FicWad

After several hours of carrying Fern around his shoulders, Aramel became weary of walking and stopped, setting the agreeable goat down on the ground. They had reached a green pasture on one of the mountain's bottom slopes where the land was fertile and farmers had planted crops in the rich soil. Aramel spotted a man working in a vegetable patch and walked over to talk to him, Fern trotting along behind. Nearby was a small pond, a fresh water well and a rough-hewn table with tree stumps around it to sit on.

"Good morning," Aramel greeted the farmer, extending his hand in a gesture of friendship.

The elderly man turned to look at the young stranger. His gaze took in Aramel's disheveled appearance, the streaks of dirt on his handsome face and torn clothing, but otherwise pleasant-looking youth. Without changing his expression he shook Aramel's hand, his own grip firm and friendly.

"Were you caught in the landslide, young man?" he asked.

"I'm Aramel," the dark-haired youth replied. "The mountain began falling and the earth buried me beneath it. A rock must have hit me on the head. I was unconscious for awhile, but was lucky to dig myself out. This she-goat - Fern - saved me by falling through the ground into my lap. I picked her up and ran to save us both."

The old farmer studied them with a steady clear-blue gaze. "I'd say you need a bath and Fern here needs a milking. You're welcome to use the pond to wash yourself. You stink worse than the goat. While you're cleaning up I don't mind milking the goat as long as you'll share some of her milk with me. And you can call me Leo."

Aramel smiled at Leo, nodding gratefully. He looked down at his torn, dirty clothes. Rokimas was an island where the climate was warm all year round, thus its inhabitants did not wear much clothing. Most of their clothes were woven from cotton, which grew in abundance. Silkworms thrived on the island as well as the cotton plants. Aramel was dressed in a simple pair of loose-fitting, raw silk trousers that sat low on his hips, fastened with a thin sash made from the same silk, only braided. The elderly farmer was wearing short cotton pants, baggy and full of pockets stuffed with paraphernalia.

Aramel undid his sash and slipped off his trousers. Underneath he was naked, his body dark and gleaming with an allover tan. Walking to the edge of the pond, he slipped quickly into the water. Leo followed him and when Aramel surfaced, pushing his thick black hair out of his eyes, the farmer handed him a bar of soap that he dug out of one of his pockets.

"You might want to wash yourself with this," Leo offered, tossing him the soap and dropping a cotton towel onto the grass beside the pond. "When you're done, come and eat."

Aramel thanked him and working up a lather between his hands, he washed his hair, relishing the feel of the soap, rubbing suds all over his body. When he had finished bathng, he used the soap to wash his filthy trousers, then hung them over a shrub to dry. He jumped back into the pond for a brief swim before climbing out again, wrapping the towel around his slim hips, and approaching the table laden with dishes of fruit, small loaves of fresh bread, some hot porridge and bowls of Fern's fresh milk. Leo had also provided a treat - honey from the bees he kept in a pasture behind his log cabin.

"Thank you for your generosity," Aramel began humbly, but Leo stopped him.

"Nothing pleases me more than having company," Leo said. "Since my wife died I've been alone. We had six children but they all went their own ways years before she passed on. I haven't seen any of them in a long while."

"Then we have something in common," Aramel returned solemnly. "My own wife died two years ago. We had no children, but I would have loved to have had six of them with her."

Leo regarded Aramel with sad blue eyes before giving him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. The two talked for an hour or so before Aramel took his leave. By then his silk trousers had dried in the sunshine. He pulled them on, fastened his sash around his waist, and with Fern trotting happily after him, left the kindly old farmer, who waved and told him to come visit again.

Aramel walked hurriedly, the desire to get back to his own village burning in him. His emotions were mixed after talking to Leo. While he could see that the old farmer had built a pleasant home for himself, the life of solitude was not what Aramel wanted. He missed the company that he and Fernly had shared. He realized he was not happy anymore. A virile young man, he had been celibate for two years since she died, but it was more than sex that he missed and craved. It was the company of a woman and of having other people around him that he missed so much. The joy had gone out of his life. He was unsettled, unhappy and unsatisfied.

He walked on, not stopping again until it began to grow dark, Fern following faithfully a short distance behind. The goat would stop from time to time to nibble on the grass, then catch up to him again. Aramel pushed on until he felt he could walk no longer and stopped to lie down. He fell asleep immediately and when he reached a deep state of unconsciousness he began to dream.

