The Hermit's Lion

There was the air of seasonal rebirth. The trees were rejuvenating, the flowers were budding, and the grass still glistening from the morning dew. In the south outskirts of a grand forest was a small farm house belonging to a young man and his mother. Dressed in his habitual brown tunic, the young man had just left his home that morning with great energy. Something echoed in his mind, consuming his waking thoughts, a dream from the previous night that showed him a sword. It was stuck in the ground and appeared to reside in a part of the neighboring land that he had seen from afar, but had never until that day had any reason to venture near. It was west of his home and the woods, so he set out that morning circling the perimeter of the woods. It was unusual for the youth to leave their own land. Never knowing the thrill of adventure personally, the youth spent most of his days in idle idolatry. Growing up, his mother would speak to him about the type of men in the world, men he should strive to emulate, courageous men, men that did great, heroic feats and brought honor to their mothers. The youth’s imagination never ceased imagining how he could one day be like them and live his own life. There was something unusual about his dream because it seemed so real. If it were there, what would it mean? What would he do? Arriving at the grassy field from his dreams that was surrounded by the forest on one side, the youth was paralyzed in place. There it was, the harbinger, an object manifested straight from his dreams. There was something amazing about believing in the uncertainly of the sublime. The young man thought it was too personal to be mere chance, he had found the same sword he had seen in his sleep.

Not far from where the young man was about to find the sword, an old man was concealed amongst the trees. Tall and slender, garbed in a gray robe, the old man leaned against one of the many pine while carefully watching the scene unfold. Far enough where he would not be noticed. but close enough to observe those blue eyes in an ocean of green, reaching across the landscape with such an intense determination that it did not take long until the young man had closed the distance between himself and the object of his attention; a blade thrust in the ground. The old man chuckled at the sight as the young man had evidently given up traditional formality and simply grabbed the hilt with hungry hands. Reeling with nostalgia at the uncouth youth, he left his trees to approach. 

The young man had scarcely time to swing his new sword maybe twice before he was interrupted by these words. “Help me, knight!”

The youth put away his weapon at the sight of an old man hurrying in his direction trip over his walking stick and fall before him.

 “Who are you?” Asked the youth.

“Who am I?” asked the old man rubbing his balding head.

 “You must be the wise hermit.” 

“Yes, that’s right.” The hermit tilted his head up to look at the knight and took a deep breath to compose himself. “I need your help as a knight was just what I was sent to find! A terrible monster plagues my village just east of the forest. Will you help us?”

And the hermit closed his eyes and was silent. There was a moment’s pause before the knight responded. “How can I find this village? Hermit?”

But the hermit appeared to have gone unconscious.

“Answer me!”

The knight was ready to resign himself to seek out this information elsewhere when the hermit was suddenly revived. “I’ll tell you,” he said, and supporting his weight on his walking stick to stand, he continued, “Like I said you can find my home on the other side of this forest to the east. It will be quicker if we go through the woods here. If you simply follow my steps, I can guide you there.”  

The knight acquiesced without using any words and followed behind. He only hoped the hermit would not feel over shadowed by his company. 

There was truth in what the the old man had said, he was better acquainted with the forest than anyone. He knew, for example, how to navigate the trails without disturbing the den of the lion, or else falling prey to one of the many other traps laid by hunters that would have either slowed down or stopped their journey entirely. The majority of their journey together was spent in silence, except for the sound of their steps on the dirt and leaves. Whenever the knight ventured too far ahead, the hermit would stop in his tracks and wait until he retracted his steps. After passing the entrance of the lion’s territory to the north, they were confronted with the obstacle of crossing a narrow stream. The hermit used his walking stick to launch himself across with moderate success. He almost made it, but landed with a splash just before shore and thus also broke the silence. The knight jumped across with ease.

“Knight, I will not lie to you,” said the hermit shaking off his wet boots. “I am most anxious to know your name. Will you tell it to me?”

“I will not say.”

“Really? Will you explain?”

“I do not wish for you to know.”

“Ho, knight. You certainly are skillful in the art of being difficult. I thought only women and young boys carried that practice. Are you ashamed of me, knight? Tell me your name, and when the time comes, it will be honored in my village. I swear the advantage of imparting this small personal detail will be entirely yours.”

