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Mortal Stories
Teachers
It is hard to pinpoint exactly which moments shine brighter than all the rest and which build who we are now. I pondered about this as I stood over my master's grave on a cool spring day. It had been a very long time since my last visit to the place of my youth, actually only the second time since my master's death. So many brief flashes from my serious childhood attacked my mind... I tightened my cloak about me as a gust of wind blew through the forest making the trees rattle their branches against the old glass-stained windows of the run-down building. I recalled my master saying to me when I was but a young one: "Do not fret of your parents abandoning you, my Zendel, I owe much to the world and thus I shall take care of you in return". I never did find out what he had meant when he "owed much to the world", even after searching through his personal items following his death. I had known from tidbits of stories that he was part of the original First Elven Rangers...the elite warriors guarding the old elven cities from intruders...warriors that were so fiercesome and proficient with their surroundings, that they had repulsed every attempt on the old Forests. Even though he was human, he had somehow managed to earn the trust of the Elves and was at least if not more, proficient in their Ways. Of course, growing up under his tutelage, I had never seen that aspect of him. To me he was wise, he was a teacher, he was a guide and he was my inspiration. One brief moment though I did recall from my very young days, we had wandered a bit through the forests and he had left me alone, wanting me to use my lessons and apply what he had taught me in orienting and finding oneself in the forests. The sun was setting, I was by myself, but confident from my teachings, I used my skills and made my way, until I was attacked by a half dozen beasts, squat and snarling, wielding rusty spears. Having thought to always face my fears, my mind went into a calm, but as I searched around for a weapon, a whirlwind invaded the ambush area...and faster than I could blink, my attackers were dead...and my master was there, sheathed his blade sighing and led me back to the cabin.I let another sigh overcome me and kneeled at the site where he lay after many more memories replayed themselves in my mind. Then my thoughts turned to my life after he had died...I remember setting out after his natural death, my physical training incomplete, but with that hunger of adventure, curiousness and a sense of wanting to accomplish something great. I remembered the First Age, before my hermitting, where I had met great people, made great friends, took part in great hunts. My skills had improved, I had joined a clan and helped create another...I sifted through that past, looking for that one special moment...and then I found it....the memory taking on a surreal form, making me relive it...
"I smelled blood and death. I was alone in a clearing, having fought my latest battle with the shadow warriors...spirits of darkness that wielded magic and weapons with glee as they ferociously attacked anything alive. We defenders against this tide started out as an army, but the losses were staggering, and now but a few remained. The last wave had just been repelled, another group was at the moment probably corralling the last few before ridding this world of their presence. But the carnage these little demons had done...so many lost friends...so many horrific memories....my mind numb, I started walking, my flesh oozing from wounds too many to count or treat properly. My feet dragged along, my subconscious not even knowing where or when I would fall. And then I was in a Temple, with columns and stone tigers adorning the pillars. I collapsed at a fountain, my body finally too weak to do anymore...My eyes closed, that dark cloud of eternal sleep hovering just inches from the critical point...and then...I felt something wet on my face. Opening my eyes, I stared into the face of something big and white, that was licking some of my wounds. A massive white tiger sat on his haunches before me, stopped it's treatment of it's wounds, staring right into my eyes and then I was overwhelmed by what I saw in those eyes. Whatever was in the tiger's eyes gave me an inner strength and I fought to stay alive even though my body wanted otherwise. For a day and a night, I lay against the fountain, the tiger sleeping next to me, awakening and staring at me with those eyes everytime my resolve weakened. I struggled to stay alive, to stay sane, to push the horrible images of my last battles out so they would stop haunting me....and then....I finally looked up at the starry night when my despair was at it's highest....and calm settled over me. My wounds closed and my mind was clear. I looked back at the tiger in surprise, but he only gestured back at the stars, so my gaze returned to the source of my peace. There were millions of them, all shining brightly casting a pale blue light on the pillars and stones of the Temple. Each one impressive to gaze at. One though, shone brighter than the others, and perhaps it was only a trick of the eye, but the light grew brighter and brighter, as if drawing nearer to the ground. Squinting my eyes, and then marveling in awe, the star arched in the sky and descended to the Temple. As the light made contact with the stone floor of the temple, star dust fell around me from the sky, and the blue nimbus of light turned into a beautiful woman. The tiger padded to her and she lovingly scratched it behind an ear. By reflex alone, I dropped to my knees and bowed my head. She walked over to me then, and placed a hand upon my head. The words she spoke were kind and a bit too flattering, but my sense of honor and duty took over after I realized with a jolt who she really was. Words were exchanged, an oath was sworn and then a special ceremony was done, one that I shall never forget and one which has marked me to this day. I emerged from the Temple armor still scratched and torn away from the battle with the shadows, but with a new duty, a new dignity, a new sense of purpose...I had entered the Temple a brave warrior albeit broken and emerged as Tatianna's personal Captain."
Kneeling at his grave, I read the words on a stone marker that I had set up a long time ago, during one of my rare moments visiting back the place of my childhood: "To One that has taught me how to live, who helped me find my Path, who still is with me as I carve my way in Life". I smiled wistfully, remembering never to be depressed by death, but to embrace what was once alive, one of the great number of teachings I still recall from this great man. I stood up then, about to leave but I stopped in midstride. Looking back at the marker I thought about the most fervent wish I've ever had of lates and one that had been bothering me for quite a while now. Even if he had taught me to not mourn death, I still missed him, and more importantly...I wanted to tell him one thing....that I had found my path in life, I had done great deeds....Throughout my life I had never asked for recognition, fame or special treatment, but at this moment in time, I only wished that my Master would see me as I am now and be proud of me, of what he had helped create, and of what I had overcome. And then a sudden calm surrounded the area. The wind stopped blowing, the birds stopped chirping.... Stunned at this I looked up at the sky and a lone hawk circled around letting one proud shreak before things returned to normal. As I smiled deeply with an inner joy, I noticed I was holding something new in my hands. Glancing down, I noticed I was holding in my gauntleted hands an old leatherbound book. On the cover though, these words were carved..."The Journal of K'Ysinthl Hant'Yaerl, Master Ranger". Eagerly, my smile broadening even more, I opened up what to me was the most sacred of documents in the world, sat down on a rock and turned to the first page, my anticipation unbearable and read about a legend, about a great teacher, about a friend and above all, about the greatest of men.
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