There were two ways to learn about the wide world, travelling afar or hanging about the Moon and Hare Inn. Though innkeeper Thornton Foxworth never learned to read, every one of his guests was a collection of stories, and Thorny loved to hear them all.
Some tales stood out, such as one told by Professor Aristobolus, an elderly hare from the Isle of Celengorn.
Even at first glance the Professor was a bit odd. He seemed to look both at people and through them, as if he were either seeing part of our reality, or all of a greater reality. His attire was costly but ill kept, and one of his ears had a nervous twitch.
Where other folk hemmed and hawed their way through awkward moments, he puffed on a pipe, so he never seemed at a lack for words. His exotic habit intrigued the rustics. They wondered why anyone would light a fire just to inhale the smoke, though he seemed to gather satisfaction from it.
“I picked up the habit in Calormen,” he told Thorny’s son Bramblewood. “I do it to relax.” He blew out a smoke ring which fascinated the fox pup. Bramble tried to catch it and it left his paw reeking of pipeweed. His friend Buckthorn Badger did worse and actually tried taking a sniff. It sent him into a coughing spell.
“There, there, little stripey dog. Furlings should not mess about with such things.”
***
Wherever the Professor went, he attracted attention, sometimes subtle, sometimes not. So when evening came and he sat by the fire in the commons, a larger crowd than usual had come to hear whatever he said.
Knowing what was expected of him, Aristobolus settled back in his chair. “Did any of you ever get the urge to fly?” he asked, puffing on his pipe. “Even as a furling I made me a pair of wings from sticks and hides and jumped off the roof of my house.”
“How far did you go?” Thorny asked.
“All the way down, sir.” He flashed a smile, puffed his pipe again, and continued. “I grew into quite an inventor and an alchemist. And I’ve done all the things alchemists do, trying to turn lead into gold and halt the ageing process. Trivial things, really. All the while I had my sights set on bigger game. Yes, good folks, I wanted to fly. It was my all consuming passion, and I threw all my resources and experience into the problem. A hundred attempts led to a hundred failures and still I pressed ahead. You see, even failure is a type of success, a hint to look elsewhere. And look I did, mostly into machines that mimicked the flapping of wings. Then one day quite by accident I had the breakthrough that will live on as my legacy.”
“What was it?” Bramble asked, on the edge of his seat. “Did you fly?”
“Who’s telling this story, laddiebuck?” The hare chuckled and puffed again, blowing a large, slow smoke ring and shooting another smaller ring quickly through the middle. “I was sitting by the fire just like I am right now, watching how the ashes would sometimes rise with the smoke. That got my mind to working. Perhaps the gas from the burning brands had special properties. The secret lay in harnessing them. So I built this….”
From his bag he pulled out a small tin cup full of black rocks suspended beneath a large silk purse. He dumped out the contents of his pipe on the black rocks, and they began to burn fiercely with much smoke and heat. As they burned, Aristobolus held the silk bag open above them. Within seconds the bag remained remain open and upright on its own. That was startling enough. But the contraption lifted off the ground, slowly at first but then rising more and more rapidly. Everyone gasped.
“Good folks, I present to you the Altivator. This one is just a small model, of course. I had to build a much bigger one to actually fly about.” The Professor had to grab for it before it drifted up to the ceiling, then he dumped the remaining fuel into the hearth.
“You flew?” Thorny asked. “You actually flew like a bird??”
“Not like a bird, sir. Birds direct themselves at will. My first model had no means of steerage so I was at the mercy of the winds, adrift in a sea of air without rudder and oars. In my latest model, I’ve added an Archimedes screw and a vane, and shaped the gas bag like a fish to slip through the currents more easily. This will turn it from a mere curiosity into a practical means of conveyance.”
He briefly spread out a large chart. “I’m going to Cair Paravel where I’m going to build this. It is my magnum opus, my greatest work. This gas bag is made of silk, treated with a special varnish to make it impermeable. The exact contents of this varnish are a closely guarded secret since it must trap air in the cloth without adding too much weight. Below it is a gondola. As you can see, it’s much larger, big enough to hold three brave travelers. One to turn the screw, one to move the rudder, and one to stoke the fire.”
Needless to say, Bramble was already daydreaming about who those three passengers would be; he, Buck and I. “Oh look!” he heard himself shouting, “you can see my house from here!”
The hare looked about at the rapt faces of his audience, gold tinted by the flickering firelight. “I only flew short distances at first and never too far from the ground. That was quite enough at first, looking down on trees that bunched in green meadows like so many moss covered rocks. Once when the wind was favorable I even crossed a river with the ease of a bird though I had to bring my contraption back on the ferry. I had a packed lunch and leisurely supped while floating high over the river. Let me tell you, folks, wine and barley loaves never tasted as good on the ground! And yet I felt there was something more. And if someone would just fetch me a cider to wet my pipes…”
At once, Buck, Bramble and his sister Star raced for the kitchen. I can’t be sure but they must have set a record for quick service.
