The Itinerant Painter

Despite this distasteful feeling, the bespectacled man almost didn’t jump. He simply glanced, astonished, at the elongated tongue as large as his waist which just wrapped round the crank. Gretel repressed a piercing cry. Luckily, the cry was equal to her size, sparing thus the bespectacled man’s eardrums.

“Uh- Oh. Molok, you’re willing to help us?”

     A few metres behind them was an animal burdened with saddlebags on either side. Here, canvases protruded through the attachment of one of them, held by a strap. There, brushes of all sizes and shapes were hung by leather straps on the front of another.

     As for the said animal, he had a slick skin of the tint of olivines. Numerous black blots embellished its colouring, same to spray-painting. It was a huge frog.

     By the way, she didn’t miss the opportunity to roll her eyes at her master’s question. Her answer was blatantly obvious. Without her, what exactly did he hope to achieve?

     Sometimes pushing, sometimes pulling oh her long tongue, the amphibian worked to operate the crank, setting the mechanism in motion. The rope began to slide along the pulley, gradually lifting the sorcerer up.

     Gretel swallowed.

“Your friend… isn’t hungry, right?”

“Mmm? Oh, Molok? She ate not so long ago. Why?”

     Frogs eat butterflies.

“Uhh… No, nevermind.”

     A shiver ran up her back, until the end of her wing.

     Once Henox had reached the surface, he took the time to thank properly the little man. So, even a sorcerer like him – ignoring the concept of tact – was able to say thanks. It would almost be worrying. Though for the wrong reasons.

     Gretel promptly returned to her usual place on Henox’s shoulder. She was careful, however, to avoid the arm hanging along his sides, as if inert.

“I’m glad I could help you. Henox and Gretel, is this it? My name is Tomoo.”

     Displaying a friendly smile, he pressed the tips of his fingers one against another. His glasses raised towards the sorcerer and the little fairy. Hard to tell, though, if he gazed or not at Henox directly in the eyes.

“You are travellers, I guess? Are you heading to a place in particular?”

“Yes, there’s a place in the vicinity that this fairy wishes to visit.

“No!” Gretel intervened, almost panicked. “You’re hurt! We need to find a doctor to fix your arm!”

“Useless. Since we are here, we might as well follow through. First we’ll go there, then we’ll head to the nearest village.”

“But!”

     Henox did not respond. Displaying a serene smile, he merely closed his eyes as if that slight divergence in their opinions was already settled.

“Ohh… Mmm…” Bespectacled Tomoo hesitated to intervene, as if he was witnessing a scene he should rather slip away from. “Which place is it about? I may, let’s say, bring you closer to there in order to spare you the walk.”

“Tomoo! Kind…”

     As large tears of gratitude threatened to roll down the fairy’s soft cheeks, Henox grabbed the magic map he possessed. He extended it to the little man, letting him unfold it before pointing at a place on the map.

“Over there.”

“Mmm…”

“It’s a place so magic it makes your eyes sparkle!”

“Your eyes sparkle, you say? Oh, yes, I see! I think I know which place it may be. It’s a stroke of luck, I happen to be going there too.”

***

After Tomoo had helped to shape a makeshift brace, the little man approached his mount. He set a foot on the calliper and began to hop on it. It turned out to be bouncy and made him rise, fall, rise even higher… until he managed to swing into the saddle.

“Come on!”

     Leaning forward to reach out a hand to the sorcerer, he helped the latter to climb.

“I have never travelled on the back of a frog before!” Gretel remarked, casting a cautious glance at Molok.

     She firmly clenched onto the goatskin. As a pure precaution.

“You’ll see, at first, it’s rather… baffling. But you get used to it.” He hastened to add.

     Then, bridle in hand, he held it tight.

“Lets’ go, Molok!”

     Molok snorted.

“Ohh… Uhh? Please?”

     It didn’t take more. It didn’t take less.

     So that with a leap releasing the pressure in her paws, the air whistling from all sides, the fabric slapped against the skin.

     Beneath them, menhirs became pebbles stuck into the ground. Their ascent gradually slowed, until the saddlebags at either side of Molok began to float, as if suspended in mid-air.

