Eliot approached the Magus somewhat tentatively, but the latter spared him having to attract his attention by turning fully around - he seemed to have been aware for some time of Eliot's approach - and fixed him with a severe look, though nevertheless for the first time with a perceptibly friendly look in his eye.
"You're cold and hungry, Stearns. Come, I'll show you where there is shelter."
Night had fallen fully by now, and Eliot gladly followed the Magus' courteous beckoning gesture. They went a little way along the river bank to a thick stand of trees, and as they entered this together Eliot found it was up against a small rock face; and in that was the mouth of a small cave, enough to make a very passable fireplace. He was delighted to see a cheerful fire was burning in it, throwing warmth back out into the tiny clearing; and with a sign the Magus bade him sit down on a couch of dry moss and leaves which was there; while Standalf sat on one conveniently opposite.
"Time for tea, eh ?" he said , getting up and putting a kettle to boil on a frame over the fire. It soon began to sing invitingly; Eliot was reviving more every second. The Magus produced two big mugs from the cave with teabags in them, and poured the steaming liquid into them once it was ready, merely remarking:
"Yorkshire tea, ofcourse. It's grown east of Leeds, you know."
Eliot found this rather improbable, but was in no mood to argue. The Magus checked that the tea was properly brewed with care and skill, and being satisfied that it was took the teabags out carefully with his fingers, discarding them on a little compost heap at the side of the clearing. Then he added the milk, and a generous measure of brown sugar in each mug. He waved the spoon at Eliot after stirring:
"Coffee spoons is more your style, I think ? Well - needs must when the devil calls an idle tune; and I should know because the one those fool Christians have traduced as the devil is my father !"
Then he handed Eliot the mug without further ado. The tea was glorious ! The Magus produced a bag from his cloak, and in it was some sort of delicious-looking, thick rich brown gingery cake.
"Parkin !" explained Standalf to the hungry poet. "That'll keep you going."
Eliot ate it gratefully. It dried the mouth rather and was therefore quite hard to swallow, but the tea took care of that. The Magus seemed to have thought of everything.
So they sat on their moss couches in the little clearing by the bright fire, all snug and safe and feeling remote from the harsh world and its cares; at least for a brief moment. Standalf began to speak, or as the Anglo-saxons used to put it, opened his word-hoard:
"Well, Stearns, I know all about your strange encounters. I chanced upon Odin's Ravens and they told me: they saw it all."
He paused to eat a bite of parkin and took a swig of tea to wash it down.
"What I would say about those is, don't worry about them; pass on by ! People are strange, and many riddles are not worth the effort of trying to solve."
He suddenly looked Eliot right in the eye and said,
"You need to concentrate."
Then he became reflective again:
"No, no, forget 'em, balleucas to them ! I was waiting for you in fact because I want to talk to you about something far more fundamental. You see, I am trying to evolve a description of all the most basic human needs, drives and attributes. You could say it fascinates me precisely because I'm not fully human. Well, I've got my list as it stands up to now," -
- he took a piece of parchment out of his cloak and passed it across to Eliot -
" - and I would be grateful if you'ld cast an eye over it and tell me what you think. Any comments, anything you think's been omittted, any lacunae, anything not sufficiently basic, anything obscure you want amplifying. I know what it means as far as I'm concerned, but does it make sense to the general reader ?"
He looked at Eliot directly again for emphasis.
"Who in this case you represent."
He fell silent, and Eliot, who was experiencing a pleasant repletion and delightful warmth from the fire, shifted comfortably on his moss couch and studied the list he had been handed.
