Doors, Part 6 - Decay

I flinch and open my eyes.

Did I just hear something? I listen carefully and look around, but everything is silent and dark. Jack is quietly puffing in his bed. I try to remember as I lay in my own. Old Garan... Garandeol, yes, that was it. Someone said "old Garandeol", I'm sure of it. But there is no one else in the room besides Jack, so it must've been just a dream. That's right, a dream. But now I am wide awake. Is it morning? What time is it?

I slip my feet from under the warm blanket and onto the cool wooden floor and tiptoe out of our bedroom.

The hourglass tells me that it is only four o'clock. Four more hours until dawn. I shouldn't have gotten out of the bed. Now my feet are cold and I cannot sleep with cold feet. Not that it matters, really, this Garandeol thing is circling in my head anyway. When my brain starts working, I just can't stop it. Jack is just the opposite; he can sleep anywhere, even on a horsewagon. I remember one time we were coming from the village. It was late at night, and there was only one pile of straw on the wagon floor, but Jack was sleeping on it anyway, rolling from side to side as the wagon bumped on the rocky road.

Suddenly I realise that Garandeol is something familiar, something I've heard of it. Something related to the village. But what was it? Something old... A castle or a shrine? But no, we don't have a castle and our shrine is called Loghenge. Maybe I can find it from the Calendar.

We don't have many books because they are so expensive, but we have the Calendar. I've seen lots of books in the Village House though. The best books have fascinating stories and adventures in them, and the best part is that you are allowed to go there and read them if you give the Village Community a helping hand in return. But Dad says that the Calendar is the most important book of all. It has a yellow cover and inside you can find guidance on when to plow and sow and harvest, and when the moon is full, and when the stars are in a favourable position for proposing, and how to make a fishing net, and maps of many areas all the way to the capital.

I go to the shelf and carefully take out the Calendar. I also pick up a candle and light it up because it is pitch black. I have good eyes, and can see many things Mom and Dad don't see when it's really dark, but now it's a bit too dark, even for me. I could read by moonlight, but it's too cloudy, so that won't work now. The friendly candle shows me my long woolen socks under the chair. I pull them on, sit on the bench and start reading.

I turn pages until I find a map of our county. Our village is in the top left corner, behind the large forest and beside the sea. It shows the shrine and the mill and the port but few other things, as our village is quite small. But then my finger stops at the southernmost corner of the village: Witch Garandeol. That's what it says. But nothing else.

I'm getting cold all over, so I put the Calendar back, blow out the candle and go back to my bed. The blanket is still quite warm from the inside, and soon I start to feel warm and drowsy. Before I fall sleep again, I decide to pay a visit to the village tomorrow.

I just wonder... how could I have dreamt of a thing that I had forgotten? Unless... unless it had a special -- maybe magical -- meaning?

~ x ~

The morning is especially gray and there is thick mist in the forest. It probably raises from the sea with the mild wind, as the sea is still warm but the air is colder than yesterday. I would prefer clear skies and sunlight even from the pale winter sun that climbs barely above the treetops, but then again the mist and the creepy atmosphere makes for a good mythical morning, and that's how it should be. It makes me feel a bit more comfortable and I start walking a bit faster to keep warm. After more than a league of brisk walking, I reach the village and find Garandeol's cottage.

I knock on the door and carefully pull it open. The hut is small, it has maybe two rooms altogether. There is a fireplace on the right and a figure is sitting in front of it in a rocking chair.

"Ah, there you are. Please come on in and close the door. Have a seat."

I am stunned. He could not see me from where he was. How did he know who I am and that I was coming?

He stands up carefully and pulls his chair with short movements so that it is facing me. My dream knew it right; he is really old. Old Garandeol. His voice sounds old, too. It's all squeaky and mumbling. I pull my hood down and sit on the bench he gestured with his hand.

"Er, good day, old Garandeol," I say. "Um, how did you know I was coming?"

"Because I heard the door open," he giggles and then coughs. "The first impression is very important, and you know, I am a witch. But I am retired so I don't care about the second impression and I am no longer pretending to know things I don't. So I have no idea why you are here, Charlie. Please tell, or do you want first some tea?"

"Er ... you know who I am?" I say hesitantly. "Do you read minds? You said you are retired."

"I am," he says and starts to giggle and cough again, even harder and longer. I'm quite sure he must have some terrible lung disease and will probably die in front of my eyes. But he waves his hand to show that it's okay and I should calm down. Finally he takes a deep breath and continues to speak.

