The Hermit and Pemkili Gyaltsen
From a telling by archivist of ancient Tuqueti history in Shes Rig Mdzods, Yigsha (archivist) mindu Shes Rig Kunchen:
When the Tu-quet people first arrived in the Faewylds, they were as fervent as any other echinder of their time. However, their time in the Faewylds challenged their love of the deities for whom worship of had migrated in as well. Before Tu-quet society began to stabilize, they lived in dangerous places, praying and hoping for safety. Even those who had previously been connected to the gods, or had claimed to speak to them, could no longer hear them. As a feeling of abandonment by their gods settled over them, the early settlement in the Aralusi Canyon was prone to chaos, days of starvation, and grotesque deaths caused by unknown local flora and fauna. In despair, a bramze known as mibrpa Pemkili Gyaltsen fled from the Aralusi Canyon, seeking the gods to appeal to them. He did not know where he was going, but only knew that he had to seek guidance outside of the fear and chaos that reigned around him. He walked for days, hiding in fear, foraging where he could, and drinking from what pools of water he could find. He stuck close to the side of the canyon, looking for any signs from the gods that he could reach out to them. The twilight of the Faewylds made it difficult for him to keep track of time, and the Aralusi Canyon had split off into multiple tributaries. Pemkili had lost any sense of where precisely he was or how long he had been walking. He slept when he was exhausted, lost, and growing more fearful.
At some point during his walking, he smelled wood burning from somewhere in the distance, with a hint of cooked meat on the wind. Hoping to find some kind of civilized presence, he moved towards the scent, until he came to a walled garden, adjoined by a large stone cottage. The proportions of the building seemed unreal to Pemkili, with the massive wooden door being nearly 15 feet high. Smoke poured from the chimney, and Pemkili knew he had found the source of the smell, and now sought to gain entrance. He approached the massive door, banged his fist against it, and collapsed - finally exhausted.
When he awoke, Pemkili found himself resting comfortably in a bed not far from the fire. A giant, grey-bearded creature sat in a nearby rocking chair, his dark grey robes pooling on the floor beneath him. Though he had the figure of a human man, his proportions were all wrong. His face was long and thin, eyes without pupils instead a dark pool of blue, and his fingers too long and too spindly. Where visible, his skin was gnarled and wrinkled, dark and ashy. As he rocked, he seemed to be knitting thread with his hands into the fabric of his grey robes. One foot seemed to work a spinning machine, creating the thread he was working with.
Seeming to hear Pemkili stir, the creature turned to face him more directly, a smile spreading unnaturally across his face, seeming to intersect with wrinkles that did not move but were instead were interrupted. Pemkili did not know what to make of his host, and asked carefully, "Are you.. are you a god?"
The creature did not laugh audibly, but Pemkili felt a sense of pleasure radiate out at him, and he felt good, comforted, safe. Pemkili pressed, nervous that he had fallen into a trap of some fae creature he was being unduly charmed by. "Fae?" A thoughtful look came over the creature's face, but after a moment his head shook gently.
Noticing a look of consternation cross Pemkili's face, and the creature cocked its head. His mouth opened, and it spoke, but the sound seemed to come from all around Pemkili. The voice was stilted, and lilting, but gentle. "We were First. We are of Rynn. We are the Material. I am a Gardner. I am a Hermit. I contemplate. You are are a foreigner here in my thoughts. It is rare. You are welcomed to stay. Regain your strength, dear Gnau."
Pemkili looked around, confused by references to "we". Seemingly without asking, the Gardner/Hermit answered, "My kindred and I. They are not here. They are elsewhere now. I am a Hermit. I persist alone here. But you are welcome."
Still, Pemkili was unsure what this creature was. "What should I call you, creature?"
Again, the Gardner/Hermit's strange smile intersected with the hard wrinkles on his face, interrupting them. "Creature is fine, but not all. Some who know me call me the Hermit. Others the Gardner. The Old Fae call me Fyaidwch. You perceive me as a Hermit. So for you, I am the Hermit, I suspect."
