A Memory

The Knight stared out into space. He had been here for three long, tiring days filled with 36 watt smiles, cannibalizing meritocrats and a view he had not had in years - that of the sea. Ah the sea! It brought back memories of long ago, of an age long past. A memory not even his own, one that was so ingrained in the fabric of space and time that it was shared among a society of English speakers. It was that same memory that brought a song to ADAS Knight's lips, a song he had never heard sung. A song whose unfamiliar lyrics didn't quite remain indelible in his mind but a song that he knew the harmony and rhythm of so well that a parade of goosebumps rose on his forearms as he hummed it to himself; a song of longing - a memory.

Ah Elbereth Gilthoniel
O telemeth ena miriel
O seleneth anariel
Elbereth, Ah Elbereth

We still remember
We who dwell
In this far land of woven trees
Thy starlight on the Western Seas

He wondered what the faces behind the facades actually wished, a hope for clairvoyance that he had long abandoned when he entered the mortal plain. Wondered, he did, about the plans of mice and men that ganged oft agley and mention he made, a number of times, about the possibility of man, that social animal, that creature with the gift of gab, to be surrounding by a sea of smiling faces, to be wished well by an infinity of benevolent benefactors, to be fed sachcharrine (if that's the spelling) sweet words about money, power and that magical word, advancement and remain alone. And look, he did, at his friend and saw a hermit who like him was alone, but had found fulfilment and gratification in a screen and a board that clicked. What matter, the Knight wondered, if he found not the Falchion? The Knight stared back at the unruffled sea and a memory did arrive, a memory of a time locked up in another tower, attempting to impress others who showered their meaningless comments on him as well, who cared not a whit about him and who had been brought to judge. The hermit was with him there as well. Was it a quirk of fate that had brought them together all these years later? When two people who knew not a iota about the other would have to share the same room in the future? A memory.

And the Knight returned to his room and sat with a book. He imbibed his food, extending his many podia at the mashed potatoes and portions of peas, and with it the Knight wondered what it would be to have taken the other path. The path as meaningless as the one he was taking... the path of a Wizard. To have studied four years more at a foreign land developing spells that made not a word of sense to him, that brought not a spark of titillation to his mind, to have spent in devotion or prayer to a false god with Pratchettian fancy. It was then that the Knight remembered another creature that he had met from the time of his imprisonment in the asylum of the Wizards. A creature who had the same worries and self-doubts that nagged the Knight nocturnally. And from the depths of his nausea, from this Sartrean horror, from this pit with the pendulum hanging overhead, came a memory like the sliver of light that is fed by a feeble lantern hanging in distance. A butterfly from Pandora's box. From the depths of these catacombs came a tinkle, a memory of a tinkle, a memory of hope... a memory of light.