A Juggler in the Woods

A Subtle Catalyst

If I had not been in a rather desperate way at the time, I should think I would have done two things. The first possibility, I would have observed the man from a greater distance and relished in the absurdity. The second, and most likely, would be that I would have turned gradually around, and made my way back down the path to my awaiting horse, leaving this juggler in white to his own devices.

Yet I had business to attend, or if not, a home to return to. Thus I engaged him.

“I say there, sir, do you live nearby?”

He turned to look at me without breaking the cadence of his juggling.

“I suppose one could say they live wherever they happen to be until they die. But if you are asking me if I have a domicile here, the answer is no.”

My brother always told me he felt most sharp witted in the morning, and would often read and solve riddles at that time. It is a trait we do not share.

“In that case, do you know if there are any houses along this path?”

“I saw none during my walk along it earlier this morning, I can tell you.”

Still he juggled the four spheres in the most adept manner.

“I see. And where does the path lead in that direction?”

“That I couldn’t tell you either. I didn’t get here by way of the end of the path. I was walking through the woods until I came upon it. I followed it until I got here, than sat.”

“And were you perchance juggling those balls the entire time you made your way through the woods?”

This question bore no relevance to my situation. Yet in order to complete my already skeptical assessment of this personage, I inquired.

“Not the entire time, no. It was, for a while, too dark, and I never juggle by campfire. By torchlight on occasion.”

“Yes, well, forgive me for disturbing you. Good morrow.”

By this time, I had decided not to ask him for any assistance with my problem, as I doubted he had enough sense, let alone strength for such work. And as there seemed to be nothing for me on the path beyond him, I moved to return to my carriage. I figured by now the road would be more busy with travelers more suited to help me.

He called after me. “Are you in some sort of trouble, friend?” I couldn’t deny it given how much of a display I’d already made in my attempts to find people. I turned to him once more.

“Somewhat,” I told him. “I’m unfamiliar with these parts, and my carriage became stuck in a ditch along the road in that direction. I’m without saddle and hoping for some muscle to help me restore the carriage to the road.” Not wanting to offend him with a poor assessment of his abilities, I enlisted his help, though I was half-hearted in so doing. “Could you perhaps lend me a hand with it?”

“That is possible,” the Juggler said. “I’ll have to see the situation for myself first. May I come back with you to the scene of your roadside mishap?”

I could only hope now that he would be of some use, or in the very least be less mad than I feared him. “Come, and much thanks in advance.”

“You mustn’t thank me until I provide you with a service, if that is even possible.”

He hopped off of the boulder, still juggling, and approached me.

“What and why do you juggle, sir?”

At once the Juggler was tossing two of the balls at me without so much as a warning. The action was not malicious, though to me somewhat careless as I had been unprepared. I was taken by even more surprise by the sting in both my hands that the heavy objects caused when I caught them. Rock solid, both. When I’d recovered I examined the balls.