see you well, staying together long enough, I’m completely sure, that you are a far great – great – great – grandson to a friend of mine and even a little bit relative, Grandfather Tjuhul. He is a Bogy, too. But we don’t call ourselves Bogy, there’s another name, Maval. And, we are also known as the Grandfathers; it’s just a way of living, not a kind of creatures, but a community, that shares common understanding about the Unity, the things at whole. If I don’t make a mistake, probably your Grandfather still lives in some old chimney of your house; because none of our line, the Mavals, doesn’t meet him anywhere from a long, long time ago to wander through fields and woods; from centuries, I think. But if he was perished, we would surely know!
- I, I…I have a Grandfather!
- Yes, Maval…or Bogy, the same!
- AAAAaaaa! Great and Amazing! Are you sure?
- I am. I wouldn’t tell you, if I wasn’t sure. We know those things from once, just like this, for example as if you ask me…what colour is the fur on your back. – And he stared in my back - fur, screwing eyes, shaking head, - No, even with biggest sureness!
We laughed and then he continued:
- Probably you have a lot of events in your life, which made you look and feel strange, not like the others of your people, the Bushters, don’t you have?
- No to be like the Lucknoisers…- I began thinking – Yes, yes…when I was born, I haven’t sunk into the river’s waters, when they have thrown me!
- But…why should they have done this to you?
- Ah, uh, there is a lot to be told about the things…Well, well…so, when I was born…
So I began telling my events. Grandfather Tiholan was listening very carefully. He lighted his pipe, skillful and with understanding. I was telling on and on, and he was sitting next to me, but seemed like he was disappeared, hidden deeply in his thoughts and into the blue, silky clouds of smoke, coming from the pipe. He didn’t interrupt me at all. Only asked me anything, from time to time, to make the things clear for him, to understand all well, because I’m not very good in explanations. Sometimes I create ambiguities, or begin talking for one, I just remember anything else, add more things, that came in mind, then return my speech back to the previous story…so. Until I was talking, noon came. I heard my stomach talking hungry, so looked around for my bag.
- I’m going to get any apple from my bundle, - I told him, - and then I’m coming back immediately, to tell you the rest about the things.
But he objected, prepared the table cover, plates, everything; this time I helped, too, not sitting and waiting without any effort, rely on the others; this is not decorously. For a desert there was also honey by his own bees. I felt shame when remembered how frightened was I in the morning, scared that Grandfather can make to me any evil.
- So, that’s it – I finished my story – this is in general my Biography (sometimes I’m very proud to find a deep, wise and big word, such as “Biography”, for example). – If you remember anything to ask, just ask me!
The Grandfather stood deeply thinking. We were finished the dinner, the plates were still not cleared away; he was still smoking and thinking. I interrupted the silence:
- Very interesting name has that Grandfather. My great – great – great grandfather. Tjuhul. Sounds like sneezes. Who gave his name to him?
It was like I was awaking Grandfather Tiholan from a sound sleep. So distracted he was.
- What? The name, ah…yes, yes, my boy, these are things so much ancient, old things, well it won’t be easy to explain. Those things have meaning, sense…there are such names given suitable and to fit right well, so when you whisper them, the other will hear his name even from the other side of the world.
- So, well, it means he can hear us now? Oh, great! Listen, I’m telling it: Tjuhul, Tjuhul, Tjuhul!
- Stop, stop it now! You can’t do that!
- Why?
- I can’t give you explanations now! I want to think over something. Tonight we’ll talk again. You, clear away the table and wash the dishes with the water from the wooden pail over there. I have to go now, and you: don’t move anywhere from here! When I come back, I don’t want to guess where can you be, well?
- Yes.
I have taken a pipe with me, so I got it with me, too. Just like the Grandfather. I have never tried to use it, but I liked how it looks when important things happen and how the situation is serious. I had also a little tobacco in my bag. I stuffed the pipe well; in the way I was watching the others do this before and pulled strongly. But I was surely was wrong in something, because the Grandfather seemed so pleased, and the others, too; they smoked with pleasure, as I remember. But I – my mouth filled up with spittle and bitter sharp smoke, it smelled badly, I felt sick. I jumped up to drink some water from the wooden pail, but the pipe dropped down on the hay under me, on the stump I was sitting on. The hay quickly turned in flames. Thanks, the pail was close to me! I poured upon and the huge fire, that will happen, I prevent until it was small. Today the disaster could not catch me. But I was trembling of embarrassment. I cleaned up, turned myself all around – left and right, so after a while decided it’s not good staying inactive, but its much, much better, to take a big basket, that one over there, to look for mushrooms and to cook, and when Grandfather Tiholan comes, it already to be done and he will be happy. It so much liked to me how I was thought it of. I felt myself bigger and more experienced and because of this more powers and offers for possibilities were coming for me in my mind.

………………………………………………….

In this moment, in a corner stone wall, old and forgotten from centuries, the stones moved. Thin trickle of sand ran through a narrow crack. Small stone was shaken, fell down and resounded in a hollow. The old wall became noisy and moved; it sounded like avalanche dragged down inside it. Trough a new slit in the top of the wall, a summer afternoon sunny ray lighted up a little fixed figure, covered by white stone dust. Someone, unmoving from centuries, slowly, as in a dream, caught a very, very familiar sound. Something like sneezing – again and again. Something of his own, very personal, something important. And fell in dark oblivion again, braiding eyelashes, in a hardly perceived breathing.

…………………………………………………………..

Where to find those mushrooms now, a? When for first time from many weeks it was raining only last night and it wasn’t so much. No even one. Here I look among the yellow dry grass in the field, no, no, no way. Over there is the forest, there in it will Obligatory and surely be some. Well, eeeh, what about yesterday, a? Did you forget already? And what did the Grandfather tell you? You always refuse to hear. Always, always. This was what I talked to myself. But, from now you see, that I went into the forest. No other way, it happens to me all the time. I already see – because I’m from this kind of persons. I don’ think enough and don’t look enough precisely, that’s the reason why. Most of the times I have luck. But not always when you get in trouble, the luck is on your side, not always the things have good end, not always you may fix the mess. Sometimes the stories just end and there is none to tell them. Or there is, but he hardly wants to talk about or even to remember. But the told stories often ending happily, because there is one, any, storyteller, who, no matter that done the mess, somehow repair it. The luck smiled at him. But how many are those stories, compared with the untold ones? Does anyone cares about the never-heard stories? Yes, never- heard and never – told, but Story, just like an attempt to burn a bonfire towards the wind…

“I went in the forest and scattered the leaf, I found a picture of a…”
(A line from a children’s play – song)

It’s possible, to go inside, I said to myself. Nothing’s wrong with that. But I’ll never move away from the border trees near the field, I won’t do that, at all costs! Only in the entrance of the forest. I will be prudent all the time and this is the way no trouble to reach me. See, now I’m trying only one jump and already I’m out in the field. Yesterday the Khaldon didn’t follow me in the field. It means he can’t! The basin! Ahhh, I left the basin in the house next to the stump! And the grandfather said that I was saved because…uhh, how it was…because the Khaldon didn’t look me in the eyes. I had to ask him more, but that’s it I always talk more than to listen, and that will be the reason to perish – in ignorance and trough ignorance! And I’ll deserve it! Now, I cant pick up the mushrooms with eyes tightly compressed and gropingly. But the idea for returning back didn’t even touch my mind. I was walking straight ahead, on and on. There were mushrooms, what a joy! I began to fill up my basket, carefully choosing the good of them. But all the time I was throwing a look at the field. Calm and silently, only birds singing, warming sun, it left so little to believe, that this from yesterday was completely somewhere else, or in general – nothing! If I knew any song, I would be singing now (my quickly made “songs” from yesterday disappeared in shame and fear). As I was thinking about songs, I heard strange fluttering in the short bush just in front of me. I crouched down and listened with both of my ears and eyes. If hostile, at least is small. The rumbling was deep and evenly, like buzzing animal, but probably a little dangerous? I removed one little branch very quietly, to peep inside the bush. And my heart jumped and became overwhelmed! This was the most amazing and wonderful, a fairy – tale animal I’ve never imagined! Light – purple, like a little donkey with a sparrow – size. It flapped with wings strenuously, but in vain; its eyes – blue like forget – me not bunches and in them – golden spots twinkling like stars! It was laid down on a large leaf and was trying to fly off. I looked at the frail body and it seemed to me that his leg is broken. The animal was watching me with fear and big mistrust. No way, it’s damaged, because otherwise it would be flied off immediately, so scared. I opened widely my hand and present it very slowly next to the leaf, not to be afraid that something huge will cover to catch it by force. I stayed still, without moving, in order it to get used with me. Then easy, very easy I took it with two fingers and put it tenderly on my hand, like in bed. We were looking each other, both of us with widely opened eyes. Probably he was seeing a Bushter for first time in its life, too. It’s absolutely sure, because if someone of ours had seen such a creature, we would all know about this. My heart was bumping, I felt it even in my ears, and I was so, so, so very happy! It’s so much wonderful and shines brilliantly in the sun!
- Hushhh, be calm, my dear animal! I’m Kruton, I’m a shaman and I can help you! I’ll take care of you and will protect you! With me you’re completely safe! You will be my animal. If you want. Just don’t be afraid and every, everything will be fine; I’m very strong and experienced, I heal…many things, you just don’t be worry. Auh, how wonderful, unspeakingly amazing! How much I want to show you to my friends Perko and Barzan, how they will be puzzled and amazed and exclaimed. And Sopsy, how will be happy! But…later, later…And now, both of us won’t be alone; today we found friends!
This was haw I was talking to him, leaned over my hand, with a basket full of mushrooms in the other hand. I was completely blown away in my happiness and who knows how deep in the forest I was penetrated and what else could happened, if…I was almost crushed into…Grandfather Tiholan. I rose my eyes and first saw him, but after that, believe me – a huge, gigantic, snow – white, awful and frightful Muun, just like those in grandfather shaman’s pictures in the books! I sobbed of fear and surprise and everything in front of my eyes turned around in dizziness. All the creatures and events around me I saw delayed and soundless, like they come from far beyond and were not considered me, but for someone else. Like I was only an onlooker, behind a thick glass. I saw how my basket slips out of my hand, falls down on the ground and the mushrooms fly off in different directions – up, up, then asides, like the fountains they prepare for the fair – celebrations in the village every year. I saw how I’m hiding my pretty animal behind my back in my fist. I felt he bit me, but it didn’t hurt at all, I continued to hold and hide it. I felt I’m flying and falling, no – I was falling down with a crash. After that I was only passively seeing how Grandfather Tiholan is holding my shoulders and is shaking me. He holds me up in the air and shakes me harder and stronger. Then it was like he fixed me up, like I was collected from all around and got presence more seriously in the event, not only from aside. It became clearer, what’s happening and what is told:
- …disobeying lad! Didn’t I tell you: “Stay at home!” You had to stay at home and not to move out of there! Was it, a? Eh, you, Kruton, green had, what could be happened? What are you hiding behind your back? Let me look, come on, open your hand, headstrong, let me…
And then, without thinking and without knowing what I’m doing, I tore Grandfather Tiholan’s fur. Afterwards it’s a little unclear what happened. They were laughing and talking, it seemed safety, but may be was wrong? I couldn’t speak. When I come more in conscious, I saw there were two more with the Grandfather and the Muun – a large green dragon and tall young man, with a black hood. For first time in my life I’ve seen man and dragon, but I knew very well how do they look.
- Eat me, - I told them, trembling – but I won’t be enough for all of you and I’m not tasty at all! I’m all fur and too small! And after that, the warriors from my village will find you and there will be no forgiveness! They will be endlessly cruel in their revenge, that’s why it’s completely useless for you to attack me!
I was betrayed! I felt I’m weeping inconsolably and feeling of helplessness and balefulness surrounded me. I understood, my End is Coming and strongly was squeezing my new little friend, my only friend in my hand; at least he to be protected. At least someone to be with me. What warriors, what I’m talking, oh, my!
In this moment the tall man crouched down next to me, reached his hand out, held mine and began talking to me, very seriously, with a head bowed down:
- Calm down, my friend! We are all Grandfather Tiholan’s helpers and I promise to you, that until we are together none will do you harm! – He held my hand stronger and then continued – we gathered here, because the Grandfather called us, to discuss our things and deeds, and, how is the easier way for you to return back your wheat. I ensure you, you are completely safe, among good and true friends – yours and your great – great – great-grandfather Tjuhul’s!
I mopped up my tears with my free hand and with the half of my eye I peeped to the Muun. He was staying there, absolutely careless and even looked shiny and in good disposition. The dragon was watching me how you watch someone you feel pity about. The Grandfather was smiled openly. There was nothing left to do, so I was staring at my toe. I was watching how the nail is jagged and how the toe can cross over the next finger. I was very ashamed. I knew my ears and cheeks are red, such as granny Martei was pulled them up. I held up to ridicule again. I decided to stay silent and to seem I’m not in conscious yet.
- Hay, lad, this is the Nameless Wizard – something as a colleague of yours. He is the most powerful one among the healers, but, of course, we don’t want to offend you with that; you are skilled and talented shaman, too; his work includes another things and cares also. It demands his unknown powers. – This was what the Grandfather said, so I felt sick and dizzy; the heat overflowed me. I didn’t dare to raise my head to look.
- This creature here, - continued Grandfather, - is Lalyr. – The creature reached his hand out to me and made a low bow; was very, very tall, double heights of the man and white as a snow. – He looks like a Muun, – the Grandfather explained again, - but it isn’t. From a long, long time. The Muuns, when they get old enough – three or four centuries, transform themselves into Lalyrs. There is some visual similarity, that’s why I’m not surprised you made the mistake. But, believe me, you can’t meet in the forest wiser and more honorable creature.
- This, - the Grandfather continued the introducing, - is the dragon, who we call the Marked one, our very good friend and powerful ally.
The dragon was shiny green with red chest. The one of his eyes was green, the other one - yellow. A big deep scar crossed the left side of his face, where the yellow eye was. But the eye was intact.
I nodded with understanding; sniffing and strongly mopping my tears, until my eyes became red, because I didn’t know what else to do. Doing these, my face was covered, so they couldn’t see me. The Wizard, crouched down next to me, collected my mushrooms from the ground, putting them back into the basket.
- Grandfather Tiholan, see how many tasty mushrooms this lad has found! Entire basket, full of puff – balls! May I suggest you to invite us all to have a tasty stew for dinner?
The Grandfather was leading me, holding my hand, the Nameless was carrying my basket and I was holding my precious little animal, feeling myself calm, safety but guilty and ashamed, too. After a while they put me on the dragon’s back, to ride the dragon on our way home, where the Lalyr will cook the most delicious mushroom stew!

