The Well
Walking through the dark and lonely forest of her dreams, she heard a sound both strange and familiar. It pulled at forgotten strings within her with a primal urgency, and altering her course, she let the sounds of sadness and frustration guide her path.
Upon reaching a clearing in a moonlit wood, she spied a knight in armor of black. He sat at the edge of a well with his back to her and seemed to be hard at work at some task. It became apparent that whatever chore he was attempting was not lending favorable results as the despairing sounds which led her there were coming from his lips. She moved toward him cautiously, ever on her guard and did get a better look. His armor had many battle scars, some old and some not quite. He wore a sword at his side which no doubt had seen much use in this man’s life. Although he appeared strong and capable, success at this moment seemed to be eluding him and his sadness over it hung in the air and weighed heavy upon his shoulders. She stepped a little closer, meaning to make herself known to him.
“Good evening, milord,” she said. “I heard the sounds of thy labor as I was walking and did come to find the source of such despair.”
He turned to look at her, surprised someone was there. She met his dark gaze and found a reflection of her soul.
“Good evening to thee, milady,” he replied.
“To what end doth thee struggle so over this well?” she asked.
Sighing, he replied, “Dear lady, I have been wandering far from home and from those whom I cherish for quite a long time and my soul is both weary and dry. I have been through much, not all of which has been of a good nature and I stopped here for rest and to drink from this well. Tis a beautiful well with sparkling water which seems to hold the promise of nourishment for a parched soul. Alas, each time I reach toward the water to bring a handful to my lips, the level doth drop just out of my reach. Tis this I labor over, milady.”
She was thoughtful a moment, considering his plight for she was painfully familiar with the enchanted well.
At last, she said “Most noble knight, that which thou doth try to drink of is the Well of Happiness. Its source runs deep within these grounds from a cool Spring of Contentment. Many times I have moved to touch its enchanting water and found it able to elude my fingertips. It is said that sadness may never touch it, and as I carry much of that within my heart, I gave up long ago. Tis beautiful to gaze upon, however.”
The knight considered her words as he looked into the well. He could see himself reflected there upon its mirrored surface and he began to count each dent and scrape marring his armor. Knowing every wound inflicted left its mark upon his person, he saw plainly why he met with failure in drinking from this well. Too weary to continue his journey, he turned to the woman.
“Would that thou might find it possible to sit with me a spell and talk, I would be grateful. Steady companions are not a thing known to me of late, and I would be most appreciative to thee for the company.”
Intrigued by this visitor in her land, she answered with a slow nod of her head and moved to take a seat nearer to him. He did not spark the typical fight or flight response in her and as they talked, she felt a loosening of a knot within her chest. Conversation was simple and easy on her tongue and she was very at ease in his company. His words not only spoke to her ears, but to an ancient and mysterious part of her, the essence of her. His eyes on her were like warm hands kneading tense muscles along her neck and back.
What they might speak about, he did not care. He was fatigued to the bone, in sore need of the healing balm of friendship, and this lady did seem kind. She did not appear the warrior type yet there was a strength about her which he noticed she held tightly about her as a cloak. He vaguely wondered how she came to wander these woods alone.
As they talked well into the night, they found they had much in common in some ways. They spoke of good books they had read and fine performances they had seen. They spoke of families and friends, of loves lost and found. Forgetful of their problems for this time, they found great joy in each other’s company, and smiles shone and laughter sounded where just before there had been emptiness.
Dawn began to break on the horizon and the knight knew he must return to his duties in the field. She understood this and accepted it, glad only that she was able to know him for this night. His touch upon her would last a lifetime, she felt.
Not wanting the encounter to end, he sighed heavily and picked up his helmet to prepare to leave. He thought about her loneliness in these woods and the battles she would face herself on her own journeys. They stood together, finally not speaking at all, and embraced gently, both giving and receiving strength and hope one unto the other.
Tenderly, he whispered to her, “When battles wear thee down and thou doth need me, come here to this place and think of me. In this place, thou art safe, I am here.”
He then brushed his lips across her brow and cheek. She found her body answered of its own accord, eager to taste his lips upon her own.
In the urgency to hold her ever closer, the knight’s helmet fell into the well with a splash. Both the woman and the knight reached to grab it before it sank forever. To their great surprise, their hands plunged deep into the sparkling water. With the helmet forgotten, they stared in amazement as the ripples in the water settled and the mirror-like surface returned.
As the sun lazily spread its brilliance upon them, they studied their reflections. She noticed the dents and scrapes which had been present in his armor were now mended and it shone with a bright polish. He looked at her and saw that her cloak had fallen away from her and her strength was now carried in the warmth of her smile and in the light shining in her eyes.
They slowly cupped the sparkling water in their hands and offered the other’s lips a drink. It was a drink from the well of happiness which is fed from a cool spring of contentment deep within. It is said that sadness may never touch it. |
