A revision of history

When Poxig returned home, he was surprised to meet his former childhood companions, Smeedle and Popnose, who had not moved from their house upon the dale. Of course, everyone knows that it is impossible to return to being a child, but meeting his former friends actually got him closer to doing so. Perhaps he would attain his sense of wonder again.

He couldn’t believe his luck. He was sitting in the dale beside the old manse, and Smeedle came from behind the corner. He dusted off his tunic, for he had been riding his pony and had just tied it to a tree. The man, now fully grown, recognized his childhood friend instantly.

“Poxig, is it you?” asked Smeedle.

“How do you know me?” asked Poxig.

“You old plart! What are you doing here?”

“It can’t be! Smeedle?”

“Guilty as charged!”

“Well, sir! It has been a long time.”

“Certainly. Are you staying here for long?”

“Yes, while I await the king’s reply. I have since gone on a quest of expansive proportions. But you could say that I’ve been there and back again.”

“Ah, you don’t mean king Charles? You have very little possibility of seeing the king’s face. He has locked himself in a tower since you left 20 years ago.”

Poxig hadn’t counted on such a situation to arise. He remembered Marginalia as a quiet place that was ruled by the old sages. But that time had now passed, and the country had become as lawless as a horse caught in a firestorm. They chatted like this for some time, until it grew late. The subject of conversation varied from Popnose, who had married and had 8 children, to the imp infestation, which now had begun to terrify the denizens of the small village of Excelsior, to the misty weather, for which Marginalia had always been known.

Popnose trailed behind the two as they walked down the road from Excelsior. Poxig began to feel a sense of impending doom, as it was unlikely that his missive should reach the king’s view, and this idyll with his former friends seemed to continue into oblivion. Although it was impossible to retain all of this memory that he had had with his friends, he could relive his childhood to some extent, and likewise to learn the great wisdom of the ages, that you had to become childlike in order to be able to become a light warrior.

Poxig had to leave his friends behind. After the first passing words, he found that he had hardly anything to say to either one of them. They were too enmeshed in the hackneyed ideas of fatherhood and the doldrums surrounding them; they had no place for adventure in their hearts. They looked forward to a safe bed and plenty of food, and for Smeedle and Popnose, this was the pinnacle that they aspired to. Poxig went in search of another means to reach the king’s ear. He would have to find the king’s emissary Er. Seljuk.

Poxig & SP