Conversations around the fire

The Lalyr was stirring the meal with a wooden spoon, carved with runes upon it. We all were sitting together under the trellis vine in the Grandfather’s yard. The dragon covered too much place, but somehow squeezed in, to may reach the table. I was showing my new friend to everyone. They laughed, but not mockingly; their smiles were kind - hearted. Grandfather said, that this is just one Martel, and even though they are very rare, it’s just a simple forest habitant, as the bees and butterflies are.
- He will tether to you and will follow you like a dog, wherever you go. He is really nice!
- And is match with you. – The Wizard added.
And, until we stayed and talked, he, with his skilful long fingers, made a little splint from a short thin branch, tied it around the broken leg with a bendable blade of grass and returned the Martel into my hand.
- Now it will pass off quickly. – He said. - And in a couple of days he won’t remember the trouble.
- He bit me. Shall he do that again?
- It will pass off to you, too. No, your own Martel won’t bite you. But he may defense you furiously, if someone attacks you. Baff! – And the Wizard pinched my nose, until I was watching with eyes and mouth widely opened.
I like this Wizard. Seems reliable. As you only look at him, it’s visible, that Understands. When he looks into your eyes, everything is clear for him; you can feel the chair narrow. I like his laughing. And how he’s doing everything so quickly, with easiness and skillful. I knew about people, but this was the first time I meet a man, in flash and blood! Amazing, a couple of days passed from my leaving the village, beyond any small and usual forest, and so much interesting new, exciting things I found! The forest – what a border! How many things I can tell my fellow – villagers…may be…some day…if I return…
- Hey, what happened? Why you became so gloomy?
- A…me…I…was just thinking…
- As I see you now, it looks like all your shine faded away! Don’t worry, shorty, we’ll find your wheat and in your village they will welcome you as a hero!
The Martel huddled up on my shoulder, beneath my chin and quietly fell asleep with a paw under his little head. I was very pleased, that my animal won’t try to escape from me or that it won’t be necessary to set him free (in case his freedom is very important and he can’t live without flying wherever he wants in the forest). I felt myself happy, cozy and safe. I was not alone, but with wonderful, powerful and good friends! They even Liked me; they talked to me serious; they were listening, with real interest until I’m telling something, they asked me Things! They respected me. How wonderful! Like it’s happening to someone else, really important indeed, not me. Things happened to me, as I am meaningful!
We served the cooked stew in the Grandfather’s clay dishes, which I already really loved. Tasty steam was rising. The Wizard broke up a big round loaf, just roasted by the Lalyr, to hot sweet – scented pieces. They were laughing – about that they should serve to the Marked one at least five times plates full of stew and he will be hungry again; how Grandfather burned the meal last time they were gathered; how once, when the Wizard cooked, confused the flour with the salt, “it was dark”- he said…they were laughing the way your heart begins to shine like a firefly, scattering away the darkness.
As we were eating, they were asking me this or that, about my village, about grandfather Rootcrop, let him rest in peace, (about is this his entire name “grandfather – Rootcrop – Let – Him – Rest – In – Peace”), our shaman, my teacher and, frankly, my closest relative. The Wizard asked me how we heal this or that; how I prepare some remedies…from that I was significantly pleased, because, can you imagine, the most powerful healer even thanked to me, even said he’ll remember and will use my prescription for the rheumatism – mixture (the same I was made for the Branko’s granny, as I’ve told you about it before). Ehhh, I just can’t believe! And I’ve never eaten so tasty. The Lalyr cooks…well, I won’t tell you, I don’t want to annoy you, because you’ll be surely feel hungry. And it will not be honest from my side, because you may never meet a Lalyr; or if you meet, he may not want to cook for you, or he’d rather not have a possibility to do it in this moment, because they are so easy – going, I’m telling you honestly!
So this was how we were sitting, eating and talking; Grandfather Tiholan washed up for a desert a full plate of apples – red, sweet and juicy. About the Martel he gave a dish of his honey. It was after the dinner and none of us, even the dragon had no place for more food in his stomach, so he prepared it for the morning, for breakfast, because the Martels were so early – rising. And said also, that they jump with the first sunray, furious and starving. The Grandfather is very careful!
- Listen now, Kruton. We thought about a plan, to return your wheat to the village. The Marked one is agreed to help us. We’ll retell it to you and if you don’t have any objections, we may start it.
Am I agreeing? Three wise were here, thinking how to help me, and I, the Duffer, – to have any objections or pretensions. May be I can create a plan by myself, a!
I nodded assent and the Grandfather began talking:
- The dragon will go to your village and will search for Tjuhul. We have a reason to think he’s there. But Tjuhul cannot find us by himself; it’ll be very difficult for him to fly, because was stayed in a narrow hidden place for centuries in a special condition, something like a deep sound sleep. A kind of a sleep, that hundreds of years you don’t move at all, in a dark and safe place and just the heart heats hardly and soundless. When he wakes up, he will see poorly and it won’t be easy to move; that’s why it’s very necessary to help him. Later, little by little, he will get in good shape, to appear “like a mist with the mist”, as I was done when we met first. It is, because the Mavals use the smallest drops of moisture in the air as a mirror and their image may travel wherever they want, especially there is a mist. That’s how we “travel with the mist”.
- So, it wasn’t you really and exactly yesterday, when I saw you?
- Not with my “hard” body, if you mean this. But until we were talking, I came and became one with my image, so you couldn’t see the difference, more of that you were so scared and didn’t know what to look at. And when I was holding your hand, yes, it was completely “me” from flash and blood. By the way, the misty image is me, too. By the way, this “traveling” helps to be at several places at one and same time. I also think, that you can teach yourself doing this, too, as a shaman and a Maval’s grandson?
I was hearing, watching and didn’t believe!
- After we find Grandfather Tjuhul, he has stayed hidden quite enough, - the Wizard continued, - we will find the Bargunders. Tjuhul knows their customs. And…we haven’t seen him for entire eternity!

Lessons from a wizard

I went to my bed. For second night I was here, but it seemed to me as it was a month. And not like to be in a foreign place, but I felt it like true home. I covered the bottom of my head – basin with a soft handkerchief and tenderly put the slept Martel in it. To be close to my bed, but not in it with me, because I could press him during my sleeping, when I move, roll and kick in bed (who knows, may be I’m doing this things; I didn’t know, but the important was the Martel). I was watching him until he slept. Magnificent! As he was snoring quietly, his transparent wings were vibrating in the same rhythm. And until I moved him into the basin, he, half – awaked, stretched his healthy leg so gracefully! I took a look at the hole on my finger, where he bit me. And immediately decide – I’ll call him Thorny, because he pricked me just like a thorn, this little pickle.
I was huddled up in the bed. The coverings and the pillow smelled so sweet – of lavender and linden. And were very cozy – made from thinnest wool, colored in red and light-green squires. I so much like here! Through the opened window two little stars peeked under the black leaf shadows of the vine. It seemed like we look each other – the night sky, with its starry eyes, under its leaf-eyebrows and me – under the blanket. Outdoors frogs were croaking, crickets were playing and next to me Thorny was snoring quietly, completing the song of the night.
I woke up late. Outside, at the yard, voices sounded, the sun was filled up my little room. I peacefully laid still little more and than slowly dropped down my feet on the floor. I always do this, because if I get up in any different way, with any other pieces up, it won’t be a lucky day. Oh, Thorny wasn’t here! I went out as quickly as lighting. And took a deep breath – he was circling around, over his plate with honey, into the flowerbed, just in front of the doorstep of my room. When he saw me, he nimbly soared to me and landed to my shoulder with shiny happy eyes. The voices were already disappeared. Only the Wizard was sitting on a plane wide stone and was whittling a rod. The others were gone.
- Good morning! – I saluted.
- Good morning! The Martel left you behind with the breakfast.
How good he smiles by his eyes, this wizard!
- I gave him the name Thorny – because he pricked me yesterday.
- Suitable name! Sit down and eat, because later we have a work to do.
- Together?
- Of course! I can’t leave you alone; you know what happened yesterday, when Grandfather Tiholan left you alone and you immediately disappeared. Don’t be gloomy, I’m telling the truth. And, also, I need you as a shaman and a helper.
Now I already saw what was he whittling and cutting; I knew I was seeing it before, but of course, it can’t be otherwise, this was my own shaman’s rod!
- Don’t worry, I haven’t damaged it, I just allowed to myself to make some innovations. When you get your breakfast, we’ll try it together and I think you’ll be pleased with it.
To be pleased? I was impatient to gulp down all what was in my plate and to start practicing with the Wizard. It was easy, because the tasty bread, that the Lalyr was made last night, with honey, immediately melted in my mouth. At the end of my breakfast I licked up all of my honey fingers carefully one by one and in orderly readiness went to the Wizard, with my chest thrown out.
The rod – shamans’ or wizards’ – no difference, is need to increase the power of what you want to do. When you point something with your own finger and say: ”I want it”, the rod makes this finger longer and thicker (in you mind; everything is in your mind). When your whish becomes stronger and pointed to wherever you want, the magic deed is done, well… almost. The Nameless was asking me different things, to understand nearly the level of my education. We began practicing lessons on the Returning method. I’ll try to explain it shortly. If you, for example, want to pick up an apple, using the magical powers, you first need to imagine very clearly how exactly this happens. It means, that you must feel yourself as you are the apple, the tree and your hand, but most of all – “the picking up”, which is your Big Desire (in this case, in this example). And you point this entire feeling to the branch with the apple. Well, I repeat: first it is all inside you, second – you point it, already felt it, and turn it all to outside. You may not use the rod; it’s a habit and a visual dignity for the shaman. When you once get used with it, as with how with all the things happen, whit the rod will be easier for you. If you want to use the magic powers for anything else, that you’ve never done before and don’t have an idea how this happens, then you must find in yourself the closest thing that you think is. The key word is You – if you feel it, it is true, its your mind; there are many common things in the world and its core is one, but everyone has different ways, individual ways to reach it. And this is amazingly beautiful. The magic is very difficult to be put in words, so it’s hard for me to explain, but its good at least to try. For the shaman, or the wizard, or for any creator in general, there is a strong need to whish, to cherish, to know a lot, but to act is the crucial. Because between the thoughts and the deed an abyss gapes. If you don’t skip above it often enough, it will become too hard for you. “I wanted, but I didn’t make it” is worse than “I have never guess about this”, because this is the way the untrue, not-practiced, untried things you pile up in your heart and you begin to live in a delusion. And, because no empty spaces are allowed in nature, your unanswered questions live in you as lies. The shaman has to see, hear and try, to act, to know how the things in the world happen. To collect them inside and then to reflect; but never to reflect before he feels and knows them well – if not, he’ll increase the false and the delusion. This needs true and honest knowledge for yourself.
So, the magic is Knowledge, Desire and Act in one – simple, isn’t it? There are others, like discipline, skills, patience, …you may be taught to them, they are knowledge how to do something or how to prepare your own mind; they are helpful things.
So, this was what the Nameless was discussing with me. We were watching the dew, the leaf, the honey-bringing bees…noon passed, twilight came, I was still murmuring some kind of spells and words, to collect and point my mind. When you only feel how something works in your mind, how makes it sharp and help to change it, the feeling is as a press in your stomach, then rises rashly to your forehead and bursts forth through your eyes, breaking your own firm walls. And everything changes, out and inside, as you look at it for the first time. And then you hit your forehead, saying yes, yes, how I’ve never even guess that I can do it, but because of my own walls I’ve ever believe in anything else than the walls.
All the day we broke walls and made furrows. The furrow is what you have to put after the broken wall, to collect, to shape and to point your powers. If you don’t make it well, all the efforts are in vain and you feel exhausted; this is a very dangerous waste and may kill your faith, if you don’t have knowledge for the furrow.
In the evening the outer view of what I’ve done was my skills to call together Grandfather’s bees; that filled the hole in the roof next to the chimney; I Also commanded the dirt in the rug to go away “by itself” – and all these, only with the rod. I didn’t even touch the things around me. And then…I crushed down of exhaustion. The Wizard held me and helped me to sit on the stump. I griped at it like a rider. The Nameless was silent and serious.
- Kruton, I don’t like talking in vain. – He kept silence for a while, than continued – You are very talented and quick of apprehension. It’s not easy only for one day so much to be reached. The most of our work today wasn’t refining on your previous knowledge; these were completely new things for you.
I was very pleased. And so tired. We were quietly nibbled at apples; the sun was escaped down through the horizon. I felt my eyelashes so heavy, Thorny buzzed around me and with sweetness and soundly sucked the apple pieces that I was giving him.
- Where are the others? - I asked now.
- Everyone deals with his deeds. Yesterday we woke up Tjuhul with a special song. Now the dragon surely has brought him here…but why they aren’t here yet? The Marked one left at the sunrise; they had to be here ten times and more!

……………………………………………………………………….

The dragon flew low above the wood tops in the early dawn. With a quiet swish he cleaved the air streams, rushing to Winding River. The morning stars became paled and green misty coolness covered the forest. The Marked one was hurrying to be there before the sun rises. The view of a huge dragon isn’t of the villagers’ favorite. He was feeling where exactly his friend is hidden. Only to go there, to grab him up, taking him away. For a very quick flight, no more than quarter of hour left.

………………………………………………………………………….

