Elder Knowledge

It was cool, the smell of smoke filled the air as the smiths tended their furnaces in forging. People went about their business - children ran playing in the sun. A traveler entered the small town; he stood near the village entrance and watched the people. As he watched, he noticed the people weary of the barrow atop the mountain near the village. The traveler had been entering many barrows across the world in search of ancient knowledge which he would record in his beloved black bound journal - he had discovered the existence of this particular one and intended to enter it. But he knew exactly why these people feared the barrow: those who walk again - the ancient people buried within under a strange curse. But such things did not concern him, he was ready to go, but one thing was missing before he could set out - a quill, he needed a quill to write in his journal. This journal is his trusted and closest friend - bound in worn leather with old pages.

He noticed the town wares sign hanging and made his way there. He came near the door and glanced at the sign, it read “Misty Forest Trader.” Upon entering, he was greeted to a minor feud between the clerks. A young woman seemed to be anxious about something and the young man seemed angry. The traveler walked towards a shelf of quills and ink. As he was choosing his quill he listened. “Well something has to happen”, objected the woman. But the man answered in frustration, “No, you will not; it’s too dangerous!” He stood there with a firm gaze set in his word, but the woman looked up, “If our debts are not paid off then we will lose everything.” The man lowered his head, “I cannot have you risk your life. Neither of us are trained with a sword, and every warrior brave enough to venture into that barrow never returned. What makes you think you would fare better?” The young woman seemed quite upset and walked out. The traveler chose his quill and approached the desk; he looked at the clerk and spoke, “I could not help but overhear your problem.” The man wanted to talk about his problems, then he spoke, “We were robbed and now face tax season. If we do not pay the required twenty thousand gold pieces, we will face penalties. Everything we own will be taken.” He sighed, “my sister wants to enter that barrow, she thinks that there is gold there. But I don’t want her to risk her life where none have succeeded.” The traveler stood staring at the young man, his eyes had a gleam to them, the young man thought the strange traveler might know every detail about him by his expression. But then the traveler spoke, “Might I recommend you take leap of faith?” the young man pondered it, “how?” asked the young man, “you can begin by trusting that her determination. She has already purposed that the barrow is your only chance to overcome. I believe she is now headed there.” The young man ran around the counter towards the door, but the traveler objected, “Allow her to figure this out.” The young man looked back at the traveler, “let her go alone?” The traveler turned, “she will not be alone; I have come to this village to enter the barrow.” The young man pondered it, he closed the door and faced the traveler, “will you look after her; ensure her safety?” The traveler smiled, “you have my word. I will ease your fears: many heroes have braved those crypts, yet none have returned for they know naught of the truth - a knowledge that would have saved their lives.” The young man’s interest had been peaked, “what knowledge could possibly save you from those who walk again?” Again the traveler smiled, “the truth behind those who walk again, while most brave souls have trusted their iron, the likes of myself trust the knowledge from our studies.” “Sir,” the young man began, “you seem to know everything, I will make a leap of faith, and trust that she will be safe.” The traveler chuckled, “your leap of faith will not go unrewarded.” He then made his purchase and departed.

Approaching the town entrance, he saw the determined young woman standing there looking towards the barrow. He spoke, “How do you plan for those who walk again?” She stood there thoughtfully then answered, “Sir, I cannot lie, those who walk again, they terrify me, but I cannot allow fear to stop me. How could one accomplish anything in the unknown without setting their fears aside; I must be courageous!” The traveler chuckled, “I admire your spirit, but no doubt, this is the townspeople’s uneasiness, one I felt emanating from them when I arrived! But I can no longer know that fear, it is merely a strange concept.” The young woman looked at him in confusion, “You must be full of courage not fear!” The traveler looked her in the eyes, “Long ago a beloved friend once said, ‘Bravery is the ability to perform correctly when you are scared to death.’ And I live by that, for many years now.” The young woman pondered. It took a moment for her to answer, “So, you encourage me to go into the barrow?” The traveler’s smile faded, “It is no lie, all barrows are perilous; I would never encourage anyone to go unprepared, but I am prepared.” A realization took the young woman, “Wait, are you going to the barrow?” “Yes,” the traveler said, “And no thing can stand in my way.” The young woman seemed weary all of the sudden, “Sir, will your age hinder you?” A sudden frustration passed over him, then he spoke with a calm tone, “You mock my age. I am not helpless nor decrepit, but wise and experienced.” She offered up an apology, “Forgive me, I should not be presumptuous. But have you a sword!” The traveler went from calm to slightly intense, “I have walked across this land for many years as shown in my age. But I have slain seven dragons on this world; I have slain many beasts across the lands! For it was I who slew not one, but two dragons at the City of Roses?” The young woman gazed upon the traveler, “You speak of old stories! He once again resumed his calm demeanor, “No sword have I used, only knowledge.”

The young woman looked up into his eyes as he gazed upon the summit where that ancient iron door stood set within the side of the mountain. The young woman spoke up, “What will you do, sir?” He answered, “I shall climb the mountain and enter the ancient barrow. There is a great prize I seek.” Then she spoke, “And what knowledge will defeat they who walk again?” The traveler reached down at the strange small journal tucked in his belt, “As I have said: many dragons and many beasts have I slain. Those who walk again strike neither fear in my soul. Yet, they ignite a fire within me - one of knowledge. I fear no thing, for it is all here written in my journal.”