Suddenly the Magus struck up again:
"Before you get deeply into it, I would offer a few more remarks. You will note that I have not included the Matt-a-pillar's thing about the universal belief in goats. That is surely based on a mis-hearing or a mis-spelling, or some strange private joke. He can be like that." The Magus paused. "He is quite genuinely eccentric, you know, but he also plays up to his reputation for it sometimes. He's prone to monomania as well, which is odd given how diverse his interests are. He knows these are my opinions, and would not mind me telling you . . . . nor would it stop me if he did ! . . . . oh yes, and if you're wondering where I get my inspiration from for things like this," the Magus went on with a slight smile; Eliot was startled; how the deuce could Standalf know that that was precisely what he was wondering about at that moment ? - "well, I simply try and keep my mind clear, and watch and wait for the messages coming in. Now, read - "
Eliot did as he was asked, and turned his attention fully to the list. The parchment was thick to the touch, and on it was written in green ink in beautiful clear handwriting, the following:
LOVE
HATE
FEAR
GRIEF
ANGER
JEALOUSY
FRIENDSHIP
HUNGER
THIRST
LUST
HEALTH
TOOLS
JOY
SINGING
EXPERIMENT
EMULATION
(= how we learn,
hence)
MENTORS
IMAGINATION
STORIES
CONTACT WITH THE DIVINE
(Exaltation, Transcendence,
Encounter with the numinous)
RELICS
CLOTHES
ADORNMENT
GROOMING
SLEEP
DREAMS
GHOSTS
ANCESTORS
FAMILY
POWER
RECOGNITION
STATUS
BELONGING
PURPOSE (Pilgrimage)
MORALE
HIERARCHY - THE TRIBE
TERRITORY (Boundary Stones)
FOOD
SHELTER
hence
A HOUSE FOR THE GOD
MAKING AND INTERPRETING IMAGES
hence SPEAKING/PAINTING/WRITING
ABSTRACT/SYMBOLIC RELATIONSHIP
TO REALITY - exploring it by these means
- we can only understand things by
representing them
WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE OF THE MAGUS' LIST ?
Stand by for Parts 5 and 6, in which I assure you heartily that events take a most unexpected direction !
Sunday, 27 September 2009
Tuesday, 8 September 2009
3. Salut, Monstre
" Well", said the Matt-a-pillar, "hopeless wreck that you are, you'll have to do ! On with your quest, Stearns !"
Eliot was completely taken aback.
"Quest ?" It's the first I've heard of it. Quest to where ? and in search of what ?"
"Details, details," said the Matt-a-pillar testily. "But the goal is always obscure, eh, Standalf ?" he added to his friend.
"Either that or gay," said Standalf, speaking for the very first time, and his marked Yorkshire accent grated somewhat on Eliot's sensitive ears. "One piece of advice I can give you," he went on " - you'll meet a lot of planks ! Also -"
"Take heed of this one," put in the Matt-a-pillar, "it'll stand you in good stead, always follow it myself, seldom fails -"
"And mark me, mark me well", said the Magus impressively, fixing Eliot with his stare " - the fitter they are, the bigger the plank they go out with ! It's not infallible", he continued modestly,"but keep it in mind and you'll find it applicable to a surprisingly large number of situations."
Eliot was completely at a loss. He could make nothing of this strange advice, so portentously delivered, 'fit' and 'plank' evidently being used in some sense unknown to him; nor did he know who 'they' referred to. (Nevertheless, it was and is good advice, one of the many gems from the Propheticke Booke of Standalf the White.) Furthermore since there was just meadows and copses in all directions, if he had to go on to this undefined goal, which way ? how to start ? Having no other recourse, he appealed to his interlocutors.
"I'm sorry, but I don't know how to start or which way to go."
The Matt-a-pillar's interest was evidently rapidly waning.
"Since you don't know what you're after, it doesn't matter which way you go", he said snappishly. "But the usual thing is to go and see the Dragon and take it from there. Hang on - I'll give you an introduction to him - give me that business card back -"
Eliot was puzzled.
" - come on, come on, the one with the aliases on it - "
Eliot searched his pockets and found it. He handed it over, and the Matt-a-pillar wrote quickly on the back, then returned it. He had written :
This is to introduce Eliot Stearns with my compliments, and to beg you to offer him all possible assistance. (Be careful of him because he is not quite in his right mind, but not too careful because he's a weedy little Modernist son-of-a-bitch.)
"Thankyou", said Eliot doubtfully. "Well - which way shall I go ?"
"Any way you like", said the Matt-a-pillar. "Ca ne faire rien - comme vous voulez !" (One of his more unbearable pretensions was to show off by lapsing into ropey French at all possible oppurtunities.) "It doesn't matter which way you go, because whatever happens is what's meant to happen. That's Moira."
This rung a bell with Eliot.
"Moira . . . . that's Greek for 'Fate', right ?"