The hollow in the ancient stonewall was growing bigger. The creature inside was breathing noisily. It snorted in the darkness, shaking furry ears. White stone motes began dancing into the light of one single ray. In the deathlike silence a muffled sound was spread – like a thick book was suddenly shut. Again and again - its heart began to pump – louder, deeper and more and more even. Dust was flying all around. It sneezed and the stones in the hollow began rolling; clattered on its head and…here they are – two big shiny eyes lighted in the darkness. It began blinking, to remove the sand, motes and the sleep away from its lashes; tried to spread wings, but here was too narrow for that. It stretched its entire body, shook its tail with all strength, but was weak, too weak to move the building. And then, relaxing eyelids, it began purring. Began to breath out warm, moist air. It stared through lashes in the invisible moist drops around and began singing monotonously. Slowly and melodious, the singing filled up the cave, filled up the entire wall, started to vibrate. The sounds increased, the wall began shaking and quaking – louder and louder, more and more powerful. The stones were noisy clattering and moaning. The wall rumbled. It breathed out; held for a while: “…breath from the Breath, sound from the Sound, power from the Power; this, what is inside to be outside, upon the drops, upon the drops, to carry on and on…” Not to rush, but not to delay; to follow the shape. In order to fulfill the wish, promptly as you plan; this here I connect with my will, to become as that there…the Heart – the Stone, the Breathing - as avalanche…faster and stronger, faster and stronger…
Nattering wings, moving ears, bumped eyelids; falling stones and thunder – one whole noise into the destroying old stonewall. In rumbling and rattling the wall busted. The dusty little body dragged down into the center of clear circle, surrounded by all kind of building materials. Like a stone, thrown in a lake, Tjuhul faded down motionless.
Became so noisy, many shouts and voices sounded everywhere, shadows came; he was still fixed.
- Where is the shaman! Uhh, what happened!
- What happened?
- Trouble and disaster! Trouble and disaster! Help, help, help!
- The village is falling down! Earthquake is coming!
- Call the mayor, call him…
- Here I am, but what happened!
- Evil disaster and bad omen! Where is our shaman, we all are going to die!
- What?
- Look, the stonewall is fallen.
- No, not only – this came from the mountain with thunder and lightings, I swear, I saw it! It’s bad and won’t stop. Now your house will fall down, too, be sure!
- Why exactly mine?
- You’ll see! Because is the closest. And because you don’t work on Friday.
- You…shut up quickly…
- Where is Kruton, how could he left us, he – black and evil ingrate!
- Look! A Bogy!
None could guess how long this should continue. May be till noon, may be longer. But, in this moment the chatty shadows suddenly became mute in the middle of a big exclamation. A huge flying silhouette emerged from the forest, grabbed in talons the lean little body and took it up into the sky. The silence lasted few seconds and then crazy screams and terrible noise tried to wake up the dead ones and break the mountain down. But when you get higher and higher in the sky above the forest, and fly as fast as a dragon, its not that bad, it fades away in the early-morning fragrance.
Tjuhul was extremely exhausted. He wasted too much moisture to create the magic, which released him from the stonewall. He wanted to ask if they might stop for a while, for a little break, but his strength was enough only to moan. In spite of this, the dragon understood and descent to the forest, for to rest among the trees in some moist and warm meadow. His friend was very thirsty and in very uncomfortable situation because of the flight. In this moment, Halcho suddenly appeared and began throwing by whatever gets into his hands.
- Oh, I couldn’t make it! – Silently whispered Grandfather Tjuhul.
- What you couldn’t make?
- Stones – they still fall; I couldn’t break the wall…
The dragon went between his friend and Halcho and tried to explain. Pity, Halcho doesn’t understand so much.
- I won’t hurt you, I’m a friend…- the dragon waved hands – I won’t do anything bad to you…
But Halcho didn’t stop. The Marked one quickly thought the situation out. Well, when you don’t understand with good, here you are! He bristled frightfully, opened his awful jaw against the little creature and roared out louder than hundred horns. “The villagers are now under their beds of fear, I bet! Especially after what happened recently! But nothing can be done; they even don’t have a shaman to protect them!” – the dragon was thinking. And when looked again – amazing! Halcho was crouched down, with eyes and all legs tightly pressed, all turned into yellow furry ball. When the Marked one stopped roaring and drew himself back, Halcho turned into attack again, even more furiously.
- Oh, you understand I’m bluffing. Nothing can be done! Are you well, Tjuhul?
But no answer followed.
- Are you well, can you hear me?
The Maval’s body was laying down completely flabbily and at first sight no breathing was visible. Without wasting more time, the dragon grabbed him again, tightly, and just for an eye-blink moment he got a big height, only flapping twice. The following flight can’t be compared with nothing. After few minutes they were at Tiholan’s house, but there were none.

A traveling to the Down World

There was no other way – help was needed. Tjuhul’s eyes were dull, his heart beat hardly audible, even for the dragon’s ear. The Marked one left his friend in the Kruton’s bed and flew away to find somebody of the healers – everyone could help…only to find anyone!
In a hedgehopping flight above the forest the dragon fastened eyes on every moving spot everywhere below, with the hope to find salvation. The fear overwhelmed him more and more after every flap of wings, like the flapping measured every last moment of Tjuhul’s life. No result again and again – down below there was none.

……………………………………………………..

The Nameless wizard didn’t look like he was during the day. His eyes, hands, all, emanated stone cold paleness and chill.
- Something happened. – He said. – Stay here. Really here!
Whau, how he said it…I just…stood still at my place without saying a word. He just took his rod and rushed out to anywhere, I even couldn’t see how and where. I was still fixed in my position, like he was told me not to blink, or move, or breath. I will get inside, I said to myself, and will take my pipe and my bag. And will kindle the fragrant tobacco, to rest from the heavy day. And will put Thorny in the basin to sleep, because I see him yawning from hour. I got myself into the room, and, on the light of the outer lantern I caught a glimpse of something in my bed. I was so scared, my mind messed everything and I forget what for I’m here and why and …in general. I came closer very quietly and…my bed is full, indeed! There is something, or someone, or…I creep only on my toes and it…doesn’t move! With trembling fingers I hardly succeed to light the gas lamp and I bring it closer to the bed, where the head of the sprawling thing should be. Uh, ah, it’s dead! All bumped and trembling I looked him carefully and…everything went on its place and cleared for me.
- Grandfather Tjuhul! Heeeelp, heeeelp, help! Dragon, Wizard, Graaaandfaaather Tihoooolan! Help any, to come someone, and to heeeelp, oh, my, oh my…oooooooooo
I went out to scream, without sense and answer. I understood what happened. The dragon went to look for us, but we had education with lessons in the field and came back and go out of the house all the time. When he searched for us at home, we were in the field; when he looked for us in the field, we were in the forest… so we couldn’t met each other. And the others, too; they were all around, but for bad luck were not at the right place. And the poor Grandfather Tjuhul all day was in the throes of death in my bed and where from we could only know that he is here! And none had any work inside the room to peep in at least. And in the end he died, he is breathless, poor dear Grandfather, died all-alone, and none could hear him crying or asking for a water.
- Help, help, help, - I was weeping, crying in tears, but in vain and in helplessness.
I put the martel next to Grandfather’s head, on the pillow, I took my shaman’s rod and…began to whisper and chant the words I’ve learned today – this should become the same like that…a spell for Similarity-and-Binding. I closed my eyes and …don’t know what happened, but I followed the sounds – deep inside, away ahead. The darkness in front my eyes turned on gray spots first. Then they enlarged and fused, until big light circle appeared. The rest of the world faded away. It disappeared so entirely, that I totally forget its presence. I walked ahead on and on, to the light. It began drawing me like a whirlpool. I let myself go, without any resistance. I dropped in it like I was falling in a funnel, but it wasn’t a downward slope – it was upwards. The feeling was like I go down because the light attracted me. My ears were buzzing and this noise helped me rolling in to my direction - up and ahead. The light spot in the center of my view enlarged so much, so the dark that surrounded it disappeared. It seemed like my journey through the dark was over.
I found myself in a vast and light place. I looked around – there was no sun, the light was steady spread. The ground was soft and smoothed, in yellow-green color, shaped in short, tidy little hills. The hills looked like weren’t covered with grass, but this soft cover seemed like a cream. I noticed a path just under my feet – it was like a long ribbon, lighter than the surrounding colour, and was leading far ahead among the hills. I followed it running. Somehow I knew my time is short. As I was looking at my feet, I noticed I have no shadow. If these all was in the “usual life”, I’m sure I should be very frightened. But now was different (one day you’ll see). I crossed any distance, but there were no objects around, everything was the same and empty, so I didn’t have orientation – was the passed way short or long. And I was walking on and on, only with short rests for slowly walking, alternated with running. I followed only the path. That’s how I arrived to something extraordinary marvellous and amazing. It just…appeared in front of me, just like that, from the nothing. Not like the normal way of appearance is – first to appear like a small point in the distance, then slowly to enlarge, when I’m coming closer. It just happened, like the things are in the dreams. And, again like in a dream, I took it normally, without fear; when you dream, nothing surprises you, nothing is unusual, like you hold the entire knowledge in the world, like you always knew those things, everything is on its right place, without making frightful impression. The thing what I saw was the following: six big, no – huge creatures – three on the left, three on the right side of the path. They looked like dragons, but were much, much bigger and purple. My height was as the paw of each one of them. They were staring – every one in different direction. And they were totally, absolutely motionless. Their eyes were slits of light; they also had bright crimson wings, with holes in them. No, more exactly, there were hollows in the wings, and in these hollows there were holes; but if they were usual holes, you should see what is behind the wing, at the other side. No, these holes were empty; they leaded…to somewhere else, and the space in them was invisible, like you just can’t see it. I continued my walking, looking them from below, but didn’t notice anything frightful. The huge creatures were cool and…attendant and nothing more. Cold, fixed, like living stones, surrounded by even yellow skylight and the same even green ground, that reflects the skylight, diluting the border between. That’s it, I can’t shape it better. I continued my way and then I saw Tjuhul to fly very low above the path. Slowly moved over the ground, attendant by a strange dull buzzing sound, I couldn’t understand where from it came – did the Grandfather was sounding, or something else. He had no shadow neither. No, more exactly he was a shadow. Well, that’s it, nothing matters any more, this is the reason for my coming. But this conclusion wasn’t so easy to be kept in my mind. I felt that something escapes me, more and more. The Grandfather was buzzing on his way ahead; I followed him, watching and doing nothing. The feeling about “me” and “him” began to wash away; the sensation of flying and diluting in the even light was sweet. I wanted to become even like it is. And…to be no more! “Catch him, catch him and turn back! Now!” Without wasting time I caught tightly his fur and pulled him with all my strength at my direction. How hard it was! I was feeling, that I don’t want to do that, just like when you want to be left to sleep “a little more”; at the same time I knew, that it’s an act for life and death; and I should hurry, because all the things I know will abandon my mind next coming second. Now or never. When I was coming, my way was a downward slope; now it was slop up. Now I had the feeling that I’m climbing a glass wall, the smoothest one, with a forest – size armful of woods on my back. However, I was pulling, catching strong, I struggled with all my power; it was so heavy, so I began to scream. But I didn’t drop the Grandfather. In this moment I felt something releases my efforts, someone took may be the half of my burden. Something small looking, but strong as I am. It pulled next to me; obviously here the eye–visible size didn’t work the way we knew from the usual world. Because this was Thorny. Then we went into the funnel – tube again, the long dark corridor, connected places…and then I remember nothing.

Awakening

I was hearing a talking somewhere. There – out and away. The talking hovered on waves – amplifying and decreasing, dra-a-a-wling and mixing with buzz. This was all I was feeling. And something like rumbling among dark and light spots, sparkling under my eyelids, in my eyes. I didn’t feel no leg, no arm. And I didn’t know I have them at all. It was like I was withdrawing myself off my body, bent in a little spot behind the eyes.
- He…eee…e is awakeeeen…- I heard, as I was at the bottom of a mountain lake, beyond nine mountains, into the tenth; babbling and lightly.
- Kru-u-u-ton! – Imperative. Again and again.
I wanted to be left alone, but I couldn’t get so much sound from myself, to throw it at where they were calling me. So, I continued my rumbling.
- Make an effort, son, get out of this, come back, lad! Kruton!
Oh, how unpleasant! I didn’t think it this way; more exactly it was overflowing me like a whiff of feeling.
- Kruuuton!
Annoying, unpleasant; to be left! Not to importune me! Bit by bit I obtained a feeling about any outer contours of mine (the others were shaking and slapping me, but I didn’t get it this way; it only helped me to mark in my fluid mind, that I had a kind of a surface). Then I reacted, but it was too, too heavy, like returning back from a deep dark world of sleeping and nothing; where it isn’t good, nor bad, there just nothing is wanted. And you are slop over…into the absolute peace - as deep, as you don’t exist at all.
I opened my eyes and they drew in the whole daubed world, and it rushed all upon me, pasted on and fixing me. At the same time it was like I’m swollen, enlarging to my due body borders. It was like I’m putting on wet cold gloves. At last, now, I felt pain, tiredness and others, like I haunted a rust and rotten blue bladder, which unfortunately was my own body. I tried to say something, but my painful and stuck mouth poorly lisped and faded away. Let it fade. I turned my eyes around, but they were painful, too, because of the all that colors, lineaments, lights and sounds. It still wasn’t so clear to me what should exist there around, out of my body. But didn’t care, too. I didn’t ask myself anything at all, didn’t reason. I felt new surge of relaxation and the darkness took me again – beyond the pain and sensation, into the reckless abyss.
How long I’ve been sleeping I understood later from the others – three days and three nights. When I woke up, the world was already relatively a reasonable place. So, as I was opened my eyes, I recognize myself as Kruton, Duffer, two legs, two hands, with arms for each of them; also: I hear, I see, I lay…somewhere. Someone has to be here…wait to recall…what happened last, something, something important it was…so, and then, he and, so that was the way little by little the entire story was put in order. When I came to the inner conviction that I remember everything and its clear for me, only don’t know the end of the situation, because of obvious reasons I wasn’t an eyewitness of it, in spite of my main role, I took and collected all my strength and screamed with all the power that was left to me:
- Grandfather Tiholaaan, someone to come! I’m alive! Am, I – I hiccupped wheezy, was hard to use my voice again, from a long time and after troubles. – Come, come, help, heeelp!
I was very impatient, because there were important things that I didn’t know how did they finish. Immediately Grandfather Tiholan and the Wizard came running. And…Grandfather Tjuhul followed them. Whau, this was amazing! He appeared at the door as an answer of my most disturbing questions. But there was another thing, too.
- Where is Thorny? Where is the martel? – My voice trembled and sobbed; I felt the tears coming.
Grandfather Tiholan pointed me my head-basin, but it was hard for me to rise and turn my head, so they brought it to me, to look in. Oh, what a relief, now my tears felt free to roll on my face. He was alive, I hope everything don’t hurt him, like all the parts of my body, I hope everything was easier for him. But, as I see, he is in the same tired and wretched situation as I am.
- Will he be all right?
- After a day or two you’ll run flying over the meadows; together.
I stood silently, the weariness squeezed me.
- The most important, - I said – is that everybody is fine.
The excitement came too much for me, the relief, that all the friends are well, relaxed me like a hot bath. And I felt asleep again.

