ENDURING FRIENDSHIP OF STEVOR AND THE INTREPID DRAGON LONGZE (PART 1)

(B0St original story)

PART I

 

01 A - GUARDIAN RORKOR

 

A long, long time ago there was a fierce and mighty general named Geron Muller who never lost a single battle. His military prowess (brilliant strategies and martial competency) rendered him invincible, so that the very mention of his name was enough to send ripples of fear through the enemy ranks. Each battle was won without fail because of his tactical proficiency, brave officers and well-disciplined armies. In his mid years General Geron Muller’s glorious military vocation (career) suffered a serious setback when he received a devastating blow from the blade of an ardent (fervid) opponent. The strike was so severe, it had sliced through tendon (like butter) and cut halfway into the bone; therefore, it crippled his sword arm and put an end to the legend of his invincibility.

01- THE GENERAL GERON MULLER

Forced to retire to his country estate, which was by a beautiful lake Taho, he allowed his well-meaning friends to coerce him into a marriage. The day a boy was born to him was the greatest day of his life and filled his heart with hopes and dreams. The son named Stevor, bereft of his mother at birth, was still projected to fulfill Geron’s great aspirations. Hence, at barely five years of age the boy was subjected to gruelling military discipline and tutelage.

“I’m greatly disappointed in that boy.” Geron Muller confessed to a confidante one day at dusk as they shared a fine wine out on the veranda under the fool moon’s gaze. “What would it take to turn him into the kind of a warrior which would make me proud?” Geron lowering his gaze, heaved a deep exasperated sigh. “I’ve tried everything without much success; no amount of threat, pressure, or coaxing will deliver the result I seek. He is intelligent enough, physically fit, and agile enough in wielding the sword,” he shook his head grumpily, “but just doesn’t have it in him to be a fine warrior.”

02- NORSEK

“Do not lose heart my friend.” The confidante Norsek reached over and placed a comforting hand on Geron’s shoulder,” The boy is only five years in age after all,” he paused for emphasis, “and he does have some mighty boots to fill. Perhaps he will surprise us all by sprouting martial wings in his subsequent years.” He chuckled as he swallowed another mouthful of the fine wine.

“No. I have always been farsighted in such matters. I can see the writing on the wall. He will always be a disappointment to me.” Geron Muller shook his head morosely.

True enough, the subsequent years proved him right. The boy, Stevor, showed more inclination towards the literary arts (calligraphy, still life painting, prose, writing fiction) and excelled in them with the least effort whereas he struggled to achieve more than a mediocre rank in every aspect of his military training. As a result, Geron Muller refused to have anything to do with the boy and spent his days drinking and carousing with his close associates. However, the boy had more in common with Geron than his father had realized; for one thing, Stevor was courageous, passionate in his pursuits and rather strong willed and as hot tempered as his father. To blow off steam (to vent his amassed rage), he often took long, meditative walks along the shoreline of the lake Taho.

“There is no denying it; I have a father that hates me.” He would often grumble and stomp his feet hard on the ground, periodically kicking up clumps of sand. “Never once has he tried to see things my way…. Heaven knows I’ve tried and tried to appease him but his expectations are far too unrealistic. How can anyone achieve those high standards of his. Why should I hang around only to be berated from dawn till dusk?”

Consequently, the dejected seven-year-old Stevor simply seized the opportunity one day when his father was away and fled his despised circumstance. At daybreak, while the servants still were asleep, he took with him only a few of his prized possessions, a small knife, some dry food and the water skin, then quietly snuck through the back gate without anyone knowing it.

“I will take my chance in the outside world. How much worse can it be?” A coward he was not.

03- THE BOY STEVOR -JP

Subsequently, launching the small boat (dinghy) into the water, at the narrowing part of lake Taho, he rowed and rowed riding the waves and soon reached the other side. He climbed ashore, carefully concealed the dinghy amidst the tall bushes, then following the various goat-paths he began ascending (climbing) the tall mountain, to make it much harder for his would-be pursuers to track him. In his seven-year-old heart, meanwhile, he carried the unrealistic hope of reaching the summit, possibly in one day, so as to enjoy the much-anticipated panoramic view. But the arduous (challenging) topography, wilderness (backwoods) and the dense forest did not make things easy for any robust seasoned hiker or hunter, much less a naïve, though zealous minor; hence, Stevor soon came to regret this decision.  Meanwhile, halfway up the mountain, his meagre dry rations long gone, for he hadn’t planned too wisely, he had begun to subsist mainly on berries and roots, as his compassionate heart was acutely averse (opposed) to hunting.

