January 30, 2013

• A Dream

  I had this little scene as a dream last night.

  ---

  A large valley somewhere cold and bleak, the landscape is tundra and steppe with smooth dark brown and brooding hills in the distance.

  Within the flat valley floor a large square high walled town sits. The buildings are low and rounded, made of skins and sparse bits of pale wood, a few curls of smoke lift form the huts and tents.

  At the far end of the square walled area a large flat wooden plinth has been made and ontop of it in the middle sits a low wooden, bone and skin throne.

  Sitting on the throne is a man, he is old perhaps 50 or more and looks weather worn, his hair thin and flowing in the cold wind. But despite his age and the clear signs of battle scars and a hard life he is strong looking and very large, his body is trained and solid making him look as if he barely feels the bitter temperature of the tundra wind blowing over his exposed throne.

  His eyes are light ice blue and shine brightly as he watched the distant hills, his face a mask of worry lines and concern. He barely blinks his chin resting in his hand as he keeps up his watch.

  At his feet sits a large wardog. It is similarly battered and aged, with wisps of hair that mirror those of its master its eyes are similarly locked on the distant hills. The creature is entirely loyal and though treated harshly and brought into every fight this man has seen there is a sense of noble companionship and a deep trusting ‘brothers in arms’ relationship between this barbarian king and his dog.

  A grovelling envoy of the richer more distant realms further south stands on the dry ground before the plinth saying something of the good service and duty these brave barbarians are doing to hold back the ominous wild dangers beyond the hills.

  The king does not even look down at this man his eyes still locked in total attention on the threat of those low hills.

  The envoy finishes by looking at the wardog, at its hard scarred features and body, its loyal obedience and nobility. He says to the king that he should show a little kindness once in a while to this beast, for although it has been trained and guided through hardship it is as much in need of the softness and care of life as any other.

  To this the king looks down at the envoy and then to the dog. Within the kings mind he is aware of this need, aware that though this animal would never complain nor begrudge him or his actions he would also be heartened and strengthened by even the smallest act of kindness.

  And with this realisation the king also looks out across the low beige huts and sprawling town filled with his people, a people who have struggled thanklessly and without request for kindness for years in their selfless defence of a land far from theirs and feels within himself that same honour and resigned coldness that fills the dog, and that same waiting for even the smallest sign of approval or warmth.

  • 9:13 am
  • 6 Comments