The Dour Wood
A Short Story
The Dour Wood
OUTSIDE
In a dark and dingy hole, there lived a small, sullen creature named Geri. He was rather short in stature and even shorter in temper. He had wiry black hair, a short, pointy beard, and a long, strong nose. His limbs were stout and sturdy, for he had dug this hole himself. He wore only gray so as to hide in the nooks and crannies of his world.
His hole was near a giant black oak in a very old forest. There were several other holes nearby that Geri could have cleaned up and made a rather nice place to live in, where he could host all sorts of gatherings for his friends. But, instead, he chose to live in his own hole that was quite dark and musty. The furnishings were sparse, and the decorations sparser. He had a small table with two chairs and one bedroom where he slept. And at the foot of his bed, he kept a small wooden chest with a big iron lock. Geri wore the black iron key to the lock around his neck at all times.
Now, Geri lived in the part of the Old Forest called The Dour Wood, which was aptly named by the locals and all who visited it because the massive old trees that grew there. The trees always grew dark and foreboding limbs, which then sprouted the ominous dark leaves that the creatures called the lonesome leaves. Dour Wood had such a heavy and melancholy mood to it that few ever ventured to visit, let alone live there. The young creatures go to the edge of the Wood to play their bravery games, to see who can go the furthest into the Wood before turning tail and running for home. Some said there was a peculiar magic that lingered in that place, something that few people ever talked about, and even fewer remembered the real name for. Geri, however, knew all too well about the Dour Wood and all its turns and twists. The roots and branches of the trees told their own familiar, yet strange, stories.
Geri felt very at home here; he could read the stories for what they are. He could read and hear the tall tales of the trees. Their soft groans and creaks as the breeze sailed by were an occasion for them to whisper bits and pieces of times long since passed. Geri would often sit at the edge of his hole, smoke a pipe, and listen with eyes closed, to the trees as they softly spoke of better times. Geri hardly ever got visitors; a distant relative would stop by and say a short hello and update him on the family news, but would hardly ever stay for dinner. Geri wasn’t well known in the family for being a good host, afterall. His dark, iron eyes would seem to penetrate straight through a cousin or aunt who would take a chance at striking up a conversation with him. So, he lived his days alone, well, mostly alone; the trees kept him company enough.
Geri stayed near home, for there were secrets that needed protecting. Protecting his wooden chest that stayed at the foot of his bed was what he often thought about. He was distrustful of visitors, thinking that they might know what secrets lay within the chest. Afterall, he has been protecting that secret for a thousand years. He wasn’t about to let any creature know it now. He had been entrusted with it, to keep it and guard it, to keep it secret and hidden away until everyone forgot what was in the chest. It was a difficult task, to say the least; he had forgotten why he was even chosen in the first place. But he knew the mission that he was given from his king all those ages ago.
Geri was to protect what was in the chest, to keep it so hidden that the world over would forget what was in it. So far, it has been successfully hidden away, there have not been any wars in a very long time. He had been in many wars in the early years, for it is very difficult to hide what everyone knew about. But as the wars raged on, Geri quietly slipped away and was forgotten. He moved to the Old Forest a hundred years ago and picked the Dour Wood for its unpleasant nature. He often tried to remember the old times, when there was peace in the world, real peace.
He remembered fiery orange sunsets and the massive snowy mountain peaks of his old home. The jagged rocks, that formed the cliffs where one could see for a thousand leagues, are where he would often sit and watch the world go by. He remembered his people, strong, stout, and proud. They had brilliant minds and bright glowing faces. They worked hard to be together back then, in the mountains, before the wars came.
That is what Geri liked very much about the trees. They know all the good stories. The trees have been listening for hundreds of years for all sorts of tall tales, stories, and myths to reach their ever-listening ears. The breeze carries it to them, you know, softly and gently like dainty morsels. And it whispers their tasty treats to the trees. From then on, the trees tell and retell every story they have ever heard, which is quite a lot if you have lived for three hundred years. These trees knew some of the legends of his kin.
They knew the tale of Dorn, who swam the breadth of the mighty Kashish river three times in one night to deliver messages to the general during the siege of The Great City. They also knew the legend of Maef, who dug straight through a mountain of granite so that he could be with his wife. There were many other stories that the trees knew, some were pleasant and made Geri desperately wish to leave and try to find his home again. Other stories however, he wished the trees had never grown old enough to hear them, or that he didn’t have ears to hear them. For all their listening, the trees were never any good at understanding when Geri asked them to stop.
It was about noonday as Geri was reclining at the door of his hole, having just finished a lunch, when a stranger came walking up the narrow dirt path that ran through the Dour Wood. Geri eyed him with an intense curiosity. This stranger did not look like the other folk that occasionally traveled through the Wood. He was clothed in all green from head to toe, and a large, tattered green cloak trailed behind him. He wore a hood and Geri was unable to see his face. But he could see the stranger’s leather boots, which were very dirty and worn from many miles walked. He also had a scabbard on his side that held a short sword. The hilt occasionally glinted in the noonday sun.
