The Old Man's Sword

Once upon a time a boy ventured so deep into the forest that he realized he no longer knew how to get home. The boy was so focused on exploring that he had wandered off the path and found himself surrounded by unfamiliar trees. The dense foliage and branches engulfed the forest, while an incoming fog began to play tricks on the boy’s sense of direction. The boy began running, hoping that he would run into something, anything familiar.

Eventually he saw a cliff up ahead, and at the top of the cliff perched a bright white house. The house rested above the deep fog, with a door slightly ajar and smoke rising from the house’s chimney. The house stood out like a sore thumb against the backdrop of the forest, with pristine exterior walls - perfectly clean and perfectly polished.

The boy crept up to the slightly ajar door and peeked in. While the exterior of the house was impeccable, the interior was decrepit – mud and decaying leaves were scattered across the floor, and mold grew on the interior walls. There was a ravaging fire in the fireplace, with a chair and a witch’s wand across from the fireplace.

The boy could see the back of a woman sitting in the chair, with scraggly grey hair and clothes weathered with dirt. The woman stayed seated but slowly turned her head to look at the boy, her lips forming a menacing grin. “Are you lost, my boy?” she cackled.

The boy jumped away from the door and sprinted down the cliff, finding himself engulfed once again in the fog on the forest ground. He ran and ran, not knowing which direction would lead him home.

When he stopped to take a breath, he heard the hooting sound of an owl flying above. The boy followed the owl to a small clearing in the forest, and in that clearing was nestled another house.

This house seemed much more like a house you’d expect to find deep in the forest. The exterior walls blended in with the surrounding foliage, and the smoke from the chimney maneuvered around the dense canopy of the trees. Light shone from two small windows, and the door to the house was slightly ajar.

The boy crept up to the slightly open door and peaked in. Unlike the previous house, the interior of this house was cozy and welcoming. The boy saw a fire in the fireplace, a sword leaning against the fireplace, and a rocking chair.

Seated in the chair was an old man, wearing a flowing gray robe, with a hood covering the man’s head. The man gazed deep into the fire, watching the flames dance obediently around the confines of the fireplace. The man stayed seated but slowly turned his head to look at the boy. “Well hello there. How many I assist you?”

The man seemed familiar to the boy, as if the boy had seen him before. The boy spoke about his plight.

“I’m lost. I was out exploring the woods, and now I don’t know which way home is. Can you help me get home?”

“Oh of course, of course!” the old man exclaimed. “But to get home, you’ll have to get past that witch. You’ve met her, I presume?”

The boy nodded.

“She knows you’re here now, so she won’t just let you sneak by. She’s very intimidating, isn’t she? But trust me – I will help you get past her. You see that sword lying against the fireplace?”

The boy nodded.

“Take that sword, it’s my gift! Now listen carefully – when you approach her house, the witch will come out. When she tries to confront you, hold the sword directly above your head, and wait. Wait for me. I’ll take care of that witch, and you’ll be home in no time! Now off you go, my boy!”

The old man handed the sword to the boy and waved goodbye.

The boy ventured back into the forest. He had a sense of how to get back to the witch’s house, as if he had taken this path many times before. As he approached the witch’s house on the cliff, he saw the door was now fully open, and the witch was standing outside her house.

The boy stopped in his tracks. The witch had been waiting for him. The boy took out the sword.

The witch floated towards him, growing larger as she got closer, to the point where she loomed over the boy, like a giant looming over an ant. The boy trembled as he held the sword above his head.

“Come with me, I’ll help you find your way back home,” the witch sneered.

The boy was so afraid that he bolted off from the witch, running as fast as he could away from the witch’s house. As he ran, he could hear the witch’s cackling laughter off in the distant. The boy was afraid – very afraid – and longed for the reassurance of the friendly old man. Just then, he heard above him the familiar sound of hooting.

The boy looked up and saw the owl beckoning the boy. The boy followed the owl, and the owl guided him back to the clearing in the forest, back to where the old man’s house was nestled. The sight of the door being slightly ajar, and the warmth of the fire invited the boy back inside.

“Welcome back, my boy!” The old man wrapped his arm around the boy’s shoulders. The boy handed the sword back to the old man, still trembling from the ordeal with the witch.

“Sit down and warm up by the fire,” the old man said while pointing to the rocking chair. “Now, what happened?”

“Well I went back to the witch’s house, and I held the sword above my head, like you said. But the witch kept getting bigger and bigger, and I was afraid so I ran. I ran deep into the woods,” the boy cried.