Breakfast conversations

When I woke up in the morning, I was completely stiff, everything was painful, I felt weakness, but I was complete and alive. I dropped down on the floor, sleeked down my furs, and slowly and easily hobbled to the yard, outside. There were everybody! And Thorny, too; he was eating honey from his dish, but when only saw me, he rushed at me, crushingly stuck into my ear, and then, with joyful excitement, began circling round my head.
- Please, alight! I feel dizzy and I see you already smeared, stop please…it’s just…just like a crown of flying bugs!
Then he buzzed quietly and huddled on my showder. He listens to me, and we understand each other well. I feel this animal so close to my heart. And he saved me.
Everybody was smiled and happy! They had their breakfast. And there was a breakfast, awaiting me, too. Now I realized, how hungry I was really. They were prepared my favorite – pancakes and blueberry jam. I saluted everybody with “Good morning”. There was another Grandfather, except Grandfathers Tjuhul, Tiholan, the Nameless, the Marked one and Yelin, the Lalyr. The Lalyr and the dragon were not from the Bogies. The Nameless, I think, will become, but should grow older before that. I didn’t know who was this Grandfather and may be I was gaped at him so unmannerly; so he land me a hand, introducing:
- Hallo, Kruton, I’m Grandfather Tilin. I’m the Master of the Nameless Wizard. And, I’m a Bogyman – as all these Grandfathers are. And we are all friends; I hope to become your friend, too. – And he bowed low.
I’ve watched the three of them very carefully. They were completely different. Grandfather Tiholan had legs and hands; Grandfather Tjuhul – without such things, but with tail and wings; the Nameless’ Grandfather had everything normally for a man – he was just like the humans look like – no fur, no wings, no tail. He was a human.
- Don’t be offended to me, but you don’t look like the other Grandfathers.
- Because I have only one Bogy in my line of forbears and it was many generations ago. And, the outer looking is absolutely not enough to be whatever. You may even don’t have such, and to do your deed and to be yourself successfully, as was happened to you three days ago.
I was ensconced myself at the table with the others; I was eating and imbibing every word.
- This, what you have done, - took up the Nameless, - could be only compared with the powers and possibilities of the most skillful and talented shamans.
I carefully look at them, one by one, to see are they laughing. No, they were serious, they nodded assent, sleeking down beards. The situation wasn’t funny.
- I’m not sure do you understand exactly what you’ve done? – He continued.
- I…I just tried to help Grandfather…was so scared and felt so helpless, sorry, I didn’t know it’d be a trouble, I …I just…All right! I won’t do this again.
- Stop, wait! No, no…you don’t understand at all. – Began explaining Tjuhul – Listen to me, what happened shortly. You saw me dead. You rushed after me to follow and catch me in the land of the dead ones. You turned yourself into shadow. And not only this, even thaw few can do that – to wander there as watchers. But you did more – you could Hold me with your shadow hand; you could catch me, the shadow, with shadow. You did the impossible – I don’t like this word at all – it is always second to next decision, shows me how ignorant and quick with the conclusions I am. However, you and your martel were passed along the Speechless Watchers. This is not a place for the livings. This is the Entrance to the Down World, the land of the dead. And then, none knows how, you returned both us three into our bodies.
I was drinking milk with honey quietly from my big cup. Everybody nodded, shaking heads. Serious; this time I didn’t entangled the threads; I didn’t become a fool again.
- You took a big risk, but you succeed. And, you are very powerful, it’s sure, because even very skillful shaman, Bogyman or wizard could fail.
Silence reigned. Then Tjuhul spoke again.
- Three centuries ago I chouse for a shelter a stonewall in your village. To escape from it now I expended all my strength, all my moisture. I withered up myself to death. And you and everyone here saved me.
- About the martels only the Lalyr had some surmises. About what they can do. – Inserted Tiholan.
- They are wizards – the Lalyr said – but I didn’t know how powerful they could be. They are…little careless kites. Obviously, they have unsuspected skills. Thorny loves Kruton so much, that’s why he followed him in the death; to the end of the world. But if he wasn’t a shaman, he shouldn’t succeed. You hide in yourselves unknown depths, little ones! – The Lalyr caressed the martel tenderly on the nozzle and rumpled my Forelock tufts.
- Whou, tjuuu, how long we lived, how we are still ignorant! – Grandfather Tjuhul complained.
(Now, years later, I begin to think, that his name “Tjuhul” doesn’t come from the sound of the sneezing, but from his “Tjuuuh, tjuuu…” – complaining and scolding about everything. May be firstly he should be different, but his mother gave him such name and…nothing can be done – he grew up as a grumbling personality. The name is important).
The Nameless filled up with milk my already empty cup and ladled out some honey from the clay dish, putting it into my milk. Dense, golden and fragranced. The spoon dived into the cup making bubbles and murmurs and I was so involved to stir and chase them. Everybody stayed so thoughtfully, far away from here. I was so careful to swallow easy, not to sip noisily when I drink, because they all were so silent and the sip should resound loudly in the silence and I will discredit myself. I have been in the Down World, as a shadow, and, we both with Thorny, draggled Grandfather Tjuhul’s shadow to here. And returned back! Great and Amazing! How can we do that!?
- Hmmm, may I ask you something? – They nodded one after another. – So, may I ask, what are the Speechless Watchers that you just said…?
- Dragon people. There are many others of that kind – half – ghosts. One of the kinds, similar to them, live far North and are also known as Motley-eyed. They are from the Ice lands, at the Gates of the White cliffs. They could be seen from the livings. Sometimes they are very transparent, appear and disappear, are not so stable and constant, but are visible. The Speechless Watchers are bodiless, invisible for our world and its living habitants. Those things are little observed and explored, you see – it’s not easy. Every traveling to there, to the Down World, increases some skills, reduces others. And we don’t know how this happens, why and which skills exactly will be sacrificed. The surest thing is, that you become less and less the usual joyful and careless person, that you were before; when you play with Shadows, the closer you are to this other world, the more this happens.
- To play with shadows?
- It’s a kind of magic. Of the Magic, here, there or anywhere. It has different faces and shapes, but is a one everlasting and omnipresent stream of power, moving, changing, makes all one. The core is one, but in its outskirts I have wings, he is a dragon and you – a little fellow (my nose was pinched again, this time with a tail). They respect me, but I’m not old as they are!
- The first is what the eyes see – continued Tjuhul – it’s the peripheral, the roughest part of the stream. That’s why at first sight, if you aren’t skilful enough, you’ll only see the less important things. – And then added whispering in my ear – You recognized me at once, when you saw me lying dead in your bed. How this happened, when you’ve never seen me before? And you were absolutely sure, no doubts – “This is Grandfather Tjuhul!”, wasn’t it. The wizards see deep with their hearts, not with the eyes.
Yes, how true! I didn’t ask myself who was this in the bed. Amazing and Great! I wanted to ask about more things.
- Grandfather, what the Muuns are?
- They…they are creatures, feeding with power, when only catch your sight. When they fix you in the eyes, they take all of your power and for them it’s just as the food for you – it strengthens the mind and the body.
- Well, it’s the same with the Khaldon, isn’t it? With the eyes, just watching you…
- No, he tears with teeth.
- But you told me, that the basin saved my life, because my eyes were hidden, so…
- No, he hypnotizes you. And when you freeze where you are, he just comes and grabs you. It’s because he doesn’t have legs, can’t fly high and has only hands. This is his only weapon.
- Are the Muuns and the Khaldons wizards? Are they?
- Oh, my, hay, lad, everybody uses the Magic, there is nothing out of it. Even the simplest usual things are magical, other thing is, that they aren’t so exciting for you and you don’t find them interesting.
Silence reigned and I didn’t dare to drink, because could sip loudly. I was waiting them to talk again and my sipping to be hidden in the noisy conversation.
- Hay, Kruton, I’m the happiest Grandfather, having a great-great-great…grandson like you; and you are a Bogyman, very, very young, but a Bogy!
- But brave and strong – added the Nameless – and with very good heart.
The Nameless, as the youngest of all here (except me), supported me with this “But brave and strong”; the Grandfather said it, like this, that I’m a Bogy, corrects and improves the things with the unfortunate of the youth. May be the Wizard felt himself as a white crow among those old honorablies. They praised me a lot; I felt so ashamed and uncomfortably and began kicking a little stone under the table.
- We don’t say this for you, to be conceited; this is not reasonless. The wizard must know who is he and what can he do; this he learns all his life besides the all other things; this knowledge is a huge power. To know what you can’t do and what you can’t be; what you have and what you don’t; and to define what you want to do, to make better…you for example may not be so rushing; but this was what saved Grandfather Tjuhul; once it could be good – other times – bad; that’s why you must think all the time –“I have a problem with my rashness: how to act now?….But sometimes…
I was only nodded. And they shook heads. Very wise situation. When I grow older, I’ll cultivate such a beard for myself and will caress it the same wise way; as they say – to think what I have and what I don’t – well, I don’t have a beard, but I didn’t add this aloud.

A plan for moving to the aim

In the rest of the day we were for mushrooms, I cooked with the Lalyr, took a bath in Grandfather Tiholan’s reservoir, where he collected rain water for pouring the cabbage, and Thorny swam with me and we sprinkled and splashed together and…was Great and Amazing! Now I’ve noticed, that the Lalyr is not like the others. He wasn’t usual, but somehow shiny. And his eyes are like the Thorny’s eyes – with twinkled stars in them. And, he smells very beautifully, like flowers and herbs, and I just can’t believe, that when he was young, centuries ago, he was…a Muun! How brilliantly he laughs, how gentle is he. And, at least ten height higher than me, but he doesn’t talk from above, to hide me the sun, he crouches down, equalizes. He listens very carefully, staying serious, not like someone elderly. How strange – the power, he had once token from the others without asking, killing them, now spreads, giving to everyone with love and by all his heart.
I like here so much!
A shadow feeling writhed me – about duty and work to be done. I banished it, but it returned, sneaking. Now I have fun, but I knew – in few days only everything will fade away and another thing will appear at first place, with its chest thrown out.
For dinner we all gathered again. The subject of the conversation was the wheat of Winding river. After we ate, we cleared away the table, and the Nameless spread a map. I had seen such in the books of grandfather Rootcrop (let him rest in peace!). There was one, among all of his books, containing colored maps and small images, figures, etc., named “Maps of Fangoria”. I’ve been watching it many times, dreaming about where could I go one day, spelling out the strange odd far names of bizarre places. I guessed many times, who lives there, what do they do, how do they look like – are they Bushters, like me, or men, or dragons, or something beyond the imagination…! Who knows! My mind sailed again in old stories. The truth is, that except playing with, I have never work with a map, I didn’t use and none did in my village. Because we have gone nowhere, except in the forest for mushrooms with the basin, and, in the very “village’s” part of the forest. We never crossed it and never have seen the field (“No point in that!”- Was their opinion about more of the things)
Now the Wizard began to explain:
- We are right here. – He pointed. – Yelin says, that the Bargunders store the wheat here – he pointed again and the Lalyr nodded assent. – In order to go there – he continued, - we should cross the field, through the next forest here, here – from East, is a village. Then we must go a little to Northeast. The way is not so very long and – the Marked one will come with us, to carry the tired ones. – And they looked at me!
I remembered now, when they put me on the dragon for a first time, what experience was, how exciting is to fly on a dragon! It happened, when we all went from the forest, to Grandfather Tiholan’s house, when I first met the Lalyr, the Wizard and the Marked one…What was it…The wind holds your breath, and your breathing becomes a wind; the ground below - in all the colors, at one moment everything so small, at another – suddenly enlarges, your stomach squeezes from all this beauty and extraordinary views and the feeling that you fly, you Fly, you swim, to the shiny clouds! You see how the sunrays strain through them, like golden fringes scattered around and its so free and great and wide, every-everything, far and away! You become a master of the wind, the master of the field-grass, laid down below by the whiff of your flight; and you realize – that’s why these dragons are so powerful, that’s why; and how can be any other way, when they take so, so much glorious beauty and strength every day! Now I’m Kruton, the Light-winged! Great and Amazing!
The Wizard’s knocking finger brought me back on earth, like I landed just where he pointed on the map; from the exciting flight – back to reality and my duty.
- We can’t just take the wheat from them – objected Grandfather Tiholan – doesn’t matter that it’s stolen. They won’t turn it back.
Yelin offered:
- We must exchange it for something.
- But…I don’t have anything to offer in return. I can work off for them a few time, if they promise to turn it back into my village. – I said.
The Lalyr tapped me on the shoulder.
- I already formed a pretty good idea what should be valuable for them; the Bargunders build. They create strange odd habitats of branches, straws, mud, bark and fiber. Their number increased and now they are too many; the natural hollows in the trees and the pits in the ground are not enough now. I have seen before a “village” built by them – it’s a real miracle of the miracles! Queer forms, whorls, paunches, ovals, strange outlets, in clusters among the branches.
- I offer you an idea – he continued – to make barter – the wheat towards entire dragon’s freight of reeds and rushes from the marshes. This is a precious material for them. Otherwise they carry it from far away and this is so hard, because they need long stems and pieces, but are too small for that. And it becomes necessary for them to fly together in long lines, carrying the stems together; not to fly as usual – in a humming disordered cloud; and this is very hard. If they don’t find the suitable branches, the building becomes difficult and unstable, too.
Everybody nodded. Nodded assent, thinking. At the end Tjuhul said:
- The plan is good. Does everyone accept it, does anyone have anything to add, to say or to ask?
They were all contented. We commonly decided to start our traveling to the marshes when the morning comes; to take with us a huge cloth, in which to collect and tidy carefully the reeds; and to hang the bundle on the dragon. And then to take our way.
We went to our beds. The Wizard came to me, personally to say “Good night” and with a sly smile told me:
- Have you heard, Kruton, about the Dardons’ marshes?
- Nothing I’ve.
- Ha, I was suspected the same. Well, it’s a…trial. Because of the place, or of the habitants, may be because of them both, who knows, everyone, who goes there sees what he secretly desires. I’m telling this to you, to be prepared and not to guess what about strange things happened.
- It should be good, even pleasant, why you say trial?
- Well, good night! Rest well, the day will be long!
Look at him, what’s talking! Well, when he says, it will be surely right, but…for example I want to have a tasty breakfast every day, to find the wheat, everybody to take me seriously…what frightful can be here?
…I felt asleep unnoticeably.

