Wanderer

A Prose Poem

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So, you’ve come.

How far have you travelled? How long have you wandered? Hopefully not as long as I. It is a terrible thing to have to make this journey alone. Yet we all must follow some road or another, never knowing where it will lead.

And where has yours led you? Here, at the edge of the world, a forlorn land far from the sun. Night reigns eternal, and the moon and stars are but pale gleams in the black horizons. This is a grim and frostbitten kingdom over which I preside, quite removed from the noisome city markets in which others choose to busy themselves, yet bearing little resemblance to the idyllic realms of which you may have dreamed.

You need not fear monsters in this land, for I do what I can to keep them locked away. But you will not easily find the sanctuary you seek. The snowfields are vast and desolate, the mountains seeming so close yet just out of reach. You may wander for some time before the path is revealed, and even when you finally see the castle in the distance, you will only have taken the first step toward finding me.

Upon your arrival, you will find my fortress well-guarded; its watchtowers survey all the surrounding land, and the gates, once open but now closed, are wrought of black iron tempered in dragon fire. You cannot force your way in, though I doubt you would try. Might you seek to charm your way through? Perhaps you will, if your efforts are sincere. But the watchers view all who approach with suspicion. They will not suffer any to pass lightly, and exile awaits those who would seek to disrupt my sanctum.

Is this how things should be? Perhaps not. By all accounts, it is I who should be seeking you, embarking on high adventures and achieving such fell deeds that would earn the admiration of you and many others. But such journeys are beyond me, and were I to dare them, I would stray too far, taken in by fork-tongued devils and tricked into worshipping false idols. So here I dwell, intent to suffer no such illusions and pursue my crafts in the sort of peace that can only be secured in solitude.

I understand what a burden this is that I lay upon you, and what a strange and possibly hopeless journey this will be. If you thought to turn back and leave this crestfallen kingdom behind, I would not blame you. There may be nothing for you here. Vast as this world is, you could easily find your way to warmer lands, to a greater lord, a proper king, one who would welcome you with open arms and provide the sanctuary you seek without hesitation. It would doubtless be a wiser path, with a more promising destination, than the long and silent road you now tread.

But should you choose to press on, heeding whatever it is that calls you forth, you may yet be granted safe passage. This lonely castle that I call home would be open to you, that it may once again know the warmth of a rekindled hearth fire. While I know little of my forebears and am not the heir of any great lineage, we could perhaps look to the old tomes, to tales and songs of ancient heroes and far-away lands, that they may guide us in our own journey. The dungeons you will not see, for their upkeep is my burden to bear. But I would gladly show you to the courtyard, where, should the frost recede, your seedlings and saplings could grow into a garden worthy of renown, and perhaps together we could forge a new legacy.

All this, I pray, could be yours in time, whether it is mine to deliver or not. Either way, may you find what you seek.