Post by hakiko on Aug 25, 2004 20:36:48 GMT -5
Perhaps that autumn shaped my life more than any other time before or since. That was the year that Pelnor and I were twelve. That was the year that we were heroes for the first time. That was the last year we were kids. It was the year that the adults in Westfarthing know as the Year of the Wolf. But those of us who were twelve that autumn know it as the Year of the Goblin.
There was no number attached to that year that I can remember. The people of Westfarthing don’t need numbers for their years. It would only serve to show them how long things had been the same. However I suppose that one aught to do these things properly so a date must be assigned.
Later in life when I ventured out into the world, I would find that educated people assign numbers to years and even name their years well in advance. This seems odd, how can they know what will happen? The educated people of the world had named this year The Year of the Elephant. Now I don’t recall seeing any elephants that year. In fact I don’t recall knowing what an elephant was at the time. So I find this name to be less than effective, not to mention less than accurate.
We now have three names for our year. This will cause some confusion because depending on your point of view none is accurate. So I guess it would be better to use the number assigned to this year: 1471. This is a much better reference because it gives no information to anyone.
It all started with the sheep killings, ten sheep in three days. It did not take long for the townsmen to determine that they were killed by a wolf, the sheep that is. But not just any wolf, this was a sly, cunning wolf, which left few signs to follow besides a few partial let large prints. Never once had a sheep dog barked to warn of his attacks.
It did not take long for the men in the town to decide to band together to kill the wolf. They gathered bows and spears and plenty of food for the trip. The whole village was there to see them off on their great adventure.
I can remember watching my father with the same pride that a country sends its young men off to war with. The rag-tag band of a few farmers and artisans seemed like a glorious army on parade as we waved to them passing out of town. The children ran along with them around the bend in the road and over the hill until they were told to follow no farther. Then they stood atop the hill waving until their fathers passed out of sight.
Pelnor and I did not scamper along-side the proud host though. We were twelve and above such things. Given two or three more years we would have been marching grim-faced to battle with them. No, Pelnor and I had enough dignity to avoid skipping along the road. We watched from the roof of the inn.
The inn was an impressive building, the tallest in the town, reaching two stories into the air, and covered with a clay shingled, pitched roof. Sitting on that roof, we could see farther than we had ever been.
The town was composed of about a dozen small thatched roof buildings. A dirt road ran through the middle to the stone well in the center of town. Out away from town I could see A few farm houses and the fences that kept the sheep in. It was after harvest so all of the crops were down. People who live as far as a day’s walk away called this town home. It was nothing compared to the great cities I would see later in life while serving the king, but as a child it was as big as I could conceive.
I had to coax Pelnor onto the roof because he was afraid of heights. “If we are going to hold down the fort,” I lectured, “we will need a good watchtower anyway.”<br> I was fond of holding down the fort that week. My father had given this sacred duty to me while he was gone. And with his father off to hunt the wolf, Pelnor had practically inherited the inn.
We were the two oldest able-bodied males left in the village. We could feel the great weight that had been set on our shoulders. The whole village was depending on us.
“It’s not like we really are expected to do anything, Grant,” Pelnor said.
Well I could feel the weight anyway.
“Our dads just say that sort of thing to make us feel better about being too young to go. It just means we have to do extra chores.”<br> Sniffing at Pelnor’s lack of imagination, I watched the hunt group walk out of view. All the while I was dreaming of leading my adolescent army to victory against the invading barbarian hordes. He’d see just how essential to the survival of the town we were.
If only I’d known.
There was no number attached to that year that I can remember. The people of Westfarthing don’t need numbers for their years. It would only serve to show them how long things had been the same. However I suppose that one aught to do these things properly so a date must be assigned.
Later in life when I ventured out into the world, I would find that educated people assign numbers to years and even name their years well in advance. This seems odd, how can they know what will happen? The educated people of the world had named this year The Year of the Elephant. Now I don’t recall seeing any elephants that year. In fact I don’t recall knowing what an elephant was at the time. So I find this name to be less than effective, not to mention less than accurate.
We now have three names for our year. This will cause some confusion because depending on your point of view none is accurate. So I guess it would be better to use the number assigned to this year: 1471. This is a much better reference because it gives no information to anyone.
It all started with the sheep killings, ten sheep in three days. It did not take long for the townsmen to determine that they were killed by a wolf, the sheep that is. But not just any wolf, this was a sly, cunning wolf, which left few signs to follow besides a few partial let large prints. Never once had a sheep dog barked to warn of his attacks.
It did not take long for the men in the town to decide to band together to kill the wolf. They gathered bows and spears and plenty of food for the trip. The whole village was there to see them off on their great adventure.
I can remember watching my father with the same pride that a country sends its young men off to war with. The rag-tag band of a few farmers and artisans seemed like a glorious army on parade as we waved to them passing out of town. The children ran along with them around the bend in the road and over the hill until they were told to follow no farther. Then they stood atop the hill waving until their fathers passed out of sight.
Pelnor and I did not scamper along-side the proud host though. We were twelve and above such things. Given two or three more years we would have been marching grim-faced to battle with them. No, Pelnor and I had enough dignity to avoid skipping along the road. We watched from the roof of the inn.
The inn was an impressive building, the tallest in the town, reaching two stories into the air, and covered with a clay shingled, pitched roof. Sitting on that roof, we could see farther than we had ever been.
The town was composed of about a dozen small thatched roof buildings. A dirt road ran through the middle to the stone well in the center of town. Out away from town I could see A few farm houses and the fences that kept the sheep in. It was after harvest so all of the crops were down. People who live as far as a day’s walk away called this town home. It was nothing compared to the great cities I would see later in life while serving the king, but as a child it was as big as I could conceive.
I had to coax Pelnor onto the roof because he was afraid of heights. “If we are going to hold down the fort,” I lectured, “we will need a good watchtower anyway.”<br> I was fond of holding down the fort that week. My father had given this sacred duty to me while he was gone. And with his father off to hunt the wolf, Pelnor had practically inherited the inn.
We were the two oldest able-bodied males left in the village. We could feel the great weight that had been set on our shoulders. The whole village was depending on us.
“It’s not like we really are expected to do anything, Grant,” Pelnor said.
Well I could feel the weight anyway.
“Our dads just say that sort of thing to make us feel better about being too young to go. It just means we have to do extra chores.”<br> Sniffing at Pelnor’s lack of imagination, I watched the hunt group walk out of view. All the while I was dreaming of leading my adolescent army to victory against the invading barbarian hordes. He’d see just how essential to the survival of the town we were.
If only I’d known.
