From the river and the rocks, from the smooth stones and the calming hum of geothermal forces just below them, a harmony was made.
Warmth. Radiance. Fringing, slender mushroom-caps arched above like ladies’ fingers, pale as infant skin against the mellow light. It was a grove of symmetry, tranquility, a perfect circle of paradise where the serpentine coils of the river had doubled up on one another and formed a perfect, singular island.
A respite. An oasis.
The water here was warm. Rook realized that the moment he hung his sandals around his neck and let bare feet dip into the shallows, let the gentle current of the river close around his ankles like smooth silk. The rock itself throbbed with gentle warmth like pavement touched by sunlight.
With the first and then each new step towards the island, the sense of PEACE descended.
Rook’s passage left clear footprints in the dust, collecting a thin shimmer of it on the bottoms of his feet as he moved from the water across the smooth-stone shore. A fine, glimmering powder seemed to cover the tiny island, lending a pastel, unearthly cast to the natural flora. Even shadows seemed subdued.
And with each step, the PEACE grew.
There were others here. Elf-people, calm people, meditating between the trees or fishing idly by the shore. They waved to Rook as the hooded figure passed and he waved back, his heart lightening. Their baskets were empty, but the smiles did not leave their faces. All is well. That was their greeting to the swordsman, gentle and passive. All is well, brother, and life is fine.
And Rook felt fine too.
The pale dust settled in his black hair and turned it silver-gray as he reached the center of the island, the heart of pure contentment, a circular pool like the pupil of an eye filled with pure, clear water. Lotus blossoms grew in washed-out pinks and whites upon its surface, a picturesque and idle beauty.
To one side, a thin stream of water flowed against gravity, pouring upwards from the pool to a sloping mushroom-cap which billowed out like a giant umbrella, shading the oasis with its gentle presence. Rook turned his head to see its lacy gills above, as white and comforting as mothers’ milk, and did not miss the sky.
He sat on the side of the pool and let his bare legs dangle down into the water, perfectly temperate, and ceased to feel his own flesh. He closed his eyes. There was no birdsong, or breeze. Only beauty. Only balance.
Only
peace.
Last edited: Apr 23, 2018