The stranger walked wearily down the pathway, barely raising steps to clear the ground and all the while making that familiar scraping sound of a tired marching soldier. Geri knew too well what weary marching was, for he himself was one, many years ago. A lifetime past it seemed.
When the stranger reached the path that branched off to Geri’s hole, he paused and turned slowly to the side and leaned on the old wooden fence that ran around his hole. The stranger’s weight caused the fence to give a brief protesting creak as he rested his heavy, dusty arms upon the wood. Upon the stranger turning, Geri was able to get a full view of his face. The man had a large scar that ran vertically on the left side of his face, making him blind in the eye. His face was weathered from the wind and seeing many terrible things. His bearded face was fatigued and carried a heavy gaze that would make Geri’s fence creak even if he had cast his gaze alone upon it. The stranger’s good eye held a bright blue iris which carried the faintest spark of knowing mysteries long forgotten.
“Hello, Stranger,” greeted Geri. He kept his tone short and tried to appear uninterested at this man’s arrival.
Stranger replied in a dry, gravelly voice, “Sir, I need rest, would you be so kind as to let a world-weary traveler stay awhile at your estate?”
“This is by no means an estate, just a musty hole. But I must say that I cannot. I do not take guests, let alone strangers from distant lands, and a soldier, nonetheless. Tired as you may be, there is another home about ten miles down the road. Go there. Yan is much more welcoming than I.”
“Please, a soldier though I am, I pose no threat to you. I am exhausted from months of walking. I have been fleeing and fighting many dangers along The Way. I shan’t be long, I’m on a mission from the king himself. Give me lodging, I’ll repay. And I’ll be on my way soon enough.” The Stranger’s weary voice carried with it notes of honesty.
Geri was suspicious; he had not seen a soldier around these parts before. And now here is one from the king himself. He had his doubts that the man was passing through. He was likely here for the chest. Geri noticed his pipe had gone out. He relit it and gave it a few puffs so as to seem unperturbed at the stranger’s unpleasant visit. He decided to change tactics.
“Go away.” Putting a hint of a warning in the air. The trees heard the warning also, and slowly began to listen in on the unfolding story of Geri and the man. You never know when a legend will be born. The trees were always listening. Geri cast a sideways glance at the large oak by his hole, annoyed that the trees were always eavesdropping on every conversation.
“You don’t have to be rude.’ Said the stranger, without getting up from the fence, ‘All I am asking for is a few hours reprieve from my travels.”
“Listen here, stranger, I am not looking for any guests or acts of charity. I am neither inn nor innkeeper. Be gone with you, leave me in peace, so I can continue about my day.”
“Geri, I know who you are.” The stranger’s whisper barely made it to his ears. The hearing of his own name set his heart to pounding. How did he know my name? Geri stood up from his chair, and he took a quick look around. He became very worried about the trees. He looked distrustingly at the old oak beside his hole. He had no choice now; he must take this stranger into his home to find out how he knew his name. He could not carry this conversation further outside; the trees were always listening. They surely had heard that the man spoke his name.
“Come in quick then,” Geri spoke in the usual tone that he used when his distant relatives came by. He hoped that the trees would think the man was a distant cousin or some such kin. He turned and opened the door to his hole and gestured for the stranger to follow him in. The stranger opened the small gate and followed Geri to the dark entryway of his hole.
INSIDE
Geri closed the door behind the stranger as he entered through the oaken door to Geri’s hole. Geri quickly bolted the door and spun around to see the stranger drop himself heavily into one of the wooden chairs. The stranger looked quite comical in such a small chair, since Geri made them himself. Making the man look more like a giant trying to find himself at home in a human’s abode. The stranger let out a tired sigh and tried to sink a little lower into his little chair, which wasn’t much, given the circumstances of their differences. Geri was a little annoyed and put off by the stranger’s apparent lack of manners. The stranger seemed to make himself more comfortable when Geri himself was on high alert, suspicious of what the stranger wanted, and most of all, driven by a curiosity about how the stranger knew his name.
There was a small window in the living room that let in the warm glow of the afternoon sun. It lit the room well, making it feel inviting and cozy, and not at all as if there was a mysterious standoff between two strangers in the Dour Wood. Geri walked over to the window without ever letting the stranger out of his gaze. He often enjoyed the half hour or so when the sun would shine through his small window. It reminded him of brighter days on the mountain when things were less… He wasn’t quite sure how to put it. Maybe peaceful, probably more akin to joyful, but with more excitement. These times seemed more of a bore, sitting around, waiting for the world to forget who he was.
At last, Geri broke the silence with the question, “How do you know my name?”
“Oh, I read it in a book, I suppose. Or maybe it was a poem?” The stranger answered with an air of indifference, as if he could not be bothered to remember. He did not seem in the least bit interested in Geri, but rather looked around the room from where he was seated. Though his posture was tired and rested heavily in the chair, his gaze was careful, and he scrupulously looked over everything that his eye could see in the room.