"Yes - Greek for 'Fate', absolutely. Your ancestors had another word for the same concept or insight - they called it Wyrd. But it doesn't matter what you call it. Acknowledged or unacknowledged, recognised or unrecognised, accepted or dismissed - it's a fact. Besides which, in Jukeland Moira is an actual goddess - a rather important one, perhaps the most important one, our Great Mother. You might just meet Her if you last long enough . . . . somewhere towards what you won't yet know is the end . . . . or perhaps She'll interevene if you get into difficulties. Tread carefully, because there's all sorts of obstacles ahead: after all, Jukeland has the entire world's resources of history, culture, story telling, folk traditions and mythological systems to draw on; that's quite a source of hazards ! You got off lightly with me and the Magus here, I can tell you . . . although we can be quite fierce when crossed . . ."
Looking at them both, Eliot could well believe it. The Magus was a big man, and the Matt-a-pillar, although diminutive, had an air which commanded respect. The two of them now fell into deep conversation; they appeared to have forgotten Eliot completely. They were evidently talking about magic, because Eliot could overhear odd snatches of esoteric terms he didn't know, or very slightly recognised - he caught the words 'crosby', 'stills', 'nash' and 'young' - qabalistic or alchemical in origin no doubt - all very mysterious.
So Eliot went on his way through the meadows, trying to find a clue as to which direction he should take to find the Dragon - rather randomly it felt to him, although perhaps a knight-errant would have felt perfectly comfortable with it. Presently he saw a figure sat down in the distance and the faint sound of music. As he drew near he saw it was a lady who was singing most beautifully but with great sadness in her voice. As he drew nearer yet, he was able to make out who it was - it was a quite small, thin Elf-Lady of striking appearance (as they generally are), with long slightly curling blonde hair. She was accompanying herself on the cittern and singing a very poignant lament about losing out to one's rival in love - it was very vivid and affecting, and the singular quality of her voice, which was at least equal and perhaps superior to any Eliot had ever heard, gave the song immense force: one couldn't help but recall sad experiences like it from one's own past. Eliot greeted her courteously but she did not respond in any way, which threw him rather. He racked his brains to think of some way of attracting her attention, precisely because she was witholding or reserving it. As a first gambit, he waggled his ears quite plainly in a most amusing and engaging manner - they were rather prominent - which was usually an infallible way of breaking the ice. But it drew no response whatsoever. Then he stood on his on his head, and walked up and down 10 yards in either direction on his hands. The Elf-Lady just went on playing and singing quite as if he was not there, despite his antics. Eliot was roused to fury and therefore to a supreme effort - he grew feathers and danced the Crane Dance just as they did in ancient Crete, just as Theseus did for Ariadne. Still no response. Even being ignored would be something; the Elf-Lady was as entirely oblivious to Eliot as if he was not and never had been there. So he was fain to abandon this puzzling encounter and carry on.
Over and over the meadows he went, the music growing fainter all the time. No change of scenery occurred, and especially he could discover no information or directions as to how to get to this elusive Dragon's Cave (he naturally assumed it lived in a Cave). Then he came upon a most peculiar sight. It was the door of a Georgian town house, with the lintel around it and the steps in front, but that was all - nothing else besides, no house, it was not the door to anything visible, just a door and a bit of its surround standing in the middle of a field. He was even more puzzled when he came up next to it, then went round it and found out there was nothing behind it either - the back of the door was just a grey rectangle, entirely featureless. Having no other ideas though he decided to walk up the steps in front of it and try ringing the bell he could see - and he did so.
After thirty seconds or so Eliot was somewhat suprised to hear the padding sound of approaching bare feet from behind the door; and then it swung open to reveal a Toad stood upright on its hind legs, slightly taller than a man, with a shirt, tie and suit jacket on but nothing else. The Toad did not offer any greeting or remark, merely stared at Eliot with a malicious hostility it did not attempt to conceal - it was also evidently somewhat drunk. Eliot found it all very off-putting, but he had to begin somehow . . . .
"Er . . . . ah . . . . hello . . . . er . . . ."
The Toad still did not say anything. Its squiffy bulging eyes really were unpleasant ! and I'm sure you would have disliked them just as much as Eliot did.
" . . . . er . . . . ah . . . . I was wondering . . . . if you would be so kind . . . . can I ask you if you could give me any hints as to how I might possibly . . . . er . . . . find a Dragon I believe is rather well known round these parts (delightful country you have !), or his Cave ?"
"Can you ? Can you ? " was the disconcerting reply.