***
[CONTINUED]
Some tales stood out, such as one told by Professor Aristobolus, an elderly hare from the Isle of Celengorn.
Even at first glance the Professor was a bit odd. He seemed to look both at people and through them, as if he were either seeing part of our reality, or all of a greater reality. His attire was costly but ill kept, and one of his ears had a nervous twitch.
Where other folk hemmed and hawed their way through awkward moments, he puffed on a pipe, so he never seemed at a lack for words. His exotic habit intrigued the rustics. They wondered why anyone would light a fire just to inhale the smoke, though he seemed to gather satisfaction from it.
“I picked up the habit in Calormen,” he told Thorny’s son Bramblewood. “I do it to relax.” He blew out a smoke ring which fascinated the fox pup. Bramble tried to catch it and it left his paw reeking of pipeweed. His friend Buckthorn Badger did worse and actually tried taking a sniff. It sent him into a coughing spell.
“There, there, little stripey dog. Furlings should not mess about with such things.”
***
Wherever the Professor went, he attracted attention, sometimes subtle, sometimes not. So when evening came and he sat by the fire in the commons, a larger crowd than usual had come to hear whatever he said.
Knowing what was expected of him, Aristobolus settled back in his chair. “Did any of you ever get the urge to fly?” he asked, puffing on his pipe. “Even as a furling I made me a pair of wings from sticks and hides and jumped off the roof of my house.”
“How far did you go?” Thorny asked.
“All the way down, sir.” He flashed a smile, puffed his pipe again, and continued. “I grew into quite an inventor and an alchemist. And I’ve done all the things alchemists do, trying to turn lead into gold and halt the ageing process. Trivial things, really. All the while I had my sights set on bigger game. Yes, good folks, I wanted to fly. It was my all consuming passion, and I threw all my resources and experience into the problem. A hundred attempts led to a hundred failures and still I pressed ahead. You see, even failure is a type of success, a hint to look elsewhere. And look I did, mostly into machines that mimicked the flapping of wings. Then one day quite by accident I had the breakthrough that will live on as my legacy.”
“What was it?” Bramble asked, on the edge of his seat. “Did you fly?”
“Who’s telling this story, laddiebuck?” The hare chuckled and puffed again, blowing a large, slow smoke ring and shooting another smaller ring quickly through the middle. “I was sitting by the fire just like I am right now, watching how the ashes would sometimes rise with the smoke. That got my mind to working. Perhaps the gas from the burning brands had special properties. The secret lay in harnessing them. So I built this….”
From his bag he pulled out a small tin cup full of black rocks suspended beneath a large silk purse. He dumped out the contents of his pipe on the black rocks, and they began to burn fiercely with much smoke and heat. As they burned, Aristobolus held the silk bag open above them. Within seconds the bag remained remain open and upright on its own. That was startling enough. But the contraption lifted off the ground, slowly at first but then rising more and more rapidly. Everyone gasped.
“Good folks, I present to you the Altivator. This one is just a small model, of course. I had to build a much bigger one to actually fly about.” The Professor had to grab for it before it drifted up to the ceiling, then he dumped the remaining fuel into the hearth.
“You flew?” Thorny asked. “You actually flew like a bird??”
“Not like a bird, sir. Birds direct themselves at will. My first model had no means of steerage so I was at the mercy of the winds, adrift in a sea of air without rudder and oars. In my latest model, I’ve added an Archimedes screw and a vane, and shaped the gas bag like a fish to slip through the currents more easily. This will turn it from a mere curiosity into a practical means of conveyance.”
He briefly spread out a large chart. “I’m going to Cair Paravel where I’m going to build this. It is my magnum opus, my greatest work. This gas bag is made of silk, treated with a special varnish to make it impermeable. The exact contents of this varnish are a closely guarded secret since it must trap air in the cloth without adding too much weight. Below it is a gondola. As you can see, it’s much larger, big enough to hold three brave travelers. One to turn the screw, one to move the rudder, and one to stoke the fire.”
Needless to say, Bramble was already daydreaming about who those three passengers would be; he, Buck and I. “Oh look!” he heard himself shouting, “you can see my house from here!”
The hare looked about at the rapt faces of his audience, gold tinted by the flickering firelight. “I only flew short distances at first and never too far from the ground. That was quite enough at first, looking down on trees that bunched in green meadows like so many moss covered rocks. Once when the wind was favorable I even crossed a river with the ease of a bird though I had to bring my contraption back on the ferry. I had a packed lunch and leisurely supped while floating high over the river. Let me tell you, folks, wine and barley loaves never tasted as good on the ground! And yet I felt there was something more. And if someone would just fetch me a cider to wet my pipes…”
At once, Buck, Bramble and his sister Star raced for the kitchen. I can’t be sure but they must have set a record for quick service.
***
I needed something amazing to read! 
.