The Knower of Small Rhymes
At length we didst find ourselves in a small village. Traversing to its centre, we came upon a man seated at the village well. Verily was he clothed in a robe full of symbols of mystery and mystique. With his long beard and spectacles I at once knew him as a wise man, a knower.
“Many blessings upon thee, man of much wisdom,” saith I.
“Mine greetings most serene, most worthy traveller,” replieth the Knower. “Tell me, hath thou heard the name of Sir Kadenberg, that knight most noble whose story is told in the thousand and ninth volume of Sven the Minstrel?
“Nay, hath I not hadst the joy of hearing that tale,” replieth I.
A smile crossed his face, “Well, then, harken thee to mine words!”
With great joy didst the many regale us with the finer points of his prized lore-tale, albeit one of perhaps little literary worth. My companion, the Old Man of the Glade, wandered around aimlessly, occasionally shouting calling out for his children, each now named after one of the characters from the tales of the Knower.
“From which direction doth the Sun arise?” asketh the Old Man.
“That I cannot tell ye,” replieth the Knower. “Yet, knowest I that Norm, hero of the sun, from the tales of Dorothy the Fair Maiden, couldst tell thee!”
Peculiar, I thought, even a child must knowest that the sun risith in the east and sets in the west.
“Say, oh Knower,” I didst inquire, “what dost thou know of yonder well?”
“What well?” he asketh.
“The one behind ye,” I didst reply.
The Knower turned around. “Why, it remindeth me of the wishing well from Levan’s village painting.”
“But what of it?” I asketh.
“Methinks it may have water at the bottom,” replieth the Knower.
The Old Man looked down the well. “It appeareth dry. Ye, veritably most dry!”
“One doth wonder how that didst come to be,” I said thoughtfully.
“Doest thou knowest that a watched pot rarely boileth over?” asketh the Knower. “Why, that might be what is at play. Mayhaps someone forgot to watch the well.”
“Good thought, Henry!” the Old Man didst say. “Why, Sally, what a clever head you have!”
“My thanks, good sir.” The Knower smiled. “I chance remembrance that such an event happened in the ninety-fifth stanza of Weston’s famous sonnet.”
“Whence art thou headed?” asketh I.
“Why, towards the Celestial City!” saith the Knower. “
“As are we!” I didst cry.
“Then maychance we couldst traverse together,” saith the Knower. “Thy company thus far hast been most delightful!”
“Are ye headed towardeth mine home city?” asketh the Old Man. “Greenhill is where we headst towards!”
“Ah, the green hill of the Celestial City!” saith the Knower most fondly. “Hath I oft heard of its beauties.”
“We wouldst love thy company,” saith I. “Whence shalt thou be ready to journey hence?”
“Posthaste, good sir, posthaste!” the Knower didst reply merrily. “Let us not tarry before the wonders that await!”
As the Knower began striding in the direction from whence we came, I tapped his shoulder. “Nay, wise man, towards the other way must we travel!”
“Of course!” he didst remark joyously. “Amadoian always doth say that good things originate in the northerne lands.”
Though I had abforehand pointed him in a southernly direction, merely didst I nod and smile as we didst depart. And thus was our party three.
Kotharian Lightning 