"Oh, you young people are just wonderful. It is so easy to make a huge impression with simple tricks if you just have right prejudices. Be careful not to be fooled by someone who has bad intentions." He lets out a sigh and continues, "Charlie, I have lived in this village my whole life. Is it really a wonder that I know everyone? But I have met you before, maybe ten years ago. Of course you don't remember everyone you have met when you were a child, because those people didn't connect to anything. But I know everyone and hear their stories in the village, and when I met you during the Autumn Fair those years ago, I already knew a lot about your family and you, and it was easy to remember that short event." He chuckles softly. "Isn't that annoying when strangers know a lot about you? And it happens a lot when you are young."

I am not sure if he wants me to reply to his question. But my answer would be yes, it is annoying, and that might be impolite to say, so I just keep silent.

"And isn't it also annoying when these strangers tell you that oh my how you have grown since the last time? And indeed you have grown," he says and smiles. "There is no need to answer, I can see the answer on your face. But I like the way you consider your words trying not to insult other people. Now, Charlie, please tell me why you are here."

"I saw a dream last night," I say after a long pause. Old Garandeol is really confusing a person. His sharp eyes seem to see through you in a very uncomfortable way, but his gestures are friendly and his strange words are -- mostly -- comforting. But again, his body looks scarily old and vulnerable, and his mouth is almost empty; only two teeth have survived the tooth decay. His breath smells like an old person, which he, of course, is. But I cannot make up my mind whether he is like a rotten old house that is about to collapse in any second, or like a young charming man that has been cursed into an old body.

Both images are disturbing and I try not to think about either. I am not good at not thinking about things.

"And you want me to interpret the dream for you?" he asks.

"Oh no, the dream was very clear," I say. "I heard 'Old Garandeol', and then I woke up. First I didn't understand it at all, but then I remembered that it relates to the village and then found your name on the Calendar's map. I think there is a reason why I heard it, but I don't know what it is."

"That is interesting. Do your parents ever talk about me? Or your neighbours?"

"No, at least I don't remember. But you are a witch, so I thought that it may relate to a door I saw in the forest yesterday. Mom said it's probably magic."

Garandeol stiffens and looks me up and down for a while. Then he takes a deep breath.

"So you saw a door. Please tell me every detail about what happened."

I tell him everything about the cliff and the door and what Mom told about our uncle and how we should keep away from the doors if we ever saw one. He listens carefully and only asks a few questions about the details. Then he straightens up in the rocking chair.

"The doors are indeed magic, and they are a serious thing but fortunately very rare. They are entries to the Faerie Realm. Very few people ever come back if they go through a door, so we know very little about what's on the other side."

I feel my blood drain from my cheeks when I realise that if I had gone through the door frame yesterday, I would have never come back to my family.

"I remember your uncle's sad story very well. We never heard from him or from the foreigner ever again. He probably kidnapped him and took to another country."

"Don't you think that he was a faerie that came to our country and kidnapped him to the Faerie Realm?"

"Oh no," Garandeol smiles. "He was a human all right. Faeries are the size of a woodpecker. But the glow on him your mother described is faerie magic that the foreigner had been able to get to himself, at least for a while. I suppose that was the reason why he was able to escape from the Faerie Realm through a door in the first place."

"But he couldn't have kidnapped him," I protested, and suddenly got excited about a new thought. "He was already eleven and he would have shouted and kicked, making a silent escape impossible. Don't you think that the stranger could've tricked my uncle to join him through another door? Maybe my uncle is still in the Faerie Realm and wants to get back home?"

"I cannot imagine that the stranger would ever go back there, he was so relieved to get out. But it is possible that your uncle got to the other side for some reason. There is no way to know because we don't know any way out of there."

"But the doors are real things, and somehow they appear and disappear. What makes that happen?"

"The best that I know is that they are created by faeries. So if there is a door, there is probably a faerie nearby."

"And can you see faeries? I can easily see woodpeckers in the forest but I have never seen a faerie."

"They are rare in our world, but yes, they can be seen if they want to be seen. Usually they want to hide and they are extremely good at that."

My brain starts to spin faster than ever. I can hear my pulse in my ears. The whole idea of another world is mindblowing, but now I know that a faerie was near our home! A faerie that can make a door to this world and also may know about my uncle! It was in my forest and I might find it and I might find out what happened to my lost uncle! How glad Mom and Dad will be if I can solve this mystery that they had carried in their hearts all these years! But it must be a surprise, they would be too worried to let me talk to a faerie.

"Dear Garandeol," I almost shout in excitement as I jump up from the bench. "What you have just told me is simply fascinating and wonderful and now I know what I have to do. Sorry to leave so abruptly but I really am in a hurry now. A thousand thanks!"

Without a second though I grab him into my arms and hug him. Then I realise how strange that is and let go. I try to think of something meaningful to say, but the only thing my brain can produce is:

"I think you have grown smaller since we last met."

Then I rush out of the door.

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Jouni