A Scribe (Prelude)

He passed others in silence as he made his way through the shadowy corridors of their refuge. Nothing more than a smile and a nod between them but twas enough in these passages. He felt refreshed after the noon meal and subsequent rest period. As on most afternoons, he was anxious to get back to work.

The worn wooden stool creaked as he sat back at his desk, even though his ancient and seemingly frail body gave the wood no reason to complain. The seating was merely well on in years, like himself. His desk was marked by age and use as well. All edges of the wood were worn smooth and rounded, the angled writing surface textured with nicks and haphazardly stained with ink blotches and smears. One corner of his desk was a freeform sculpture in dripped and hardened wax, from seasons upon seasons of candles burning there, illuminating the scribe and his work.

He adjusted his frock and flexed his arms, shoulders and back, to get comfortably settled in. Then, he looked at the new fold of leather before him. The desk top had been empty before he'd left to sup. The fold of leather smelled wonderful and was filled with a thick stack of blank parchment pages. He smiled. Only this morning he'd lost one of his projects. It was complete, so he sent it to the binders to be finished and filed with all the other concluded tomes. Of course he had many projects, but he savored each one and was a bit sad when a project came to an end. However, he loved the beginnings and so, here again was the cycle renewing itself --- a new project for him without delay.

Almost giddy with excitement, he wrote out the first page of the tome in a hand more steady than his apparent age might portend. He specified the project name and a few base particulars. The name had come to him even while he was idly fanning the clean leaves of parchment. This was thrilling, always. He reveled in the anticipation of what wonders this subject might bring.

Before he could start the tome in earnest, he was greeted with a whisper over his right shoulder. He turned and had to quickly stifle his amazement and surprise.

"Welcome!" he hissed, with such enthusiasm it barely qualified as a whisper. He looked quickly around to see if he had disturbed other scribes but they were either busy or hadn't returned from the midday break. Again he looked to his visitor enthusiastically, "Taking up the script are you?"

The other man sat at the next desk and nodded with a smile. "I'd been told about you upon arrival and was approached for this duty. Sounded quite appealing to me and I asked for a chance to meet you."

"Praise be, this is highly unusual, but I am overwhelmed and pleasantly so." The elder shook his head, still quite amazed, and grinning broadly. "You're welcome to make yourself at home there beside me, friend. That station has been unused for a while. Good to have someone I know there." He did indeed know this newcomer, for he had been the subject of the tome he'd just closed. He knew him so very well, in fact, every significant moment throughout his life. How marvelous! "Such a quick one, you are. I only just finished you today."

The newcomer chuckled, "I guess I was anxious. Still am. I hope there shall be plenty of work for me to do."

"Oh, certainly, most certainly." Even as the elder spoke, a young stripling of a boy in an ill-fitting robe came shuffling in, dropped a leather folder of parchment onto the newcomer's desk then shuffled away to deliver more such books from his precariously balanced stack.

"See? Already your prayer is being answered."

"But how--"

"You begin at the beginning and stay with it until its completion."

"But, I haven't any idea what to write yet."

"Pray. Meditate. Open up to it." The elder's smile was warm and knowing. He leaned to pat the younger man on the shoulder and reassured him. "The subject will tell you where to start, what to record. They will tell you... everything." Then he chuckled and turned to his own new book. "Everything that need be known will come to you."

With that, the elder scribe prayed over the open unbound empty book before him. He cleared his mind of all else but what might come to him from the subject of this new project.

So far he had only a name, though a delightful name it was, and soon... the visions began...