Pemkili tried to focus on his surroundings. Everything felt real, but dreamlike. He did not trust his senses, feeling simultaneously at ease but tense. "I don't understand, Hermit. I perceive you as the Hermit?"
The smile on the Hermit's placid face remained unchanged, cracking open again as his voice filled the room from all directions. "No, dear Gnau, you do not understand. Once the Wylds were everywhere. You and your people have been too long from the Wylds. What you see here is what you can understand of here. But you understand very little. This is common of the echinder."
"But where am I?" ask Pemkili.
"My home," replied the Hermit. "A mouth of the Aralusi River. A source of powerful inflow from the Great Seas."
Shaking his head slowly, Pemkili surrendered to the strangeness of the situation. Regardless of where he was, he could only hope that the Hermit could help him. "I left my people in search of the gods, in search of help. I have wandered for days, and I fear for my people. Do you know how I can contact them here?"
The feelings in the room shifted to sadness, and the smile turned downward into a frown. "The Monsters from the Great Seas do not come here. The Wylds are too pristine for them. They cleared the Wylds in some places. In these scars on Rynn they visit for a time. There they repeat their ancient battles. You will not find them here. I am all sorrow for you, dear Gnau."
Despair gripped at Pemkili, and he felt tears well up in his eyes. "My people.. we have come here escaping the horrors of Terra Rynn. We sought refuge, but have found no peace here." His voice began to crack as he found it difficult to contain the toll that the Faewylds had wrought upon his people. "We seek only a place to rebuild, and survive."
A feeling of empathy filled the room, and the Hermit responded, "Have you entered into agreement with the Merchant?" Pemkili looked at the Hermit, confused, uncertain. "My Kindred. He knows all people. All people know him. I do not feel his mark upon you. No agreement has been brooked."
"Tell me where to find him, Hermit! Please, I will do anything for help."
Sadness at Pemkili's words welled up in the room, and the Hermit's frown deepened. "Agreements in desperation abrogate their basis." Pemkili felt his despair rise again, but a third hand appeared from under the Hermit's robes and reached out to stroke Pemkili's dirty hair. "My Kindred is far. Your need is great. It is how you found me, dear Gnau. I will not remake you. I will weave you new fabric. I will patch the tapestry of Rynn for now." A fourth hand appeared from the robes, grabbing a second set of knitting needles. The hermit dipped his third and fourth hands down, Pemkili was suddenly filled with a sense of being tugged, but it was not a physical sensation. Finding himself unable to speak or move, he heard the Hermit softly singing.
"I'll make you new clothes,
"And sew them through,
"And then we will see
"How they fit you.."
As the Hermit sang softly, Pemkili's eyes grew heavy. With each blink, he found himself drifting off into sleep.
Not knowing how much time had passed, Pemkili eventually awoke and found himself still in the hut of the Hermit. The Hermit smiled at the groggy Gnau, and as Pemkili looked down he saw that his clothes were now a robe of brilliantly colored purple, with bands of silver, gold, and forest green flowing through in seemingly no discernable pattern. Despite the apparent chaos, Pemkili thought it was beautiful. Still he was confused. "I do not understand, Hermit. How will these new clothes help my people?"
The Hermit's smile returned, and a sense of calm filled Pemkili once more, easing his confusion but not alleviating it. "You do not understand. Your people are curious. You will learn. This clothing is as you perceive it. But you are changed. I have patched the tapestry. It is not perfect. But it will help for a time. You will stay with me for now. I will show you my garden. I will show you the tapestry. You will find your place in it, dear Gnau. Come with me now, let me know you my Garden."