“You often travel in that manner?” The sorcerer asked.

“Yes.” The bespectacled little man confirmed, turning a smile towards him. “I am always looking for new landscapes to paint. Oh- beware to the descent!”

“T- The descent?”

     Barely had Gretel the time to stammer that they began losing all the altitude they had gained.

“HIIIIIIIH!!!!”

     The ground enclosed at a maddening speed until Molok’s paws touched the stone. Though instead of an abrupt collision, it was almost smooth, the amphibian’s hind legs bending like a rewinding spring… So that the next moment Molok pushed off the ground to regain the air.

“I go almost everywhere. Mountains, lowlands, forest… Where breathtaking landscapes can be found.”

“Why do you keep on painting?” Henox inquired.

“To anchor to my canvases theses sceneries doomed to disappear. To ensure nobody would forget what nobody would soon be able to see.”

     Their stupendous rise was slowly slowing as they reached their zenith.

     From ascent to descent, from descent to ascent, they continued on their way. Molok’s citrine eyes glowed in the darkness.

“Though then, nobody will be able to see your canvases.” He paused. “Your canvases themselves will be obliterated.”

“Can’t we protect them?” The little fairy ventured.

“Even if there were a way, it wouldn’t change much.” The sorcerer retorted.

     The bespectacled man lowered his head. He kept his smile, though it had become a bit melancholic.

“You may be right. Maybe this is useless. But I can’t sit idly. When I imagine all these landscapes vanishing forever… I can feel my heart tighten. So I paint. I paint all my eyes can see. And, when the end of the world will come, then I… I will hook my canvases to lanterns and will let them fly away. And then! Maybe! Just maybe…”

     No one interrupted him. No one asked him to continue his sentence.

     All four fell silent. Molok even refrained from croaking. Letting these hopes anchor into the night.

     As they continued their bouncing stride, the frog pushed the ground away with her feet for the umpteenth time. This time with such force that their silhouettes soon shaped against the selenian disc.

“It’s like swimming among the stars…” Gretel marvelled.

     And then, Tomoo’s hat flew off just as they began their descent.

“Ohh… It’s the 59th hat I lose.”

***

At last the travellers setting foot back on the ground, Tomoo followed them after retrieving an easel and a blank canvas from his belongings.

“I let you enjoy the surroundings, as for me I will settle down a few steps away.”

“What are you going to do, Tomoo?” Gretel asked.

“Painting.” He answered in a smile.

     Mere steps were enough to take to find themselves surrounded by dozens of mushrooms. They were all sizes, although most of them didn’t exceed the sorcerer’s height.

     Though this wasn’t the only place’s peculiarity, because all of these mushrooms emitted a glow of an oscillating mixture of blue, lilac and green. All in pastel shades. Her face bathed in these lights, Gretel looked around her in wonder.

“Woow… Did you see, Sir Henox? It’s like a mushroom forest. Did you already see something so beautiful? Say! Say!”

“Mmm…” The sorcerer gazed around him with a studious eye. “As you can probably guess by now, I’ve always avoided this area. So, no. I’ve never seen this place.”

     Though his gaze lacked something. A spark.

     Gretel’s eyes lingered on him, seeming concerned.

“We both have eyes. Mine do see. Yours do see. So why do I get the feeling that we don’t see the same things?”

     She didn’t notice at once that the mushrooms had begun to wriggle. Their colours to blend for the benefit of a golden hue.

“What can I do to borrow you my eyes?”

     All around them, mushrooms’ caps started to undulate. They flattened before taking back their shapes, transmitting the impulse to their edge which in a jolt expelled the air. This, until they began to rise.

     One by one, the mushrooms came out of the ground, their stalk splitting into a myriad of laced arms and tentacles same as golden filaments.

     Resembling a lanterns field, they continued to rise gracefully, swimming in the air.

     From behind his easel, the bespectacled little man painted the jellyfish, striving to render every flicker, every ripple.

     And, in the middle of this field, he had painted two silhouettes. The one of an amazed fairy, her eyes filled with stars. And the one of a sorcerer supporting her, a smile drawn upon his features.