Chapter XXV - Philosophy’s Art
The Legend of Leanna Page: Vol. I
You’re reading The Legend of Leanna Page, the page-turning mythopoetic queer literary fantasy. *Click here for the Table of Contents and start of Volume I*
Previously: After walking farther off into the Infinite Woods than she had ever imagined, determined to forever be alone to protect her loved ones from the danger that always surrounds her, Leanna came upon a strange company of theatrical players and was convinced to join them. She realized her powers were dampened this far out in the Woods and, relieved, she opened up to the players, telling them her story.
At first light of the next morn, all in the camp awoke to the clang and clash of plate against pot and stirred to face the dew-damp fire-pit whereupon whose stacked stones stood Fantázo with grand intention.
“I have composed anew!” They bellowed, throwing their pot and plate aside to display their newest pages. In an instant, the haze of sleep was washed away and each of the players bounded to their feet, prattling atop one another’s jabber, inquiring and guessing as to what the subject of their newest work might be.
“No, no, none of that,” Fantázo responded to their speculations. “This new drama shall be the Story of Leanna Page!”
“Mine?” Leanna asked, amazed, now at last rising from her bed of leaves.
“Indeed!” Fantázo sang. “Why it’s marvelous! And I believe I’ve outlined it swimmingly into the dramatic form and shall detail it with poignant speeches, fitted to the scintillating magic, thrilling romance, and dangerous adventure which shall fill its every beat, if I may be less than humble.”
“How shall it begin?” Dizzy, the wheelwright, called to them, eager to hear the story anew from a new mind.
Fantázo took on a low, active stance of mystery and intimidation, painting the scene in the air with their decisive gestures. They spoke: “It begins in the Cave of Nebulous whence two lovers had begun and concluded their courtship; concluded, for the power of their own hearts frightened them so that they each had reported back to their monarchs of the vicious weapon they had found within the cavern in the way of sabotaging their intentions at continued disloyalty to their Crowns. But! their efforts were for naught, for they had already bound themselves in story evermore, for between them they had made a child. Thus – in this first scene I have writ here – when the King and Queen of warring nations each arrive armed in the cave, the servants do all they might to persuade them not to fight and, most urgently, to let the Jewel remain in its place (it stands directly upstage center), one of them ever with her hand around the growing babe within her. At the servants’ behest, the monarchs pretend peace, but as they begin to make retreats, the King lunges forth, retrieves the Jewel, and charges away to his own kingdom, and hither the story truly begins. As the child grows, she travels to the opposite kingdom every other season, not to be fully parted from either parent, and by the time she comes of age she hath served in both castles all her life, is aware of their every secret, and at last – in a final battle – rises up!, stealing the Jewel from the wicked King and destroying it.”
Fantázo’s intensity on their final words made clear they spoke of the end, and the players lurched into applause and cheers. Eyes turned to Leanna who was amused, yet puzzled.
“Lovely, truly,” she said. “However, both the Jewel and I resided in the cave until I was an older child, and I never resided in Pavoline.”
“Art thou certain?” Fantázo said, straightening and pulling their notes up to their eyes to study them. “I was sure thou hadst said thou wert the tiniest thing when the Jewel was stolen and that thou hadst travelled to Pavoline multiple times.”
“Yes; however—”
“Ah!” Fantázo smiled. “Well, there it is then.”
Leanna caught the gaze of Quiliss who shook his head sympathetically, indicating wordlessly that hers was an argument not to be won. She laughed.
“Very well, my friend. Have it thine own way.”
“Splendid!” Fantázo leapt from the podium of the fire-pit and was instantly surrounded by players who gave over their every inquiry and idea.
Dear Reader, I interrupt briefly to have you know that, while for our purposes the playwright has comically misinterpreted the events for their dramatization, the version Fantázo Fiala has just told us is, in truth, as common a way to tell the tale as any other, including ours at present. Different Elenvian cultures tell the tale in different ways, with different beginnings, different middles, and different ends, each to the teller’s own differing purpose. I have hither chosen to echo the telling that was conveyed to me before all others and which I find most appealing to my own heart. Furthermore, supposing the legend is made of truth, our current volumes contain what I find to be the most plausible of the tale’s variations. Now, forgive my intrusion, we continue forthwith.
