There once was a great war, and ere its end did many meet Death before their time.
But the war ended, as such things must, and the great armies disbanded and the soldiers left the blood-soaked fields of battle and they returned to their homes. Three such soldiers travelled a long road together, for they hailed from the same small distant town, and so for many days did they journey in the company of each other.
Yet through an ill chance, though they had long avoided the spectre of death through all that terrible war, Death nevertheless met them on that long road, and Death claimed their lives unto himself.
Now it was so that when they met with Death, the youngest of the soldiers bowed his head and accepted his lot. The second soldier, who was not yet old and no longer young, wept and railed in impotent fear as Death clutched at him. Yet the oldest and canniest of the soldiers had studied lore, and he knew well that Death had a love for games and that his arrogance was great. So said he silver-tongued, “Hold a while, lord, for I would a battle of wits with you, if it be pleasing.”
And Death halted and laughed, and said, A BATTLE OF WITS? SPEAK, AND I WILL LISTEN.
And the crafty soldier said, “Your arm is long, Lord Death, and your sight keen, to have ensnared us three so far from the field of battle. Yet I wonder, could you do so again? For you have come upon us as one craven, like a thief in the night, and we are unprepared. But grant us three stay of a year and a day, and I warrant you will not find us again with such ease. Grant us each a year and a day, and if you are able to find us by that day’s sundown, then will our lives be rightly forfeit, and you will have conquered us.”
Death heard the challenge, and grim laughed, for Death also was fell-wise and thought-crafty. Yet the dare amused him, and so he said, THEN BE IT SO. A YEAR AND A DAY, AND YOUR LIVES BE FORFEIT — IF YOU CANNOT ESCAPE ME. And Death left them.
So did the traveling soldiers then speak long over this strange chance, and quarrel came between them and they did not agree upon a right course of action. And so in the end the oldest soldier turned to the south, and the middle went west, and the youngest alone continued northward to their home. To the east they went not.
The oldest of the soldiers counted himself cunning and a scholar of lore, and long had he known that great store of wisdom yet remained in the southlands, even in those unlearned days. Hence was it so that to the south he went, and he apprenticed himself to the sages of those lands, and he learned all that he could and in time did he surpass every one of his masters, for he was desperate and eager in the gaining of knowledge. From the the huts of hermits to frowning halls of marble did he pass, and he gained greatly in wisdom and came to know many strange secrets that should have been forgotten.
As the year approached its end, he had become famed across the land, yet also was he mistrusted. For though he drank eagerly of knowledge, he did not share it so readily as he took it, and scholars muttered his name both with wonder and ill-feeling. Nonetheless, full-learned was he now, and he had come to know many mysteries of life and death, of alchemy and medicine. So it was that he came to a tower formed of pure crystal, and he barred the door and ascended to its heights, and on the last day of the year he brewed himself a potion in that tower; a potion that would grant him youth unending and forever stave off death and illness and all such mortal failings. And merrily did he celebrate his triumph over Death that eve, though he was alone.
The second soldier was a fearful and cowardly man, of small mind and lazy disposition. He had scoffed at the oldest soldier’s schemes, and chose rather to put his trust in folklore and rumour. So he fled Death, seeking the hidden realm of the Fair Folk that love the western lands, for he had heard that the Elves have mastered Death and that it comes not to their hidden homes. And after long seasons of wandering did he come to the very havens of the Fair Folk, and they admitted him to their halls.
But when he begged them to teach him their secrets, that he might avoid Death and be protected from his sight, the Fair Folk mocked him, for ever have they they guarded that secret jealously, and they met his plea with scorn. “Go forth, flee, mortal man,” they said, “If you tarry in our halls, Death will meet you ere the ending of the year. Verily will we be glad to escort you unto Death ourselves with sting of arrow!” And they drove him away with jibes and threats, and he fled still further west, hoping that he might come to lands that Death knew not, for foolishly did he still believe that he could outpace Death.
For many more days did the third and youngest soldier journey upon dusty road ere he returned home, where he was met with joy by his kin, for all had believed that he had perished in battle. He offered himself in marriage to his childhood sweetheart, and she agreed readily, for he was a kind man and gentle. So it was that they were wed, and he set down his arms and returned to his craft as a woodworker. And he made much of beauty and of worth, but never did he carve any single thing that might stave off Death’s cold touch. Nonetheless did he gain greatly in skill and fame alike, and his diligent and careful craft gained renown. Within a half-year, he had taken on two apprentices. Within another month, he had earned enough coin to last his family a tenyear. And at the turn of the last month of the year, his wife bore him a child.
Yet though he was hardworking and diligent, neither did the youngest soldier neglect his kin or his friends. He was frugal with coin, but not miserly in the giving of it, and quickly did he become beloved in the town for his quick smile and slow temper. And ever was he the liveliest dancer and the merriest man at festival, and also the first to offer his aid should any friend meet with ill fortune. And at the end of that year, he sat long into the night with his wife, and they spoke quiet by the hearth, and both wept – but they were not wholly tears of sorrow.