Nearing dusk, a sudden violent gust of wind arose, billowing the clouds up into an ominous flotilla that soon swallowed the sun. The forest creatures scurried off to seek shelter and Stevor likewise sought apt refuge from the impending heavy downpours. He was fortunate to find what he thought was a small grotto (a cavern, cave). But small it was not; it seemed to reach way into the dark depths, which he decided not to venture too far into, fearing resident wild beasts, or, with his wild imagination giving reign, monsters or goblins. He was only seven years old after all.

Getting right down to business, he fetched (collected) some kindling, firewood, sticks and twigs that were strewn about at the mouth of the cave, then adroitly started a small campfire and set beside it, to alleviate the bone chilling cold of the soggy night. His interest was for a time held captive by the curtain of rain at the outside; meanwhile the fire afforded him both light and certain security from marauding (prowling) animals. Feeling famished, he rummaged trough his small bundle and finding few forgotten dried strips of meat packaged in brown wax paper which he’d placed there some prior time, he eagerly retrieved it and devoured it within seconds.  As he chewed the last bit, his ravenous hunger not at all satiated, his eye suddenly just then caught (he spotted) a coiled up white snake, who, with his head slightly raised was intently watching him. Stevor felt that this was no ordinary snake, as it seemed to have two tiny projections on his head; furthermore, he was outside of his element, shouldn’t he be swimming in Lake Taho instead of hiding in this cave? Just then their eyes met and both with certain curiosity, continued to study the other.

Unbidden, the memory of the succulent portions (morsels) of snake meat alongside specialty herbs and vegetables swimming in delicious bouillabaisse, intruded in Stevor’s mind and he absently licked his lips. This specialty potage (broth) with choice ingredients, for longevity, was always prepared without fail, on those special occasions, like his eight birthday which would be coming up in five days. Snake bisque was chef Yeru’s signature dish. More than one occasion Stevor had snuck into the kitchen and watched the entire procedure.

“It won’t be the same, just grilled over a campfire, but …. Hmmmm! “He hissed under his breath, wandering if he should make the attempt.  Reluctant though he was to skewer the pretty white sea serpent and roast him over fire, hunger pains being an apt incentive, he kept his eyes pinned on the snake.

The white sea serpent seemingly perceiving what was on Stevor’s mind, he blinked his eyes and defiantly flicked his fork tongue at him; then, the very moment Stevor shifted his stance, to dart and to grasp him, the little white serpent, poof, suddenly disappeared. A moment later he reappeared behind Stevor, and seemingly angry, raised his head, poised to strike.  But then a strange rumination (deliberation), perhaps a flicker of mercy, momentarily registering in those blazing (flaming) blue/red eyes, he halted his aim. He seemed to be rather intrigued by what he’d intuitively (telepathically) grasped from this human boy’s mind, his memories, past experiences unravelling in rapid succession, before him.  What happened next was still more unbelievable. The white snake quickly grew to a monstrous proportion, only to intimidate, but not to harm him.

Stevor who was now dwarfed by the serpent’s size, he nevertheless stoically stood his ground and brandishing his small blade (dagger), eyed those terrible fangs. The snake hesitated, and desiring not to escalate this gross misunderstanding, he shape-shifted (altered) instead, stealing Stevor’s breath, as he transformed into a fierce, mighty dragon!

04-DRAGON IN  A CAVE (5)

“You can’t eat me now!” The stanch (resolute) voice with a hint of joshing (teasing) sentiment sounded in Stevor’s head.

Just then out of the blue (unpredictably), a shrill cry manifesting out of nowhere, shook the very foundation of the entire cave and few loosened rocks and clumps of earth reigned down, barely missing them ; subsequently, the fierce dragon who looked visibly alarmed and petrified, nodded his head to Stevor and instantly vanished (disappeared) into thin air. That same instant, the ambers of the campfire had flickered, dimmed and then got extinguished altogether by the icy breeze that had suddenly swept through the cavern’s entrance, making Stevor chilled to the very marrow (core). Inexplicable fear coursing through his veins, cloaked in pitch darkness, Stevor stood perfectly still for a time, striving to understand this surging, foreboding feel.

