There once was a great war, and ere it ended, many were cut down in the flower of their youth and met death before their time.
But the war ended, and the great armies disbanded and the soldiers returned to their homes. Three such soldiers traveled a long road together, for they came from the same town, and for many days did they journey.
Yet through an ill chance, having long avoided the dangers of war and death, Death nevertheless met them on that long road from war, and claimed their lives unto himself.
The youngest of the soldiers bowed his head when they met Death, and accepted his lot. The middle of them wept and railed in impotent fury. Yet the oldest and canniest of them had studied lore, and he knew well that Death had a love for games and challenge. So said he silver-tongued, as Death stepped toward them, “Hold a while, lord, for I would a battle of wits with thee, 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 is keen, to have found us three who have escaped your sight on the battlefield. Yet I wonder, could you do so again? For you have come upon us unprepared as one craven, like a thief in the night. Grant us three stay of a year and a day, though, and I warrant you will not find us so easy again. Grant us a year and a day, and if you can find us by sundown of that day, our lives be rightly forfeit.”
Death heard the challenge, and grim laughed, for Death also was fell-wise and thought-crafty. Yet still 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 the traveling soldiers spoke long over this strange chance, and quarrel came over them so that they did not agree upon a right course of action. And so in the end the oldest soldier turned his course south, and the middle went west, and the youngest alone continued northward to their home. To the east they went not.
The oldest soldier counted himself cunning and wise, and he knew that great store of learning remained in the southlands. So to the south he went, and he apprenticed himself to the sages of those lands, and learned all he could and surpassed them all, for he was desperate and eager. He passed from the huts of hermits to halls of marble, and gained greatly in knowledge, and came to know many strange secrets.
As the year approached its end, he had become famed in the land, yet also mistrusted, for though he drank eagerly of knowledge, he did not share it readily, and scholars muttered his name both with wonder and ill-feeling. Yet learned was he now, and he had come to know many alchemical mysteries. So he came to a tower of crystal, and he barred the door and ascended it to its heights, and on the last day of the year he brewed himself a potion, a potion that would forever stave off death and illness and grant youth.
The second soldier was a fearful and cowardly man, of small mind and lazy disposition. He had scoffed at the oldest soldier’s plan, and chose rather to put his trust in folklore and rumour. So he fled, seeking the hidden realm of the Fair Folk, 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, he came to the halls of the Fair Folk, and they admitted him to their lands.
But when he begged to learn the secrets to avoid Death and to be protected from his sight, the Fair Folk mocked him, for it is a power that they guard jealously, and they met his plea with scorn. “Go forth, flee, mortal man,” they said, “For if you stay in our halls, Death will meet you ere this year ends. Verily will we be glad to escort you to him ourselves, with flight of arrow!” And they drove him away with jibes and threats, and he fled still further west, hoping to come to lands where Death had not yet come, for foolishly he still believed he could outpace Death.
The third and youngest man came after long days of dusty travel back to his home, where he was met with joy by his kin, for all had believed 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. They were wed, and he returned to his craft as woodworker, making nothing that could stave off Death’s cold touch, but gaining greatly in skill and fame nonetheless, and his diligent and careful craft gained renown. Within a half-year, he had taken on two apprentices. Within another month, he had earned coin enough to last his family a tenyear. And as the last month of the year dawned, his wife bore him a child.
Yet though he was hardworking and diligent, the youngest soldier did not neglect kin or friends. He was frugal with coin but not stingy, and quickly become beloved of the town for his quick smile and slow temper. And ever was he the liveliest dancer and merriest man at festival, and also the first to offer his aid when a friend met 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 the day dawned. The oldest soldier woke afore the rising of the sun, for he knew that Death be wily and cunning. And he barred the single door to his tower, and ascended its heights, and awaited the first gleam of dawn. And as the sun’s rays crept gentle over the hills, the soldier greedily gulped down his potion that would grant him life eternal, determined not to allow Death a moment’s pause 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 he tried 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 door would not break by force of man. Yet even as the man choked and gasped on the ground, he saw a black-booted foot step before him, and he was gladdened believing that aid had come.
And so Death claimed the oldest soldier to himself, as the morning sun laughed pale and cold.
The day drew on, and noon grew hot, even by the cliffs overlooking the western sea, where the second soldier roamed, alone and afraid. For no men dwelt in these parts, and the soldier did hope that thus 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 THESE SEAS DIVIDE YOUR LANDS FROM THOSE OF THE EVERLIVING. SEE YOU NOT THEIR SHORES DISTANT ON THE HORIZON?
And the man looked, and he saw the shores of the undying, and he rejoiced and leapt heedless into the ocean foam. And his body broke upon the rocks below, and he sank like as a stone to the bottom of the foaming emerald sea. And so Death claimed the second soldier to himself, as the midday sun grew vengeful hot.
The evening sun blazed wrathful red as Death came to the soldiers’ hometown, and passed its cobbled streets in search of prey. And so it was that Death came upon the third soldier, and he was sitting at home by fire, and he held the hand of his sleeping wife. So Death entered their house, and gloated greedy over the young soldier, for he had lost 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?
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, “Tell me, friend Death, for all their arts and wiles and fears, did either of my companions escape your long hand and keen eye?”
NO.
Then Death heard the strangest sound, and his fear grew, for the young man laughed, soft but merry. “Then I have done better than either,” said he. “For both lived under the spell of your fear for a full year, and never were ever free of your shadow, while I have sang and danced beyond your care as few men ever can. What matter it now that I have not slipped your nets, if my friends share this fate alike for all their cunning? 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 so as to show his dreadful power and majesty.
YOU HAVE LIVED FREE OF ME FOR A YEAR, YOU SAY, LITTLE MAN? THEN HEAR ME NOW AND TREMBLE AS I PRONOUNCE A DOOM TO THEE. FOR YOUR LIFE IS INDEED MINE AND IS 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 FEAR, UNCERTAINTY, 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 ITS COMING. YOUR LIFE IS FORFEIT, SOLDIER, BUT I WILL NOT CLAIM MY WINNINGS UNTIL YOU HAVE FEARED ME AS YOUR FRIENDS FEARED ME. THIS, THEN, 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 lived wisely and well for many years, for Death stayed his execution long, hoping to grow and prolong his fear. 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.
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.