And so the year passed, and dawn came upon the day appointed by Death. Yet in the south did the oldest soldier wake afore the rising of the sun, for he knew that Death be wily and cunning, and no detail did he intend to leave to chance lest Death cheat him. And he barred the single door to his tower, and from its heights did he await the first gleam of dawn. And as the sun’s rays crept gentle over the hills, the soldier greedily gulped down the potion that he had brewed to grant him life eternal, for he was determined not to allow Death a moment’s pause in which to claim him.
Yet the soldier was overeager in his greed, and too much and too fast did he drink, and the elixir caught thick in his throat and he choked upon it. He fell to the ground and his cup was dashed, and desperate did he try to cry out for help. But no words came, as breath left him. And even if they had come, none would have come to aid, for none loved him. And even if any had come, they could not have entered, for the iron-barred door would not break by force of man. Yet even as the man choked on the ground, he saw a black-booted foot step before him, and he reached out his hand to beg for aid.
And so Death claimed the oldest soldier to himself, as the morning sun laughed pale and cold.
The day drew on, and the heat of the noonday sun beat down upon the white cliffs that overlook the western sea, and upon those cliffs did the second soldier roam, alone and afraid. For no men dwelt in those lands, and thus did the soldier hope that Death would not find him. But as the sun reached its zenith, he looked behind him, and he saw Death step toward him, and he cried angry words of fear.
But Death laughed, and said, YOU BE NEARER YOUR GOAL THAN YOU THINK, MORTAL MAN. FOR IT IS THESE VERY SEAS THAT DIVIDE YOUR LANDS FROM THOSE OF THE EVERLIVING. SEE YOU NOT THEIR SHORES LYING DISTANT ON THE HORIZON?
And the man looked, and he saw the shores of the undying upon the edge twixt sea and sky, and he rejoiced and leapt heedless into the ocean foam. And his body broke upon the rocks below, and as a stone did he sink to the bottom of the foaming emerald sea. And so Death claimed the second soldier to himself, as the midday sun grew vengeful hot.
It was late when Death came to the soldiers’ hometown, and the dying sun burned wrathful red as he prowled the cobbled streets in search of his prey. And so it was that Death came upon the third soldier, and he was sitting at home by the fire, and he held the hand of his sleeping wife in his own. So Death entered their house, and gloated greedy over the young soldier at the loss of the wager. AND SO NOW, YOUR LIFE BE FORFEITED TO ME, AND I WILL CLAIM IT, said Death.
So the young man rose, and made as if to leave. But as he stepped toward Death, Death mocked him yet further. WHY, he said, YOU HAVE TRULY SHOWN YOURSELF TO BE THE MEREST OF YOUR COMPANY. A YEAR AND A DAY, AND THIS BE THE DEFENCE YOU HAVE ASSUMED AGAINST ME? A YEAR AND A DAY, AND YET NOTHING HAVE YOU DONE THAT YOU MIGHT FIGHT ME OR FLEE FROM ME? TRULY IS YOUR FAILURE THE GREATEST OF ALL YOUR COMPANY.
And the young man paused, and he looked Death in the eye, and Death was sudden afraid, for the young man was not. And the soldier said, “My failure? Tell me, friend Death, for all their arts and their wiles and their fears, did either of my companions escape your long hand and keen eye?”
NO.
Then Death heard the strangest sound he ever had heard, and his fear grew, for the young man laughed, soft but merry. “Then I have done as well as I might,” said he. “For both my friends lived under the spell of your fear for a full year, and neither were ever free of your shadow, while I have sung and danced beyond the shadow of your care as few men ever can. What matter it now that I have not slipped your nets, if (for all their cunning) my friends share this fate alike? How can I begrudge this day, after so merry a year?”
Then Death was filled with wroth, and rose up black and menaceful, for Death sudden perceived that the man had bested him. And he would have smote him where he stood, but the man did not flinch. So Death drew himself up to a great height, and he was clad in power and crowned with majesty.
YOU HAVE LIVED FREE OF ME FOR A YEAR, YOU SAY? THEN HEAR ME NOW AND TREMBLE AS I PRONOUNCE YOUR DOOM. FOR YOUR LIFE IS INDEED FORFEIT, AS NAMED IN OUR BARGAIN. YET NEVER DID I NAME THE HOUR OR PLACE WHEN I WOULD COLLECT MY PRIZE.
SO IT BE THAT YOU MUST LIVE IN UNCERTAIN FEAR, AND YOU SHALL NOT KNOW WHEN I WILL COME FOR YOU. EVER WILL YOU DREAD MY HAND UPON YOUR SHOULDER, AND NEVER WILL YOU KNOW WHEN TOLLS THE HOUR OF MY COMING. YOUR LIFE IS FORFEIT, SOLDIER, BUT I WILL NOT CLAIM MY WINNINGS UNTIL YOU HAVE FEARED ME AS YOUR FRIENDS FEARED ME. THIS IS YOUR DOOM.
And the man nodded gravely, and as Death departed he smiled. And he sat and took up his wife’s hand, and he slept. For many years after that day did he live wisely and well, for Death stayed his execution long, hoping that the man’s fear might grow and be prolonged. Yet when at last Death came for him, gloating and hungry, the soldier was quiet and content, for he had lived to an old age and done many good things in all his days.
So Death claimed the fruits of his victory even as he admitted his defeat, and honoured the third soldier as an equal and a friend, and the man’s spirit passed beyond the confines of this Middle-earth into the Far Halls.
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