“What was that?” Eventually he snapped out of it.

  “Blast! I could have ….” Stevor then stamped his foot in a hot fury, for he’d missed the opportunity of obtaining single verification (proof), of his contact with a numinous (mystical, supernatural) snake which had turned into a live Dragon. This uncanny experience would have proven to his father, once and for all, that he wasn’t a weakling; but now, without a shred of evidence, who would believe his intrepid brush (confrontation) with the dragon. Despondently (glumly) hence, he curled up at the corner, leaned his back to the cave’s wall and closed his eyes hoping to at least to catch forty winks (catnap, sleep).

Dawn came quickly enough, and he at once rising to his feet, beginning at the entrance, his eyes avidly searched the ground for any residue, imprints or tracks that might have been left behind by the white serpent or the dragon. By late afternoon, as his expanded quest had still not born any fruit, on the point of quitting, he suddenly however, felt a rush of crisp air that stung his cheeks and ruffled his hair. Tree limbs likewise stirred (whipped, thrashed) by the rapid air that rustled the leaves as tall grass all about him swayed violently in the precipitous, punishing wind.

“What’s that?” He rubbed his eyes in disbelief and focusing more intently, his gaze followed (tracked) the little white serpent that had just then disappeared (retreated) under the yonder (afar) shrub?

Forsaking safety, he at once rushed after it. But then when he reached the exact spot, instead of a snake he saw a little boy, much younger than he, dressed plainly, about three or four, crouching and poking the ground with a stick. He simply looked up and smiled at him unafraid. “Would you like to play with me?” He asked in all innocence.

05-LITTLE LONGZE

“Are you lost, little boy?” Stevor inquired.

The seemingly mischievous, though sweet little boy answered him with a gentle shaking of the head.

Stevor looked about him fearfully, expecting the reemergence (return) of the white snake or the dragon but instead, just beyond the trees he spotted a trail of smoke curling up from the treetops which told of a dwelling. His eyes raised to the sky next, frowning, he considered the quickly amassing, flotilla of clouds that would make the twilight rapidly encroach on them. The recent danger still fresh in his mind, he shook his head and said, “You shouldn’t be out here at this time and all alone! Come, I’ll walk you home.” He reached out and gently cupped the little boy’s hand and together they walked towards the trail of smoke. Once they had cleared the dense foliage (shrubbery)and then the cluster of trees (small forest), the modest size wooden cabin perched solidly on a massive rock by a cliff’s edge come into view. The sheer drop of the cliff at the side of the house led to a thin margin of sandy beach down below, to an inhospitable segment of lake Taho.

As they approached the dwelling, suddenly the door creaked open and an intimidating, over seven feet tall, brawny (muscular), stalwart warrior, though he was dressed in plain clothes, with long raven black hair past his broad shoulders that filled the door-frame,  briskly stepped outside (emerged from the door); he cast a long, assessing (scrutinizing), stern look at Stevor then shifted his angry gaze to rest on the boy.

06- THE STERN CUSTODIAN RORKOR

Devoid of affection (tenderness), he was clearly not the little boy’s parent, but, as Stevor was to learn later, an unwilling custodian named Rorkor, set to the task of caring for Longze, at this desolate sector. Subsequently, Rorkor reluctantly and coldly had extended his polite greetings to Stevor; and after his perfunctory thanks for returning Longze, in safety to this abode, he had civilly invited Stevor inside to share their evening repast and perhaps stay for the night.

 Stevor, when he stepped inside, was at first bit unnerved, seeing that he was expected and that there was an additional plateful already placed at the table for him; nevertheless, he quickly took up his seat next to the boy.

Stevor, ate his fill of, strange though delicious, a varied vegetarian spread (feast) heaped on his plate, and drunk clear refreshing liquids (sweet concoctions), feeling more at ease as the night progressed. Conversation at dinner was polite and trivial (unimportant). Though at one point when, Stevor during desert decided to unburden his fear about the supernatural entities (white serpent and the Dragon) he’d encountered prior to meeting Longze, he noted Rorkor and his ward (charge)Longze exchanging a brief curious look between them. Then, after a flicker of amusement brushing his lips, Rorkor had smiled tautly, his smile never reaching his cold eyes, and waved a dismissive hand at Stevor’s assiduous (persistent) deep concern about his charge’s well being should he encounter the same perceived dangerous entities. His subsequent reassuring manner and words soon put this fear out of Stevor’s thoughts.