At the Dardons’ marshes

They woke me up early. We ate our breakfast quickly, Grandfather Tiholan slammed the shutters, shored them up - each with a stone, gathered the tools, scattered all around the garden, filled up the garden’s ditches with water from the reservoir,…in general, he prepared the home for his absence. He left a dish with honey and a dish with water at the doorstep. And because I was watching him with question, he only told me:
- If here comes someone hungry or thirsty.
They rolled in a tidy roll the big cloth. The Nameless came later, right now, riding an amazing shiny black horse. I haven’t seen him before; I didn’t know he has a horse, whauuu…! I admired so much!
They took knives, sickles, different tools for the reeds. And the Wizard had a real sword, like from the books. Whou, how happy was I that we’re going somewhere and was so exciting and… I suddenly felt sad, that I won’t come back after the trip at Grandfather Tiholan’s house. But obligatory, obligatory I’ll come sometimes to visit him. I will live with Grandfather Tjuhul, together at home; he is a good, too, and mine. I was so happy, all of them were mine, somehow.
I felt so mixed – and happy, and somehow - sad.
They were still checking different things, how it is before long and important way. At last we set out. The Nameless said – approximately three hours South, slow pace. Grandfather Tilin wasn’t with us; he left early in the morning, having important duties.
The two Grandfathers – Tjuhul and Tiholan, mounted on the dragon, the Nameless took me upon his horse and the Lalyr – on his feet. The Nature is his home. And not only that, he and the Nature are one; this is true for everything that exists, but for the Lalyrs is truer.
- Hold tight, Kruton, we take off!
I gripped tight the Wizard’s cloak. My basin was closely tied to my head, not to fly off somewhere on the road. The bag I was girded over my shoulder. Thorny was fluttered, entangled in my furs, holding the tufts behind my ears. We flew so fast in the field. The sun rose, up and up, became hot and dusty. But the horse rode unresting. I didn’t enjoy the view around, I couldn’t even peep – the basin covered my eyes, I haven’t a free hand to lift it up, because I had to hold so very tight with two hands, in order not to drop somewhere. And was very shaky. The Nameless stopped for a while and put me in front of himself. And we flew again. This time the horse’s manes flitted in my nose. And because I was pressed close to his neck, I had no choice and no possibility to scratch. I was so high above the ground, the horsy pattered so fast and I was scared not to roll down away. In generally…on the dragon was better-better!
But we first arrived!
The place was plane, open. Frogs sounded, flies buzzed, dragonflies fast sparkled around. Smelled of rotten and stagnant. Everywhere – different wildings, plants, most of which I couldn’t recognize. And beautiful water-lilies. I snaked through the high stems of the water-plants and came creeping to the border of the safe firm ground, to watch in the water its different swimming habitants. Small fish, frogs’ spawn, shining like clusters of pearls; tadpoles, darting. I dropped straws and pebbles in the water, listening and watching how everything moves and changes in it. Suddenly a little striped up fellow creature – a marsh tarpun, jumped slyly and little left to catch another little animal. This was the dardon lizard; because of the sounds he makes; “Dar-dar-darrrrr…dar-dar-darrrrr” – like that; like me, when once played xylophone at Perko’s cousin’s home, whose grandfather had done a one for him; he was our musician and the grandfather had seen this bizarre instrument once, when on a fair in our village had come an ambulant trader from far away abroad, carrying such a thing with himself. And the grandfather had seen it, and had done exactly the same; and everyone from ours tried to play on it, but Perko’s cousin was saying, that he is the best. Whou, however, I escaped away of my story-line again, forgive me.
The dardons skip very high – at my height or even higher. From place! Imagine! He scattered splashes all around. The in each stripe on his back there was a purple spot; all of them were arranged like a rosary of violet eyes! Beauty! This motley animal had also a bird’s little beak, in the most sparkling yellow color that you can imagine.
As I was watching it, it seemed to me, that all its spots went round in a whirl, became too many, reflected into the water. I smelled the strong colors and heard their fragrances; I felt dizzy, but was…strange and easy, pleasant and light. The fragrance of…hay, of boiled milk and…don’t know…something else…
Suddenly, in front of my eyes, views from my village spread-out like a colored carpet. My Winding River! Everything as it really is! I look around – everything’s desert. Mo mayor, no grandmas and grandpas, none! I look myself, too, like in dreams, from besides. I stay, I turn around, look at the empty wheat-barn and I’m telling to myself: “But there is none! And better, then, because there is none for whom to search for that wheat. Let me go to take a nap!” And, then I go and take Perko’s best fishing rod, which I like from a long time ago. Because he’s not here; it will become mine! But I don’t go for fishing; I just keep the fishing rod and am on my way to take the mayor’s hat with the feather. I’m walking proudly around the village. And I go inside a house. There, grandma Martei – sleeping and snoring. I’m getting closer quietly and begin to pull her ears. Ha, that’s it, what you deserve, good! And I pull and pull and pull, until they become as red as fire. I left her with burning ears, then I go in the Branko’s smithy and begin to touch everywhere. Begin to knock with all the tools; ahead, to the different sized hammers – from the little ones, to the biggest. And then I start knocking with all of them at once. Ha, now at whom you will yell, a? Who will be chased away? You drive us away from when we were kids, not even to peep behind the door! Here you are, what you deserve! I knocked on the anvil and everything thundered. I passed by the house of my parents and threw a stone on the window. Soundly rumble rang, I felt sweetness to cover my lips. Good! At the window over here, I stuck out my tongue, pull out my ears, with all my mug pressed on the window glass. I moved slowly and hoped my face to become the ugliest vision ever possible. They were inside, watching me, but fixed, without moving, no talking, whou, how good! And so I stood until I felt my legs stiff and I fed up completely.
Like these I do a lot and different. At the end, because I guessed what else to do, that I didn’t yet, I went to the pigsty and soaked to the neck. We wallowed together with the grunties and squeaked commonly. Suddenly I saw by the village road, in the field, passed Posy, the daughter of the Hornies’ mayor. My heart started beating loudly, I ran after her, running I picked up a lovely daisy. But as was running, I spread all around mud and bad smell, a cloud of flies pursued me, and she escaped as fast as possible and I lost her. I was still running, then stumbled and fell down. I rolled around, stared sight into the sky; there, far and high, eagles roamed.
When I took a look around, I saw I’m in the middle of the marsh. I recall in mind what the Wizard told me last evening.
- Good on you, Kruton! – I’ve told to myself. – What kind of desires you have, a?! Are you a person, or an animal, or what? Look at him! Ha, I am bad, envy, lazy and…even lusty!
I flushed in the bushes, even all alone. I hope none except me had seen those…everything, with the wishes and secret desires. I beat my furs here and there and went to search for the Nameless and the others, if they are arrived. I found him leaned on a tree. Oh, my, he looked like shadow! Sweat drops on his forehead and temples, pale, and his eyes – dull and misty! Probably he saw my desires and now he doesn’t want to see me at all. He was silent. I was hearing voices from somewhere near, it means – the others are already here and work. I joined them quietly, none asked me whatever. I was guilty minded my own business, with care and in detail. The Wizard didn’t come until lunch. He joined us, when we were eating. He smiled by force, ate unwillingly. But everyone behaved as nothing strange happened and all is well and usual. Without questions and others. And I felt good because of this and saw how important is. Then we began to work and until the evening came, everything passed and concealed.
Everyone had seen something, but only for himself, not the seen of the others. I don’t know what was Nameless seen, but should be something very bad and scary. Interesting, I’ll never understand at all what did Thorny see?

To the wheat

I wanted to talk to the Nameless, I wanted to help him somehow. He noticed how I sneak around.
- You worry about what happened in the marsh? What have you seen is your future, if you don’t make anything to stop it. Nothing to worry, it depends only on you. – He smiled sadly and then added, like to himself:
- You’re your best friend; you’re your worst enemy. – And became more gloomy.
We collected the reed stems in the huge cloth, tied them tightly in a stable bundle and the dragon was ready to carry them away to the Bargunders’ habitat.
We grouped again for the movement, the same how we were on our way to here. The Nameless mounted me up to the horse, in front of himself – this was safer. We didn’t’ ride so furious as before and the dragon was flying above us. He was throwing a long creeping shadow and the Wizard aimed to be always in it, hidden from the hot bright sun. We moved through the field. There was a forest from the East, but was decided to be faster, that’s why the shortest rout was preferred than the cooler. But the heat became stronger, unbearable, the tiredness – too. The horse need to rest, became foamy. The Grandfathers upon the dragon were surely got sunstroke. The Wizard whistled loud and made a sign for gathering. We curved to the East and stopped under a high old oak, in the entrance of the forest. The Nameless unsettled the horse, began mopping him with hay. The Marked one landed greasy, after some fat “loop-loop-loop” with the wings; landing without concussions, real master! The Grandfathers dropped down from his back one by one. The heat torments the Mavals badly. And it’s because their natural needs, their magic was the water. They shouldn’t stay for a long at the sun – if they dry up, their strength gets lower and their life – threatened. So, as I was watching them how they walk swaying, I felt pity about them. They took out from somewhere a little bottle of water; first they drank, then began sprinkle and pour on abundantly. Grandfather Tjuhul, because doesn’t have fingers, handled well with tail; and as he drenched himself with the bottle, he took different strange poses in the air.
The dragon felt best of all, he stands heat and frost. The Lalyr was already here, I don’t know how. First he wasn’t here, then, just like that, appeared, not little by little, first from far away; he just…strange, I don’t understand. I pulled the Nameless sleeve, to ask him aside:
- Sorry, if it’s cheeky, but I guess and marvel, how Yelin moves so invisibly? First I see – Yelin’s here; then disappears, but appears somewhere else, without I could see from where and to where he goes!
The Wizard laughed. He pointed me the roots of the oak, to sit there together in the shadows, where is cool, and as he took out his sword, began to grind it with a stone. And began to tell.
- It won’t be easy to explain you. The Lalyrs are light-creatures. And the light, Kruton, is a strange thing. It moves fast, it moves fastest than all things.
- Faster than a dragon?
- Yes, than a dragon. A Grandfather once decided, that the fastest thing in the world is the thought. But he corrected himself – it’s true, with your thoughts you may travel to the stars, immediately, now; but the lack of knowledge can be obstacle in your way. If you don’t know something, you can’t think about it. The light has obstacles in its way, too; but moves despites them; runs far and away, like a lighting. It is made of small pieces and waves, well…I think it’s enough.
- How, how…
- However. The Lalyr, who is extremely wise and clever creature, has the knowledge and the power to command the situation in space of this lighting body, that you see as his image, known as Yelin.
I wasn’t sure, that something, especially the light that is nothing, could be faster than a dragon. And how can it be, when it isn’t huge and strong? I was always thought, that the light is some kind of air; wide and stretched. But I didn’t want to argue. I couldn’t understand, but imagined, that Yelin rises like the sun, and appears like it here and there.
- Does he rise?
- Oh, no, no…well, imagine as you like. But the sun has its way, it doesn’t go wherever it wants. And, the sun isn’t made of light, it makes light. Yelin is the light himself.
We stayed silently. He scraped steady on the sword, polished with a leather piece, then scraped again. I was so pleased to stay with him and talk. The stone glided from the hilt to the point, and again.
- Are you well already? – I asked, but immediately felt sorry about it and blushed, because I felt it’s may be rude.
- I’m well – he answered simply, without rising sight from his occupation.
- Why you have no name?
- Because…I had a work before, about which was needed to have no name.
- What work?
- A kind of, compared to it gathering woods will be like singing a song or a piece of pie for the curious little Krutons. Come on, go for woods, because twilight falls and we must light the fire and prepare the dinner! Jump up, quickly, quickly, quickly!

Second day I’m to the wheat. The Dreamgates.

I nibbled the apple of the desert, the Nameless spread the map and in the light of the fire they pointed here or there on it, talking about the Plan.
- First we must cross the river, but through the forest, not from the field. – Grandfather Tiholan said.
- Yes, there is a village in the close. – Added Grandfather Tjuhul. – And the Nameless and Kruton with the horse should pass on White bridge. It’s not good; there are men living in theses places. – Said Tjuhul
- There is no other way to pass the river. No matter how dry unwatered is the summer, the river is deep and wide. There are whirlpools and streams in it – they can’t cross it swimming, it’s dangerous. The problem is, that no bridge, or raft can help against the human eyes. They are everywhere in these lands. – Tiholan said.
- No danger! – The Nameless said, with voice and eyes, assured all of us, that he knows something.
The Marked one supported him, knowing something, too:
- We must tell you, but it’s a long-long story.
Tjuhul and Tiholan stared with misunderstanding in them.
- Well, - Grandfather Tjuhul said, without asking anything. – It’s decided, then. We pass as normally – through the bridge?
They all nodded, stroking beards. The bonfire was burned out. Everybody began to yawn and one by one rolled in the grass to sleep. The dragon was stretched his neck, paws and wings, like stuck on the grass. This was the way he cooled his stomach in the scanty moisture of the night dew. After not so long he snored roaring. To those, who was fallen asleep he wasn’t an irritant hindrance, didn’t awake them, but for me, the stared one, did not give me peace. That’s why I moved aside.
Leaned back on the oak, the Nameless roamed in the stars. Crickets played and soft wind breath hardly-hardly moved the night grass. In the fire only the glowing embers were shining. In the scanty light the Wizard outlined as a dark shadow with a ghost-pale face. I shivered, despite of the heat. He wasn’t secluded, he was lonely. I didn’t want to mess. I creeped back to the fire, settled the basin with sleeping Thorny next to my head and put hands under my cheek. The sweat dream took me away, despite of the dragon’s rumbling.
In the morning we got our breakfast quickly and took directed to the river. We should be there before noon. The forest was sparsely; on East there was a village. There was no point to rush, we didn’t hurry, not to exhaust the horse. I’ve heard how the Nameless calls him – Khan Ra. But maybe only he calls him like this; I was calling him Blacky, the others, too. Probably Khan Ra was a secret name; wizard’s deeds, in few words. The dragon with the Grandfathers flew low above the trees – the cool breath from below refreshed them, instead the heat from the roasted naked ground, as was yesterday. And, if they wanted, they may land and stop for a while among the sparsely trees, with enough place for the dragon. At times they dropped behind, at times they speeded up, so we didn’t move together. But we had a stipulation to have a gathering meeting at the river, near White bridge. Whoever arrives first, to wait the others.
As we were riding, now much more pleasantly, slowly, it seemed to me that something appeared for an instant. May be blue, or gray, misty and spread like smoke. I decided it’s illusion, only seemed to me and turn my head around, to other objects, as it’s normally. But my sight was dragged there again.
- Nameless, I don’t know is only seems to me, but on the right there is something! May be.
- Ha, you see it, are you?
- Well, not exactly see, but its…like I see it.
- Yes, of course, you are a shaman and a Bogy.
- What is it?
- Do you want to stop and to watch it for a while?
- Y-ha-haaaa! Yes, if possible!
We dropped down from the horse (the Nameless mounts me and brings me down) and I crouched down towards this thing. In this moment, probably something like a gate appeared to me. When I turned my eyes somewhere aside, but close to it, I was seeing it better. But when I pointed my sight straight ahead, it became spread, like I see through tears, through wet and easily closed lashes. You know how it is – the world turns in shiny colors and the images spills, like all is liquefied in your tears. Ahhh, how I liked it!
- How this happens?
- Are you ready to listen to long explanations?
- Yes!
- Well, then. In order to stay apart from the people, mankind not to banish us from our lands, they not to be scared from us, we had to invent something. So, the Fuhals spinned large belts among towns and villages. The Belts of the Dream; Dreambelts. Now the dream us apart from the human’s world. Those things aren’t visible and known. But people throw away everything they don’t understand. With easiness and pleasure they forget the things they don’t like or scary them– “Impossible!” and “Does not exist!” can kill a big parts of their world, turn them into nothing. But there are some creatures – different in their origin and race, even people, who Understand. They see a gate, just like that, wherever they stop near the Belt.
I moved ahead, running. And the Gate appeared in front of me again! Just right here! You may say, that it’s everywhere!
- It is wherever you are, if you are from the Passers.
- If you aren’t?
- Then you can’t pass.
- And, if you aren’t a Passer, walking by, you crush into a wall? You can’t see it, you can’t pass through it, and…Bang!
- No, the Belt walks with you, if you don’t open the door to get in it. As it walks with you, it spreads unlimited and keeps you not to pass into the world of the others – humans or differents, the same. It keeps from two sides – theirs and ours.
- And you step and roam on the same ground, but don’t see the others?
- Yes, you see the same things all around – trees, rocks, paths, animals, but not the humans and their homes and the made of them.
- The White bridge? Didn’t they build it?
- No, not only they. It’s…well, it’s a long strange and amazing story, and I’ll tell you some other time.
- How can you see humans? Can’t they come to us?
- In order to see and listen and act in other world, you must pass the Gate. But only few can do this.
- A-A-A-rrrr-gh! – I moved left and right in dizziness, enjoying the Gate’s movement with me; like it was pursuing me. I caved in the Belt, it bended, moved back, and - the Gate again.
- This, here, is the most visible part of the Belt. When we walk further, it almost disappears, at some places even is absolutely invisible. And that’s better, because for the Passers should be so irritating to drag the Belt with their noses, walking through the fields.
I was running here and there and suddenly made a grab for the Gate’s handle, to set ajar a little bit.
- STOP! You don’t have any business there! – His voice thundered like a hammer.
I drew myself back, like was scalded, and was scared and this melted down my joy of wonderfulexellent today’s discoveries.
- Enough landmarks for today! – He snapped. – To pass through the Belt is not a game!
Well…how tightened! It didn’t fit to his youth to be so stretched! I didn’t say anything, but I formed next to the horse, to be mounted already and to go. We rode silently; I only threw quick glimpses at the amazing miracle – the Belt. How interesting place is the world and I’ve never had even a guess about this!
After some time we got to the river. It wasn’t so wide here and in the heat was flowing tardy and low. In the distance we could see White bridge, wrinkled in the haze. I helped him to unsaddle Blacky, we set down in the shadow of a willow and I didn’t speak a word. I was offended; and didn’t want to irritate him more. I didn’t like him curt and snappish. Big deal! What cold so much happened, to jump and yell frightened like that! And to shout me.
We kept silence, I was only watching my fingers, touching them one by one and observed them carefully. He interrupted the silence.
- Look, Kruton, look at me, I want you to understand well. Some things are dangerous, even for skilful masters. Can you imagine how damaged they could be for someone untaught, who doesn’t have even a little idea about them, a?
- Yes. – I mumbled and recalled about Branko, who shooed us away from the smithy.
I thought for a while, then asked:
- And what could happen?
- To be lost in the Mists. To roam forever, inconsolably, without the possibility even to die. And never to reach the human’s neither ours shore. Or to meet someone of the Misty habitants, scary as your nightmares, because are from the Dream. Or, even though with so much luck, you succeed to reach the people’s shore, somehow. You can’t imagine what expects you there!
I was silent and aghast; became so frightening to me.
- When you once get into the Belt, even in the same second me to jump after you, there is no certainty that I will find you; there the things have different direction, laws and meaning than here. Don’t be angry to me, please! You are of big significance for me, I don’t want any trouble to overtake you. – And he squeezed my hand strongly.
I felt I’m crying. I was watching at my feet, to hide my wet eyes, and because was ashamed of my rushing and wrong behavior and because I felt offended ungrounded and at whim. I frightened him and could put him to risk. The things are exactly how he says, but I…I’m rushing, rushing…
We were all wet and dusty of the heat, so we jumped into the river to get cool. We swam and splashed and laughed, it was so jolly. And the martel was noisy darted into the water, splashed in a lively manner, flying wildly he poured us from above.
I didn’t want to tear apart from this man, and from the others, too. But I miss Perko, and Barzan, and little Sopsy…and my home, village. And so many things I must tell them! How amazed they will be. But now, after the Dardons’ marshes, something else sneaked in my heart. Yes, about her…how can she be so beautiful! With long, lively fair furs, wavy and shiny; and above her eyes: fallen little springs, moving in every graceful step, that she makes. She walks, they twinkle! Uhhh, uff, how stupid I am! I felt my ears burning of shame, my entire face flushed. And, the Nameless laughed loudly and noisy, like just read my thoughts, the damn wizard! I scuffled him in the water and splashed him and went on the shore to wring out and dry up myself under the willows, enough bath for today!
The others from the group delayed somewhere, so it was now, when the dragon appeared in the sky, plopped right into the water, with all the Grandfathers upon his back. The three of them snorted with the biggest pleasure that’s possible, soaked into the life-giving coolness. We were all happy.
So, passed this day, and the other, too, in traveling to North direction, without any troubles. I understood my companions meanwhile, at times, turned aside for their own deeds. They had tasks and duties, they helped in so many things to so many fellows; this is the meaning to be wise, I’ve told to myself – you have a work to do, you are responsible for many others. You must go after the fools, to correct what they have done, the same they did for me, watching me not to do anything stupid, anything wrong. And this is good, how the world is ordered, Can you imagine, if was on the contrary? No, no way, not possible, such a place to exist under the sun – the stupid one to control the wise and his words to be respected, don’t you think?

