The Wanderer

The Wanderer

Let me tell you a story about the Wanderer. A tale as old as legends but new as the sunrise on a new day. With mischievous pixies and the dark hearts of man, and enchantment to leave you in wonder. If you will, pull up a seat by the fire, sip from your mead, and let the magic take you to another realm of reality. Let the world pass you by.

Once, a long time ago, or maybe happening now, there were dragons that roamed the lands and pixies that lit up the forest. During this time, a wander came to my village, and he wasn't someone you'd typically remember. The Wanderer dressed well, even if his clothes were old and needed mending. We welcomed in with our hearts and arms open. We drank, laughed, told stories that delighted, and made him smile. He also made us grin with stories of his own.

As night fell away and people left the tavern, the Wanderer stayed for a short time more. I saw him yawn and knew sleepiness crept upon him. Soon though, everyone left, including me. Like all wanderers before him, he asked to stay as he needed a bed for the night. The innkeeper turned him away, as did others in the inn before night settled in.

You see, they wanted the attention of the Wanderer and his stories. The villagers honestly didn't care for the man outside of this. Though he listened to ours and entertained us with his, the people of this town only wanted him to entertain them. It was here that the final door closed in his face, which forced him to move on.

Soon, he found himself at the edge of a dark forest. The sun had already gone down, and the only light was from the moons and the stars. He shrugged and smiled, knowing that not all people are bad. He sat against a tall oak and closed his eyes if only to grow accustomed to the darkness. It wouldn't be his first time sleeping outside, and he figured it wouldn't be his last.

After some time, soft music played. Opening his eyes, the Wanderer gazed out into the woods in hopes of finding out where the music came from. Standing, he strolled down the path, curiosity taking over. He saw a small light ahead that led him to a small clearing surrounded by trees that looked exactly the same.

As he approached the small light, they burst into many hundreds of lights the size of pins. The lights lit up the clearing and made the wanderer smile in delight. He thought it most magical as the lights danced around him. He held out his palm and laughed as one of the lights landed on his open hand.

The magic of the moment stole away his sleepiness and hunger. He could only focus on the light as it filled him with hope. Leaning forward, the Wanderer let his curiosity take over. On his palm was a small dancing figure with luminescent wings. It spread its wings and flew away amongst the overs. The Wanderer let out a yelp of joy as the lights danced around him in a whirlwind of light.

With newfound energy, the Wanderer danced with them. He spun and leaped as the pixies circled him. Their tiny bursts of laughter only encouraged him to do more. After some time, the music stopped, and the fairies flew to the edge of the clearing. The Wanderer smiled, even though he was breathless from the fun. He looked around and saw the path that led him here was gone.

None of it mattered as the light from the pixies warmed his heart. He bowed humbly before them and thanked them for the dance. Their light pulsed, and laughter echoed, filling him with wonder. One light, however, was unlike any of the others. For this light grew and grew.

The Wanderer stood in amazement as this one pixie grew to his height. Her garment was like leaves covering her body with beautiful diaphanous wings that never stopped moving. Her hair poured like gold from her shoulders, and her voice rang out like the bells on a Sunday morning.

She held out her hand, which the Wanderer gladly took. He had never seen a woman so lovely. It was in this moment of joy that he knew that he'd do anything she asked until the end of time. She nodded as if knowing his thought and led him into the dark forest. They walked deeper and deeper, no words exchanged as they weren't needed. The only thing that guided their way were the lights from the other pixies who had flown ahead.

As they walked, the Wanderer knew he should be afraid, but her beauty made it easy for him to convince himself that she was harmless. In time, they came to another clearing with a circle of stones. The pixies flew to and fro, and other creatures like satyrs played their pipes as being from the Realm of Fairies danced and sang.

When the others saw the women next to the Wanderer, they bowed humbly as she was their queen. She led the Wanderer to the center of the circle and waved her arm. To the Wanderer's delight, flowers sprang from the ground filling the air with their scent. Vines also grew from the ground to form two thrones from which the queen sat upon.

Motioning to her right, she gestured for the Wanderer to sit. "My dearest Wanderer, you have come so far and have not found rest. Though the night has already been long, would you grant us a story? After that, we'll feast, and you shall find rest from your travels."

Her voice sounded like honey and as fresh as dew upon the grass. He took a seat and noticed that doing so had captured all the other people's attention in the circle. "I feel I have time for another story. After all, it's the least I can do for your hospitality."

The Wanderer told his story, and the people of fairie loved it and begged for another. After some time, his story ended, and many of the people around him begged him to stay with them forever. He smiled, knowing they loved his story, but he wasn't ready to answer as he was hungry and grew tired.

A feast was prepared in his honor. The Wanderer ate well and told a few other stories as he ate. The others laughed and danced as music played amongst the celebrants. Soon, however, the Wanderer knew it would be time to sleep. Leaning against a tree, he watched as the pixies and satyrs danced. The Wanderer also considered staying, but he needed to sleep on it.

According to legend, the Wanderer died many years ago. Some say he lives on, in the forest, in the realm of fairie. A place that lives out of sight in the corner of your eye. Another legend states he has yet to be born, and this tale is part of a new myth that has yet to be lived.

Whether or not any of these are true, all will agree on one thing. If you find yourself standing on the edge of the forest, be as quiet as possible. As the wind blows gently, you can hear the Wanderer's stories and the people of the forest's music. All you need to do is close your eyes and listen with an open heart, and the magic of the forest will tell you the tale of the Wanderer.

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