Who was this man with green eyes in daytime and empty sockets at night? Was he a spirit? The nameless one was unsure and spooked, so he looked down to avoid the man’s eerie face. You see, every night he’d flown in joy, and never went near the old man in the dark, so he’d never seen his other face until now.
The old man stood up and took a scratchy blanket out of his bag. He wrapped the nameless one with it and helped him to rest on the hard ground. He then crouched back, hunching throughout the night, watching the small fire. From his position, the nameless one thought the traveler looked like a skeleton in a tatty robe.
Chapter Nine
He woke up to the sound of the traveler cracking walnuts and hazelnuts, which he knew were for himself, for the man always gave him nuts in the mornings and fruits at night. As soon as he finished his meager breakfast, the old man gathered the blanket, the pot and the cups and put them back in the covered old wagon. His nag seemed relieved for a change, and was obedient. It seemed all of them knew they were close to their destination.
The wagon clunked away toward the mountain. The nameless one again wondered why the old man did not wish for a new wagon. It was a cold day, with wind and rain beating at them. The nameless one shivered and his teeth chattered, but he refused go inside the wagon. He looked around. There was something about the forest that made his gaze keep straying to it. He felt the place had magic… nothing malevolent or strong, but enough to protect itself. He was sure the trees were more than the average tree. He could feel their life force and their gaze following them as they came close.
True to his word, the old man never brought them close to the town or the people. They also passed the forest without entering it. When they reached the outskirts of the mountain, the old man stopped the wagon and turned to the nameless one.
“We have reached our destination. This is where we part now. You are no longer a slave, for I wish you to be free. This is my one and only wish.”
The nameless one sat frozen, confused whether he’d misheard what the man just said to him, but he was also too afraid to turn and look at him in case this was a joke. He asked himself whether the traveler was a trickster or something.
“No, nameless one, I’m not a trickster. Turn to me and see with your eyes now that you are free,” came the soft but clear voice that no longer sounded like the old man’s voice. He remembered that voice from a time so long ago. He shook like a leaf, but he was still too afraid to turn and look at the face.
“No, don’t fear me. Please, look at me.” The man whispered at him. The nameless one was shaken to his core, and turned as the human asked. He remembered the voice and looked at the face that was no longer old or skeletal. It was the spirit of the human who had come to visit his realm with his wish. It was the man who seduced him and then blamed him to save himself… the same man with the hair that resembled the fire he created in his hands all the time.
“I am sorry for what I did to you. I was young, ambitious, and selfish. I thought I could have the world in my palm once I conned your people and stole some of your power.” The man was changing right in front of the nameless one, becoming cloudier, slowly disappearing.
“I was not only banished, but also punished like you. You see, I couldn’t die like my people did. I had to feel all your pain all through the centuries. You were the slave in the bottle and I was the slave of your suffering in the bottle. While I tried to find you, following the trail of the magic that you left when you granted a vile wish, I was crippled by the destruction and the pain the wish caused to others… That was also part of punishment. My suffering was the mirror image of your suffering. The only thing I could do was to look for you to free you, to free both of us, and as I looked for you, I learnt all about humility and what matters the most…” The spirit was whispering now, as it was getting harder to form words as his form dissipated. “Will you forgive me, nameless one?”
The nameless one listened to the spirit in tears, and slowly but surely nodded his head. “I do,” he whispered. “I forgive you. Thank you for finding me and freeing me.”
When the spirit sighed, it felt like a gentle breeze on the nameless one’s cheek.
“I can leave, now that I corrected the wrong I did in the first place. I brought you to this enchanted mountain, because this is your new home now.”
The nameless one looked around in a daze. Yes, he could feel that the mountain was connected to the forest, but the mountain had stronger magic and might. He felt deep in his bones, that it was calling for him. He suddenly grinned, shedding years of pain and tension off his face. It was welcoming him. He couldn’t wait to fly up to the tip, where he knew his new home was.
He turned to the man who’d played a part in his slavery, and spoke tearfully. “Go now. You are free too. It’s time we found our peace.” He watched the spirit grinning back as he melted into the thin air, and the wagon and the nag also melted away.
It was almost dark, and he felt an intense joy that he hadn’t felt in a long time. As he spread his wings, he felt no magic clinging to him, amazed at how simple it was to be free of it…no ceremony or ritual. It just disappeared.
Suddenly he felt like he’d shed a heavy weight off his shoulders, and he was filled with a new energy. He laughed as he tilted his head and opened his arms. Ohh. The cool wind brushed his body as he dropped the wrap. He spread out his wide wings as they set ablaze, and flapped them, lifting himself off the ground. The clouds on the tip of the mountain started to part, to guide him to his new home. I’m coming! With strong strokes, he flew upward as fast as he could. He didn’t care that his infernal fire blazed with all its might and pure joy.
As he flew, the nameless one saw an opening in the mountain big enough for him to enter. Once he landed, he closed his wings and tucked them behind. He slowly entered the cave. At first, he saw nothing but the stones and a ceiling. This was a large and dark cave.
