Oak and Roses

I stood on the doorstep of the ancient library, staring at the massive, ornately carved oaken barrier. The wrought-iron knocker was shaped into a lion's head, with flowing mane and firm, expressive jaw. It beckoned me to seek admittance to a world of wonders.

I pulled up the ring in the lion's mouth and dropped it. The sonorous bang echoed from misty hills behind me. I'd come a long way from home, gathering valuable information as I went.

The door creaked open slowly. An elderly man peered around it, his head almost as high as the top of the doorway. He wore a long velour robe, richly plum-colored, with silver insignias hanging from leather cords around his neck. His neatly-kept white beard reached to his waist.

"What brings you here?" Piercing blue eyes, under bushy brows, looked me over.

"I've come to study from the Book of Oak and Roses."

"This is a private library. I don't allow visitors."

"You have the last remaining copy in the world. I must read it."

His eyes narrowed.

"Have you arrived empty-handed?"

"No, sir."

I reached into my backpack, pulling out my payment, the work of many moons: an encyclopedic atlas, hand drawn on fine linen and bound in the most expensive leather. It contained my own detailed maps and meticulous records of my travels across distant lands as yet uncharted.

"No one has plumbed the depths of my knowledge of the globe. This will be yours if you would please grant me entrance." I held out the book, spread open to one of the best examples of my cartography.

He put on a pair of reading glasses which were dangling from his neck and leaned forward to analyze the work.

"Amazing," he murmured. "I never knew this country existed beyond the borders of Alantoa. You have been there?"

"Certainly. Everything in this book is my eyewitness account."

He reached over to turn the delicate page with as much care as if to not disturb a sleeping infant. On the next page were some of my pen-and-ink botanical diagrams with copious notes. He looked from the drawings to me and gave a curt nod.

"Admittance granted."

As he opened the door wider, he ushered me in with a hand on my shoulder, the other hand now clasping my pride and joy, my exploration journal.

"Your work is priceless. I hope you find what you seek here."

Now within the hallowed halls of the old man's study, I stared around me, awestruck. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined the walls, and a rolling ladder rose to assist with gathering materials. Some shelves had artwork instead of books. One shelf displayed a collection of global treasures: shells, tiny succulent plants, native sculptures, and teak boxes inlaid with abalone.

The warmly musty smell of antique paper blended with the aroma of polished walnut and the fragrance of wildflowers drifting on a breeze through an open window. A fire crackled in the fireplace, over which hung an imposing portrait of an army general brandishing a sword from times long past. The rich, mellow tones of a gold-trimmed grandfather clock marked the hour, pendulum swinging steadily, inexorably back and forth.

It took several minutes for me to process my senses and advance into the room. I scanned the shelves for any sign of the book I sought so desperately. Then I noticed a gigantic book spread open on a reading stand. It was several inches thick on either side, at least a thousand pages, and it was chained to a hefty iron loop in the wall.

I stepped up to the book. A royal blue ribbon hung from the top of the spine, and I laid this gently down inside to hold the spot it had lain open to. Then I hoisted up the front of the massive tome, shutting it to look at the cover.

Oak and Roses, the title proclaimed in Runic script. The carnation-colored leather cover bore a gilded, embossed Tree of Life surrounded by angel wings and flames. I ran my fingers over the scrollwork of intricate arabesques bordering the central image.

A wave of dizzy delight swept through me, threatening to weaken my knees and send me sinking into the plush suede armchair lingering nearby. I clung to the edge of the reading stand.

Yes, this is what was described to me. This is the book I have given my entire life to find. Now, to read it.

Words: 743. Written for "Vagrant Vignettes"