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Baldar's Story

"Come."

He heard the voice but didn't know where it came from. He thought it was Rains talking in his sleep again.

"Come. Baldar. Come." The voice was still there. Baldar listened to Rains' breathing. He knew that Rains' mouth was open and the angle of his head. He could hear the mouth open.

Still the voice called to him. "Come, Baldar. Come to the Fountain." This time the voice sounded as though it were singing to him, perhaps a distant wynd.

Baldar knew it was near the middle of the night. He got up out of bed and felt for his night shoes, slipping them on, trying not to wake Rains. As he got to his feet, he felt for his cloak, swung it around his shoulders, pinning the broach at his throat. Baldar knew it was three steps to the door. He felt for the edge of his bed and turned to his left. Three steps. He reached for the handle to the door and barely turned it. Not the usual squeak this time, Baldar thought. Good. I won't wake Rains.

Baldar didn't hear anything in the old hallway. The hallway of Carpathian Edge. Baldar could feel the slight chill in the air. He wrapped his cloak tighter around his shoulders. He turned to his left, knowing it was five steps to the stairs that lead to the ground floor. He stepped carefully; there was nothing to hold on to. He could hear the swing of the pendulum clock directly below on the ground floor. There was a slight, ever so slight, breeze coming from the left. Baldar knew which room had the open window.

He reached out and placed his hand firmly on the guardrail. Seven steps down, then the landing. He put his right hand out to feel the cold, rough wall of the landing. Five more steps to the guardrail going to the ground floor. Seven more steps.

Baldar stood on the ground floor, listening intently for any sound. Hearing nothing, he turned to his left. Seven steps to the hallway to the outside back door. Another left and seven more steps to the door. He reached out with his right hand to find the door knob. He could only feel the door. Cold. The knob was six inches to his right. Baldar turned it casually, knowing this door didn't squeek. As he swung the door out, he immediately could feel the cool breeze blowing from the northeast. Baldar walked out to the Garden. He could hear the Fountain in the middle of the Garden. The grass was smooth under his night shoes. He knew the path to the Fountain.

Baldar could feel the soft breeze on his cheeks. The leaves were barely rustling in the Tree of The Mighty Wynd. The Fountain was closer now, the soft splashing very clear in Baldar's ears. He could still the voice calling him, a close whisper in his ear, a distant, rumbling sound a thousand miles away.

"Come. Baldar. Come."

As he reached the Fountain, he put out his hand to feel the stone ledge that surrounded the Fountain. There. Craggy and rough. He sat down on the ledge and crossed his legs in front. The ledge was cool and uneven.

"I have come, Teacher."

"It is good that you have come, Baldar, because I have a story to tell you."

Baldar put his elbows on his knees and rested his chin on his fists. He listened.

After the Teacher finished the story, Baldar went back to his room. Dawn was not far off.

Baldar visited the Teacher at the Fountain most every night for some time. I am not sure how long this went on, but it went on for a long time.

One night, close to dawn, as the Teacher just finished the tale, Baldar misstepped getting off the ledge, plunging into the Fountain.

Baldar kicked and kicked, reaching out for the Fountain's ledge, but he couldn't feel it. For that one moment, he was in the middle of the biggest, deepest ocean, thrashing madly to regain his balance. There was no breath in him. He couldn't hear the Teacher's voice. There was no grass under his night shoes. He couldn't feel the breeze on his cheek. He reached, reached for the ledge, but there was only a thousand, thousand miles between him and the ledge. He was sinking deeper and deeper. He couldn't breathe anymore. Nothing.

Suddenly, he felt something pull him to the surface, yet it was no hand. He broke out, bursting into the cool, night air, shaking his head left and right, water flying everywhere, arms flailing, hands still reaching for the ledge. As he gasped for air, he felt the welcome touch of the rough, cool ledge. He was free from the watery prison.

Then, he heard the voice of the Teacher, a voice rustling in the leaves. "Open your eyes, Baldar! Look!"

For the first time in his life, Baldar saw the sunrise, the deep red and orange streaking out, the pink and the purple blending into a thousand hues, the white, puffy, morning clouds sweeping past the sun in the birth of the new day. He looked up and saw the Carpathhian Edge stars in the dark, navy blue morning sky fade into a soft gray close to the horizon. He could see the horizon. He could see stars.

As the sun peaked over the horizon, Baldar turned his head to the left and right, his imagination taking in the whole morning scene of The Garden. The Teacher indicated the different trees with their names. He saw flowers of all shapes, colors. The Teacher named each one. The grass was green, a deep, full green. He saw the grass as grass, living and growing. The ledge he leaned on was rough to the feel as well as to his eyes, seeing each bump in the brown surface.

Still, Baldar could not see the hand in front of his face. He could not focus his eyes.

Yet, he saw The Garden and the sunrise for the first time in his life.

Baldar was sitting on the ledge of The Fountain, his legs barely dangling in the cool water. His face had many wrinkles, crow's feet around his old eyes. His gray beard reached down to his waist, his hair long and sticking out from under his hat. He clutched the ledge with tired hands. A deep emerald green cloak hugged him closely. He was telling a story to a small group of young students at Carpathian Edge, a story that went ages back into a distant past. To Baldar, though, it seemed as though he heard that story just yesterday from an old friend.

Each student was enchanted as each looked deeply into Baldar's distant, unfocused, and blind eyes.

I see.

I understand.

I know.

I live.

I am.