The Cave Part 3

Everyone knows that feeling. Your eyes open, often after a very satisfying rest, and all you do is stare at the ceiling for a time while just listening for sounds and trying to interpret what they are. Sometimes there is nothing but silence, and that can be a little unnerving. Fortunately that is not what I woke too. I could hear the steady flow of water, if slightly muffled by the sliding wood door to my right. Sunlight illuminated the room, finding every chink in the buildings make up, a few beams falling directly on my feet. They thus glowed brightly, and I flexed them a little, watching my toes curl in the pleasant warmth.

To not belabor the point, I stayed where I was breathing deeply for awhile, studying the room about me. It was very spare in decoration, though there was a beautiful painting on the wall directly across from me. It was a scene of the oceans as seen from the cliff, and between a few clouds partially obscuring the sun, was a large flying creature. The colors were vibrant, and it struck me as odd that the creature which could have been painted in greater detail, seemed to have been illustrated with a hazy indistinctness, except for a soft golden hue, interspersed with russet color along the edge of the wings.

I wondered if it was a phoenix or possibly a golden dragon. The first would be odd since they are not overly fond of watery landscapes and would not go out to sea, but it was always possible. Clearly the painter had captured something seen from this spot, and it was more odd that I was not frightened at the possibility of sleeping in the path of great creatures who could easily spot and attack the settlement. That train of thought led right back to the moment and where I was, and that seemed more important than a painting.

Getting up slowly was more difficult than I had first imagined. Everything still hurt. I felt like one great bruise, and naturally I thought about what had brought me to this pass. It still eluded me. To understand how I felt, you have to conceive a feeling of having all your memories blocked, your mind free to think about everything in the moment, and yet understanding such things as paintings of mythic creatures, wonder at the colors used, and while listening to the falling water, wondering clearly where you could relieve yourself.

I explored for awhile. I found a door that led into a courtyard behind the house, facing the waterfall in a small private garden. There were some trees near the rock face, and I used them for cover while tending to the most urgent problem. Then I made my way back through the house until I came out into the front. The door sliding back easily, and a beautiful vista opening up before me. It was the same settlement I had seen, only this time from the inside view. There was the pond fed by the waterfall, and I could see the slowly moving bodies of fish in the murky green depths. There were the sheep and cows, the chickens strutting about in pursuit of food. None of it had been a dream.

And there were fields of plants growing, quite clearly tended as a large garden. I did not know as many vegetables then as I do now, but suffice to say that everywhere my vision turned, there was deep greenery of every kind. The impression of order and strict proportion was impressed upon me. Nothing but vibrant plants grew here, and within set boundaries and rows. I was not surprised at all somehow to find an elderly man calmly working in the dirt around some broad leafed plant at the far end of all this carefully tended landscape.

I made my way towards the elderly man, dressed in plain light brown tunic and breeches. His attentions seemed to be fully at his work, which when I looked more closely, seemed to be the mixing of some dark material with the soil around the roots of the plant he was focused on. There was no rush in his work, and if anything, I could have imagined him working for hours like this without effort. He seemed to be in fine form for a man his age, with well built muscles and alertness that belied the whiteness of his hair.

"So, you felt like getting up today?" he asked with a deep voice, not looking up from his work. "Did you fine the lavatory?"

"Uh, no sir," I replied, embarrassed and feeling completely foolish. "I did find the garden and some trees in the back."

"Oh well, nothing that would harm them I suppose."

"I am sorry sir."

"Nothing to be sorry about. I would have come with lunch in a little while. I simply missed the opportunity of seeing you wake. How are you feeling?"

"I feel sore all over, and cannot remember anything," I replied, feeling that the latter was what this man really wanted to know.

"You cannot expect it all to come back at once," he replied, still working away.

"What are you doing?" I asked, quite curious at this point.

"Mixing manure in with the soil to enrich it. These beauties prefer the sheep dung."

"Oh, I see," I replied, startled that he was actually using his hands to mix the two together, but recalling somewhere in my memories the comment of farmers on the value of sheep in all their forms.

"I am Tharkin," said the old man, suddenly turning his gaze upon me. His very bright green eyes were startling to behold at first. They seemed so young, so full of deep penetrating intensity that I was afraid of him. "Those who know me just refer to the old man of the mountain. You came from the cave, and I have tended you until now. Have you remembered anything yet?"

"Nothing," I replied, sitting down on sore legs. "I recognize things, but there is a wall in my mind. I still don't know who I am."

"We will need tea and some soup shortly," he replied firmly, looking back to his work. "While you're here, pass me some of that sheep dung there. That's a good lad."