Not feeling enchanted, but curious, Pemkili rose as the the Hermit stood. Opening one of the massive doors in the stone hut, Pemkili stepped out into what the Hermit referred to as the Garden. Blinking against unexpected light, Pemkili held his hands up to shade his sight. He looked around, trying to find the stone wall he remembered seeing when he first approached the hut, but could not perceive it. The flora of the Garden overflowed, and was lush. Grass grew tall, flowers bloomed as big as Pemkili's head, thick vines flowing up rocks. In the distance, a great waterfall thundered into a yawning mouth, refracting light into shimmering rainbows. Hearing some clattering, Pemkili looked up to see the light moving. A single arm had emerged from the Hermit's robes, extending out and grasping onto a thick, long branch. At the end of the branch, hanging from a chain, was a lantern, seemingly as bright as the sun Pemkili remembered. The light seemed to flow outward, it's brightness casting long shadows and reaching as far the waterfall.
Amazed, Pemkili looked to the Hermit with awe. "S-s-surely, Hermit," he began, stuttering, "you are a god."
Smile cracking across the Hermit's face, he replied gently, "The Kindred are not gods. We are not from the Great Seas. We are of Rynn, dear Gnau." Another arm emerged from the robes, reaching unnaturally down without forcing the Hermit to crook his back, and rested on Pemkili's back urging him forward softly. "Come now, dear Gnau. There is much to see in the Garden. I will show you what I can. You and your people must learn the rest."
Once again Pemkili was unsure how much time passed. He never tired, did not grow hungry, and he listened eagerly as the Hermit introduced him to the flora growing in the Garden. The Hermit approached each thing in the Garden, introducing Pemkili to them as though he was helping strangers meet for the first time. Eventually, though, the Hermit's lantern began to dim, and his mouth opened in a wide, spanning yawn. He reached down again, and turned Pemkili back the way they had come. Finally the outline of the stone hut came into view. Approaching, the Hermit planted the branch into the earth and and opened the door ushering Pemkili gently inside. Over the hearth, a black pot bubbled, the scent of food carrying through the hut. The Hermit walked over, ladled some stew into a bowl and handed it to Pemkili, then slumped into his chair. Two arms emerged and he again began to knit while his foot again began to work the spinning wheel.
Pemkili looked into his stew, and pondered all he had learned. "My time here comes to an end, doesn't it Hermit," he asked cautiously, now nervous to return to the Faewyld.
The Hermit looked tired, but gentle. "Yes, dear Gnau. Our time together has been edifying, but I tire."
Pemkili took a bite of the stew, finding the flavor complex but incredible. After swallowing, he looked back to the Hermit. "Can we call upon you for help, Hermit?"
Softly the Hermit smiled slightly, but his face seemed somehow stern. "No, dear Gnau. For you I am the Hermit. I am not your champion. I am not your deity. Some of your people will meet me again. But you tire me, and I have much to contemplate. I have not the energy of the Merchant or the Star. Trust your curiosity. Contemplate your place in the Wylds. Find your place in the weave, dear Gnau."
"What of your other Kindred, Hermit?"
"My Kindred will have little interest in you. Save for the Merchant. There will be ire over your new robes." A chuckle radiated among the rafters of the stone hut, but the Hermit ramained still, smiling wide. "Beware the Merchant. He also dresses as the Magician, and the Diplomat. He concerns himself with echinder. Even newly clothed he will likely call upon you. Hold fast to yourselves, dear Gnau."
They chatted further as Pemkili ate through his bowl of stew. After taking his last bite, and setting the bowl aside, a deep exhaustion quickly set in. Before he knew it, Pemkili was asleep.
He awoke into the twilight of the Faewylds, in the ruins of a stone building. No waterfall fell in the distance, only the roaring sound of one of the Aralusi's tributaries. Above him, hanging from a gnarled branch, hooked into a clasped, wooden hand was a lantern that glowed brightly. Standing suddenly, and looking down at his clothes, Pemkili wore what he had come in - a leather tunic, pack, and cotton pants. They were now clean, with any tears in the fabric seemingly repaired. He looked around, shaking away the dream of the Hermit's cottage, donned the lantern over his shoulder and journeyed home.
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