Ohhh. It had been so long since he’d felt like he was home. He took a deep breath of the familiar scent of the musty smell of the stone and the earth. Fresh earth with no scent of a human, just the little bats and other creatures rushing and flying around quietly. He could see their small bodies carrying seedlings and other smaller critters to eat, or weaving their webs around. Whereas his people feared difference and hated what might disrupt their daily life and cause disharmony, here he was not judged but accepted.
Yes. He was home.
The nameless one’s shoulders shook as he wept in gratitude for having been set free. He no longer felt the invisible heavy iron chains around his ankles, or the pull of the bottle. When he heard the gentle sound of an object rolling towards him, he looked down and saw the brass bottle at his feet.
“Do what you wish with it,” a voice whispered. He spun around, but saw nothing other than the walls and the high ceiling.
“I am the spirit of the mountain. Fear not,” the deep, gentle voice whispered.
The nameless one bent down hesitantly, frightened to touch it. When he tentatively grabbed it, he grinned, because it was just an old dented bottle now, with no value for anything. He spoke softly with a tearful voice. “No. I shall keep it to remind me of my journey and what became of me. Thank you for welcoming me.”
He heard the soft whisper by his side. “You are part of us now. You will be hidden from all prying eyes. You will be one of the many secrets that stay here.”
He felt the welcome and acceptance like a warm wind, touching all over his body. He walked back to the opening of the cave, and saw that the clouds and the fog were back again, hiding the cave from outsiders. With sudden elation, he laughed and flew out of the cave, spreading his wings to sail silently. He circled around the tip and liked what he saw. The mountain was unspoiled, green all over, totally untouched by humanity.
He was cold and wet as he flew around the mountain through the clouds and mist, which was exhilarating as he felt one with nature. The cold wind brushed his skin as if to cleanse the remnants of his slavery. His teeth
chattered from the cold, and even that made him laugh loudly. He spiraled up, and then spiraled down in sheer joy.
It had been so long since the nameless one could open his wings and fly carefree, high above the clouds, seeing nothing but the stars in the sky and the great nothingness. He was nothing more than another speckle in the universe, which made him feel humble and grateful for this little slice of contentment. No gold, or fame, or power was worth as much.
He wrapped his wings around his ice-cold body, and dropped towards the earth just for the sheer fun of it. He listened to the whooshing sound from the speed he created as he came close to the cave, then opened his wings to slow down and land by the cave.
Chapter Ten
Days passed with the nameless one living in harmony with nature, watching out for his neighbors, the bats, and other small creatures.
He watched how the mountain and the forest made sure no human or evil spirit came close. The birds, beasts, and all creatures great and small lived in harmony. He heard from the animals and the whispering trees that there was a small village in the forest, well hidden from the outsiders. The trees whispered that the people who lived in that village knew no evil and did no evil. He listened to the stories of young lovers in the village and little babes growing in love. He was glad that the guardian of the forest found all the abandoned children near the forest and cared for them.
The nameless one was happy that there were loving couples in the village, and sighed, wishing he had a lover to hug and be with. How he wanted to be touched and to touch in return, smelling the scent of his lover. Alas, it was not meant to be, and this was his lot in life, and he acknowledged it, grateful for what he had.
It was winter when he heard a strange sound that resembled a bird singing with a sad heart. Was its wing broken? Did it lose its fledgling? Was it a male looking for its mate? The nameless one then realized that the sound was man-made. He was sure of it, because it was the sound of an instrument he’d heard long ago. He realized there must be a shepherd close by, playing his flute to lead his flock of sheep.
No one came near the top of the mountain… no one. He was so intrigued, wondering whether he was from the village. The nameless one sometimes heard, but never saw, its inhabitants. He clambered across the ceiling of his cave toward the opening, and listened for a while. Yes, it was definitely the sound of a flute.
The shepherd played a very slow and sad tune that drifted to the tip of the mountain. It was hauntingly beautiful, bringing tears to his sky blue eyes. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat as he listened to the gentle deep wail. Without thinking, he flew toward the sound, virtually gliding so the shepherd didn’t hear his wings flapping loudly.
It was dark by now, so it was easy for him to see a small flicker of fire in the distance. He gently landed close to the fire. He hid behind a rock so he could look at the man who played his flute as if he wailed for his lost love. The man’s face was hidden inside the felt cape, he wore to protect himself against the winter chill while his flock huddled together to keep warm.
He wondered what the foolish human was doing on the mountain in this weather. He wanted to ask whether he’d forgotten about the wolves in the area. The fire was so small that it could hardly warm the human. His curiosity won over his fear, so he quietly sidled through the rocks, making sure the human did not see or hear him, keeping his sensitive wings folded tight so they weren’t scratched by the sharp stones. He was not worried about the flock, because they knew his kind was not carnivorous.
He circled around until he could see the shepherd’s face. Why, he was a young one, with long dark curly hair that fell gently around his face. His eyes were wide set, with lips that were full and pouty. The man had a trimmed beard to keep his face warmer. His eyes were closed as he played his flute, and the nameless one was disappointed, not being able to see his eyes.
