FOUR AGES

“Now, now, time for bed, Figlio… Why the long face, my son?”

“Our teacher told us a story during class. I didn’t like it.”

“How come...? Move a bit; let your father sit by your side.”

“It’s the Wordsmith and the porcupines.”

“And what don’t you like about it?”

“Because in the story the teacher said, the Wordsmith just… waited for the porcupines to come to take everything he had! But they left when they saw him without even a fight! That doesn’t make any sense!”

“Ah, I see. Well, by now, you know that there are many versions of the same tale, don’t you? Let me tell you the one I heard a very long time ago.”

…

FOUR AGES

THE WORDSMITH AND THE PORCUPINE LEGION

Written by: Isabel Chiwibel (Fiverr name @Chiwibel)

Edited by: Celina Mike (Fiverr name @Celinawrite)

Seasons ago, in a faraway land that had changed names and regents many times, a skillful, but poor raccoon known simply as the Wordsmith secretly practiced alchemy inside his lonely cabin at the edge of a forest. Solitude granted him the privacy he needed to pursue the myriads of nature's alchemical secrets, which he studied privately over the passing years.

The Wordsmith eventually became adept at all things about alchemy, and armies from all over the long-gone kingdoms requested his metalworking talents, because none could rival his peerless skill at forging weapons. Poets and musicians from all walks of life came to ask for his counsel. Many went to the raccoon in the pretense of friendship to try and trick him into revealing his secrets, but none succeeded. On the raccoon’s simple verbal command, iron turned into silver and silver to gold. Swords and knives that came from his forge never dulled. Stone levitated, entire symphonies sprouted on empty pages, and trees sprouted overnight. But despite all this, the Wordsmith remained poor and used none of his skills to enrich himself.

Sorcerers were baffled by the Wordsmiths’ power, and royal court magicians were angered when they realized that no matter how hard they tried, none of them could ever duplicate the miraculous results of the raccoon.

One day, a porcupine legionnaire visited the Wordsmith alone, no legion at his back. The legionnaire’s king in a fit of uncontrollable rage had unwisely declared war against two greater provinces. They were too weak to face their enemies, so the king had no choice but to send his most trusted legionnaire to take the poor raccoon’s secrets by force.

“I come alone as a show of goodwill,” the porcupine said when the raccoon opened his door to him, “In two days, my king’s legion will march here and set these woods on fire. If you stay, you will perish under his rage. Abandon your home and leave all your secrets behind for us. You will have your life and be allowed to leave to start again elsewhere.”

“Forgive me for refusing this mercy, legionnaire, but here I will stay, and here your army will find me when it arrives in two days.” The raccoon twirled a long whisker, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

The legionnaire commended the Wordsmith for his bravery and shared that he would mourn him as he would mourn any other valiant fool. A day and then two came and went, and the legionnaire returned, but this time at the head of his legion of porcupines.

When his legion reached the small cabin, his scouts reported to him in an alarmed state. “You might want to see this, sir,” they said, “we have a situation.” The porcupine followed them quickly to the cabin, and they found the raccoon standing calmly right outside his front door and there was someone else standing beside him.

A cold chill went through the legionnaire’s bones when he realized who it was.

“Is there a problem, legionnaire?” asked the Eel as he stood beside the Wordsmith in front of the raccoon’s door. “I was just about to have dinner with my very good friend, the Wordsmith here.”

The legionnaire looked nervous, and he knew that he had to handle this situation delicately. The Eel was one of the three wealthiest and most powerful living individuals in the world. In his younger days, he was once the Mighty Emperor of this continent until he stepped down for the current one who now sits upon the throne.”

“We’re sorry to have bothered your dinner,” said the legionnaire, beads of sweat dotted his brow. “We were just leaving.” He quickly gave the order and led his legion away as quickly as possible, never to return to this corner of the world ever again.

…

“And that’s it, dad? No grand magical attack by the Wordsmith?”

“No, Figlio, I suppose not. The magic or science behind it all is not really the story’s point.”

“And what is it, then? That the Wordsmith, and his Eel friend chose to stay and face whatever comes instead of hiding in a safer place? But the porcupines have them outnumbered why did they run away instead of executing their king’s justice? It doesn’t make any sense!”

“Well, son, there are two kinds of justice in the world. There’s one for the poor like the racccoon Wordsmith, and there’s a completely different kind for the wealthiest and most powerful like the Eel and all his friends.”

The End! Stay tuned for the next Fable next week!

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