“Oh I see, I see. She’s very intimidating, that vile witch!” the man shook his head. “But you must understand – there is nothing to be afraid of. I have been in this woods much longer than she, and I darn well how to outsmart her.”

The old man offered the sword to the boy once again.

“This is my gift to you - would you like to try again?”

The reassurance of the old man encouraged the boy. He took the sword and stood up.

“Be courageous, my boy! And remember – hold the sword as high as you can and wait for me! I won’t let you down.”

The boy left the old man’s house and traveled out into the woods once again. He knew his way back to the witch’s house. The door to the witch’s house was wide open, and the fire inside was raging even more intensely than before. The witch stood outside, waiting for him once again.

The boy took out his sword and held it above his head. The witch floated towards the boy, becoming larger and larger as she approached him.

“There’s no need to be afraid, I’ll show you how to get home,” the witch sneered.

But this time the boy wasn’t afraid – he was angry! He had been stuck in this dreadful forest for what felt like an eternity, and he wanted to go home. The only thing standing between him and his home was this witch.

As the witch took got closer, the boy took his chance – he swung the sword as hard as he could at the witch! However, instead of feeling the impact of the sword with the witch’s body, the sword whooshed right through the witch – as if the witch wasn’t even there!

He swung the sword a second time, but the witch didn’t even react. The boy couldn’t take it anymore – he ran away from the witch and deep into the woods as fast as he could.

And soon enough, as if on cue, he heard the familiar sound of hooting. The owl guided the boy back to the old man’s house, which sat in the forest clearing, forever welcoming and forever inviting.

Defeatedly, the boy handed the sword back to the old man.

“It didn’t work,” the boy cried, “I stood my ground like you said, and I swung and I swung but I couldn’t hit the witch. I didn’t even scratch her!”

“I see, I see,” the old man mumbled. “May I ask you something? Why did you swing?”

The boy sat down in the rocking chair and stared into the crackling fire.

“That’s what you told me to do. To not be afraid and attack her with the sword.”

“Oh, I think you’re mistaken,” the old man exclaimed. “I did tell you not to be afraid, yes. But I didn’t tell you to attack her.”

“Then what am I supposed to do?” the boy cried.

The old man paused for a second.

“I told you to wait. Wait for me. I know it’s the hardest thing to do. I know it goes against every fiber in your being. But it’s my job to defeat her.”

The old man offered the sword back the boy while gently smiling.

“This is my gift to you - would you like to try again?”

The boy took the sword.

“Goodbye, my boy!” The old man waved as the boy ventured off into the woods once again.

At this point, the journey back to the witch’s house was like following a well-trodden path, although the boy would never be able to explain exactly how to get there.

As the boy approached the witch’s house, he noticed that the door to the witch’s house had been torn off. The fire inside was now completely out of control.

The boy spotted the witch standing outside her house, although her clothes were dirtier and her hair more unkempt than ever before.

“He tells you to wait. But time is running out. Do you want to go home or not?”

The boy gathered all the courage inside of him and raised the sword high above his head. The witch teleported closer to him, until she once again towered over him, her arms raised ready to capture the boy.

In that moment the fog hid everything from the boy’s sight, except for the witch – who was still clearly visible in front of him. The boy heard what sounded like a speeding train, as a violent wind engulfed the forest around him. High above him, he heard the terrible sound of trees cracking in half as they gave in to the force of the wind.

The boy closed his eyes. But he did not run. He did not attack. He stood resolute, holding the sword above his head. He waited. And when he barely could take it anymore, he felt warmth radiating from the sword.

The sound of the wind died down. The witch’s cackling stopped. The boy opened his eyes, and to his surprise everything was different. The witch was no longer standing in front of him. The fog had disappeared, and the trees were completely intact, unaffected by the wind.

The witch’s house was gone as well. The cliff that the house sat on was empty. The boy looked down and saw a path laid out in front of him, leading to the edge of the forest, and in the far distance the lights of the village the boy came from – his home!

The only thing that remained from the whole ordeal was the old man’s sword, which the boy was still holding high above his head. He brought down the sword and looked at it.

I should give this back to the old man, the boy thought.

High above, the boy suddenly heard the familiar sound of hooting. At this moment the boy remembered the voice of the old man, saying:

Take this sword – it’s my gift to you!

Tired but relieved, the boy followed the path laid out before him, which took him to the edge of the forest and to his village - and finally to his home.