The Old Hermit

Joji’s ankle twisted as it slipped on the wet stones, and the wind slapped him for good measure.

Before the thought of panic could even enter his mind, a great tree stepped forward from the darkness and blocked his stumble. The force knocked the air from his lungs, but he was grateful that it was a strong collision with a tree, rather than a sharp fall down the cliff’s edge.

The wind battered and roared furiously down from the mountain summit, and Joji lamented his stupidity at exploring into the darkness of the night: he had been aware of the storm clouds creeping over the horizon’s edge into the valley, but against the backdrop of the abyss in the sky, he had not appreciated the anger of the skies and the chaos that had been brewing.

Lightning illuminated the sky, and Joji caught sight of the house in the distance. The skies erupted with a violent eruption as thunder echoed through the valley.

Joji stepped forward and looked down to where he thought the town would be; rather than the soft hum of torches amidst the sides of the valley, he saw nothing but assault of water daggers from the sky - and the faint glow to his right of the house.

He leant forward, pushing back against the gusts ushering him towards a more speedy descent from the mountain.

The old hermit’s house. Joji knew where he was.

He looked again to where he pictured the town should be, it couldn’t be too far away, surely?

A gust of wind flew down from behind him, and whipped at viciously as though a hand from the mountain spirits themselves - clawing at Joji to hold him in place.

Pressing forward down the mountain path may just be a little stupid, but what could he expect from the old hermit?

Another crack of lightning illuminated the sky and gave light and life to the jets of water falling around Joji.

He could not risk going further.

Joji thumped the door with his numb hands and took a step back. He looked once more down the valley, contemplating one final time whether to chance it.

The door swung open with the same crash as the thunder! A tall man filled the space where the door had been, his features blackened by the shadows and the light from inside the house emanated around him, dousing him in a mystical orange glow; as though he was stepping forth from the sun itself!

Just as suddenly as he appeared, he bent down to Joji’s eye level; and his large bushy grey beard introduced itself, as well as the worn out features of the man’s face; worn out, but softened, a happy but hardened face - a contradiction of sorts.

A smile cracked on the old man’s face.

“A bit late for a stroll lad?”

“Er, yes” Joji replied. “I was exploring up the mountain, and well, the storm and night, and I think my mother would kill me if I tried to-”

“Yes, yes, of course”. The old man peered out into the night. “The skies are angry tonight! Come in, come in!”.

<><><><><><>

Joji had been sitting in front of the fire for some time. It’s warmth and glow had been intoxicating having felt the bitterness of the storm outside. His face felt the stroking of the fire and he could feel his skin glow and radiate as it absorbed the heat.

As he took another bite of the bread that the old hermit had given him, he couldn’t help but think of the stories about the old man. He had lived high on the mountain for years; his essentials were delivered to him, and he never came down into the valley for any festival or meeting.

Joji examined the man. He was old, of that he was sure; but as he sat crossed legged on the floor with his eyes closed - he certainly didn’t seem to be the old angry hermit that everyone had talked about. In fact, he exuded a certain lightness, something about him set Joji at ease.

“Exploring huh?” queried the man, eyes still closed.

Joji was taken aback at his own thoughts being interrupted by the hermit’s question.

“Yes, although,” Joji paused, “I’m not quite sure what for.”

The old man laughed. His deep laughter filled the small room with a joyful echo and a bellowing melody.

“Does your exploration need a purpose?”

“Of course it does” snapped Joji. “How can I be a productive member of the town if I’m going off playing?”

The silence flooded the room and sucked up the melodic laugh from the old man from moments before.

The hermit stroked his beard.

“A productive member of the town…”

Joji felt a knot in his stomach, perhaps he had gone too far to rebuke the old man. Maybe he’d have to make the journey down the valley afterall.

“Tell me young Joji…”

Joji prepared himself for the grilling.

“Am I a productive member of the town?” questioned the old man.

“Er -” began Joji, “I mean, I guess, that… well, no.”

“I see! And is that a bad thing?”

“It’s our duty to be a productive-”

“Yes yes, it’s our duty to be a productive member of Ascia - I have heard that same phrase drilled into townsfolk for the last 60 years, and it annoys me as much now as it did when I was your age.”

The hermit stood and turned.

“Come, follow me.”

<><><><><><>

Joji followed the man through the locked door, and down into the darkness of the stairs. The only light came from the small candle that the hermit was carrying. As they descended the steps, Joji realised that they must have been going into the mountain. Some fifty steps down, the man passed the candle to Joji, and took a key from the chain around his neck - and unlocked the door.

The door swung open and the man bent down to light something. With a little persuasion, the flame graciously danced into its new home - and with a beautiful display of grace and agility, the flame danced off into the distance, jumping from one torch to another - it seemed to delight in its performance and pleased to have an audience; it hopped and skipped, and soon the entire cave was lit with dozens of torches.

Joji’s eyes widened as the cave came to life. His soul felt touched by a flow of magic, and it was suddenly feeling alive, and curious at everything that was laid out and living in the cave.

There were lines of books, swords, jewels of every hue and colour imaginable, and drawings everywhere.

Joji felt entranced and found himself flowing unconsciously around the cave, looking more closely at the artifacts and treasures hidden in the mountain.

He felt alive.

He stopped and stared longingly at the most perfect sword he had ever seen. The townsguards carried iron blades with plain hilts and handles, but this… this was something different entirely.

The blade shone and glistened as though it was on fire. The hilt was a work of art. A purple stone was set against a black guard etched with strange symbols. The stone itself seemed alive, as though it contained secrets both beautiful and terrible.

“Young Joji” the man said placing his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “It is true that I am not a productive member of the town.”

He looked around the cavern himself, and his eyes lit up as though greeting a long lost friend.

“This simple life of mine has been led not for purpose or productivity. At least not in the way Ascia would see it.”

The hermit sighed.

“I know too well the stories of the town folks and what they say of me. What a strange loner I am, who contributes nothing! A traitor to Ascia! Ho-ho-ho!” his melodic laugh bellowed once more.

“Perhaps I am, and perhaps they are right,” he continued. “It is true that I turned my back on the idol pursuits of conquering and productivity, and perhaps my punishment is to bear their idiocy!”

He turned sharply to Joji.

“But Joji - I saw the glint in your eye when you talked about exploring! Exploring has no purpose but to explore! There is magic all around us and it’s freeing! Don’t let those boring old fools trap you with their thinking!”

He laughed once more, this time even harder.

“Although I guess I am the old fool preaching now! Hohohohoho!”

“Joji - life is magical; it wants to be lived, not to be tamed and controlled! Now, how about we throw out that crusty bread in your pocket and we enjoy something tastier? And I can tell you all about that sword you seem drawn to!”