"Yes, can I ?"
"Can you ? You can."
Eliot caught the point.
"May I ?"
"May you ? May you ?"
"Yes, may I ?"
"You may not", said the Toad bluntly. "You can, but you may not. I don't know anyway, but even if I did I wouldn't tell you. I don't like cut of your gib - no,damme - not one bit."
Having delivered himself of this, the Toad proceeded to scrutinise Eliot at his leisure, merely uttering a few 'hmmmph's' under his boozy breath. Eliot was extremely uncomfortable, but also rooted to the spot. At length the Toad was kind enough to disclose his conclusions:
"No - not one bit. After a thorough appraisal, sir, it is my decide opinion that you", and suddenly he shouted at the top of his voice, with his eyes bulging cholerically, veins popping and flushed cheeks reddening even more - "ARE AN IMPORTUNATE RASCAL !"
"I'm s-s-s-s-s-sorry if I disturbed you", stammered Eliot.
"DISTURBED ? DISTURBED ?" screamed the Toad, quite beside itself. "You did more than dis-turb me, sir, you INCOMMODED ME !!! In the most flagrant manner ! With the coolness of a fiend ! You abandoned wretch. Now be off", here he started poking and tapping Eliot with a rolled umbrella which he had produced from who knows where, "or I'll call a Constable."
Eliot couldn't see how or where he could actually get one from, but being heartily sick of the Toad's inexplicable over-reaction, and also the poking, he withdrew.
"That's it !" shouted the Toad, shaking his fist as a valedictory gesture. "Off with you, sir, and never have the impertinence - I may say, the infernal impertinence - to present yourself here again."
Eliot was only too happy to comply. He went on his way through the meadows, unable to make sense of either of these strange encounters: both the Elf-Lady and the Toad seemed to be reacting to some private version of events of their own, which they superimposed on whoever came across them; Eliot was merely the occasion for their inner bias revealing itself. That was the substance of his reflections as he went on his way.
Twilight was coming on, and a sharp breeze from the east was making Eliot shiver a little; he was tired, disorientated, hungry, not sure of his way and uncertain where to find shelter or food; altogether a most disagreeable condition. Things were looking bleak; Eliot was definitely flagging. Now the meadows were sometimes bounded by streams or rivers, and Eliot was approaching a particularly wide swift-flowing river as the darkness thickened and the cold intensified. Gradually he realised that a large figure was standing motionless with his back to him on the river bank, looking either across or into the water; the figure had been hard to spot before because it was as I said unmoving, and because it was wearing an all-enveloping camouflage cloak. Eliot felt a mingled surge of hope and thrill of fear; the figure was beyond question Standalf the White !
WHAT IS THE MAGUS DOING, STANDING SO STILL THERE ALL ALONE AS DARKNESS FALLS ? HOW WILL HE REACT TO ELIOT'S APPROACH ? AND WILL HE HAVE ANY ADVICE AS TO HOW TO FIND THE DRAGON?
STAND BY FOR PART 4 !
Eliot was completely taken aback.
"Quest ?" It's the first I've heard of it. Quest to where ? and in search of what ?"
"Details, details," said the Matt-a-pillar testily. "But the goal is always obscure, eh, Standalf ?" he added to his friend.
"Either that or gay," said Standalf, speaking for the very first time, and his marked Yorkshire accent grated somewhat on Eliot's sensitive ears. "One piece of advice I can give you," he went on " - you'll meet a lot of planks ! Also -"
"Take heed of this one," put in the Matt-a-pillar, "it'll stand you in good stead, always follow it myself, seldom fails -"
"And mark me, mark me well", said the Magus impressively, fixing Eliot with his stare " - the fitter they are, the bigger the plank they go out with ! It's not infallible", he continued modestly,"but keep it in mind and you'll find it applicable to a surprisingly large number of situations."
Eliot was completely at a loss. He could make nothing of this strange advice, so portentously delivered, 'fit' and 'plank' evidently being used in some sense unknown to him; nor did he know who 'they' referred to. (Nevertheless, it was and is good advice, one of the many gems from the Propheticke Booke of Standalf the White.) Furthermore since there was just meadows and copses in all directions, if he had to go on to this undefined goal, which way ? how to start ? Having no other recourse, he appealed to his interlocutors.
"I'm sorry, but I don't know how to start or which way to go."