“No doubt looking for my chest.” Geri thought. He pondered within himself the possible outcomes of this standoff. He must undoubtedly get rid of this stranger. If he knew who he was, then surely he knew what was in the chest. Such a secret would upset the world itself. He was given this mission for a reason, though in the moment, he couldn’t exactly remember what it was.
“Look here, you.” Geri began, “ I don’t know who you are or how you found out my name. But identify yourself at once and your purpose for being here.” Mustering up all the threat and intensity in his voice as he could, he spoke to the stranger. He tried to stare straight into him with a hostile gaze. It had been a hundred years since Geri had used any kind of weapon. So he was hopeful that he would get the answers he needed. He was significantly smaller than the man, since he was a dwarf. Though Geri was confident in his own intellect, he was starting at a disadvantage since the soldier knew who he was.
“You can call me Rafael for now. And I think you know why I am here. The story goes that you have something that the world wants, but you stole it away for yourself. Let’s not muck about too much longer. Give me the Book, and I will be on my way.”
This sent Geri reeling back. This man knew what was in the chest, too? The Book that contained the Hope of the world. His people had taken possession of it many ages ago. Their people were failing, and the mountans were running empty. They needed something, and the legends spoke of a book of Hope. This Book would fulfill the hopes of all who read it. But it had been long since lost from memory. But the dwarves found it after a hundred years of diligent and costly searching.
But such a thing does not stay secret for long. The world soon found out, and they had their reasons for needing hope. The battles began, and the wars raged on; many people perished. But the king of the dwarves, in the final battle of his people, gave the Book of Hope to Geri and told him to run away and hide. He blessed him with long life and told him to wait till the world once again forgot where and what the Book was.
Geri barely escaped, but his people were defeated. They were enslaved by the world and held in derision for trying to keep such a thing to themselves. Now it has been ages, and things have settled into the ways they have always been. His people were defeated and lived in their defeat all their days. Geri felt that the time was growing closer; the trees seldom talked about it anymore. That is when he knew when the time would come to free his people, and then they would rule the world. They would be king over all peoples and would once again be prosperous and mighty.
Geri was thinking of all this, and it sent his mind spinning. He stared blankly for several seconds at Rafael. He was in a helpless position. He must know how this man found out where he was. “How did you find out what was in the chest?”
“To finish the puzzle, first you need all the pieces.”
“How many pieces are there?”
Rafael leaned forward in his chair, smiling smugly, and said, “Just enough to see the big picture. And besides, sometimes, some pieces are more important than others. You can hold the piece you like for as long as you want, but it is useless without the others. I know you have the book, but it is useless on your own. Give me the Book and let me take it back to my people.”
“Never.” Geri snapped. “This book belongs to our people. We found it, so it belongs to us. Your people are the ones who started the wars so long ago.”
“That is in the past. We need the Book now. We had lost hope until now. The world needs the Hope that the book can bring us. Rumors of wars are spreading. The people of the world are preparing for battle once again. We are trying to prevent this from happening.”
“Why should I trust you?” Geri was torn. He had heard the rumors through the trees. But he had felt insulated in the Dour Wood, far from wars and bloodshed. He had expected to live through them, on the edge of history, out of sight. Waiting for the time to come to show the Book to the world.
“What is hope for but to trust in what you cannot yet see? The world needs to be unified under the Book. We must have peace again. This is the solution to the world’s pain.”
Rafael’s words made sense to him. He had read the Book before, and it spoke of Hope in that way. It was unifying, if you believed in it. But men were selfish. They could be manipulated to hope in the wrong things. But such was the fate of many in times past. The world could use a bit more hope, Geri thought.
All of a sudden, it was as if a bright light shone in his mind. The hope of peace, the hope of freedom for his people. The wars would bring everything back eight hundred years. What use is hope if it isn’t shared? Geri felt a surge of deep regret well up inside him. How could he have hidden away the book for so long?
“Alright, I’ll give it to you. But you must let me go with you. I will carry the Book. It has been entrusted to me all these years. I will see it through to the end.” Geri felt the tension and suspicion of the past three hundred years fall off him like a giant oak falling in the forest. But as it did, a new peculiar weight settled on him. Vaguely similar to what it was before, that of responsibility. But with it came a delightful lightness, a brightness that illumined his mind and made its way outwards through his face and took the form of a smile. This must be what hope feels like.
“That easy, eh?” Rafael looked knowingly at him. He must have hope as well. A hope against hope. That a lowly dwarf, hidden away for hundreds of years, whose sole mission was to keep the Book secret, would turn the Book over in a simple conversation. Hope is a powerfully strange thing.
“That easy.” said Geri. He packed a few things into a bag and removed the key from his neck. He gently unlocked the chest and, with both hands on the lid, opened it. The Book was wrapped in a dark oilcloth. The book he protected for nearly a thousand years. The years of it not being used weighed heavily on Geri, but he knew that the Book would make a difference in the world. He lifted himself up from the floor, stood, and turned towards the man who was once a stranger. Smiling at Rafael, he said.
“I am ready.”