Following the announcement of the new work, the players set out to their tasks at once, spending their time in their well-practiced manners of play preparation, with Penny of Ord overseeing all to ensure the proper timeline was maintained in each aspect of the project. Taut and Dilan-a-Jove spoke of costuming and began to weave and tailor to their ends. Slink and Bellum, under the direction of Gillian Roughhand, began constructing the inner wall of a cavern and the majestic pedestal which would stand at its center. Gillian herself spent hour upon hour crafting wooden headpieces for the Crowns, carving in such detail, determined to make her fellows swear that the pieces were made of jewels. Citron was under constant consultation and was frequently out exploring the Woods to discover alterior methods of mixing paint that might yield particularly magical results. Fantázo completed their work on the script, each night reading a new part to the company around the fire to receive their compliments and critiques, reviewing, rewriting, and writing anew with each new day. When the final script was complete, Quiliss transcribed each players’ part to their own separate book, beginning with that which would go to Lady Laborious, having learned long ago not to force from her any avoidable impatience. The Lady took it upon herself to mentor Leanna in the ways of performance, primarily opting for the method of instructing by example, Leanna then spending her days reading the player’s cues and observing her in the habitual task of her namesake. Despite the ineffectiveness of her tutor, Leanna could not mind in the slightest. In reality, she spent these days observing the camp entire, cherishing the view. The care for one another, the dedication to one another, the serious and the silly each seamlessly stirred into a Forest stew. The recreation of her past, ever more similar to reality as the artists detailed their work, somehow stripped the memories of their horror, turning them into stories with meaning and resolution, no longer something that required turning out of mind for fear a glimpse would break her apart. Here, now, Leanna looked direct at every setting and costume of her tale, recalling in detail what the players’ script did not contain, and thought perhaps that, for what had been given her, she had lived her life well. She, as with all others in the camp, was cheerfully anticipating the performance.
Once, unable to sleep for happy excitement, Leanna decided to take advantage of the light of a full moon and explore the Woods. Having walked long enough, she eventually came upon the wall of mist Fantázo had described on Leanna’s first night with them. She sat on the ground some paces away from it and swayed with the music of the nightbirds while watching the moonlight reflect off the curiously visible air. As she sat and watched and listened and swayed, visions began to come to her from beyond the mist. It was all just as Fantázo had said, only she saw it with infinitely more clarity. It was like an entirely different world out there, and yet it so reminded her of the world she left behind that it began to darken her spirits. She rose and turned away, running back to the camp of the players and rejoicing again in the lightness of their company which was just now rising to a morning meal. Hanker gave her a smile with a bowl of breakfast stew, and they all soon set their minds back to their craft.
It really is impossible to say how long this all continued. Even Penny of Ord, although she ensured no element of the production fell far behind the rest, kept no record of the days as they passed. For the work that was completed, it seems highly unlikely the time that went by was less than many weeks, and with the free unlimited hours granted by the Woods, it seems entirely plausible the preparations could have continued for months, or even several a year. It is certain the players would suppose some years had passed, for this was indeed the most extravagant production they had ever put up in the Woods. With the play’s true subject among them, none could prevent themselves approaching her with inquires and clarifications as to the style and manner in which something might have been constructed, ever endeavoring to bring the recreation more near to the history, often times breaking down a nearly finished piece in order to start again in accordance with a new idea. Yes, it was years, they would say. I suppose we may as well believe them.
It was some time in the midst of all this, towards the end of whatever period of time we can agree has hither been spent, that Leanna had a dream. ‘Twas no vision, nor communication, nor even was it – as she was accustomed to – the type of dream wherein one is aware they are a dreamer. No, ‘twas none of that; ‘twas merely a dream, and, in so being, it confounded her. She spoke of it to Fantázo the following morn when they inquired privately as to her unusually silent demeanor.
“A dream?” They asked, soon nodding in – what appeared to be – deep understanding. “I had one of those myself,” they explained, somberly. “Say nothing of it to Hanker, but I’ll confess to thee, in the dream, I was eating bread and jam. Oh, I do miss it terribly now and again. Thou dost realize we have all eaten nothing but stew since we arrived in the Wood that millennium ago?”
Leanna was now all too aware, and, after a small laugh, she smiled in sympathy.