“No, hermit. I do not want honor from you. I am a knight. That is all there is to know.”

“Are you serious? Only a moment ago you were a man.”

“What was that, hermit?”

“Nothing. We are close to the end.”

The exit of the forest was not much farther, and like the hermit had described, a village engulfed in smoke could be seen in the horizon.

“Are you ready?” Asked the hermit approaching the town gate. “I told you there was a beast for you to slay.”

The knight did not answer. Upon arrival to the town plaza several screams brought their attention to the center of town where there was indeed a formidable beast. It was tall and tenuous with a reptilian like body the length of three men, a pair of equally long wings, a serpent like tail, and entirely covered in sapphire blue scales. The old hermit found a comfortable seat near the entrance gate where he could observe what the knight would do.

“There it is. Go on, knight. It’s time to use that sword of yours.”

The hermit watched his young apprentice thinking, perhaps the knight was so still because he was admiring the beast. The hermit admitted to himself he was right to do so as the scales sparkled like the sun on the still sea. The possession of only a few of them would certainly be enough to turn a poor man into a rich man. However, several moments passed and the knight had still refused to move. The hermit decided he would need to provide some additional stimulus.

“Here, eat this,” and the hermit brushed off an old herb from his robe pocket and gave it to the knight. “It will give you all the courage you need.” And the knight ate the shrived up plant without further ado.

When he finally withdrew his blade, it was with the utmost delicacy. He moved his feet in the direction of the beast also with such careful precision that not even a mouse would have been disturbed by his light footed approach. The beast was at that very moment terrorizing what appeared to be an orphanage, tearing the wooden roof off with its teeth. Pieces of wood, as well as the women and children from within, could be seen flying from the back of the home. Most of the villagers that escaped ran to hide but a few hurried into a crowd that had gathered to watch the spectacle from a safe distance. The knight stopping halfway furrowed his brow as he looked back at the hermit. The hermit saw frustration in those eyes that the knight could not find a way to get close enough without attracting its attention. To attack the beast without the beast noticing him would prove impossible. 

“Go for its tail, knight!” 

The beast heard this, however, and thus also finally noticed the knight. Turning its head only, the beast exhaled a breath of flames. The knight dodged this assault so well that on his person he received not even a cinder. When the attack stopped, the hermit saw a surge of energy come over the knight. It was only when the knight decided to lunge forward, thus committing to the act, did the beast pull away. It reared on its back legs and flapped its wings before fleeing from the battle, over the town wall, and into the forest. The knight’s first adventure was victorious. 

One by one the townspeople emerged from their homes and hiding holes and joined the celebrations in the crowd. Dozens of people were now circling the knight, shouting words of affirmation and gratitude like “virtuous,”and “kind-hearted savior.”

“You hear that, knight? Is that what you wanted? Is it all that you thought it would be?”

The knight held his sword high.

“Now, tell me, what is your name?”

“Sylvain.”

 The men and women in the circle around Sylvain joined hands and started skipping in counter-clockwise fashioned. This first taste of renown was indeed all Sylvain imagined it to be and he wondered if this is what his mother described. Sylvain shielded his eyes from a light penetrating the clear sky. It was not the sun, but bright like a second sun. His eyes must be playing tricks. The old man watched the youth shudder with that eeriness one has upon the dawning realization something is not what it seems, like the feeling one has when they are being watched. The youth dropped his sword to the ground and it chipped on the cobblestone pavement. The light in the sky was overwhelming now but the townspeople were still dancing and looking at him. His body did not feel right.

The old hermit suddenly appeared at his side and shouted, “Knight, there is still more to be done.”

“Why do I need more, hermit? I am already loved by many here.” As he said this, Sylvain clutched his chest as it was suddenly searing with intense pain but when he looked down there was nothing to explain it. His health seemed fine. Did the beast hit him? No, but there was definitely a liquid running down the knight’s face and onto his dry body. Trying to remain standing was useless, and after several attempts to do so, his feet gave out and he fell onto his side. The people were unaffected by the sight of their fallen savior until the old hermit dragged him away