Bartholomew left Shadow on the side of the mountain and made his way down to his parent’s cottage. He tried not to think that this could be the last time he slept in his room, the room where he had so many hopes and dreams when he was a child, the house where his parents and siblings loved him even though there were times when they couldn’t understand him, and the village where everyone could recall past escapades with these friends. He knew that he was not able to share his reasoning for this journey which would take him so far from home and those he loved. He knew that he could not guarantee anyone that he would return to visit and regale the village children with stories of his journey. What he could not say, no, what he would not say, was that this might be the last that they ever saw of him.
He went into his room and lay down on his old boyhood bed. He had long ago outgrown it but that was okay. He needed to feel connected to his past life so that he could move on with his new. There was a strong part of him that wanted this urge for answers to just “go away” and let him be free of this driving force, so that he could just be like all the other guys his age. But almost as soon as that thought entered his mind, he thought of the other side, the other part of who he was – the one that was so connected and tied to Shadow, the part that he had to find the answers to.
He did not sleep well that last night. He awoke much earlier than he needed and packed his meager belongings in his leather satchel. He buckled his sword to his side and his dagger slid in its sheath along the top of his boot. He was not going to journey into the unknown without a means of protecting himself. He grabbed his cloak from its hook by the door and went into the main part of the cottage. His mother had spent the day before making her special elven bread so he could take it with him. As he was putting it in his pack, his mother came into the room.
“So, Bartholomew, are you ready to go?”
He paused in his packing and then replied in a low voice, “Yes, Mother. I am packed and ready.”
She came towards him and wrapped him in her arms, drawing him close to her. With a catch in her voice she said, “We will miss you, Bartholomew. I wish you didn’t have to leave and go out on your own like this. It seems like it was only yesterday that you were romping around the village and getting into mischief. I am so afraid that if you go, I might not ever see you again. Are you sure you need to do this?" There was a hopeful look on her face as she looked up at Bartholomew. He shook his bowed head, not able to look her in the eyes to see the hurt he knew would be there. She continued softly, "May the gods watch over you, love, while you are away and may they bring you back to us when you have fulfilled your quest.”
Bartholomew knew that his parents, while they were trying to support him, didn’t really understand why he needed to leave. His father came in from gathering the wood for the morning fire. “So, son, I see your bag is packed. You’ve got your sword. Did you get your Mother's bread? Does that mean you’re ready to leave?” Bartholomew nodded, his voice having left him speechless.
“I don’t understand why you are leaving but I know that you have not been happy for a long time. It seems that your mother and I can’t help make it better like when you were young. Heaven knows we’ve tried. You are now a man; it is yours to fix. Go. Find peace…if you can.” His father’s voice was filled with emotion making it sound gruff and unfeeling. Bartholomew knew that his father was just concerned for him and didn’t want him to leave. Maybe it would have been easier if he had told them about Shadow and his findings and why this was important to him. Then, maybe they would understand - maybe they could help.
After saying goodbye to his parents, he walked out the door and started down the path to the road. Halfway down, he looked back at the cottage for one last time, hoping to burn this memory into his mind. His parents standing in the doorway; his father’s arm around the shoulders of his wife; his mother wiping at the tears that were freely flowing down her cheeks; and both of them bravely waving. He turned and continued, knowing that they stood there watching until they could see him no more and that he was breaking their hearts.
Bartholomew kept telling himself to put one foot in front of the other – keep going, don’t look back, don’t think about what you are leaving behind, this is what’s best for Shadow and him. It did not take him long to go through his village and into the forest beyond. Since he did not know how far he would need to go, he kept to the roads and paths as he came upon them as they were easier to travel – always keeping track that he was going north.
North!
After walking all day, he got off the main roads to find a good place to spend the night. He thought he had found a good spot. It was protected and secluded, well away from the normally-traveled routes. He didn’t want Shadow’s arrival to be noticed now that he was in unknown territory. There was a small clearing for him to land, surrounded by thick trees and dense underbrush for cover with large boulders to hide his size. While he waited for Shadow to arrive, Bartholomew snared and skinned a rabbit, roasted it over a very small fire, and ate it with a bit of his mother’s bread. There was a small brook not too far away so he could drink and wash. The night air was chilly, so he threw his cloak around his shoulders and waited for his friend.
As he sat staring into the flames, he allowed his mind to wander. There was still a small part of him that questioned his wisdom. In all his searching for the truth, there was not one piece of evidence that proved he would even find what he wanted…well, what he hoped to find anyway. And, just what was it that he wanted? He had a dragon - not only a dragon, but one that he could ride. According to all the stories he had heard, that made him a dragon rider. It was rare to see a dragon and even more rare to be able to ride one. Bartholomew could not find anything about dragons or their riders after the War of the Dragons. So why did he feel that this was so important to his destiny? Why did he feel the need to find that one elusive person and his dragon? What made him even THINK that they still were alive if they ever existed in the first place? For what?! Bartholomew wanted to become a dragon rider, one of the best, and maybe bring the Elite Dragon Guard back. But to do that, he must first find the Master Rider and his dragon, the oldest dragon according to that manuscript he found in the back room of the tower, a dragon named Baroness. Bartholomew rubbed his left hand as he continued to gaze into the fire. Then he and Shadow could train and maybe find others just like him who also wanted to reclaim the honor given to the Elite Dragon Guard. That was his quest. Being a part of the Elite Dragon Guard was their destiny.
In the stillness of the night, Bartholomew heard the faint flapping sound and felt the air move as it was disturbed by a large bird-like animal coming towards him. Shadow had arrived. He left the campfire and walked over to stand by the boulders, waiting for Shadow to land. He felt better knowing that his friend was about to arrive - less lonely. Shadow stretched out his legs, his talons grasping at the grass and rocks on the hillside, his wings folding in close to his body. Shadow lowered his head close to his friend. Bartholomew took off his glove and placed his hand between his dragon's eyes. They were united as one and both could now find peace - the first peaceful feeling either had that day. They were both officially on their way to new lives, new experiences, new friends, and new discoveries. Now, Bartholomew could sleep with Shadow by his side.
created originally 1 June 2011
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