The Queen of Penesthelia and Firman The Brave 10

The Fish of Wisdom

As you know, best beloved, if you sail across the sea to its southern shores from the lands of Penesthelia, you find dry and untidy lands of salt and stone. If you travel many days across them, you come to a wild wasteland of stones and sands that becomes colder every day you proceed south, where nothing flourishes that men have planted, and all that can be found are trees and tangles and thorns that have grown on the world for many millions of years. And if you travel enough weeks, you come to lands of snow and ice that always feel like winter, where there is but a single day and night every year.

So sailed Firman the Brave and his companions and his horse, and they crossed lands man had never crossed, and found the going hard, for the stones cut hoofs and cut feet, and there was nothing to eat, and near nothing to drink, until they began to wonder if there ever would be returning from that place of death. But on they went without regard, for Firman the Brave was filled with a love of the Queen of Penesthelia in his heart.

Came they in time to a wide high place, from which they could see the gleam of ice in the south, and on its flat top, there was a pool of water in which was built a font, and around the waters was a grove of tall purple trees. Firman the Brave said to his companions, “Look here, for this surely must be the place of the lake, and in the lake, there is the fish, and in its mouth, there is the nut that gives the fish wisdom, and the nut and the fish we must bring back to the Queen.”

They went to the water’s edge, and the dog ran up and down, and the squirrel chivvied, and Asil drank, and the child put in her hand and drew it out, for the water was bitter cold, but Firman said, “Go back among the trees and wait, and I will sit here by the shore of the pool of water, for never a fish came up to dogs and children and squirrels and horses at the door to its home.” And they saw that was best and went and cast themselves down among the tall, slender, purple trees and waited.

Firman the Brave sat down on a stone by the water and he waited likewise.

He waited, and he waited, and he waited longer, for summer was the season in the south of the world. The day lasted a very long time until blue evening came, and a fish came swimming, all jeweled and gemmed and with crystal eyes. It was the trout, and it said, “Man, what waitest thou here for?”

“I am Firman the Brave of Orestra, and to wed the Queen of Penesthelia whom I love, I must take thee to her and the nut of wisdom in thy mouth.”

“I shall do no such,” the fish said, “unless you answer three riddles I will put to thee.”

“Ask, fish,” said Firman, “for the men of Orestra make and answer many riddles.”

The trout ducked below the water and came up again, and it asked,

“O proud warrior, mark you well:
there are two noble and fleet horses like to yours,
One a mare, one a stallion.
One surges like a black sea, her white teeth like the foam,
the other glistens like white crystal, his mane like the fire.
They race in haste across the mountains of the world,
But neither can outmatch the other.

Firman the Brave pondered the fish in the cold waters with its cold eyes, and then he laughed, and he said,

The two running horses, black and white,
that cannot catch each other in the race:
Know, O fish, that they are day and night,
so you may bewilder me in this place.

“Such is truth,” said the trout in its wisdom. “Now a second riddle I shall ask thee.”

Motionless I stand in green field vast, 
With a crown of gold and mail steadfast. 
A watchful warden of expansive ground, 
But when the flowing maid she kisses me with delight, 
I dance and sway, my gold scattered around.

Firman the Brave put his chin in his hand, and considered the verse, and then he smiled, and he said,

The warden watches o’er the field,
many hours until ’tis revealed:
The maid, fish, is wind that blows all day,
The warden the stalk of grain with which she doth play.

“Such is truth,” said the trout with a splash. “Now the third riddle I shall ask thee.”

The more I grow, the less you own,
Slowly walking, never stopping shown.
I am a river flowing without water's gleam,
A gift bestowed when you first came to be,
A faithful friend who thieves the breath you breathe.
Till taking all that you are given
From the day and night art thou then riven.

Firman the Brave put his hands on his knees and considered the fish circling below him, and then he looked sorrowful.

The friendly river with whom I am born,
bears me to where no man would go:
Time gives all, takes all from man’s first morn
From first spring day to his last snow.

“Such is sad truth,” said the trout with a splash. “Now come with thee I shall, even unto Penesthelia.”