The Year Three Hundred & Thirty-Three,
The forlorn fisherman wandered the forest for a time without account, walking in circles, crossing bridges. After leaving the wishing well he made his way to the river, but his beloved was not there. The forest was closed. The world was walled away, locked outside the loop.
When he encountered the fat, green frogs in the forest they jeered at him and disappeared. He tried to find the tower again to wish away his fate, but with the woodwind tree unmade the shortcut to the tower was forever concealed. There were not even any fish in the river so that he might ply his sport to pass the years. Utterly alone, his madness grew with every step he took.
For a mind that marches in circles, there is no flow of time, and a mind without time cannot be trapped by hours that run in a ring. When the last enduring sparks of selfhood and sanity, memory and motivation flickered out of the fisherman’s mind, he stepped out of the trap, a starving prisoner sliding between the bars of his cage.
The fisherman walked out of the fog into the light of day. He was free of the forest but his mind was lost. As though summoned by magnetic force he made his way west, drawn inexorably to the distant sea. When he reached the desert of red dunes he found he could not pass on foot. The sands burned hot enough to vaporize his entire body.
He found a fallen log in the mountains nearby and set it upon the river. This would be his boat. He required nothing more. When he reached open water the sea itself bent over backwards to see him safely to Coral Wing.
He was taken at once to the King and Queen, who welcomed him as an old friend. The fisherman stared blankly ahead and gave no sign that he had ever seen two unicorns in his life, or that he was any more impressed than if they had been a pair of shrimp. Nevertheless, they were determined to show him every comfort the castle had to offer. They gave him the highest room in Wingtip Tower. From his window the view of the sea encompassed all the world.
The fisherman ate only apples and drank only water. To guests he seldom spoke and what he did say was abstruse and esoteric. He talked of the past and the future, of the sun and the moon, of life, of death, of magic, and of love. Yet these are not issues that sensible fish adhere to and it was not long before he had no guests at all but for the King and Queen and the devoted jesterfish who brought his apples to him.
There was a fountain of clear water in his room. When he was alone the fisherman often stared into the fountain as a man stares into a flame, removing his mind to a bygone time. He would press his lips to the water as if in so doing he might steal one more kiss from the sea. When he pulled his face back the water in the fountain froze in perfect stillness, mirroring whatever image he held in his mind, whether of fish or flowers or the King and Queen themselves.
Castle servants carried the frozen statues away, hundreds by the day and more. If they complained of the tedious chore to the King and Queen, they were rebuked and ordered to accommodate the fisherman’s every wish.
In gratitude for all their patience the fisherman made the King and Queen a special gift from his fountain—a small compass with a unique attribute: it would only point to water. He told them the idea came to him while looking out his window. The King and Queen received this gift with haunted recognition, and stowed it away out of sight until the day should come that they could make a gift of it to someone else.
As the years rolled on, a rumor spread over sea and land claiming the return of the Man in the Moon.