The Matt-a-pillar's interest was evidently rapidly waning.
"Since you don't know what you're after, it doesn't matter which way you go", he said snappishly. "But the usual thing is to go and see the Dragon and take it from there. Hang on - I'll give you an introduction to him - give me that business card back -"
Eliot was puzzled.
" - come on, come on, the one with the aliases on it - "
Eliot searched his pockets and found it. He handed it over, and the Matt-a-pillar wrote quickly on the back, then returned it. He had written :
This is to introduce Eliot Stearns with my compliments, and to beg you to offer him all possible assistance. (Be careful of him because he is not quite in his right mind, but not too careful because he's a weedy little Modernist son-of-a-bitch.)
"Thankyou", said Eliot doubtfully. "Well - which way shall I go ?"
"Any way you like", said the Matt-a-pillar. "Ca ne faire rien - comme vous voulez !" (One of his more unbearable pretensions was to show off by lapsing into ropey French at all possible oppurtunities.) "It doesn't matter which way you go, because whatever happens is what's meant to happen. That's Moira."
This rung a bell with Eliot.
"Moira . . . . that's Greek for 'Fate', right ?"
"Yes - Greek for 'Fate', absolutely. Your ancestors had another word for the same concept or insight - they called it Wyrd. But it doesn't matter what you call it. Acknowledged or unacknowledged, recognised or unrecognised, accepted or dismissed - it's a fact. Besides which, in Jukeland Moira is an actual goddess - a rather important one, perhaps the most important one, our Great Mother. You might just meet Her if you last long enough . . . . somewhere towards what you won't yet know is the end . . . . or perhaps She'll interevene if you get into difficulties. Tread carefully, because there's all sorts of obstacles ahead: after all, Jukeland has the entire world's resources of history, culture, story telling, folk traditions and mythological systems to draw on; that's quite a source of hazards ! You got off lightly with me and the Magus here, I can tell you . . . although we can be quite fierce when crossed . . ."
Looking at them both, Eliot could well believe it. The Magus was a big man, and the Matt-a-pillar, although diminutive, had an air which commanded respect. The two of them now fell into deep conversation; they appeared to have forgotten Eliot completely. They were evidently talking about magic, because Eliot could overhear odd snatches of esoteric terms he didn't know, or very slightly recognised - he caught the words 'crosby', 'stills', 'nash' and 'young' - qabalistic or alchemical in origin no doubt - all very mysterious.
So Eliot went on his way through the meadows, trying to find a clue as to which direction he should take to find the Dragon - rather randomly it felt to him, although perhaps a knight-errant would have felt perfectly comfortable with it. Presently he saw a figure sat down in the distance and the faint sound of music. As he drew near he saw it was a lady who was singing most beautifully but with great sadness in her voice. As he drew nearer yet, he was able to make out who it was - it was a quite small, thin Elf-Lady of striking appearance (as they generally are), with long slightly curling blonde hair. She was accompanying herself on the cittern and singing a very poignant lament about losing out to one's rival in love - it was very vivid and affecting, and the singular quality of her voice, which was at least equal and perhaps superior to any Eliot had ever heard, gave the song immense force: one couldn't help but recall sad experiences like it from one's own past. Eliot greeted her courteously but she did not respond in any way, which threw him rather. He racked his brains to think of some way of attracting her attention, precisely because she was witholding or reserving it. As a first gambit, he waggled his ears quite plainly in a most amusing and engaging manner - they were rather prominent - which was usually an infallible way of breaking the ice. But it drew no response whatsoever. Then he stood on his on his head, and walked up and down 10 yards in either direction on his hands. The Elf-Lady just went on playing and singing quite as if he was not there, despite his antics. Eliot was roused to fury and therefore to a supreme effort - he grew feathers and danced the Crane Dance just as they did in ancient Crete, just as Theseus did for Ariadne. Still no response. Even being ignored would be something; the Elf-Lady was as entirely oblivious to Eliot as if he was not and never had been there. So he was fain to abandon this puzzling encounter and carry on.
