|
Gather 'round, young folk, and let me tell you a
tale. Not just a tale, no, but a love-story. Yes, I know you all think that you
know everything there is to learn of love, but let me tell you this, you never
know enough about love. Just like Gark experienced.
This tale happened a long, long time ago, in a part of the world virtually
unknown to you living so far south in Sarvonia, but the
story should not be heard more lightly because of that. I will embark, with your
permission, on a journey wrought with peril, bravery and above all: Everlasting
Love... - well, just plain love at the very least.
I will take you to a small town in the neighbourhood of the Shaded Forest, and
then to a small hut in that very town. And then to the sleeping youngster there,
Gark...
Chapter I: Of
Gark and his Love
|
|
ark awoke. He glanced around, trying to see anything
which might make a dent in his dismal existence. Alas, everything was as it
ought to be, and Gark mouningly arose from his bed. He did not know where this
feeling came from, the feeling that his life was just a waste, a sodden
downright waste of time, nay, of life itself. Gark felt surprisingly angry about
that. He never really got angry, not even when Baniel had stolen
his best tools and told his father that Gark had lost them, no, Gark was a calm
and peaceful fellow, never prone to misbehaving or wanton adventuring. So this
was a truly surprising feeling for the lad, standing in his room, gazing at the
ruins of his life, and with his eyes just simply noting that he should probably
have to replace his hammer and chisel one of these days;
they were pretty worn out. Gark sighed, this would be an unordinary day, and
Gark never did hold much to adventures...
I feel this would be the right time to elaborate on the situation which is
unfolding itself before our very eyes. Gark, a young fellow has a boring, blurry
life. His path, fate and life wouldn't even impress a tryster,
living in the sea. Uneventful would be an understatement, incredibly dull more
accurate.
Gark was the son of a mediocre carpenter, and worked
in his fathers shop every day. Due to the fact that his elders believed
Gark to be dimwitted, his tasks had been limited to cleaning up the place and
carrying heavy burdens. His father once had given him a
set of carpenter tools, and Gark ever since always took them with him, and used
them on every scrap of wood he could lay his hands on.
He himself never really thought much about his situation, until that day when he
awoke from his slumber, tearing away the curtains of routine, trying to see the
clear sky beyond.
When he had finished staring at his tools, which had taken
some time, he quickly got himself dressed, and his hand stayed on his
travelchest. Gark had never used the contents of this chest, which contained all
the materials a traveller might need on his travels, like a short sword, a sack
and some travelling clothes. Not knowing his future, Gark picked up his hammer
and chisel, and went out of his room, towards his father's
shop.
It was just a short walk from his elderly home to the carpentry, but for Gark it
seemed to last a decade. It was as if every step progressed ever slower, and
eventually Gark stopped and started thinking. He had not done such a thing
often, and it was a pleasant new experience for the boy. His mind wandered to
his current predicament; the heaviness of his steps, slowing him down with every
step he took. Why was this? Gark questioned himself, and he could not produce an
instant answer. Now that was a familiar thing to Gark, not producing instant
answers, so he sat down on the path, waiting for the answer to come to him.
After having waited a long time, without an answer presenting itself, Gark
thought the better of it and decided to get to his fathers shop so he could
think on the matter while he was there.
Just as he rose it struck him. Literally. A hard stone
from an alley. Gark heard giggling voices and saw three young girls running
away, their sling still lying there from where they had
shot the stone at the unsuspecting Gark.
Then it dawned on him; something had happened the day
before!
He had accompanied his father when he had brought some of his woodwork to the
merchants. There had been a wealthy looking man who had bargained with his
father for a piece of furniture. What was his name again? Gark pounded his head
to get the memory process started, and was amazed at how easy he conjured up the
name of the merchant, Guilik. But what had been so special about the man? Gark
again pounded his head, satisfied with its former effect and again he produced
the answer: his daughter! Yes, now he remembered, the
girl had stood behind her father, a creature of light and beauty. She had seemed
so fair in the dim light of the market and her eyes were the most beautiful
thing Gark had ever seen. Not even the enormous fish Beankin had caught last
summer had been more beautiful. She had smiled briefly at Gark and he now
realised that the heaviness of his heart was probably
caused by that smile. Like the opening of curtains to the dawning sun, the sight
of first snowflocks in winter, her smile had opened doors in Gark's
mind which had been locked shut before. And one of those doors was the door of
Love.
|