He was sitting on a raft made from lashed-together logs, drifting far out to sea. After a few days, he reached a fair land full of beautiful, golden-haired people who exuded love, peace and pleasure. He found himself experiencing incredibly passionate sex with a fair-haired being whose face was hazy, but it was a strange connection between them, completely different from anything he had experienced. He was not only making love with this being, but was receiving it in return in such a way that made him more aroused than he'd ever been before.

He awoke with a start and looked around him, alarmed, feeling an intense sexual arousal. He realized he was almost ready to climax. He had never felt so strongly excited in his life. Seeing he was alone, he almost ripped his trousers in his haste to get them off. He lay back, his member swollen hard, and when he touched it, it felt almost painful. A few strokes brought him such sweet release, it was a satisfying end to the most intense, erotic dream he'd ever had.

He lay back, letting his breathing slow, enjoying the passing flush of pleasure followed by peaceful relaxation. He thought about his dream and what it could mean. Besides the sex was the feeling of longing to get away. Once he had been happy to live on his island with Fernly, his few friends and his parents when they were still alive. He loved his village and the beautiful lands around the base of the mountain. But his dreams of late were making him long for more than this life could give him.

He realized he wasn't satisfied to remain where he was. But the people of Rokimas believed theirs was the only world that existed. They were unaware of any other islands and were afraid to venture out into the sea. Aramel did not understand why he would have such strong feelings, such a yearning to leave his home.

Feeling conflicted, disturbed and restless, he rose to his feet, hiked up his trousers and whistled for Fern. Walking rapidly, he continued on his trek toward his village. Arriving at a small stream, Aramel bent down to cup some water in his hands. He drank deeply, Fern doing the same at his side, dipping her nose into the clear water. When Aramel lifted his head he noticed a twig moving lazily downstream, following the current. 'The water itself is driving it," he thought. 'I have noticed that in the ocean too. There is moving water within the water itself, moving separately from it. I have seen floating objects upon the sea. Sometimes they drift away and sometimes they return to the land.'

He thought about the origins of his people's superstitions about the sea. There was an old tale of some folks who had decided to leave the island years before, but they had all been killed. Some of their bodies had floated back to Rokimas half-eaten. It was believed that evil creatures lived below the surface of the water, and thus the fear of the ocean had grown among the islanders. But Aramel wondered if swimming in the ocean would be any more dangerous than swimming in the pond at Leo's farm.

After they had slaked their thirst, Aramel and Fern continued on their way. Soon Aramel felt the ground rumbling beneath his feet. Startled, he stopped walking to look up at the mountain, remembering the avalanche that had almost killed him two days before. But the mountain looked still, almost peaceful. The rumbling continued, however, the ground moving slightly below his feet. Frightened, he and Fern hurried on.

Late in the day Aramel reached his village. He hurried down the footpath that led to his own home, merely nodding to the few people who recognized him and waved, some asking if he was all right. He was anxious to reach his hut and speak with his friends about the strange way the mountain was behaving.

When he was in sight of his familiar woods and saw the two trees he called home, his small hut nestled between them, he almost cried tears of joy. He could see his friend and neighbour Amaranto, standing beside a nearby campfire, talking to a young woman Aramel knew as Chase-lee. She had always had feelings for Aramel, but when he fell in love with Fernly and took her to be his wife, Chase-lee had turned to having brief but unsatisfactory affairs with other young men from the village.

Happy to see both of them, Aramel called out a greeting and rushed toward his friends, his arms flung wide to embrace them. Happy to see him, but surprised by his unusual show of emotion, they threw their arms around him as well.

"Where have you been? We thought you'd come to harm," Amaranto cried, hugging Aramel heartily.

"I did, but I was lucky and escaped," Aramel replied. "I was hit on the head. What is happening to the mountain? It almost buried us alive, breaking apart with rocks falling on the far slope."

Amaranto gazed at him, bewildered, as if he did not understand what Aramel was saying, but Chase-lee turned to look at Fern, who trotted up beside her, staring expectantly at the young woman. "You brought us a goat? She looks tame and in need of a milking."

All three laughed, more from relief than amusement. "Come," said Amaranto. "Come to my cabin, Aramel. You too, Chase-lee. You must have something to eat and tell us about your adventure."