He laid the gourd down, careful not to spill it, and traced with his eye the way the line should run, from the gourd to a stake driven into the ground, then down to the pod. He saw himself puncturing the gourd, the water dribbling out. Thorinn lies down in the pod, which closes over him. At length the gourd, growing lighter, glides up the slope; the pod, moving down, keeps the line taut; the gourd reaches the stake...
But the stake should not be there. It might catch the curved neck of the gourd, the creeper knotted around it, the knobby surface of the gourd itself. Yet the stake must be there in the first place, to hold the pod.
Dissatisfied, he thought of a moveable peg, a wooden hook. He searched among the dead branches in the forest, found a forked limb with a projecting stub that was smooth and no bigger than his thumb. He held the limb this way and that: tilted up, the stub would hold the loop of cord; tilt it down, and the cord would slide off freely. But how to make it tilt? Suddenly, in his mind, gourd, forked limb, cord all came together, and he knew.
He dropped the forked limb near the gourd and went back into the forest. Half-buried in the undergrowth was a bigger limb, three ells long and as thick as his thigh. With much toil he dragged it out and set it crossways on the slope, wedging the ends behind a shrub and a stone. The smaller limb he set with its stem on the log, the forked ends on the slope above it. The projecting stub stood straight up. Now he carried the heavy gourd up behind the log and laid it down, with care, in the embrace of the forked branch. With a length of creeper he lashed the gourd securely to the branch. He picked up the rest of the creeper, made a loop in one end, slipped it over the smooth projecting stub, and leaned back with all his weight. The gourd did not move.
He tied the other end of the creeper to the pod-vine, then placed the pod directly below the log, within an ell of the bank over the river. He examined his work again, and saw that it was good. The water would run out of the punctured gourd, its weight would lessen; the greater weight of the pod would drag it forward, the forked limb would tilt, the cord would slip off the stub. All that remained was to do it. Thorinn slowly put on his garments, made sure that all his possessions were in the wallet, sheathed his sword. The pink, soft pod-halves gaped open. Below him he could hear the unending rush of the water.
Once more he examined every part of the engine he had made. He knelt behind the log, looked at the heavy-bellied curve of the gourd between the forks of the limb. He drew his sword, set the point against the bottom of the gourd, then hesitated. He found himself thinking of other ways, of somehow ascending the cataract at the other end of the valley, or finding the doorway in the sky... Go down, said the voice in his mind, and he thrust the sword in. Water spurted; when he withdrew the blade, a thin stream ran from the gash, twisting as it went, rebounding in lazy droplets from the turf below. Thorinn got up and went down the slope to the waiting pod. Its pink halves gaped in invitation. In sick disgust, he stepped into it, felt it loathsomely soft under his feet. His muscles jumped with the desire to get away from it, but he made himself sit down, then lie back in the pod's fleshy embrace. He saw a narrowing strip of sky, then the podflesh came slowly and smotheringly against his face. The rush of the water below faded to silence. He struggled to get out, and found it quite easy. The pod turned to mist, and he was free under a curious twilit sky, walking without fear in a land where interesting things were happening, and where friendly people, whose faces he could not quite see, were speaking to him in words he almost seemed to understand. He realized that he had lost his sword, and that alarmed him faintly, but when he looked again it was there, bright and shining at his waist. Then he realized it was gone again, but it did not seem to matter. The things that were happening and the things said to him were so interesting and pleasant that years went by in this way without any weariness, and it seemed to him that he could well congratulate himself on having attained this mode of life, so much better in every way than the other; and he pitied those who were still groaning with toil in that former life. He mentioned this to one or two of his companions, and they agreed entirely; he knew this by their voices, although their words never became entirely clear. Then after a long time something unpleasant began to happen. It came to him from a direction in which he could not defend himself, nor could the others help him. It had no face or meaning, but he could not ignore it; it receded, then it came back again, more brutally demanding than ever. He saw that something could be done, but it would mean giving up all his ease and pleasure to the end of time, and while he hesitated, the thing came back once more, and now it had a sound: the roar of water.
5
How Thorinn entered a treasure cave and found a magic box that could speak, albeit foolishly.
2957 a. d.:
In this yer the wyse men forwiste that er 50 yer be paced our Sonne wolde brenne so breme thath it wolde roste us all lyk mete in a forneys, and wolde be our bane.Than spake som and seyde: "Maken we a char of this our Erthe; so shal we flee our Sonnes fyrand seke another sterre. "
Yet others answerde: "So eek shal we lese our eir, for hit wol frese, but that we wirken a greetroofe over-thwart the world: and of which matere wirken we swich a roofe, that of hits owenwighte hit ne shal falle?"
Than sterted oon that seyde: "Wirken we a blader fulfild of eir! So shal our roofe kepe eir, whyleir kepe eek the roofe!"
So they bigane, and swinkede ful 20 yer in this werke.
Water stung his eyes, his nose. The roaring blackness whirled around him. He struggled against it, but his body was like a stone. Water surged over his face again. Half strangled, he struck out, and found the soft edges of the pod under his hands. His eyes were open but he could see nothing. The pod tilted, shuddered; the roaring of the water was beneath him. He floundered, trying to turn over; the pod tilted and he felt the black water sucking at his legs. He strained to pull himself against the pod. It was canted, half out of the water. The water roared black beneath it, trying to drag him down. He struck out with his feet, touched slippery stone, then lost it. It seemed to him that the pod was jammed against some crevice down which the water was pouring. He groped again, found footing once more, but the pod swung and he was kicking in the water again.
He worked his grasp higher on the pod, fighting the tug of the water. He was shaking with cold. Here the pod narrowed; he was able to get one arm under it, grasp it from the opposite side. Hanging underneath in this way, he put his foot back, touched bottom, and braced himself precariously. The current streamed against the back of his legs. He turned clumsily, one hand on the pod. The pod began to swing; letting it go, he leaped. The water swept his legs out from under him and he was down, pawing the slippery stone underwater. He fell, was swept back, struggled up, fell again. Something smote him on the cheek, making his head ring; he grabbed, found himself clinging to a massive stone half out of water. He dragged himself across it, braced himself on the far side. Only then could he pause to cough the water out of his throat. The blackness was solid and velvety; the rushing roar of the water never stopped. He began to remember now, and understood that the pod had carried him down the cataract. He was safe for the moment and not drowning, and that was all he cared about.
After a time he roused himself enough to make sure that he still had his sword and wallet, and then to fumble in the wallet for his light-box. He uncapped the box, and a pale beam sprang out. In its light, he saw the cold water silvery around him. Only two ells off, the pod slowly turned in a whirlpool; all his struggle had been to come that little way. The ragged ceiling was close overhead. Below, the water was everywhere; he could see no end to it. A few irregular blocks of stone rose above the water or could be seen dimly shining beneath it; they looked as if they had fallen from the broken ceiling.