As I stood on the ramparts, I gazed out at the leaden winter
sky. The air was frigid, an icy Norse wind which numbed my face and sent my
hair flying. Below me lay a vast mountain landscape, a stark and grand panorama
which aroused the darker, sterner, more manly spirits in me. I could see snowy
peaks not too far away piercing the rough clouds which appeared, as I looked
upon them, to be misty giants embattled. The broken stony highway winding away
from the fortress into the distance seemed tiny as did those who walked beneath
my feet.
Here was I, the lone sentry that night. How many
before me must have known the feeling which now possessed me, the awe of the
infinite. I was at that moment the master of this great height surveying my
dark and foreboding kingdom. I could almost hear the trumpets echoing through
the mountains in the distance to herald a call to arms. And the world below
me—it seemed to consume me! It drew me closer to the edge of the battlements.
There was a grim and deadly beauty about the yawning and gaping jagged peaks.
I did not fear death here, and my daily worries were but grains of sand where
I stood. I did not care that I stood alone, for I was one with the mountains
around me, filled with a feeling of dark and mighty splendor, standing tall
as the cold wind howled mercilessly around me. It was no fiery, sensuous passion
which filled me, the warm, feminine feeling of fulfilled romantic desire. It
was a feeling of cold, stoic bliss; it was the chilly thrill of victory. Perhaps
this was the best feeling I could ever hope for, I thought sadly, but here and
now, the feeling was sufficient to lift me from my restless despair. Upon my
death, I hoped the feeling I would experience would be similar. There was no
love here, but there was harmony, majestic order. There was something deeper
and more meaningful than my life there in the rocks below, something immortal
and heroic with would surely outlive me. I knew I could never hope to duplicate
this wonder with any of my endeavors, but I didn't care. After all, I was only
human like everyone else.
After a long moment of contemplation, I turned
from the parapet and descended the stony stairwell to retire to my room in the
ancient guard tower. Dusk had fallen, grey and pallid upon the land.
George Chadderdon © 1991