We arrive in Whitebridge forest

The heat remained for many days, without a drop of rain, so we began to advance in the nights and rest in the days. Moving at night did not impede anyone of my fellow travelers. They all have such eyes, ears, senses and skills, that walking in the darkness doesn’t make for them any difference with walking at daylight.
So, we arrived to the forest near White bridge village, it was nearly midnight, at the forth day of our journey. The wood were denser than it was before, so the dragon could be embarrassed, if appeared a need to take off immediately; with so small room for wings and lack of place for gathering speed. Because was impossible to climb from place.
We were walking and talking, all of us together. The Nameless leaded the horse with the bridles; I was mounted on the saddle. It was easier, because I am too small, he said, and I can get lost somewhere in the low and dark. Yes, it’s true, but I saw how the Wizard wanted to have one empty, free hand. His cloak was a little opened, and when I peeped, I saw his hand on the hilt of his sword. He was looking at something in the sky, I looked, too. But I didn’t catch a glimpse of anything special and unusual. The night was cloudless, clear, with a sharp thin moon, like a horn. New moon. I was listening very carefully, but nothing strange could be perceived. Only crickets’ song and our voices were roaming together with us in the forest. This was how we were walking still some time longer – everything calm and cheerful, as normally. But…then…happened what happened! The Nameless shouted everyone to stop; the dragon began roared powerfully, like a loud noisy horn; the Grandfathers became nearly to the number of twenty – and Tjuhuls and Tiholans! (Later after these events I understood that it’s a trick when someone attacks the Mavals. When they are scared and threatened, they multiply their number in the way they can send their images away – creating an image from the moisture drops. By this strategy they make a lot of copies of themselves for part of the second, so the enemy becomes confused and even scared of such an army, doesn’t knowing who exactly is the real one and who first to attack. It’s much like when the lizard cuts his tail to run away or some fish may drop a shadow of dark substance in the water, to lie the predators or…other amazing skills).
So, a big confusion, disasterness and turmoil have begun. The horse began neighing and jumping and I occurred on the ground. Hit and in the dark, I held Thorny tight in one hand, and with the other one I gropingly tried to catch the Wizard. He, with taken out sword, fought wildly unleashed to all sides and directions. I couldn’t see what or who exactly attacks us. I threw my bag on the grass and grab only my shaman’s rod. I brandished to the four winds, by guess, hotly praying not to hit a friend. I couldn’t see, I didn’t understand. My heart should escape away from my chest, I was shivering, scared to death, staring in the darkness without any reason at all, because without to stare was the same – nothing could be seen. I heard someone, don’t know who exactly was, to say: “Muuns!” I felt sick and weak. But, I leaned tightly on my rod, because if I fell down, it would be worse. And…in this moment I saw them under the scanty moonlight and because of a glowing globe of magic light that the Nameless created for a moment and threw it above our heads to enlighten upon the situation. They surrounded us – not one, nor two, nor even ten! A huge army of Muuns were narrowed the ring around us, more and more. They were stepping slowly, their bodies were pale, white, but not with the paleness of the living creatures. At height they were nearly with half more than the Nameless height. My throat dried up, I couldn’t even breathe of fear. And my thinking stopped and I was stricken, stiff and with widest open eyes in horror and helplessness. The dragon blustered like a roared thunderbolt, but couldn’t prostrate not even one of them, because…somehow they slowed our movement down. Easily, little by little, they stiffed us, fixed us, without doing anything else, than stepping closer and closer. The Marked one, our thunder-mountain, the strongest one that I have ever seen and heard about, began to sway and his frantic struggle faded away. It was petrifying. Then, when you see how the biggest power falls, the hope evaporates for a moment, leaving behind the panic and suffocating horror. The Grandfathers lost their number, after some minutes they became only two, as they are in real; in this second I was thankful, that the number is not zero, expecting this to happen now. We all were turned to stones, petrified, like flies in a spider’s web. To have a time to expect the worst is worst than the worst. Your imagination becomes your most evil enemy and every sound, every touch may kill you.
And then, then something happened! Something Great and extremely Amazing! Yelin he Lalyr, who centuries ago had been the same dark creature as these were, horrible and evil, then recreated himself into the completely opposite, now began to talk calmly and slow:
- You should not be afraid from the darkness!
His voice returned to me the hope for light even only because sounded safe and familiar. But there was something more – its sound filled the forest and the night, connecting to the moon’s and stars’ shining; returned like an echo and it began to seemed, like many Lalyrs talk, low and louder, from here from there, to everywhere. Until I was listening, my heart surrendered and began to beat calmer, easier.
- Hold each other’s hands and make a circle. – He said. Then waited until we do it and, went into the middle of our circle and very patiently continued:
- Sit down on your knees, keep holding hands…
- Do wings, paws and tails are suitable enough, too?- I asked, because of the martel. But it was important and for other ones, too.
- Every part of you that closes the ring is suitable. So, hold each other tight, be calm as much as you can and shut your eyes. And don’t open them, whatever happens, whatever you hear.
We all obeyed him immediately. And, really, I was feeling calm, like we were playing very usual hide-and-seek.
Before I closed eyes (because I wasn’t hurry to do that), I saw how the glowing around Yelin increases, became strong light, even blinding, and it spread all the forest around. The darkness was scattered away.
After that I don’t know what happened. I only remember my thoughts in that moment, and they were about how now everything looks like when I open the little door of the kitchen’s closet: then all the cockroaches, who hide in the black shadows, run away from the light; and the shadows themselves, become shorter, thinner, and…

Unexpectedly

Yelin had made us asleep for a long time, because, when I got up, the sun was at noon may be. The basin was lied about on the ground, the bag and my rod, too, and also different things and all kind of equipment scattered all over the meadow, because of what happened last night. I stood up slowly and began to tidy up. I gathered all the fallen things, putting them back into my bag. Then I tied up the bag around the rod, as it was before – comfortable to carry it for long way. I decided, that the basin would only steam my head, so I tied it up with its cord around the rod, too. Nothing was hurt me, I was all well, not stiff, nor anything; of full value, calm and complete. I was looking at the others – they were all well, at least they looked so, except…oh, no, no,…!!!
- Thornyyyy! Thorny, Thorny, where are you! – I began to run around, shouting and crying, searching on the ground, up to the trees, branches, leafs, no, it can’t be, this is not possible!
Everybody saw me how upset I am and when they all understood what happened, everybody began to search. Thorny’s gone! I couldn’t even say it, it was extremely painful to me. We all shouted, called him, in vain: nothing! I couldn’t become reconciled so easily. Inconsolably pottered about, with dropping tears, because I couldn’t hold them hidden any more. I was feeling a big bitter ball of suffocating sorrow in my dried up throat. And it boiled over into a loud cry. I fell flat on the grass, without knowing what to do. I tried to relax, but sharp surges of pain shook my shoulders, and from inside I wanted to burst out.
And, if you want to know, the good wise friends are the most right thing in the world. If it is possible at all, they may correct the doom. Grandfather Tjuhul came and slapped me with tail. And Grandfather Tiholan sat down next to me.
- Tighten yourself up, lad! Listen!
I continued to cry.
- Listen to us, just listen!
I rose up red eyes, mopping tears with dirty hands, so I shaped wet furs in mud all over my face
- We found Thorny!
- WHERE?
- Listen now…
- Where is he?
- Calm down! And learn to listen in patience. He is well and alive. – Scolded
Grandfather Tiholan. – We found him. Ran away to negotiate with the Bargunders. He can’t talk, I don’t know how intends to do this. And, the most amazing is, that they took him as a leader, more than their own boss. They listen to him.
Everybody were crowded Grandfather, looking at him amazed.
- And now, hold yourselves tight! He convinced them to return the wheat back to Winding River by themselves, flying, carrying it, in the same way in which they took it away.
- It can’t be! Can you imagine! My Thorny, the martel! Poor Thorny, he can’t even talk!
- Is it so important, how do you think? He understood very well what we are doing, what do we plan. Don’t ask me how. Last night was with us and when saw what happened, flew away to do the mission – that’s how I explain it to myself. – Grandfather Tjuhul said.
- If we all perish, my fellow-villagers to have their wheat back. – I said sadly.
The others were silent. Probably this was the truth.
- If it is so, the Bargunders are on their way to the Winding River. And they are very quickly. Thorny has done already his work and waits us in the Bargunders’ village. Should I call him from there?
- No, we must go – at least to bring the reeds there. Why we carried them to here, if we decide not to go further now. – Asked the Marked one, who carried the burden of the long and heavy stems.
- We are close, doesn’t left too much – said I – it’s better to go and to bring them to the Bargunders, they need them. We collected the reeds for them, they could use and employ on.
The Grandfathers nodded assent.
- It’s nonsense we all, together to go there – said the Marked one – I will threw the bundle there. I can go together with…Yelin may be? And before the twilight falls we will be back here.
We looked each other, shook heads, shrugged shoulders, well, none said anything.
- Wait! – I said loudly and became a little bit ashamed, because attracted all the eyes and ears on me. – About…last night - Yelin saved us all. This is an incredible, Great and Amazing event. I want to thank him.
Everybody oh-ed and ah-ed. The day started so quickly and alarmingly, so we couldn’t discuss what happened last night – a mysterious and extraordinary event. The Lalyr was very humble.
- What else could I do? It was naturally easy and everyone would do it, if was possible for him.
- But what exactly happened? – The Wizard asked.
- They attack at new moon.
(Of course! The goblin from the forest near my village has told me the same!)
- The light scatters them all. And then we all fell in sweet sound sleep – to gather some power, because they succeeded to make us weaker.
And Yelin began to tell, how they sneak in the darkness, when you can’t see them, how they catch your sight and you can’t even guess about their presence. And the moon is weak, new, its light is not enough to show you the stalking disaster. The Muuns use the darkness inside of you, they affiliate with it, because it is the common between them and everything else; it is the bridge, which they find to you. And, once they pass, they drink and they draw, until you waste away. I was shivering. And, only the Lalyr, who had been a Muun, who conquered the darkness inside himself, who became a pure light, without a drop of darkness, without a shadow, who knows the way from darkness to the light, because he passed it fighting for himself, only he can scare away the creatures of the shadow. Nobody else. Who didn’t fight the darkness inside, and doesn’t know about it, he is thoroughly helpless towards the shadows outside, that roam in the word, eating power, taking lives.
- Why to close your eyes? The light can kill you, too. Because you have darkness inside, as every living creature has. Only you may scatter your darkness, without this to hurt you incorrigibility. Only you have this power and privilege; in the fight you against you, no outer help is possible.
We all were silent. Everyone was deeply thinking about his own things.
- Why they were so many, Yelin, do you know? – The Nameless asked, so anxious.
- I have no idea. But I must understand what the reason could be. May be serious and alarming, may be the explanation is simple and not disturbing. But for now I don’t know anything.
- Thank you, Yelin, thank you! – The Marked one said – None of us could make it!
Yelin bowed his head down, seemed thinking about something.
- I really hope this is over. But, for now, let us close this question, at least for a while, and to continue with our task now, that is in front of our noses. It seems to me that so little left to be done.
- I suggest, - said Grandfather Tjuhul, - I suggest we all to go there. I would be glad to see them. If possible, to understand something more, to discuss it…and about the martels, too. This is completely new! We know about them almost nothing! I would like to see the martel and the Bargunders together, I want to describe in my Natural book what happens and to observe. Let’s go together, and after that Kruton, the martel and I will ask the Marked one to carry us on his back to our village. After we take “good bye” with all of you.
- Are we ready, then?
We were all ready; I didn’t have a patience to meet my little hero-friend. We rode together with the Wizard and it was so easy and happy in my heart, and strength and briskness overflowed me. So I began to sing:

Once there lived a wizard
With a fat tom-cat
And once got drunk
That wizard
And fell down,
hurt his head
La, la, la, lo, lo, lo,
And fell down,
Hurt his head!