It broke the nameless one’s heart when he saw the single tear rolling down the shepherd’s cheek. He took a sharp breath, thinking that the young shepherd was wounded. It was too sharp and loud, and the young man heard the nameless one. He abruptly stopped playing.
“Who…who’s there?” he stammered.
The nameless one froze. He didn’t want to be seen or heard, because he feared the human more than he feared anything, even the Elders who never accepted his existence.
“I know you’re out there. I heard you.” The quivering voice shook, although he tried to sound brave. If he only knew what watched him, he would scream and run, leaving his flock to their own devices. The nameless one couldn’t move for fear of being seen and frightening the young shepherd. His heart broke when he heard the man sob, “Please spare my sheep. They trusted me to bring them up here, for the grass is fresh and lush.”
“I am not here to hurt you or your flock,” his voice rumbled gently as he attempted to reassure the human. “I just came here to listen to you… Fear not, shepherd.”
“Oh. Okay… Want me to play again?” the shepherd asked hesitantly.
“Yes, please,” the nameless one whispered. The shepherd started playing again, a mixture of both happy and sad songs. After a while, he slowed down, and the nameless one understood that the man was tired.
“Thank you for playing… I’ll go now.” The nameless one quietly retreated, then flew back to his cave. There was no sound coming from the mountain. He knew the mountain and the forest had watched them. He was confused initially when he heard the trees sigh, as if they approved of what they witnessed. He took that as a good omen, as the nameless one was aware that they watched and heard everything around them. He understood that they knew more than they revealed. He dreamt of the shepherd laughing and playing happier tunes to him, with his flock surrounding them.
Chapter Eleven
The next evening, the nameless one heard the sound of the flute again. Without thinking, he flew to the source of the sound. Night after night, he went and listened to the shepherd, and each time, he refused to show himself.
“What’s your name?” asked the shepherd one night, as he tucked his flute into his felt cape and poured himself a cup of tea from the small pot on the fire.
From behind the rock, the nameless one said, “I don’t have one. What’s your name?”
“Faine… so how do I call you, if you have no name at all?” Faine asked, as he blew into his hot cup. The nameless one had a sensitive nose, so he enjoyed the burning smell of the wood and the freshly made mint tea wafting from Faine’s teapot.
“They call me nameless… You can call me that.” He could see the man’s large brown eyes, and his generous, ready-to-laugh mouth. The nameless one liked listening to Faine’s deep voice. He always spoke clearly and with confidence.
Faine spoke slowly as he stirred the fire. “I won’t be able to come here soon, once it starts snowing. I’ll miss our daily talk.”
Hearing the man’s confession filled the nameless one with excitement. “I shall miss our daily talk, too, but I hope to see you in spring, if I don’t see you tomorrow.” When he saw Faine nodding his head, he grinned.
“Maybe I can just come alone to meet you, eh?” came the tentative response from the human, looking into his cup as if it revealed something about the future.
“No. It’s too dangerous. I don’t want you to slip on the icy stones.” No, he definitely didn’t want the handsome man to fall and break his leg or arm. He’d seen that the man needed a walking stick to hold on to.
“Oh… Does it bother you…you know, my legs?” Faine looked straight at the rock the nameless one was hiding behind. He could see the man was troubled by the thought.
“No. Not at all. I just don’t want you getting hurt… Maybe I could come closer to the forest to meet you, but I can’t have you seeing me.” He’d answered in a rush to hide his anxiety, at the possibility that the man might see his face and run away in horror.
“We could do that, too, and I can come closer to you. Don’t worry, I won’t fall, for I know the mountain fairly well.�
�� Faine grinned as he looked down, but soon frowned and murmured. “But I would love to see your face. I know you are different than me, because the mountain and the forest both hide all sorts of beings.”
The nameless one’s heart flipped at all the possibilities. He cleared his throat before he spoke slowly. “I am a beast of sorts.”
Faine smiled gently. “I hope one day you will trust me enough to show yourself.”
It was getting really dark, so the nameless one encouraged Faine to leave with his flock. He watched them leave from a distance to ensure that they were all fine.
The next day, it was raining, but not so icy cold, so the nameless one hoped to see Faine again. He waited eagerly for the shepherd to play his flute and talk to him, but there was no sight of him. He was disappointed that Faine did not come.
That night, he stood by the cave and looked outside. He watched bats flying in groups in the dark looking for insects. He saw the owl discreetly following an injured field mouse that was late to hibernate. He felt the sting of doubt filling his heart that maybe the man did not want to see him anymore, now that he knew the nameless one was a beast and not a human.
The next day, late in the afternoon, he heard the flute again. Without thinking, he flew to the sound. This time he landed right behind Faine, who sat on a rock, playing his flute as he watched the sheep. He knew the man heard the flapping sound of his wings, as he stopped playing abruptly and stiffened.
“You didn’t come yesterday. No! Don’t turn around,” he commanded, as he walked closer to the man. He leaned slightly toward him and smelled his clean scent. He was still damp from his wash, his wet ringlets dripping over his felt cape. “You’ll get sick if you walk around with wet hair, human.” He deliberately referred him as human to remind him he was the beast.
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