No Chance Encounter
(39 Uthmor 358 SV: 13 of 19)
I have heard it said that Elanthia is a small place, and I think that any but those traders who have to regularly tread its lengthy roads from one province to the next would agree. So it was with only some surprise Damaria and I encountered a friend today who I had last seen in Aesry so many weeks ago. His name is Sarrgon, and he’s a Gor’tog cleric of fine reputation. This is a good thing, for the size of his heart would be ill contained in any smaller race’s body.
We hugged and gave greetings (I felt my bones pop as we did) and I noted the travel dust was thick upon his robes. Introductions were passed around and the Elven healer and Gor’tog cleric were made aquatinted. Sarrgon only rarely beats around the issues and this was no exception as he got right to the point: “I’ve come seeking you.”
I will not pretend to understand this quest of yours”, he continued, “for the idea of somebody one moment being a paladin and then feeling he es not seems a silly thing to me.”
I’ve never been able to argue with Sarrgon, for his points are doubly backed by his wisdom and a strong right hook. Yet, when I opened my mouth to try to explain, he stopped me with a wave of his hand.
“It es no matter, I’ve traveled too far to get assurance that you will be at Glimmerglass and Stormhand’s wedding. They are in need of a paladin during the ceremony, and no matter what you protests, YOU will be that paladin.”
“I will act as befitting the honor of being called to assist them. You will not notice me lacking in that regards.”
Sarrgon’s eyes narrowed beneath his scaly eye ridges, and he looked between me and Damaria with a bemused expression. “You have always been the one who es thinking to deeply. If you would just look and be thankful for what you have instead of what you think you need. You are too much like the story of the Elothean and the Tog.”
“Pardons? I have not heard of this story.”
Ammara had happened upon us where we were still speaking inside the store. He, Damaria, and myself asked for Sarrgon to tell the tale he had heard. We settled to one side of the store where we would be out of the way of patrons, and the Gor’tog Cleric began to speak…
“An Elothean and a Tog were walking along the beach of great blue sea. They were taking turns skipping stones across the waters when the Elothean had a chance to muse, ‘I wonder where the waves come from’.
‘The Tog just shrugged but the Elothean became obsessed with the question. ‘I will find out!’ he proclaimed, and with a running start, dove into the ocean. The Tog watched him swim outward, and then disappear beneath the waves. He patiently sat upon the shore to wait for his friend’s return.
‘The Elothean pressed deeply within the oceans and though he found many wondrous things, nowhere that he swam could he find the source of the waves. Discouraged, he returned to the beach where the Tog still rested on the sand. As the Elothean sat there dripping, he shook his head and said ‘It cannot be discovered, I know not where the waves come from.’
‘The Elothean was shocked, and asked the Tog where he had come up with such an answer. The scaled giant looked at his companion and said, ‘While I sat here waiting for you to return, I noticed that the waves always come from the direction the trees are blown. The wind brings the waves.’
Sarrgon finished the tale, and he must have seen the perplexity that crossed our faces for the cleric explained the moral of the story was this: sometimes you have to look to see what is in front of you before you go diving for answers too deep. He clapped my shoulders with an affectionate pat (the dent in my armor is still there) and, after a smile to both Damaria and Ammara, made his excuses to travel onward. “There es much work to do yet before this wedding.”
I will let you take what lessons you may from this story, Good Reader, but I included it here for the sake of its teller’s wisdom. Until the next entry, I bid you good paths.