07- STEVOR EATING DINNER

After the meal, seated by the hearth (fireplace), Stevor learned succinctly that Longze, had been orphaned in his infancy; and that, Longze’s parents had been expunged (curious use of word for death), while he was barely a week old. His parents had been consequently executed, for their serious breach of one of the stringent laws; the custodian, however, did not elaborate on the nature of the breach, just that they had been found guilty and properly dealt with. Longze, being an innocent infant, was spared punishment and allowed instead, to grow up, though under Strick scrutiny.

After they had retired to their respective rooms, the two boys sharing Longze’s bed, had at first truly strove to get some slumber. But days exciting events still fresh on their mind, with many ideas and thoughts yet to be shared, they had instead sat up and in whispers, continued their happy banter (chitchat), which incidentally lasted till small hour of the night.

Stevor had at first landed an interested ear to the incessant rumblings of excited Longze and to his long, elaborate accounts of his past adventures, some too fantastic to believe; but eventually Stevor’s eyelids slowly but surely had drooped (sagged, then altogether closed), as he felt utterly exhausted by the culminating set of events and exchanges till then.  His earlier lengthy search of the woods prior to meeting Longze had already depleted some of his physical strength, this, compounded with taxing verbal exchange with Rorkor after repast and, the sustained lively chitchat with Longze thereon, all in all, had him utterly beat.  His mortal physique being no match to their unending energy, furthermore, the warmth of the luxuriously soft down-filled quilt that he’d crawled under, naturally induced him to have forty winks. He did not know when or how, but his mind and body had at some point surrendered, rendering him dead to the world.

He woke up at dawn with a start, at first not knowing where he was; but gradually, as the realization set in, Stevor smiled and turning, watched for a while, captivated by the peaceful, serene face of Longze whose eyelids were still closed in deep sleep. Though Stevor did not know this, but Longze’s eventual sleep, for the first time ever, had been tranquil and devoid of his usual nightmares. He woke up few minutes later, fully charged and again, bursting with zealous energy.

08- DELIGHTED  LITTLE LONGZE

Rorkor seeing that the boys got along exceptionally well, and strangely enough Longze was now well behaved, which allowed him some reprieve from his detested, burdensome task of baby-sitting unruly Longze, extended the invitation of Stevor’s stay for another week or more.

Stevor subsequently spent his days talking, exchanging stories, playing or foraging at the narrow strip of sandy shore, of the lake Taho; which was accessible, only through the precarious, winding, angular-descending path.  He would have been content to stay there forever but one day Longze, looking very said, told him, “Tomorrow is the last day I can play with you.” And before he could inquire further, his eyes tearing, he’d ran off into the cabin (chalet, lodge). The dinner was consumed in utter silence, and everyone went to bed early that night.

The subsequent morning when Stevor awoke, he found himself beside a grove of trees up on a hilltop, in the midst of a plush pile of grass that had kept him both dry and warm. Strangely enough, there was no sign of a wooden abode (cottage) or garden anywhere. Just then he heard the sound of hound dogs and then sighted numerous mounted, armed man loaded with game of the hunt, racing towards him. They had been searching for the entire lakeside, for him, having discovered the concealed boat (dinghy) amidst the tall bushes (bullrushes), for the past several days and promptly delivered him to his home.

09-  GERON MULLER

He expected the welcome he received from his father; “You ungrateful beast; how dare you be so defiant; if you weren’t my only offspring I would have had you whipped within an inch of your life then have your body torn asunder and fed to the wild dogs, for this! But don’t think your punishment will be any less severe. You deserve no leniency from me, and be assured, there are ways to make you regret your actions!”

In the subsequent days and weeks, Stevor faced the wrath of his father whose anger could not be assuaged with no amount of yelling and threats. Stevor received his punishments stoically however, enduring an even more restrictive, austere regimen than previously, one that was supposedly to build his character.

 

(END OF PART 1)