I felt, that I don’t sing alone. The Nameless joined in. Uhh, how ashamed I felt! I was very discountenanced, and he – he laughs from all heart, little left to fell down from the horse!
- Come on! See how wonderful song and you feel ashamed to share it with me! You created wonderful lyrics, good words; what do you want – everything to be so serious and pompous? Stop hiding your face there, come on!
I was hid my face into the horse’s hairs.
- What kind of words you are stringing to me, Nameless! – I was rolling my eyes, just to escape from meeting his. – Don’t make fun with me!
- Nothing like that! Come on, let me be those wizard from the song!
- Not possible.
- Come on, dedicate it to me, please, I really like it. Let me have my own song!
I peeped wit one eye.
- Well then! But, just dare to mock me!
- Never! I swear! – He raised his hand up, showing how swears.
And we rode together, singing and laughing, and my new song, born this afternoon, sounded in this sunny summer day. We composed more couplets. A gift to a friend.

To the last aim

We arrived into the Bargunders’ settlement! At last! A dried up tree, with a big hollow at his foot, marked the entrance of the village. Around wild wheat and flowers were growing. This place was a left from a long time field. Lonely, roaming Bargunders were flying around us, looked us goggle-eyed, and then flew away quickly. May be to report someone. When they were coming closer to look at our faces, it was in a one-nose-distance, almost crushing on us. They open their eyes wide, against the others’ and after that – disappeared at once! Why they do this, they can’t see well, may be or what? The Wizard said, that this was an attempt to stop us, to scary us and these lonely flyers were their guardians. But may be only Bargunders find those things scary. The dragon was already landed and splashed with his straddling walk in the high grass. The Grandfathers were swaying on his back. So, we came to a little bunch of trees. And the construction that appeared completely matched with the description of the Lalyr! A big number of tangles, interlacing, paunchy-forms, baskets, hollows, spirals and whirligigs…Great and Amazing creation, all made of branches, wooden pieces, barks, hay, mud and…whatever! Hurray and congratulations, I was extremely happy to see it. Good for them! But where was Thorny? I was looking all around, but except the ten or twelve may be flying guardian habitants, nothing else was flying. They darted to the four winds, at moments suddenly stared straight into our eyes, may be waiting us to run away with screams. That’s why may be they were known as Stareballs. Grandfather Tjuhul was their admirer, as it was found then, from a long time he observed and described their life and that’s why he wanted to come here so much, to learn something more, if possible. I didn’t know that my Grandfather’s passion is making research, but the others knew, so that was one of the reasons because of which when they heard “Bargunders” in my sad wheat-story, they immediately decided: “Tjuhul”!
And now he began telling us:
- Do you know, that the way we celebrate New Year is connected with these animals? You don’t? Oh, well…
And he began to tell. The Bargunders shine in the dark – big, glowing, shiny balls, flying in the air. It is the custom, that they symbolize the fruitfulness, because they carry wheat, their entire life is connected with the wheat-cycle. And, as you know, we celebrate the end of the year in the late autumn, when everything is gathered, harvested, so then we make the ritual of the Wheat-tree, the New Year tree. You all know, we choose a tree in the middle of the village, naked tree, because the leaves are faded away, and we decorate it with shiny balls, candles, glasses, …glowing and shining objects. All these decorations symbolize the Bargunders and we wish our barns to be full as theirs, and the tree we call Wheat-tree – the wheatears to be as big and fat, as the tree is. This is the way we call the fertility to come back again next year, that’s why we celebrate it in the longest night of the year, where it’s dark, cold, hopless and it seems that the naked trees will be the same forever. We also believe, that it fulfils wishes, brings luck and heals diseases. When the spring comes, we divine on the buds and blossom.
How interesting things Grandfather knows!
- Where they have hidden all the wheat of the village – I was thinking aloud.
The Nameless jumped down from his horse and crouched down. He cleaned the dry fallen leaves on the ground, looking with deep thinking at something there. Then rose up and began walking around.
- Here it is.
- Where? – I shouted from the horse, because he hasn’t dropped me down from the saddle and I couldn’t go down by myself.
When he helped me, he leaded me to a little round, wicker cover, which was put on a round hole on the ground. When the Nameless moved it from there, through the hole, inside the ground appeared a huge hollow. There was a plenty of wheat, obviously not only from our village. Everybody gathered around the aperture, to nod heads and caress beards. But I was so impatient to find Thorny and couldn’t find a place to stay quietly.
- Grandfather Tjuhul, didn’t you say that he is here, where he could be?
- Who?
- The martel!
- Just above your head, from a long time.
I rose up eyes and jumped, so we crushed over each other. Oh, Thorny, my Thorny, how much I missed you! And how much you scared me! You didn’t tell me anything, you didn’t warn me! Never, never do this again, without warning me, somehow. And he was flittering happily around, landing on my head, entangling in my furs and in my ears. So, so very happy was I, and thankful, that the things happened in the best possible way.
- Thank you, thorny, that you help and do care.
The Dragon piled up the stems next to the slot of the barn-hollow. The Bargunders can’t talk, so nothing else could be done – to scold, to thank, or explain each other. But, it was clear, I think, there wasn’t so much for explanation or anything else. By the way, many pending questions still stayed. About the Bargunders, about the Muuns, about the wheat of other villages, about Thorny, about…so many things.
- What should we do now? – The dragon asked.
- We can leave now, - Grandfather Tjuhul said – but we can stay, for a day or two, to talk with their boss…
But our journey has reached its last aim. We have done all the work that should be done; about the questions: thanks to the Creator, there always will be questions. Even we stay here for a couple of days, even we answer some of the questions, there will always appear more and more new questions, even because of the new reached answers. This is how the things always happen. I knew what the Grandfathers will decide. The running after questions for the wise ones is never as an end in itself. Our work was done, so I stayed silent. To catch and feel the moment, not to let it escape in words. A moment like a step. New and exciting, with a feeling fully and strong. Just like you are at the last step of a ladder, you have already repaired your roof and now you leave a last sight of satisfaction to your own master-work and to the landscape around. There, in the distance, you see the mountains. And here, your own yard, looks so much different from the high, despites this is the same one yard. That was how I was feeling. I was the same, but from different point of view. After that comes a moment, that you must go down the ladder. You can’t stay always there. And everything is the same again, but in the same time it isn’t. Your roof is repaired and you have seen the things from somewhere else. And you never forget that they could look like that, too. And if you plan a repairs or something else, you will use this view fro above – against mistakes, for easiness, but also for dreaming and beauty.
I strongly held the Nameless, sniffing quietly. My height was at the level of his knees, so I held his legs. He raised me up, tapped me respectably on my shoulder.
- I’m sorry, in the village won’t meet you as a hero, and you can’t appear bring the lost harvest to them, gloriously riding dragon. Because the harvest is already there.
- But everything became so wonderful, isn’t it? I found you all…and you will miss me. We will meet again, will we? Immediately, immediately, when possible, of course, we will! Will we?
- We will, of course! I have so much to tell you about so many things; I would like to exchange advice and ideas with you, when I travel here or there. I’m happy and proud that I know you! – And after that quietly added: - And thank you for the song!
I tried to smile, but it didn’t come out.
- Grandfather Tiholan, thank you for everything!
- For nothing! I’m so happy that we found each other and that we are relatives. You will often be my guest. I will expect you with a blueberry jam and pancakes!
- Yelin! – He bowed down and I folded his neck in my arms. – We will meet again, will we?
- Of course, how can it be otherwise? We survived so much together, you were so brave and strong - I can never leave such a precious friendship. I will expect you impatiently.
Grandfather Tjuhul was taking “goodbye”, too. The farewell wasn’t long. The Nameless mounted me on the dragon, but brought me down again, because I didn’t tapped the horse for goodbye. Grandfather Tjuhul was disposed on the back of the Marked one in a comfortable for the traveling position, with a tail, tortuous around the dragon’s neck. The wizard mounted me again, bowed down and quietly sang to my ear, only to us:

Once there lived a wizard,
With a fat tom-cat…

We were already flying, so I couldn’t hear the following. The martel held tight the furs of my shoulder. The wind dried up quickly the tears, but new ones appeared on their place. It was night, so nobody saw them.

At home

My friend left far away behind. The questions, too. There will be always questions –you can’t scrape up the world to the bottom. Because there is no bottom. The world has no bottom and no surface; may be it’s not a place it’s only experience.
But you may mind the work in front of your nose and to enjoy as much things as possible; asking questions, searching answers – working and enjoying.
This is what I’m thinking, just for myself. After two days and two nights in traveling, at the dawn of the third day, the Marked one ripped up the sky above the sleeping Winding River and landed in my yard. They saw us – there were awakened ones. There is always someone, who is awakened, especially when you need privacy. So, left the inevitable “Monster! Monster!”, screams, cries, hullabaloo etc. They rose an uproar, awaked everybody and in a quarter of hour the entire village was in front of my house, everything in different opinion about what happened. We took a quickly “goodbye” with the dragon and he left at once, not to bother the Lucknoisers. He crossed the crescent moon and became a little point into the light of the morning sky.
- This is damnation for us! Our Duffer brings us another trouble!
- Hush! Didn’t you see – this fell from the Moon, it means good, don’t say blasphemies!
- Yes, he’s right! Look, the wheat came, too, may be this was a gift or something?
- What was it?
- I couldn’t see!
- Hay, Kruton, don’t you think you’re a little delayed, a? The wheat is here from a day! Where have you been so long?
- We found our wheat without your help! And you were laid idle somewhere, resting and sleeping, weren’t you!
I was staying silent, without saying anything. Whatever to say, it is useless, they will believe in anything they want.
- Probably he’s here to take our wheat again!
- What is this! Oh, my, heeeelp!
(Now they have noticed Grandfather Tjuhul and Thorny). The same discussion lasted almost an hour more. After that the three of us ought to go to the village-hall and to explain everything. Very shortly I made any explanation – that I have hound Grandfather Tjuhul in the forest and he succeed to convince the Bargunders of bringing back the wheat. I didn’t know what they would believe to, but I wanted Grandfather to be accepted as a village-helper, not to be scared from him. No matter what I was trying to explain, even all my efforts, to make the story as usual as possible, everyone had different opinion, still believing in his own version. My Lucknoisers don’t live with facts. Some were thinking, that the Moon returned the wheat; others – the mayor; someone maybe believed to me, I don’t know, but they accepted us somehow.
How happy I was, when could hug all my friends- all together and one by one! We kissed each other, and laughed and cried – Perko and Barzan, and little Sopsy, who began immediately a funny game with Thorny. Tears welled in our eyes; my friends had been thinking, that would never see me again. Every day they were thinking, asking each other, how am I. They told each other frightful stories about my survivals; they were sorry that didn’t escape from home to follow me. My dear friends! It was now, that I really realized how much I was cherished Home.

………………………………….

I have washed up all my casseroles and tubs, wooden pails, pots and jars, and everything. I beat the dust off my quilt, put out, under the hot sun my mattress. In few words, I brought out everything, cleaned it up carefully and then rearrange my place again. Together with Grandfather we put in clean inscribed jars all of the herbal plants and arrange them on the shelf. I prepared a bed for him, but he said he uses very seldom. He was sleeping on the beams under the ceiling or on the shelf next to the fireplace, so we replaced all the things that I was keeping on it before. In the evenings we had long interesting conversations. I learned many useful and helpful and different things.
But in the silence of the darkness, in the moments when I was alone and the entire village became quiet and fell asleep, I turned myself to East, staring above the tops of the trees. There, beyond the forest, to the Vast field. With the hope to see a little spot wit big wings, and then – the different-eyed face of a dearest friend. Strong and good, a true friend.

…………………………………

The time passed and when the spring came Grandfather Tjuhul sent himself to Big Horn, the village of the Hornies. Three days we didn’t see him, at the fourth day he appeared with Posy. He brought her to me for my bride. But I wasn’t so much surprised, I suspected it from before. So, my Grandfather arranged my marriage. If I should do it by myself, I see it how shameful and dressing-down would be to go to ask the Hornies’ mayor for his daughter! It should be splendid, how I’m skillful in talking and presenting.
We made a big wedding – Posy and I, Perko and Sparky.
And so, everything is coming on the right place, how is the order in life. We expected kids.
We made a present to Halcho: the village – common – basin. When someone passes by him, not to throw things, but to hide under the basin, instead. This was a good way the hotchpotches to be avoided. Grandfather could somehow explain him and Halcho agreed. Concerning the falling objects, now crossing the forest is safe.
So, a year passed. I look at my basin sometimes, Thorny lands down on my shoulder and I feel my feet cross the threshold of the house. My shaman’s rod is coming in my hand by itself and my heart fulfills with the Eastern wind. And I hear the wind sings wistfully:

Once there lived a wizard,
With a fat tom-cat…

From the folklore of the villages near White bridge
Folklore tales about the Nameless

To catch the Nameless
A story for disobeying

When the ice-cold wind screams into the chimney of the fireplace, and the moon strands in the window, telling stories, watching…and black night branches scratch on the glass, weeping …he is hidden behind the chimney and carefully peeps with one eye. He rolled into a ball his long, long tail – otherwise the storm could to take him away. His nails scratch easily on the roof-tiles and if you don’t sleep, they grab you, bringing you away: through seas and oceans, across nine mountains, in the tenth. From where he passes - a rainbow appears; he rides lightings and can turn into a motley snake. And none has heard his name – that’s why he is the Nameless. He swims under the ground and when he wades into a lake, he makes it hot and all the fish come to the boil. He may sham a bright rooster, entice you in the forest and, until you made six steps in it, the meadow turns around, the tree-tops entangled and the path is tied up. You cannot return home any more. They tell he brings you on the hill, there, where the falling stars are, where the moon is close and the sun never appears. There are only steaming stones and roaming lights; dense fog embraces this hill – dense and dark-blue, and none of the livings may trespass it. Only the lights shine in it, singing sad songs-lost souls will wander there forever…
But if you stick him under a silver pail, with a plait of a maize-silk in it, he will fulfill you to three wishes.
On the full moon lighting, with a silver sickle in your hand, at Midsummer Day’s midnight you should go in the field alone. Then you may pick up the maize-silk only. But if you’re scared-don’t dare!
Because I walked in the maize-field alone at midnight. And the Midsummer’s gold was shining brightly from the deeps of the ground; but I didn’t look for it, nor for healing herbs – they wasn’t what I was looking for. The Nameless was, what I was searching for, three wishes to fulfill for me - no remedy, nor treasures.
A long maize-silk plait I’ve twisted. I made it pretty, nine feet long. In a silver pail I have put cold water from the well and the finest lily-of the-valley blossom; I’ve put it on a white plane stone into the forest – the shining moon to come down in it, the Nameless to see it shining among the leaves, to fly down for a bath in the fragrant water.
And flew down the Nameless – with a long silver tail, light-winged, gold-eyed like the moon, his eyes – big, filed up with shiny stars; when he breaths – steam appears and the air becomes in rime. Twisted-horned, graceful, like a strong young stallion, he comes to the pail, pours over with the blossomed well water, with the flower fragrance. Enchanted me the Nameless; I have watched him straight into his stars - he has not escaped from my sight. From his nostrils – crystals of enchanting lilac, that makes entire body growing faint. I have appeared from behind the leaves, but haven’t stuck him under. He held me with his silver tail, and flew away the Nameless. I tightly hold the twisted horns and he flies – far and away in the sky, to the hill, where the stars fall. Now I don’t remember how they call me and where I came from. Only blue mist around me. The Twisted-horned comes and brings lights. And I tell you this story. If we, the lights, become more, may be a sun will be created, a sun to appear, to scatter our darkness. That’s why we are calling for you, always and ever…go out into the maize field at midnight, when the moon is shining…

Lullaby

Hushhhh, little child, and don’t you cry!
The Nameless is coming, singing a lullaby.
He will put a magic into your eyes –
they will shine like two ice-cold moons in the skies.
They will always be turned into inside,
Without a pity will fill your heart with ice;
They will always look for the daylight –
But in vain:
Their paleness won’t scatter the darkness and the rain.
In the fields with mice you will dance,
With them you’ll weave garlands of yarrow fragrance;
Fairies your hair will plait,
And from your curls for the night-warriors chain-armours will braid.
Your feet through forest, fields and paths will endless wander…
On dragons you will fly,
but your eyes will never touch the sky;
Your tears will turn into ice
and never wash away your magical disguise;
your sorrow tears will never wash away,
never bring your heart releasing day.
So, hushhh, my child, don’t you cry,
Don’t wake the Nameless,
just don’t try!

