The Man Who Tamed A Mountain.

The Man who tamed a Mountain.
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I was sitting by the road that early summer day, weaving reeds into baskets while I waited for a customer to come by hoping to make a little money to put away for the long hard winter season. My mind was occupied by my task and it took a moment before I realised that a traveller was standing by my stall. Looking up squinting against the sun's glare I saw a worn weary-looking man burnt brown by many seasons with his clothing in tatters. Without thinking I dipped my ladle into the cool water I kept for paying customers and handed him a cup, which he drank in two quick swallows.
'Would you like another cup, sir' I asked him?
'No thank you little one, I have no money'
'It doesn't matter, sir, you are tired and thirsty, I can spare you some more', part of my mind wondered at this, water is a rich commodity in our arid land, more precious than gold.
'Then I will pay with a story, little one, do we have a bargain?' his smile creased the corners of his eyes into tiny crinkles and his steady blue gaze looked deep into mine. How did he know that stories were the only pleasure I got in my hard life and how retelling them to my father brought back the faintest of smiles to his lined and worried face?
Maybe he guessed my answer because he sat by my side and with quick, agile fingers started to shape another basket as he told me his story.

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'My travels take me to many places some rich in beauty, some wild and barren. I had heard tales of the mountain that no-one names for fear of bring his wrath down on their land and kin. Many people have tried and failed to climb its slopes making an easier passage for trade routes. '
I nodded at him to continue, the mountain stands on the border of our land.

He continued, ' The people of the lands on both sides suffer hunger, thirst and poverty while the rich caravans choose the easier passage of the lower valleys, is this not so little one?'
I agreed, both our lands had little communication but we heard tales from other travellers who took the longer route before returning home to their families

So the stranger began his story, pausing only briefly to share my lunch of bread and cheese with me. The sun rose high in the sky, passed overhead and was dipping into nightfall before it ended. I held my breath in awe as he painted a vision of wonder for me.
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I determined to try to cross the mountain, not from any pride, but to see if it could be done. The journey was long and not without events along the way but at last I stood on the slopes of Old Man no name. I travelled as you see, in the barest of clothes with only my few belonging on my back. My water was nearly gone and food just a memory but my mind was made up, there was no turning back.
It was barely dawn of the new day when I stepped from stubby grass onto the screed that surrounded the mountain on all sides, barely had I taken one step when rocks and stones started to crash all around me, the Old Man had no intention of letting me get any nearer. Yet still I climbed on ignoring the increasing onslaught unscathed except for minor cuts and bruises until I reached a place where bones were scattered widely all around. These were the remains of the men who had tried to scale the mountain before and perished in the attempt. In this terrible place I stopped to drink the last of my water, the sun was now beating down with ferocious heat and I knew that here was to be my first stand.

All was deathly still, no bird sang, no murmur of water, no green at all, instead my vista was of bare rock reaching in jagged formation to the heights where Old Man covered his head in shrouded mystery. Suddenly a sound shattered the air, it seemed to come from the depths of the mountain speaking in human tongue, long rusty from lack of use.
'Who dares to disturb my solitude can you not see the bones of those who dare to challenge me?' the voice boomed out, enough to scare the soul from it's body, yet still I remained silent.
'Answer me' he roared.
Still I kept my silence although the stones cascaded down making the bones jiggle with a semblance of crude life. It was a standoff; the next voice to speak would determine the outcome of my quest. All was still for a while and then,
'Why do you not fear me human?'
'Fear is a state of mind, I replied, 'and my mind is at peace.'
'Do you dare challenge me?' the rocks juddered again and bones scattered all around me but this was my first victory, one not achieved lightly for I felt sorrow at the waste of life.
'I come not to challenge but to speak with you'.
'Then come further human, if you dare, see just above there is a flat rock, spread your useless limbs on there and we shall talk.'

So I climbed higher knowing that this could a trap but also knowing this was something I must do. I reached the flat rock and perched there like an eagle guarding its nest.
'Shall I throw you down now? Look at the bottom it's a long way down' if a mountain could gloat it was there in that gravely voice.
'If it pleases you then go ahead, maybe I will fly away and leave you alone with your bitter thoughts'.
'Nothing flies here, not man, nor beast, nor bird' was there a tone of wistfulness in that voice, I was sure there was.
'If not then surely that is your fault?'
' What use do I have for any living thing, their tiny lives flicker out and are soon gone'
'But life renews itself every season, every lifetime it carries on whether you like it or not'

Had I disturbed him? For a long while it seemed there would be no answer, until, finally,
'Once I too believed that, a long while ago before¦'
I sensed a story here, something that every storyteller could respond to but the thoughts of a mountain are long to speak and even longer to ponder.
'Yes, I am frail like any of the shorter species but I would like to hear your story although night is drawing near and I am tired'.