“I’m afraid the dream I have had this night was worse,” she said.
“Worse!” Fantázo exclaimed. “My goodness. Wouldst thou care to tell it? Mine ear is thine.”
The dreamer nodded, with brief hesitation, then began to speak. “In the dream, I had wishes unlike any from my waking life; or, more truthfully, I had one wish, one I have wished to never wish.” She paused before confessing, “I wanted the Jewel. Táz, I sought the Jewel! Yet, I felt nothing of evil, nor wanted anything of domination or destruction. I thought nothing on anything of the sort, I only wanted the Jewel itself. I would find it – in the dream – nearly take it in my hands, and I would feel such relief, but the Jewel would then be swept away in winds and, devastated, I would begin the search anew. This continued time and time again until at last, once, nothing swept it away and I took the Jewel in hand. I held it! Then I awoke.”
Mirth had fallen away and Fantázo studied her, deep in consideration. “What dost thou think of the Jewel now?” they asked, and Leanna shrugged as though it were unimportant.
“No differently than before. I knew the Jewel had methods of persuasion, only I never thought it could infiltrate my thoughts so directly. It frightened me, slight, that is all.”
A moment passed, then a thought sparked behind Fantázo’s eyes. “Excuse me, Leanna, I must confer with Quiliss.” They were away in the following breath and Leanna laughed, having now become much accustomed to the sporadic life of the players.
That evening, as Big Li collected the bowls now emptied of stew, setting them aside for washing (the best method of being useful he had been able to find beyond his talent for song and speech), Fantázo and Quiliss – who as yet had been absent from the supper – approached the company, heavy bundles of new pages in hand.
“I finished it,” Fantázo said, but without their usual pomp. There seemed a gravity about them that none, beside Quiliss, could determine the reason for.
“But thou finished it some time ago,” Lady Laborious recalled, holding her part in hand.
Fantázo shook their head. “I thought I had, but at the time I had not truly known what play the Woods had needed me to compose. I discovered it this morning, and now I have finished it.”
Quiliss took the pages from the writer, offered half to Penny, and together they distributed the parts to their corresponding players. Fantázo remained holding one final part in hand, and held it out to Leanna.
“Thou shalt read the role of Queen Okalani,” they said, and Leanna accepted it curiously, not understanding. “It shall be good for thee,” Fantázo explained, and they smiled, winking slight to ensure her all would be well, then they turned and spoke to all the players. “If we could, let us read it aloud tonight around our perfect fire. Let the tale come alive!” They sat beside Penny of Ord who now held the only complete script. The players readied themselves, and Penny embarked upon the first words, reading the notes that sketched the script’s first moments.
Lady Laborious became Isolda, opening the script with a ferocious speech, declaring dominance over her kingdom and over the world, as Guiomar (portrayed by Dilan-a-Jove) now barged in from the opposite side of the cave. Behind each royal stood Esta or Byrdon (Taut and Gillian, respectively) begging for peace.
Leanna watched the players move artfully through the script, Big Li taking on her own persona, traveling between kingdoms scene-to-scene. Now, in one such journey, the script began to stray from its last edition. In a speech from the bridge at the Gwahanu strait, where once the character of Leanna swore everlasting enmity to the Jewel whose chamber she stood several leagues directly above, now she (Leanna in truth) heard her recent dream echoed through Big Li’s sturdy and purposeful cadence, speaking of standing above the Jewel’s home, not angered at being so near but instead saddened by being so far. The Jewel was meant for her, Big Li spoke of in Leanna’s voice; surely, it could not be wicked for her to desire it.
The scene which followed had Big Li and Gillian, speaking as Leanna and her father, as she confessed her inclination to take the Jewel from the vault of Pavoline in which it was kept and combine herself with its power, certain such would be the only way to maintain its security. Byrdon (Gillian) lamented in great vociferations on the malicious heart which dared remove it from its prior chamber at the start, and assured her only one of evil would consider such a thought in earnest, imploring her to put it out of her mind.
“Exeunt Byrdon,” Penny read, “and enter Kennedy, in a dream.”
Leanna’s heart began to race as she turned eagerly toward Bellum who spoke Kennedy’s words to Big Li, assuring the character of Leanna that there could be nothing evil within her, but her father’s words had already pierced too deep. Big Li stood in the passion of it, bellowing to the Treetops Leanna’s speech of self-loathing, ending as she forcefully awakens, sending Kennedy away, and herself dashing from the scene.
