In The Company of stones

The year was young. The frosts were just fading into sunlit days. The snows were just uncrunching to begin their long trip downriver to the sea. The salmon were feasting up fat to begin their long journey upriver, and everything was beginning to uncurl and set aside their coats. A hermit came out of his hut, where he had holed up for the winter, and stretched. His name was Awoneaka, and he had lived alone on the mountain for seven long years. His hair was matted where he had not washed it in all that time, he smelled of smoke and the inside of a hut, but he was happy there, and lived a simple life, gathering plants and animals in the warm seasons with just enough left over for the winter. And so it was that he was hungry when he came out of his hut and so he set out across the high mountain slopes, crunching across the snow that still lay there, sharp eyes looking for tracks. He travelled for a long time, grazing on little bits of green that poked up through the snow, until he found rabbit tracks and followed them higher and higher into the mountains. at last he found its hole, and setting a snare at the entrance, he went to a sunny spot between two boulders and there he lay, napping in the sun. All at once he awoke with a start, half the day had passed and it occurred to him that in that time something had spoken a single word. The sun was beginning to set and his snare was still empty - he made his way home, stumbling in the twilight. The next day he returned to the same spot and lay down and listened, and the next day and the next. On the third day his snare got the rabbit, but he continued to come all through the summer and lay between the two big boulders. He would lay there and listen, and a word would come, sometimes as fast as five hours, sometimes as long as a week, a deep sonorous word that you could only hear if you listened the whole way through. The two stones on either side of his head were conversing with one another. “Spring must be coming” the one would say to the other “I can feel the warming in my bones”

“Summer must have come” would reply the other “The lichen on my back has opened its spores.”
“Autumn has come” the one would agree, “Can you hear the salmon swimming back downstream?”

“I hear” Said the other, but the hermit did not hear this as he was wrapped up inside his hut buried deep in the snows.

Each year Awoneaka would return to the high mountain slope and keep the company of stones, and after seven years they noticed him.

“Hello little human” Said the first stone taking all of February.
“Hello great stone” replied Awoneaka, being sure to speak slowly enough, so that he ended halfway into April.

“It is rare that someone as small and quick as you will talk to us” Said the stone as they moved into November.

“My kind do not think you can speak,” said Awoneaka, the phrase which began in December ended in January. When he spoke there were gaps for when he slept, but they were so small the stones surely did not notice.

“That is foolish,” said the stone on the left - as Awoneaka huddled in the cold February snows. “If humans were more patient we would have so much to tell them,” said the stone on the right as March trailed into April.

“We would tell them that at the top of this mountain there is a spring where the river comes to be,” said the stone to the left, warmed by the sweet warmth of June. “We would tell them that these waters can heal any wound and cure any sorrow when drunk.”

“We would tell them that at the base of this mountain, there is a dwarf who cannot stop weeping, and it is his tears in the river that dilute its magic,” said the stone to the right. It was talking fast and excited now, taking only until mid August.

“We would tell them that there is a wounded dragon at the end of the river, and its angry flames send the water up into steam to form into clouds and rain high in the mountains so the river can flow again,” Said the stone to the left, ending its rambling words as October turned cold.

As the snows came Awoneaka pondered this in his hut, and when spring arrived again he began to climb up the mountain again, but this time he passed by the stones and went to the spring from which the magic water came. He bathed in it, and when he emerged dripping in the sun he found his reflection young and beautiful again. Then he bid his hermitage goodbye and set off down the mountain.

At the bottom he encountered the weeping dwarf.
“Tell me sir Dwarf,” said Awoneaka, “Why is it you weep?”
“I weep for the sorrows of the entire world,” answered the dwarf. “Why look right now - this kingdom that we stand at the edge of is almost in ruins. The king is raging, and the queen is crying and the whole kingdom is dying. There is so much to weep for young hermit.”
“Not so young as you might think,” said Awoneaka. I cannot help the sorrows of the world, but I can help the sorrow that is at my feet,” and taking directions from the weeping dwarf he went on his way to the castle.

When he arrived, Awoneaka went into the castle courtyard and sat and watched. For a month he observed as each day the King would throw things and yell, and the queen would collapse and cry. Each did so privately from each other - and when they were together they seemed to put on a brave face against their dying land.

Awoneaka joined the line of petitioners - and as he stood he began to talk with those around him. Each had their problems forefront on their mind, and Awoneaka considered what each one said and would sometimes offer some wisdom, and the petitioner finding they did not need the king’s ruling at all, went away.

So it was that when the king and queen were finally moved to open the door to the petitioners, only one petitioner remained. Awoneaka strode into the audience hall and bowed deeply to each of the monarchs.

“My King and Queen. I come from a mountain far from here, where a healing river flows. At the base of the mountain a dwarf sits by the river weeping for the sorrows of the world, and his tears dilute the river so that its magic is not enough to heal the great wounded dragon who fumes at the far side of your kingdom. The heat from his flames turns the water into rain which feeds the river so it can flow again.”

With this he paused and observed the king and queen.

“We should kill the dragon!” Shouted the king, but as Awoneaka met his eyes he thought longer “ . . . But If the dragon stopped fuming the river would dry up and the kingdom would wither with drought.”

“We should console the dwarf!” Exclaimed the queen, but when Awoneaka looked at her she saw wisdom in his eyes and realized the truth. “If the dwarf stopped weeping the dragon would be healed and he would rampage the land destroying the entire kingdom.”

“There is a delicate balance in this,” they realized - “Nothing can be changed.”

“You, my king,” said Awoneaka, “are like the dragon. Without your fire the kingdom would never grow - and you my queen, are like the dwarf. Without your tears the horrors of power would go unmourned. There is no shame in what you are.”

The king and queen considered this, looking at each other as if for the first time, and like a blacksmith Awoneaka struck again.

“What if, my Lieges - we were to take the dwarf down river, and place him near the dragon. The whole kingdom would be nourished by the magical waters, and the dragon and dwarf would each be doing their duties - together.”

Each smiled and nodded. Wondering that they had not thought of it themselves.

And so it was done. The crying dwarf was invited into a boat and taken down quite close to where the dragon thrashed, and being so near to all that pain surely made the dwarf cry the harder. The land began to live again as it had not before, and now when petitioners came they faced a king and queen unified in their power, The king’s anger became a blade tempered by his wife’s compassion, her sorrow a shield emblazoned with her husband’s love.

And what of Awoneaka? - he lived in the castle for a time before becoming a Judge in the city. He married and settled down, and lived out the rest of his long life in peace.

And when people asked him how he had grown so wise - he would answer them with a smile, and simply say “I keep the company of stones.”