Maybe I had captured his interest because his voice led me through caverns deep until I felt I was near to the mountains core. He bade me sleep and lying on a warm molten rock I slept and dreamed. In my dreams I saw the earth, as it once was, a range of mountains in their youth before the ice came and separated them. The life of a mountain is a slow one and my dreams took me back over eons of time when the land was still young. There were two twin mountains, brothers you may say, who were parted when the slow flow of the ice age carved through the mountain range separating the brothers forever. I felt a great sadness, an unspeakable sadness that finally led to exile and loneliness. I saw the forests recede and with it the brief life of all who lived on this mountain. I saw the heart wither and locked away deep within the core, for all are God's own creatures and in every living thing there is a heart that beats fast or slow according to it's nature.

From afar I saw the twin mountain, a place of delight where the mountain cast its benediction over all the land. I saw rainfall onto the land making it a place of verdant growth, which lead in turn from the gentle slopes where orchards grew fruit for the use of all. I saw the higher slopes where eagles nested their young safe from the harm of man's greed. I saw wolves, bears, and mountain lions resting in a safe haven and knew this was why Old Man was bitter and twisted. No longer could they talk in the long slow speech of their kind, and soon he spurned the life that grew on his brother's back.

How many days did I dream? I'm not sure but I awoke with hunger and thirst and a sure feeling that I had an answer at last.

Firstly I had to find my way out of the chamber and lick moisture from the rocks to sustain me. No move was made to hinder me as I made my way back into the secret chamber I had glimpsed in my dreams.
' What are you doing now human?' the voice was softer now although it still sent ripples throughout it's slopes.
'I am restoring your heart' I replied.
'You cannot do this it's shrivelled to almost nothing'
'Watch and see' I took a bottle from my pack and poured the contents onto the dry husk, which started to pulse once again with life.
'How have you done this miracle?' he asked as the warmth started to spread.
'In this bottle were the tears shed by a young girl mourning for her lost mother'.
'Is she happy now?'
'Not yet but soon she will be'
'I don't understand' but in his voice I felt relief and something akin to empathy.
'Now I have a heart but how can I change what I've become?'
'Follow me' I knew now that my task was nearly over, the rest would up to him.

Halfway down the mountain I placed a crystal deep into the rocks. Lower still I went where the slopes were gentler, here I placed one small seed. Climbing up again I took a feather from my pack and nestled it in between two strong rocks. The stage was set it only needed one last effort.
'Old Man talk to me one last time' it was a command, not a request.
'What use are the things you leave behind?' the voice was almost a whisper now.

'In the crystal are the beginning of a stream; I took it from your brother a while ago with his blessing. The seed came from the last fruit in a blighted orchard where nothing now grows because you hoarded the rain that was needed to make the orchard grow. I took the feather from an eagle that was trying to protect her nest from those that would steal her eggs for profit. In time streams will run down your sides and give life to the land you left barren. You will send your clouds also to water the crops and bring happiness to those that live in your shadow. The eagles will nest and grant you company. In time they will pass messages to your brother and once again you may speak with him. An orchard will grow on the lower slopes bringing birds that will nest in your trees. Children will no longer be afraid of you they will pick fruit from the trees and bless your name.'
'But I haven't got a name my brother left too soon to name me.'
'Then I will name you Shakyra, which in the language of this area means "provider.

The mountain shook but gently this time, his tears ran down the slopes and set the streams in motion, they watered the seed and an orchard sprang up where once there was bare rock. The clouds took his tears and bore them away to fall as gentle rain in the barren lands.
Birds flocked to nest in the trees and the tired eagle brought her brood to safety.
Later on the children came and sent their laughter ringing across Shakyra who looked down on his gentle slopes and hid the bones of the lost safely where none could find them. In time the birds would send messages to his brother and he would honour the traveller who made this come to pass. But for this moment all he could say was
'I don't know how to thank you?'
'You have already' and with this one last speech I left him there continuing my journey down this road.

I never mentioned this part of my story, how one day I had found her weeping by the waterside and took her tears to change the course of life. How could I say to her that I had watched in the long night when her mother's soul passed into safekeeping? Or the times I stood by when she struggled so hard to keep a home for herself and her beloved father? Would she welcome me knowing that I was there when all hope seemed lost with the crops dry and barely a little food to eat? How I had intervened against the natural order of life because one small child had so much love to give?
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I awoke as if in a dream the traveller's words had kept me spell-bound but the sky was darkening and soon father would be home needing his dinner after toiling in the barren fields from sunrise to sunset. I looked up to thank the traveller for his story but he was gone leaving behind a host of baskets filled with such fruits I had never seen before. I looked towards the mountain and my heart was filled with joy, for the once barren slopes were now green and a light rain was falling where once there had been none. I knew then I had witnessed a miracle but would never speak of it to anyone, 'ar memon y Shakyra ' I whispered in our language, did he hear me? I'm sure he did.

© Lisa Fuller. 6/9/2005.
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After word.
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It's never easy trying to write fantasy for older children. You are aware that other stories may have influenced you. But nothing ventured, nothing gained. I hope you like my little story and don't find it too "cheesy". Lisa.