Tip of the Iceberg

Category allegory
I was recently reminded of a short story by one of my favorite authors, Lloyd Alexander, called "The Stone". It appears in "The Foundling and Other Tales From Prydain", a collection of several stories that are hinted at throughout "The Chronicles of Prydain", which I started reading when I was 13 and, to this day, remain my favorite series of all time. Yes, there is a book series I cherish even more than "The Lord of the Rings" (I can actually feel my geek cred slipping away as I write this).

I still have that book tucked away somewhere, doubtless in one of the boxes still unpacked from our most recent move, but I wanted to share the story with you, flawed as its retelling must be by the influence of my memory, style, bias, and biography.

There once was a farmer named Maibon who was in the prime of his life but feared old age. A chance encounter with a wizened old man had disturbed him; seeing the weakness that he knew must arrive for him in its time, he vowed that somehow he would escape that fate.

While returning to his farm from the closest village one afternoon, he heard the sounds of a struggle and left the road to investigate. To his surprise, he came upon a dwarf named Doli whose leg had become wedged in a crack in a fallen log as he had attempted to climb over it. With the aid of a small hatchet he carried in his belt on such trips, the farmer soon freed the dwarf from his unfortunate plight. Realizing that Doli was a member of the fabled Fair Folk, bound by honor to repay any debt, he asked the dwarf to grant him his wish: that he might never grow old.

Doli reached into his cloak and pulled out a small stone. "This stone prevents its bearer from aging, but I urge you to reconsider. Are you certain this is what you want?" Assured by the farmer that he would not change his mind, the dwarf handed over the stone and went on his way. Overjoyed, Maibon returned home with the stone, hoping against hope that the stone would serve the purpose Doli had promised. The next morning he awoke, half expecting to feel younger, only to realize he felt the same as he had the previous day... exactly the same. The stone was working. He dressed, ate a quick meal, and went out to tend to his crops.

As several months passed, the farmer's excitement gradually faded. Though relieved to know he would never grow old, something seemed amiss; while minor details varied from day to day, Maibon couldn't shake the feeling that nothing was changing. Even his crops didn't seem to be growing, and harvest time was rapidly approaching.

One day he returned from his fields to find his wife watching their baby son with visible concern. She had been expecting him to start teething, but there was no sign yet of a first tooth. Maibon remembered his crops, and as unlikely as the connection seemed, he explained his suspicion to his wife: perhaps the stone was to blame. She was furious at him for thinking only of his own vanity without consideration for the possible consequences, and urged him to get rid of the stone.

He knew she was right. What good would eternal youth be with no way to feed his family? Was he willing to prevent his own son from growing up just so he himself would not grow old? Yet the initial hope the stone had brought caused him to hesitate. Finally, at his wife's continued urging, the farmer turned and threw the stone out the kitchen window.

Maibon woke the next morning to find the stone sitting on the windowsill, as if he'd placed it there himself. At first relieved to see that the curse he'd been reluctant to relinquish had returned on its own, his relief quickly turned to fear: what if he couldn't rid himself of the stone? His wife urged him to try another approach, so he took the stone into the yard, found his largest sledge, and tried to shatter the stone. Though the handle of the hammer began to splinter from his efforts, he found he had made no visible change to the stone. Finally, he walked to the farthest edge of his property with a shovel, and buried the stone as deep as he could find the strength to dig. He returned home, exhausted, confident he'd tried his best to rid himself of the stone, but somehow knowing it would return.

The farmer woke to find the stone clenched in his hand. In desperation he decided to go to the village in the hopes someone could advise him on how to be rid of the stone once and for all. Reaching the place where he had met the dwarf, he looked off into the distance and saw Doli, sitting on the very same log.

"I tried to warn you," he said in ironic welcome.

"I didn't understand what I was asking for. Please take back this wretched stone."

"It doesn't work that way; I can't take it from you... but you may leave it if you wish."

"I've tried, and it keeps coming back."

"Be honest with yourself. Did you really want to give it up?"

The farmer knew the truth: even after realizing the consequences, a part of him had still wanted to believe the stone was a gift and not a curse. But that part of him was gone.

"Please, what must I do?"

"The most difficult act of all: put it down and walk away. If you truly want to be rid of it, you will be."

Maibon placed the stone on the log and, without hesitation, turned on his heel and walked away. As a single leaf fell from a nearby tree, the farmer glanced back over his shoulder. The stone and the dwarf were gone.

A stone remains where I left it, but each step takes me a bit further away. If it stays where it is and I can just keep walking, I think perhaps that's good enough for me.