Over and over the meadows he went, the music growing fainter all the time. No change of scenery occurred, and especially he could discover no information or directions as to how to get to this elusive Dragon's Cave (he naturally assumed it lived in a Cave). Then he came upon a most peculiar sight. It was the door of a Georgian town house, with the lintel around it and the steps in front, but that was all - nothing else besides, no house, it was not the door to anything visible, just a door and a bit of its surround standing in the middle of a field. He was even more puzzled when he came up next to it, then went round it and found out there was nothing behind it either - the back of the door was just a grey rectangle, entirely featureless. Having no other ideas though he decided to walk up the steps in front of it and try ringing the bell he could see - and he did so.
After thirty seconds or so Eliot was somewhat suprised to hear the padding sound of approaching bare feet from behind the door; and then it swung open to reveal a Toad stood upright on its hind legs, slightly taller than a man, with a shirt, tie and suit jacket on but nothing else. The Toad did not offer any greeting or remark, merely stared at Eliot with a malicious hostility it did not attempt to conceal - it was also evidently somewhat drunk. Eliot found it all very off-putting, but he had to begin somehow . . . .
"Er . . . . ah . . . . hello . . . . er . . . ."
The Toad still did not say anything. Its squiffy bulging eyes really were unpleasant ! and I'm sure you would have disliked them just as much as Eliot did.
" . . . . er . . . . ah . . . . I was wondering . . . . if you would be so kind . . . . can I ask you if you could give me any hints as to how I might possibly . . . . er . . . . find a Dragon I believe is rather well known round these parts (delightful country you have !), or his Cave ?"
"Can you ? Can you ? " was the disconcerting reply.
"Yes, can I ?"
"Can you ? You can."
Eliot caught the point.
"May I ?"
"May you ? May you ?"
"Yes, may I ?"
"You may not", said the Toad bluntly. "You can, but you may not. I don't know anyway, but even if I did I wouldn't tell you. I don't like cut of your gib - no,damme - not one bit."
Having delivered himself of this, the Toad proceeded to scrutinise Eliot at his leisure, merely uttering a few 'hmmmph's' under his boozy breath. Eliot was extremely uncomfortable, but also rooted to the spot. At length the Toad was kind enough to disclose his conclusions:
"No - not one bit. After a thorough appraisal, sir, it is my decide opinion that you", and suddenly he shouted at the top of his voice, with his eyes bulging cholerically, veins popping and flushed cheeks reddening even more - "ARE AN IMPORTUNATE RASCAL !"
"I'm s-s-s-s-s-sorry if I disturbed you", stammered Eliot.
"DISTURBED ? DISTURBED ?" screamed the Toad, quite beside itself. "You did more than dis-turb me, sir, you INCOMMODED ME !!! In the most flagrant manner ! With the coolness of a fiend ! You abandoned wretch. Now be off", here he started poking and tapping Eliot with a rolled umbrella which he had produced from who knows where, "or I'll call a Constable."
Eliot couldn't see how or where he could actually get one from, but being heartily sick of the Toad's inexplicable over-reaction, and also the poking, he withdrew.
"That's it !" shouted the Toad, shaking his fist as a valedictory gesture. "Off with you, sir, and never have the impertinence - I may say, the infernal impertinence - to present yourself here again."
Eliot was only too happy to comply. He went on his way through the meadows, unable to make sense of either of these strange encounters: both the Elf-Lady and the Toad seemed to be reacting to some private version of events of their own, which they superimposed on whoever came across them; Eliot was merely the occasion for their inner bias revealing itself. That was the substance of his reflections as he went on his way.
Twilight was coming on, and a sharp breeze from the east was making Eliot shiver a little; he was tired, disorientated, hungry, not sure of his way and uncertain where to find shelter or food; altogether a most disagreeable condition. Things were looking bleak; Eliot was definitely flagging. Now the meadows were sometimes bounded by streams or rivers, and Eliot was approaching a particularly wide swift-flowing river as the darkness thickened and the cold intensified. Gradually he realised that a large figure was standing motionless with his back to him on the river bank, looking either across or into the water; the figure had been hard to spot before because it was as I said unmoving, and because it was wearing an all-enveloping camouflage cloak. Eliot felt a mingled surge of hope and thrill of fear; the figure was beyond question Standalf the White !
WHAT IS THE MAGUS DOING, STANDING SO STILL THERE ALL ALONE AS DARKNESS FALLS ? HOW WILL HE REACT TO ELIOT'S APPROACH ? AND WILL HE HAVE ANY ADVICE AS TO HOW TO FIND THE DRAGON?
STAND BY FOR PART 4 !
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