Out of Sight, Yet of Mind (for Lily)

The wizard and his son may be found living in a large wooden house by the sea.

The son played along large cliffs looming over a breathing sea. He raced shadows, scraped elbows, poked bats and rolled logs down to the beach.

The wizard set his eight goblins to mining the earth, which he would shape. Metal swirled and spun into trusty cauldrons and knickknacks.

The metalsmith celebrated his son’s eighth birthday with three gifts: a polished wand crafted by Virgilium of the trading city to the North, to follow in his footsteps, a gleaming toy warrior in armour assembled by Magon of the trading city to the South, to inspire new footsteps, and a great book compiled by Rudolf of the tribes to the East, to better guide next footsteps.

The son was was overjoyed with all of his gifts, but he favoured the toy warrior. It came to half his height, and bore red plumage and highlights. Genuine metal armour concealed leather skin. The warrior bore no sword or bow, much to his disappointment. He set aside the wand and book for later.

The boy dragged his toy along the breaking waves until it followed him on its own. They explored coves and hunted birds, the boy always leading. The boy lay awake that night, restless and full of energy.

The metalsmith kept his son back the second day. The boy set the toy aside and observed the smith as metal bubbled and flowed. The mutterings of the goblins and cacophony of their tools required the metalsmith to raise his voice. The son, for his part, ignored the ruckus as best as he could, paying close attention to his father’s wandcraft.

Earth shaped into little dolls, that was his first lesson. Sleep that night proved a thankful escape from the dense explanations of the metalsmith.

The metalsmith held his son back the third day. “You must learn the craft, as your mother and I once did.” He set his son on his lap and set to explaining the delicate art of wizardry.

The earth toy learned a quick little jig, the boy his second lesson.

The boy slept well that night, sleep proving a merciful escape from the winding explanations of the wizard.

The boy got up wearily the next day. His father noticed this and set him free. The boy ran away with his trusty warrior.

After their steps faded into the din of mining, a goblin spoke, a nasty little thing with bulging eyes and a permanent scowl. “You spend too much time with the boy, Wizard. You make not gold, but tin. Goblin help comes not cheap.” Golden greed blazed in his eyes. The metalsmith nodded, unconcerned. “Right you are!”

The boy did not have to drag the toy very long to get it to follow him this time. It even ran ahead of him, pointing the way to some berries! The boy took them home.

When the boy walked in that night, there were six goblins, each quietly delving into the ground. The boy cared not, and the father explained not. He slept fitfully that night, his vigour drained.

On the fourth day, the wizard instructed his son to bring out the book. They boiled water, dropped shavings of cedar, wings of ladbybirds, a drop of metal and stirred five times. Their potions sizzled as they dipped the earthen toy, first in the cauldron of the father. The now glowing grey toy was dipped in the preparation of the son. The toy turned a shade of faded blue. The father expected this and hugged his son with pride. He carried around his son on his shoulders for the rest of the day as he worked to finish some wares for trading.

The earthen toy was coated in a thin sheet of iron; the boy had learnt his third lesson.

The metalsmith set his son free the next day; the trader was due tomorrow. The boy tugged his toy warrior one foot and the toy warrior came to life. The warrior immediately saw a trail of hares and led a hunt. When the hares proved too devious and fast, they went down to the beach. The boy handed sand to his warrior, who would dab it onto the replica of their house. The metalsmith and his son tossed and turned that night. One worried over gold; the other had a restless soul.

The metalsmith set to furious work on the sixth day. The trickles of metal grew to streams, gurgling as they rushed to form ladles and sheets. The boy had not the strength for play, but the warrior dragged him out, until the invigorating wind set feet and mind free. The warrior ordered the boy to lie still on the floor of the woods. A small green snake slid amongst the leaves, unaware of the danger of this prey. The boy tensed in anticipation of a catch. Something in him insisted it was crucial, but his feet, though free, proved lesser to the warrior. The warrior took the snake home. They met the trader that evening, a huge man with robes of purple, a lined face and beady eyes.

The metalsmith sold tin and bought gold, but something seemed amiss. The gold came to far less than usual; it would be difficult to keep his word to the goblins. The wily trader seemed blessed with an understanding of his predicament, for it would suffice for no more than two goblins. They then haggled over the toy in exchange for food. The metalsmith was more successful at this. He bade his son closer and had him watch the bidding.

The toy of earth was sold, the son had, unbeknownst to him, had his last lesson.

That midnight, whilst his father slept, the boy rose quietly. He crept to the door, his limbs stiff and movements jerky. The door admitted four goblins, eyes unlit for it was the darkest of nights.

They each grabbed a limb of the toy warrior, who jerked awake unprompted. The toy warrior struggled, his movements a shadow of the power he had shown under the sun. His eyes bore a strange resemblance to those of the boy. Had the cunning trader been there, or the intelligent father been awake, they’d have known immediately. It was the boy now in the toy warrior, and the toy warrior in the boy!

The goblins hauled him through the woods and down to the beach. Disturbed earth marked where a pile of daggers and shields lay in the sand. The boy warrior caught glimpses of their sharp edges, shining with purpose this dark night, as he struggled against the goblins.

The body of the toy warrior held great strength, one that gave the sturdy goblins trouble, but the boy warrior was too unfamiliar with his body. He was soon trussed up in ropes and set on a wooden raft.

The very wind and waves recoiled in horror and fled. The warrior waved the wand, but its heart of Unicorn wanted no part in this tragedy. It stung the warrior for his impertinence.

The warrior shrugged and drove the raft with his hands. Dead eyes blinked away the spray, looking directly at the boy warrior. His cruel grin sent chills down his spine.

As the raft drifted out into the inhaling sea, the boy warrior saw the warrior boy break his wand over his knees and the goblins fling on their armour.

And then he slipped beneath the horizon.

 

Spoiler

Well, that's a story.

In my opinion this has problems with pacing, as if all the words were rushing towards the "It was the boy now in the toy warrior, and the toy warrior in the boy!" and once they got there broke into, well, the a bit of confusion. After it there's too many he/his-es to properly track the subject, though this part might be me.

I also think this would do better with more words to maybe put some symbolism into lessons and help the pacing so it is building instead of rushing. I almost feel like the style is copy of something I've read, but I can't really put a finger to it. There's of course a bit around seven, but that could be anything so I don't know.

The finishing line is neat, as is the title, but this between is what I'm having trouble with. Kinda wondering if it would make a difference if there was some emotion infused in the story...not really sure. Anyway, interesting short read, as it is, but not something I'd go back to unless it is to understand some bits at all. If I was to recognize something third in the story and completely missed it, disregard all this together and pin it on me being a cultureless punk.

 

Spoiler: hmmm

I am confused by the ending if I'm honest, and it doesn't help that the phrasing and subject choice is unclear at various points of the story.

I read it multiple times and I am still not a 100% sure that I got it.

 

Spoiler

Craft-wise, this has issues. Your first sentence is in the present tense, the rest in the past tense. You call the boy's father "the wizard" first and then switch to calling him "the metalsmith" occasionally.

There's heavy usage of numbers - eight birthday, eight goblins, three toys, the fourth day, stirred five times - but you don't really make use of the numerical theme, which we know from canon actually is of note, with arithmancy applied to the tales of Beedle the Bard. Repetition is usually a core facet of fairy tales as far as I'm aware, but you elide the opportunities by not explicitly stating the days.

It's just kind of messy in general, honestly. I was skimming by the time of the fourth day because every paragraph began with "The metalsmith..."