Raven
(from the diary of Iana, the healer)

In a summer dense and warm twilight the clock from the tower stroke seven zeros. Long shadow spilled on the wall towards and quickly, quickly vanished. Black raven alighted on the sill and began to talk politely. He was looking for a seed, for a seed of green rose. “Don’t have.” – I answered. – “Take from here what you like, but about a green rose – I’ve never heard, I’ve never seen.” Became bigger the raven’s head, and a huge eye, filled up with sorrow made my room so narrow; and then – asked me again: “Go away!” – I said. – “Another one is, who grows the seeds; I have no seed, nor even leaf of what you’re searching for. Seek alone and don’t come back! I have no strength to bare your sorrow!” And the seeking eye flew away in the night summer sky.
He left me his big shadow, and the sorrow of a raven tucked in my room: to wait whole life.
And that is how I lost a pair of wings - so powerful to find a seed of green rose; I left myself for further more with raven’s sorrow, banished eyes, forsaken feathers – no seeds forever.

The Nameless and the witch of the wild chestnut
(a folklore story from grannies to children)

Early in the morning He appears under a bush, rolls himself into a ball, like a hedgehog, makes bath in the dew, rolling himself into the yarrow or harefoot. He flings fir-cones or chestnuts, swims with the fish in the lake. He turns into a frog or a dragonfly and dances among the lilies and the sunshinings in the water. He covers himself with a swan’s down and disguised like a tender bird may get you on his back. And there, huddled up into the soft warm wings, listening to his enchanting songs, you won’t even feel how he takes you away…away. He swims to there, where headlong, with thunder, all the seas and rivers fall in the infinity abyss of the nothing, where the sun is set forever, there are no bird song, nor a puff of wind, nor star shine. And the roaring of the falling waters fades away, too.
There, into the darkness of the Emptiness, you may see only one path of moon cobbles, soft glowing in the dark - little guiding lights…
He leads the naked little feet on them, the sleepy eyes see only this pale, flicker trace – the trace of the moon path. The Nameless sets his new children into cradles of star-shine-rays, spins the children’s lashes with this rays and none ever remembers home. And hundreds of dwarfs play on their violins in the silence, thousands of fireflies dance in the darkness; lights of different colors shine trough the heavy lids and with dizzy speed turning around, twinkling, take away into the dream, far and away, like a forest spring, like a leaves’ whisper…
Sometimes he turns into a fragrant flower, into a butterfly, or into a child. If you follow him, to play games together, in the cool shadows of the forest, until you make your sixth step – he enchants you, and then – no turning back.
His games are funny and amusing, but he’s deceptive and changes his mind so quickly; a skillful wizard – but his magic is illusive, short lasting and disastrous. For a blinking of your eyes, he may turn the turtle into ice; for a heartbeat away he may lock you in a pile of hay; until you say “ah” and he can scare you, like he is your grandma! But…his wishes are not long lasting, and everything he turns to something, returns back to its first image quickly.
His bad mischief stays never punished. He has no parents, sisters, brothers, to scolds or care; no friends - to be offended. None is stronger than him and he is always ready to try his strength against whoever is: the bear, the wind or even the dragon’s fist.
He never stops, he never feels pity, always on the rush; he never sleeps, he never rests - but it’s doubtfully true, that every one of the damages brings him joy and happiness. He is as old as the world is, and it seems that his only care is to fill his time with evil jokes and looking for someone to scare.
You may wander far and wide; you may roam through forests, seas and oceans, shiny skies – it doesn’t mean you have understanding at all about how and why the things exist and grow.
Once the Nameless set his eyes on a little ball, rolled into the morning dew: he looked it well – the ball was a chestnut, shining in the grass like a crystal or a glass. The naughty pickle never sleeps – from early dawn he makes his tricks – he broke five bird’s nests, drunk all of their eggs; then he jumped from the highest tree-top, fell flat just in front of the new-found chestnut - ball. A crafty smile lighted up his face: “I want you, one, two, three, to go to the moon, flying fast and free!” A storm came, the ground began to quake; the sky became black, and the wind began the treetops to break. Stars appeared in the darkness and in a shiny glowing rainbow the chestnut flew straight ahead to he moon. The darkness became thick and dense and on the moon’s face appeared a figure, a dark spot, and began to talk:
- This shadow is me, the witch from the chestnut forest and I will never forgive you the games you play – a whole eternity you terrify our wood, as evil and bad, as you could; you don’t give anyone to rest - that’s why if I curse you – it will be the best: I input a spell on you: always to watch the moon, always to bark and cry, when it appears in the sky. Now I turn myself into a moon-spot and will watch you every night – here or there, or wherever you hide. You won’t be careless ever after – won’t be the only one, who hoots with laughter. Only when I appear in the sky, only then you will turn your look, your image as you are. Until the day lasts, you will be a little chestnut, like a little moon, but rolling on the dusty ground – without no move nor sound! So let it be!
And now, when you walk at night, you could hear him to bark and cry, when the moon appears in the sky.

The legend

Here he stands – among the moths washing his wings in the dewdrops. Alone he stays in the silent night: hidden in the darkness he tries to run away from the past – to escape the memories, before they begin to talk, before bringing back the sorrow and the pain, like a never ending drowning rain. So, succeed he to bury them away – deep and down, below, inside, seems forever, never to appear under the daylight.
If you pass by water, won’t you be so tempted to throw a little cobble in its cold, dark, reflecting heart? But who can say what shadow you may awake, and one’s gloomy nightmares to scatter or remake? To make him recall the past and the shadow tears in the water to vanish, to disappear, embraced by it so fast…no place exists for rest in peace about such falling tears: no sun to dry them up, the ground to swallow the sorrow, the grass to give them a hug of relief, the wind – to see, believe and help them leave and fly away…until comes new, better day…
- Damned to be her tears: to have no rest and peace! – The summer wind from the ancient centuries brings, whispers it among the trees and leaves; filled the Nameless’ heart with bitter darkness, bringing him back in Those moment of cruel madness. And in his eyes – golden big stars, a heavy grayness settled; the night birds in the wood became mute, scared and huddled; and the awful old story came into life again, because the oblivion exists, but it can’t delete the truth, even fallen in the mist; what is done – shall always stay – no matter seen, or heard, or played.
Look now in these eyes and the ancient story will begin – on the stage of your heart, and the roles will start they play again - they could never free the pain.
Once upon a time, so far beyond and there, away, lived a wizard – roamer, who wandered across the land. Obtained he amazing powers – skills unseen and unheard, and never fought for glory he, but healed, and helped, and brought good. His name was unknown and he never turned his back to any creature’s trouble. He used magic herbs and sung spells, good words and friendly hands. Demon’s fighter, dragon’s friend – they talked, defender of the poor and of the lost hope. And the evil run away from his fast stallion and brave sword, they say. So, the shadow of a roaming horseman – a dark figure with burning eyes, riding fast stallion through the fields, the wind – their true companion a legend about them brings.
Once passed he by a village, he had seen for first and stopped for a while – for rest and tormented of thirst. He unsaddled the horse, in the coolness of the trees, next to a crystal-water well, to take a breath and a little sleep.
…Far away is the winter, when under white veils the earth breaths and the cold North wind evil songs sings, and the ground sound sleeps - dreaming fairy-dreams – ice stories, ancient winter pieces: cold shiny grits sneak to the people’s fires, where their frozen coats melt, they become warm and through the chimneys they pelt. They turn into tender singing lights, then fuse into the elderly voices of wise. Enchanting children’s minds then – through the young eyes they rush and the dream begins, telling stories to the whishing hearts - just whispering, never screams: so the kids and the ground live in one melody sound, in a dizzy dance the everlasting stories come to life – in the fireplace, the voices meet the dreams, the old memories find where they begin and all become into one; the ground makes gift to the kids, to the birds and all the living things, they - give it back to it, with their own legend stick into the motley pattern, embroidered by all, for ever; and takes their stories the old ground – wise and clever, embracing them, to return’em back to someone else in need and to forget them never – again and again and again…and forever.
So, fallen in deep dreams about home and kids, about tender eyes, in which the winter voice could whisper, but will never fill with ice, the wizard was diverted a lot and couldn’t notice how over him was dropped a flower. Startled, he shook out the dream, jumped quickly for his sword of steel. But, here, on the grass in front of him, was no evil ghost, nor beast, nor demon grim. A maiden, pretty and young, was smiling in a dress white and shining. Black hairs, like a raven wing that flies upon white marble hills; burning black eyes- the most beautiful sunrise, penetrating deep into your heart, like the ray of sun may reach even the best-hidden ditch.
- Hay, lassie, who you are? And where you go?
- To gather herbs I went out in the dawn; but what you’re doing on the ground?
- I was looking for a bride, but now I see her by my side.
Jumped on the horse the young lad, to get his dream, before it disappears and - to regret.
- No, wait, young lad! I don’t have no parents, sister, brothers, none’s dear to my heart; but – the others - entire village grew me up; and for reward I serve to them – predicting storms, assisting birth, creating spells and giving herbs; I may divine by the move of the stars, my songs can be heard from the dead ones. I may do the maize to grow and to call for returning back the ill’s soul…You must ask me from the others – to the village I serve, they are my sisters and brothers.
- How your name is, young bride?
- Iana!
- Come with me, my beauty, be my wife, and sister, and mother and brother! We have one fate – to help and to serve, to share the world’s pain and never to complain. The loneliness is our doom, you know so well, but you may share this fate with me – and I with you, the future will be happier; the loneliness we may undo?
- I will spread my news among the people, inviting them all. Come back you to my well tomorrow, when the sun go fall. It’s Midsummer Day and we all here will be to dance and play – for our wedding and the Light to celebrate!
And plaited Iana a garland of roses and mistletoe, so beautiful and shiny, put in it fragrant lilies, too, the spirits of water to tie in. And made from it her bride’s crown; marked her feet and hands with marital runes – a secret ritual of her own. And comb up her black – raven hair, like waterfall lively, rushing to everywhere. Prepared she a bride’s bunch of lilac and a present for those, who took her heart forever and at once – a silver tool, a little sickle, for gathering the mistletoe and for the Summer’s Dance. And on her doorstep sat she, feeling how her heart’s fulfilling, how it’s fill of joy and hope, how the sun tomorrow will for new life rise, showing new, wide bright skies! Tears of happiness dropped down on the naked feet; mopping them away she took her bunch and close the wooden door – to go and everywhere to say: tomorrow will be her wedding day!
The unknown wizard – roamer combed up the stallion; garlands of flowers he plaited for the horse hairs and for the sword – blade; and didn’t forget to create the most beautiful gift for his new and only soulmate – he made his heart, of moonstone he it shaped, as a necklace for her marble grace – so pretty frail face and neck and hands, a heaven’s body, calling for embrace. For the silver cord he made a hole in the stone, then a red drop fell down in the dust on the ground. “The heart from love is bleeding”, the wizard said, “it can’t be an omen for something bad: such moment can’t be touched of anything sad!” Without something more to say, he gazed at the new future coming: tomorrow will be his wedding day!
So, here comes it, today is the Midsummer Day. The last rays of sun touched for farewell the ground; the sun jumped behind the hill, to give a way for the shortest night – to unplait its dark braid and to take its ride. The Mother Nature prepared for celebration of the Life and Light; the stars shined in the skies so bright – sisters of the bonfires in the fields, a mirror of the earth’s faces, deeds and thrills.
The entire village came at Iana’s well, at Iana’s place, where she stayed all dressed in white lace, in bride’s veils, impatient the marital vows to whisper, to swear: “Under the sky, in the name of the Light, I, Iana, will never betray you in my heart, no matter am I with the livings or I walk with the dead, you will be my oath - I will never regret…”
Until she whispered the sacred words, that the time passes, but doesn’t them hurt, such words survive the end of every life and urge on finding the right husband or wife…But the village wasn’t happy, none sang, none smiled; they talked, but shy and sly and silent. They all stood so quiet, in a dark mood, but she was too happy to have understood. She was staring at him - coming in the twilight, riding; and everything around for her was hiding. With a thrilling whisper and shining face, at the well – border she stayed, and her breath embroidered the words of the ancient wedding prayer:
- …come, I’m giving you my heart, I, Iana, …
But someone sneaked in the dark behind; someone caught her hands, long hair, someone threw her in the abyss there – in the black throat of the well. The whole village decided to sacrifice their witch to hell: for all the good and help she made, for all the luck that she created. Hundred of nails tore her veils; many hands wounded her face in a deadly embrace. Her long shiny hair tied up around a rod, at the edge of the well, helped the lassie not to fall. But a woman, with a grim smile and burning eyes, barked in the darkness, sounded cruel like ice:
- Two of them together are so much; we must never allow them even look each other, even to touch! Their seed to walk on the good earth is a sin! We shall finish all this here, in its origin; will cut the root of the evil before it’s too late, before its fruit appear, the evil is so near…
And then she grabbed the silver wedding gift, cutting out the raven – winged –hair, which helped the lassie to escape the fate – once; but not twice; the dark water began to shine, taking the beautiful bride, swallowing her marble graceful youth, and then Iana cried:
- What I’ve done to you, to be coursed, how did I offend you, to be so hated…and how this Midsummer Day …

(The rest of the story is not translated yet)