A Beast Named ...

Three years back I heard rumors about a mysterious monster hidden in the depths of the mountains. Vague descriptions told of a mottled brown beast, entirely unappealing. It was no majestic dragon, enigmatic sphinx, or noble griffin. However, according to the castle armorer the beast was thought to guard a sizable treasure and it needed to be vanquished for the sake of the poor mountain dwellers. I reluctantly agreed and he placed in my hands a long spear. It glowed with a faint blue light.

"What is this?" I asked.

"A magic spear, of course," the armorer said. He also spoke of an old knight who knew more of the beast than anyone. Then he shooed me away. And thus I went forth to combat the beast.

The old knight found me as I left the city. "Beware the great head, with it's fierce teeth," he said. I gulped and set out.

It was a long trek into the mountains and the beast was elusive. The occasional track on the rocky ground and far off glimpses revealed only the motley brown I had been told to expect but despite myself I was intrigued. One foggy day, as I made my way down a ravine I found myself unexpectedly at the very maw of the beast's lair. It leapt from its' cave, mouth gaping, long neck darting out towards me. I jumped back, and clumsily threatened him with my spear. One fateful blow bounced off the creatures teeth. The head darted back into the hole and I heard a great scraping and a thump as of a great footstep. I turned and fled. Luckily it did not pursue. I knew now that my clumsy attempts with the spear would not be sufficient, but at least I knew now where the beast lay. As I made my way back toward the castle my  shoulders in shame how had I thought I was prepared for this? A passing woodsman saw me and joined me for a stretch along the rocky trail. He asked what I was doing and I explained my mission. He looked on me with compassion. "Didn't the armorer show you how to use the spear?"

"Um, no" I said, feeling sheepish. "I thought I would just learn on the way." As I said the words I realized just how ignorant I was, using a magic spear as a walking stick was no way to prepare to fight a beast!

"There is a hermit high in the Canyon of Mirrors," he said, "go to him and he will train you."

"Thank you," I cried, and shook his hand vigorously before I turned from my castle-ward trail and headed to the Canyon of Mirrors.

For months I studied with the hermit. At first all I learned was what I was doing wrong, but slowly I began to understand the spear, and how to wield it effectively. The only thing that kept me from my training was an attack of hippogriffs that kept me busy with some of the other knights in training for a few weeks and when I travelled home to help my parents with the harvest.

After such a long time I decided it was time once more to confront the beast. Leaving the hermit and the Canyon of Mirrors I approached the beast's lair for the second time. Again the beast, sprung from its lair, not one but two heads threatening me with fierce teeth, but this time I met it with a steady spear. With the magically lengthened spear I swept out and cut through bone and sinew. The beast's head lay at my feet. I thrust my spear upward in triumph only to see two heads spring fully-formed from the severed neck. I staggered back for a moment, but then stepped back into the fray. Thrice more I cut out with my spear and thrice more heads fell at my feet, and yet each time new heads sprang out of the creatures neck to take the fallen's places. For the second time I fled the lair and for the second time the beast failed to follow.

I returned to the Canyon of the mirrors but alas, the hermit knew how to wield the magical spear, but not how to defeat such a creature. Then, I sought out the armorer. He offered belief in my ability but his advice was based on the rumored beast, not the beast I had come to know. For days and weeks I wandered, not knowing what course to take. Soon, I realized I had returned to tracking the beast. Watching it from clifftops and from caverns. But as I watched I began to learn its patterns, and count its heads. Additional heads kept popping up, and I decided it was time to hunt down the old knight once more. He welcomed me into his hut and told me once again to beware of the beast’s heads.

“Heads?” I asked.

“Aye,” he said.

That was when I noticed his sword, leaning in the corner of his hut, a bloody rag on the ground next to it.

“You keep chopping heads,” I accused.

“Aye, if I don’t find them you surely would. He will run out of new ones eventually and then you can pare him back to one.”

The advice was strange but something rang true and so once more I returned to the lair and I fought. At dawn I began, fighting until piles of heads lay scattered on the field, and exhaustion spread through my very soul. As the sun set, turning the rocks red, the beast looked at me with a single set of eyes that spoke of loss but also relief. We sank together to the ground, and I patted the head of my foe. No longer was he the fierce beast set on destruction he had been at our first meeting.

The next several weeks I worked with the brown creature and we became friends or companions of sorts. I even brought him home to plow my parent’s fields.

When we returned, I left him in his lair and went to see the armorer. He complained of the beast and told me again that I must conquer him. I told him I had, but not in the way he had envisioned. I brought him and a few nobles to see the beast. They were not immediately convinced but I pled with them, defended him. He did not deserve death. I even showed them how I had trained him to the plow. Finally, they agreed that if I brought back glowstone dust,  spider’s blood, and a griffin’s feather and used them to anoint the creature, I could save him. I nearly sank to the ground in despair. Did not they understand the months and years of training, and tracking, the great battle, and the weeks of working with the creature. I was tired, but they were adamant. And so, I left the lair once more and hunted down the strange ingredients. Three times I brought back spider’s blood, only for them to shun my offering. It is not the right type of spider they claimed, but finally it was deemed acceptable. I anointed the creature, and he was accepted as harmless. I patted his head once more, and whispered goodbye to him. It was time for me to move on. I led him to the old knight’s door. “He is yours now,” I said.

The old knight smiled, “you have done a great feat, thank you. He will be of great value to me, and the villages he tormented will now benefit from his labor.”

“Yes.” I smiled a sad smile.

“And what is his name?” he asked.

“I call him, Thesis.”

Well that was a lot longer than I was intending.... I hope you didn't get too bored. This is a fantasized retelling of my Master's thesis experience. The armorer is my thesis advisor, the old knight is a paleontologist from my field area who I worked with extensively. The hermit was a book about databases that I read in the early stages of the project. Notice that I defend the beast near the end. The strange ingredients represent the annoying nit-picky hoops, deadlines and miscellaneous signatures I had to gather after my thesis defense. The ending is a little less detailed and a little more imaginative then the first part (because I got tired of writing and because I got into the story more). I started writing this as stress relief because it tickled my sense of humor to think of signatures from people I've never met as weird potion ingredients instead of dumb hoops to jump through. After my defense the paleontologist (old knight) I referenced earlier sent me the following as a text "I'm glad you were foolish. (er .... wise0 enough to undertake this. You,... [the armorer], me and others have created an amazing thing. No one else would have done it.... You should be very proud of this. It is like fighting the 7 headed hydra of Greek mythology ... chop off one head and two appear!...."  But I just couldn't bare to actually kill the beast... I kind of like him.