"The Mystery" | Fenwomple, Muriel

Written by Time Scholar

The fenwomple danced.
He danced for lost love and hidden knowledge. He danced for moons and auroras, for times past and those yet to come. He danced for the joy of those who have died, and the sorrow of those not yet born. The fenwomple danced cloaked in night and crowned with stars. He danced by the glow of fireflies and music of the forest—he danced til daybreak came and the music died in blinding light.
I dropped my pen and parchment and knelt on the forest floor. My whole body trembled and I placed my forehead against the ground, feeling twigs and leaves press into my skin. My left eyebrow twitched spasmodically. I screamed internally, and a torrent of thoughts pounded in my brain.
I must find it... I have to find the key... is there a key? No one cares. They walk and they talk, they learn and they write. No purpose... no reason... around and around. Empty knowledge. We eat and we drink, we observe and we talk. So much talking... where is the key? Where is the end? I must find it. I must... I need...
I collapsed, sobbing. Searching and searching... I found no end.
I awoke several hours later, still lying in the forest. Fog began drifting in from a nearby river, cloaking the world in grey. Strange shapes and patterns swirled into and out of being. Muffled sounds penetrated the barrier—drips, rustles, and creaking. No birds sang. Like some dreamscape caught halfway between fiction and reality, an island amid the unknown.
A heavy thump sounded not far away, soon followed by a groan. I mustered the strength to roll over and sit up, staring vacantly in the direction of the noise. Muttering to herself, a young woman stumbled from the fog and paused, having seen me.
“Who are you?” I asked. Her ornate dress seemed oddly out of place here in the middle of nowhere.
“My name is Muriel Eldere, a healer from Maire Glaise and a follower of Elyon.”
“Oh. Aren’t all of you Maire Glaisians healers?”
She laughed. “No, but it seems that way sometimes. Not a bad problem in my mind. What are you doing out here?”
“I came to take scientific observations on certain trees.”
“That makes sense. Aren’t all of you fenwomples scientists?”
“No,” I sighed, “but that’s the way it seems sometimes.”
She walked over and sat, leaning against a nearby tree. She removed a pouch and set it beside her. “Kind of an eerie place, isn’t it? Like we’re all alone in the universe.”
I laughed bitterly. “Aren’t we? Floating in darkness from past infinity and to future destruction. All alone.”
She looked at me curiously. “That sounds bleak. Do you really think so?”
“I don’t know. I... just don’t know.” I said. “I used to think I knew. Now I’m not so sure. I used to think I could learn my way to heaven, I suppose. I would spend hours listening to our greatest teachers, learning all they had to teach. I read almost all of the books in our clan library on everything from history, science, philosophy, geography and any other subject that presented itself. I started making my own discoveries—I discovered the medicinal properties of proltigite when combined with sulphur, for instance.” I rubbed my forehead with one hand.
“Well, it sounds like you did learn a lot. You could bring a much good to the world with all you’ve learned. Did you find what you were looking for?” She asked.
“No. Does anyone? All I did was pull away from my family and clanmates. The Elders told me it was worth it for education, but now I’m not so sure. Looking back, I think those were the last days I was truly at peace. I never saw them much after I left. Only in passing, when we happened to see each other in a studyhouse. The other day I saw my brother for the first time in a few years. I... I don’t think he recognized me.”
The healer listened, eyes wide. “How awful! Not to be recognized by your own brother... why did you ever leave in the first place?”
“I don’t know, really. We fenwomples are so proud of our knowledge, but somehow I didn’t ask why? I was an excellent student, even among our people. The Elders told me that I should become a Wohten, so training began the next year. That was the last time I saw all of my family in one place.
“I’ve finished training since then, and will begin teaching soon.” I smiled wryly. “And then I will be paid to talk. Talk. Always talking...”
The healer frowned. “You don’t seem happy about that. What a wonderful way to glorify Elyon! Think of all the people that will listen to you.”
“Elyon? The deity in the sky? Hm. I’m afraid I’m too much of a skeptic for that. If you’ve studied the history of Ashnuw as much as I have, you would know that he is just another theory that people use to explain all this. He’s not really—“
“What? Just another theory? How can you say that?”
I stood, staring out into the fog. “Even if he does exist, what does it matter? Nothing matters, really. Not in the end.”
“No! Look around you. You family, your friends. They mean something. Have you ever looked out over a grand view from a mountaintop? The world is full of meaning.”
“Well, I’m glad you can take comfort in that. Most people can. If you look deeper, though... somehow things are less clear. The closer you look, the more you see how arbitrary it all is. Like this fog. You seem to see things within it—faces, mountains, flames... but when you look closer, it is all just random. No purpose... no meaning... nothing but endlessly swirling fog.
“It’s the same thing with everything else in this world. Our minds draw pictures out of the chaos, imbuing meaning where is there is none. Everyone struggles through life, telling themselves a delusional story about why anything matters. Somehow we find a way to dance despite the chains of pain and fear. We dance and we dance, spinning so quickly we never stop to look in front of us. Then finally we dance off of that last precipice... death. And it’s all over. Nothing else... no more dancing, no more pain... no more anything. It is over. Forever...”
The healer seemed dumbstruck. I paused and stood swaying for a few moments. “The real mystery is how anyone can dance in the first place. Somehow out of the madness we craft a world where we can laugh. Where we can cry, and sing, and dance. That’s the real mystery.” I shuddered, talking more to myself than the healer now. “How do they do it? How can they still dance?”
As the fog began to clear and the first rays of sunlight broke through the haze, the lyrics of a song I had heard once in a dream came back to me on a haunting melody. All around me are familiar faces, Worn out places, worn out faces. Bright and early for the daily races, Going nowhere. Going nowhere.
And I find it kinda funny, I find it kinda sad, The dreams in which I’m dying are the best I’ve ever had. I find it hard to tell you, ‘cause I find it hard to take. When people run in circles it’s a very, very... Mad world... Mad world.