The last scene into the next took her once again from Pavoline into Masor whither she halted in the central market, slandering the Crown with all her might, spewing vicious untruths to the public until guards swept her away and locked her deep below the castle. Kennedy found her again in a dream and listened in pain as Leanna explained her purpose, intentionally forcing her own arrest in Masor so she might be ever incapable of reaching the Jewel. Bars were a necessity, she said, because her weak will would never keep her from taking up the weapon; she had no such strength.
Bellum glanced up from her script only briefly as Big Li spoke to see Leanna staring toward him, entranced in anxiety. Thankful, she took her next line, earning Leanna’s instantly shifting attention, to speak in Kennedy’s voice the gracious gift of a kinder solution:
“Let me rescue thee, Leanna, and same I shall rescue the Jewel from the grasp of Guiomar. I shall take you both to Queen Okalani in the Fairy Nation and thou shalt watch as she destroys the weapon, as surely she hath the power to do. Thou shalt be free, Leanna; truly free.”
With tears, Big Li spoke Leanna’s acceptance of her beloved’s proposition, and Penny introduced the next scene.
There was silence.
“This is thy part, Leanna,” Penny prompted.
“Oh!” Leanna turned to her script to find Okalani’s words, and, between each of her lines, looked urgently again to Big Li to see her own character’s reply.
Okalani (Leanna): “What have you brought to me, young heir?”
Kennedy (Bellum): “On the ground between us, I now place before you a weapon of legend. Thither it lays, the Jewel of Nebulous. She whose hand I now hold is known as Leanna Page, and it is she who, in its wickedness, the Jewel most calls to, causing her much pain and strife. We ask of you now a great service. Might you destroy the Jewel, and save both Leanna and the world from its power?”
Okalani (Leanna): “You were right to bring this to me Kennedy, thank you. I would like a word alone with the page, if you would step outside.”
Penny: “Exeunt Kennedy.”
Leanna (Big Li): “Is it possible? Can you vanquish it?”
Okalani (Leanna): “I can, but I will not.”
Leanna (Big Li): “Wherefore!? I beg you, Queen, I have not the strength to resist its call!”
Okalani (Leanna): “Then—”
Leanna paused as she saw the Queen’s next words and flashed her glare to Fantázo who merely nodded, gravely. With chest pounding, Leanna returned to the page.
Okalani (Leanna): “Then do not resist the call.”
Leanna (Big Li): “That is madness. It is wicked. I would be wicked!”
Okalani (Leanna): “The calling within you may not be villainous as you believe it to be.”
Leanna (Big Li): “How can it be anything but evil to yearn for such power?”
Okalani (Leanna): “To yearn for power is indeed to yearn for what may bring great evil to the world; but, it is also to yearn for what may bring great goodness. Until you take the power upon yourself, it is impossible to know which you shall become.”
Leanna (Big Li): “Then I shall not take it upon myself. The risk is too great.”
Okalani (Leanna): “Is there no risk in denying it? Who shall wield the power in your stead?”
Leanna (Big Li): “No one! You can destroy it!”
Okalani (Leanna): “I can destroy the Jewel, but Power shall always remain. Who wields it over your world now?”
Leanna (Big Li): “The royals.”
Okalani (Leanna): “And do they wield it well?”
Leanna (Big Li): “No.”
Okalani (Leanna): “Might you wield it better?”
Leanna (Big Li): “I couldn’t possibly.”
Okalani (Leanna): “Wherefore?”
Leanna (Big Li): “I am no one. Who am I to hold such sway over the world?”
Okalani (Leanna): “Who are they who hold it now? Who am I? We are No One of different kind. This Jewel seems to think you are someone of great import. I think you should hear it.”
Leanna (Big Li): “What if I am wicked?”
Okalani (Leanna): “I believe you are good.”
Leanna (Big Li): “You said it was impossible to know for certain.”
Okalani (Leanna): “I did not say ‘I know.’ I said, ‘I believe.’ Can you do that? Can you believe that you are good?”
Leanna (Big Li): “But I do not. I feel such anger and envy. Surely there is a base chamber of my heart, and I wish never to see it.”