The young woman gazed at the journal tucked in his belt; it was bound in black leather, it was worn and very old. It seemed that pages were missing, “What is written in that journal that could possibly be so important and so valuable that merely knowledge drives you?” The traveler answered, “It is a written work that I have found over many years of travels. I have been to every corner of the world in many crypts. “Sir, I wonder if I might accompany you, I mean, if you know how to get through, then those who walk again should not be feared. The traveler chuckled, “Yes, a leap of faith. You shall not go unrewarded. Come, we must embark.”

The two ventured the side of the mountain through the snow until they came to the iron door of the barrow. The traveler opened the iron door into the barrow. As the young woman looked within, she beheld the ancient halls, dark, cold and foreboding. “Sir, it is very dark, did you bring a torch?” He looked within and answered, “No.” Shocked, the young woman answered, “How can knowledge help us through without light?” The traveler answered, “Those who have entered never to return have taken with them swords and torches - yet those who walk again are drawn to the warm light - a torch merely draws an adventurer to his death. But through my travels, I have uncovered the ancient records of every crypt documented. Here in my journal I have the knowledge to make my way through.” Unamused, she answered, “How will you read it in the dark? Instantaneously he answered, “I will not read it what I have memorized. I merely count my steps and make each careful turn until I reach the tomb at the foremost rear of the barrow. My life has been devoted to this of many years, but my prized knowledge must not be taken without exchange.” “Exchange?” asked the woman, “What do you carry as payment?” “This here,” he answered, “knowledge for knowledge.” The young woman looked at his offering, a stone tablet with runes written on it. Upon realization, she asked, “Sir, what of my offering? I have no thing to exchange!” the traveler answered, “Worry naught of it. Your offering shall be provided. Come, let us waste no time! A word of wisdom, do not speak nor utter the slightest whisper until we enter the final chamber. Those who walk again can hear your voice and crypts are completely silent.” “What of our foot steps, will they not hear that?” asked the woman. “They will, but they cannot differ ours from their own."

The traveler took her by the hand and placed it on his robe then led her as the they entered the barrow. The door shut behind them and it was completely black, nothing could be seen. They walked for what seemed like an hour, no sound but the foot steps of their own feet. Finally, the traveler’s pace came to a stop, she heard him fumbling with something then a door opened, he once again began walking. Then she heard the door close. Suddenly he spoke, “We are safe for now. Those who walk again cannot open doors.” A piercing light illuminated from the floor - it was too bright and she winced. After her sight adjusted, she looked at the source of light - it was the journal sitting on the floor; ancient runes shone from its musty old pages. She approached an alter where the bones of a chronicler lie. At the base of the alter, there were vases filled with fragrances; urns full of gems. Atop the alter surrounding the bones were stacks of gold. The traveler pointed to the gold, “This here is the token of your persistence.” “And what of my offering?” asked the woman. The traveler reached into his robe and removed the tablet. “This here is for you, remove twelve stacks from the alter, no more, no less. At the chronicler’s feet place this tablet.” “What of yours?” protested the woman, “Do not worry!” he answered.

The young woman took the tablet and placed it at the feet of the chronicler and from his side took twelve stacks of gold. At the same time, the traveler removed a bundle of ancient blank parchment from the hands of the chronicler. “This is the very same parchment as he wrote on while recording the lives of the Nine Priests. This chronicler wrote of their histories, and I have found every last page from his works.” Thinking carefully, the woman asked, “What of your offering?” The traveler stood there then finally answered, “My life shall be the payment!” The young woman was shocked by his answer, “What?” she shouted, “Many years have I walked this world, my body is tired and weary from travel.” “But your knowledge will be lost!” answered the woman. “No, It will not, for many things have I learned over my ventures. Now, I need your help! I will instruct you on how to finalize my offering. After, you must leave alone.” The young woman waited a minute in thought, “Alright, I will help you!” Now the traveler began to explain the process, “You must take all eighty of these pages and write my name upon them with this ink, then you must place seventy nine of the pages on the floor and the eightieth into the hands of the chronicler.” The young woman took the parchment and his quill. He then handed her a vial full of ink, she was mesmerized by it: red like blood. She asked, “Sir, is this what I think it is?” Then the traveler answered, “Indeed it is, and all part of the process.” The young woman dipped the quill into the dark red ink, then asked, “Sir, what is your name?” He smiled, then uttered his name to her and she wrote it on all eighty sheets of parchment.

The traveler spoke his last, “Please take my beloved black bound journal, soon another will add into its pages.” The young woman placed the page into the chronicler’s hand and a bright green light illuminated, she turned around and the light was soaked up into the seventy pages and the traveler was gone. She approached the pages laying on the floor, they were no longer blank, instead they now were covered in texts. She was amazed by the sheer amount of knowledge; the texts was his mind - the lives of many travelers, seeking knowledge had given their bodies to this journal and many travelers to come would now add into its vast wealth.

She picked up the pages and placed them into the journal then shut it.

It was evening, as the young man awaited her return. Sitting by the fireplace, he looked towards the gate and saw her walking back, a smile on her face and in her left hand a bag of gold and in her right a worn black journal.