Goat Cheese and Rice

There once was an old, old man. How old, exactly, one cannot be sure, and in fact the old man himself couldn't quite remember. He was fairly sure that he was either four-hundred-ninety-eight or four-hundred-ninety-nine. In any case, he'd decided not to celebrate "the big five-oh-oh" on his birthday next July, nor the one following.

Julia Skipram had a question for the old man on the hill. Making sure she'd packed the necessary offering, and lacing her comfortable boots for the trek, she pondered her phrasing.

The old man wasn't tired of goat cheese and rice. More precisely, he was tired of the idea of goat cheese and rice. For ninety years now, people had retained a notion that these were his favourite foods, and while this had become true enough, it still irked him to no longer have a taste for much else.

He was thinking all this as he watched the pretty blonde girl from the corner of his eye. She was finishing her trek up the hill, and when she arrived at last he sat upright in his hammock to greet her.

Without haste, Julia laid out bowls and spoons on a reed mat, and joined him cross-legged on the lush groundcover beneath the elm. They ate together silently, and once they had finished she carefully packed the bowls and reed mat away again.

After a not-uncomfortable pause, the old man began. "To what do I owe this fine meal on this fair day?"
"To a fair-haired maiden and good walking boots," she smiled.
He returned the smile. "I'll be sure to direct any repayment to the former."

Julie had no doubt in the value of the old man's wisdom, and so did not hesitate:

"What effect do my thoughts have on others?"

The old man almost frowned. Almost. After a brief moment he responded, carefully:

"I like goat cheese."

It wasn't a request for more cheese; it was an answer. Nonetheless, Julia was frustrated. As she turned to leave, knowing his wisdom was often cryptic and unlikely to be explained, the old man's voice stopped her.

"I wish someone had asked me earlier." He almost looked sad. "I'd like to ask a favour of you, which perhaps will help you understand."

Julia frowned, but nodded. The old man continued, "when you go home, tell this to your family and friends: When I was younger, it was prophesied that I would die on the morning of my 500th birthday, which is tomorrow. I wish a burial, and nothing more."

Her frown stayed with her, but when Julia returned to her family and friends in the village at the base of the hill, she did as the old man had asked.

The villagers, quick to believe the words of a wise old man, made arrangements for a proper burial. When they arrived the next day, they did indeed find that the old man had died peacefully in his hammock.

Julia finally understood.


-Faiora
494 Words
August 28, 2007