Okalani (Leanna): “Leanna, to find what is truly good within us, we must face what is evil with open eyes. So, you are angry, you are envious. See it, feel it, then rise above it. Use it to understand what you wish not to be, and decide instead to become all the goodness you wish for the world.”
Having completed her final line, Leanna held the page tightly to her chest and watched Big Li, desperate to see what he would do in her part. For a moment, she hoped he would say, ‘Very well, perhaps you are right.’ Still, when he did precisely so, flames rose up in a raging tempest within her and she fought through it to remain silent, giving attention to Penny who spoke on.
“Leanna lowers to the Jewel,” Penny read, “and takes it up, securing it to her hand. She falls to kneeling and raises her arms to the Sky. Thunder cracks, then the clouds begin to disperse, and the sun shines down upon the stage.”
Silence.
“What happens next?” Leanna implored, urging Fantázo to continue.
“That is the end of the play,” they replied.
“But there is more to the story.”
The writer’s eyes widened. “Indeed,” they said, smiling.
“So what is it?” Leanna was firm.
“It has yet to be written.”
“Surely thou hast some idea.”
Fantázo shook their head. “It is not my place to guess at that. Not for this story.”
“Why didst thou write this?!” Leanna cried.
“It is a good tale. I think it deserves being told.”
“It is not the truth.”
“It is part of the truth.”
“It cannot end this way!”
Fantázo flinched back. “What— the play? I think it is a splendid end to the play. To thy life? No, I concur, this could not be this ending to thy life, for I am certain it would only be the beginning.”
“Dost thou wish me to leave? Is that why thou hast written this?”
“No!” they exclaimed with utmost sincerity. “Thy company has been a joy, and I dread the thought of thy departure; but this, here, is not thy life, Leanna Page, however much thou might wish it, and I am too fond of a good story to let thine go wasted.”
Leanna turned her gaze away, facing the Treetops, and held back a tear of anguish. When she was certain the tear would not fall, she returned to the writer.
“What if I am torn apart by the weight of it all?” she asked.
Fantázo returned one of their confident smiles. “Then thou shalt return to us, swifter than the wind, and we shall help thee be whole again.”
Slowly, with steadfast fear and yet growing acceptance, Leanna nodded. “Do you promise it?” she asked the company. “All of you? I may return at any time, in any year, and you will be here? I need you to promise.” Her glance fell on Fantázo’s smile.
“Always, and into eternity,” they said, and the others offered many similar assurances.
“I shall hold thee to that,” she said to the writer, a glimmer of the players’ mirth reinfecting her spirit.
“I hope thou dost,” Fantázo responded.
Leanna stepped out of the circle and toward her sleeping place in the leaves where she kept her few belongings.
Hanker called to her. “Thou shan’t leave this very instant! Sleep, and walk in the light.”
Unwrapping her bundled cape for the first time in who-knows-how-many years, she held now her gifts from Madrick and Cassius which had been stored within. She sighed.
“I fear I may have stayed too long already.”
Hanker, and several likeminded players, looked to Fantázo to convince her to delay her journey, but the writer merely nodded, understanding she would do what she must. Leanna tucked the necklace vial into her newer, more colorful, brightly decorated tunic, and slid the miniature bolt-spear into a new pocket of her old trousers which had been embellished with designs that partnered with the new top. She returned toward the circle holding her old, more drab, tunic and cape. Dilan-a-Jove turned to her and spoke severely but with great care.
“Burn them, dear. They shan’t fit any ensemble that is suited to thee.”
Leanna laughed with a shake of her head, but, with the permission of Spark, assented, tossing the old garb into the flames. She watched them burn, then lifted her gaze to Fantázo Fiala.
“I do not promise to wield the Jewel,” she said, “but if I do and I am not torn apart but instead I do something marvelous, wilt thou write about me?”
“On my life, I swear I shall.”
“I would look forward to reading it,” she told them.
“As would I,” they replied.
She turned from the fire and left the circle. A few paces out, she returned her gaze to the players once more, and they gasped, smiled, and broke into their merry laughter, hearing her telepathy for the first time as, speechless, she thanked them. At last contented, Leanna smiled, and strode off into the Wood, heading straight for the World Within.
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