Unfettered

But I actually got this story in to Shawn months ahead of when I said I would.

Normally I revise like…well…like a Rothfuss, really. I take a story through dozens if not hundreds of revisions before I’m happy with it.

But once I was done with this story on that first day, it was really, really finished. I changed about eight words and that’s it.

The story itself is a little odd. It’s from an odd perspective, and it covers a vast scope of time. The main character is odd. The language is odd. I’ve read it out loud a couple times, and I’ve found the sound of it to be…well…odd. Rhythmic. Almost like a chant.

For all that, I have to say I’m a little proud of it.

Anyway, that’s all I’ll say. I don’t like trying to explain my stories. Either you’ll like it, or you won’t. You’re entitled to your opinion either way without me trying to tell you what to think.

— Patrick Rothfuss



HOW OLD HOLLY CAME TO BE

Patrick Rothfuss



In the beginning, there was the wood.



It was strong wood, and old. And it grew beside a stream, by a tower all of stone.



There was warm sun, which was good. There were climbing vines, which were bad. There was wind, which was neither. It merely made leaves turn and branches sway.



There was also the lady. She was neither. She came to the tower. She turned the earth and made a garden. She cut the other trees and burned them in the tower.



But the holly tree she did not cut. The holly grew and spread its branches in the open space. And that was good.





There was summer, which was warm. There was winter, which was cold. There were birds, which were neither. They built nests and sometimes sang.



There was also the lady. She was neither warm nor cold. The holly grew beside the stream, its branches spreading dappled shade.



The lady sat beneath the holly reading books. She climbed the holly, peering into nests. She leaned against the holly, napping in the dappled shade.



These things were neither. None of them were warm or cold. None of them were good or bad.





There was day, which was light. There was night, which was dark. There was the moon, which was both light and dark.



There was a man. He was both. He came to the tower. He and the lady sat beneath the holly. They were both beneath the holly. They were both.



The man said to the lady. The man showed to the lady. The man sang to the lady.



The man left the tower. The lady left the tower. They both left the tower. Both.





The garden grew. The garden, left untended, changed. The garden grew and changed and then the garden was no more.



The tower did not grow. The tower, left untended, did not change. The tower did not change and stayed.



The holly grew. It did not change. It stayed.





The lady came to the tower.



She cut a branch of holly for a wreath, which was bad. She rooted up the climbing vines and tore them from the branches, which was good. She turned the earth and made a garden, which was neither.



She sat beneath the holly reading books and wept. She sat beneath the holly in the sun and wept. She sat beneath the holly in the rain and wept. She sat beneath the holly and the moon and wept.



These things were neither.





She sat beneath the holly and she sang.



She sat beneath the holly and she sang.



She sat beneath the holly and she sang.





The Lady sat beneath the holly, which was good. The Lady wept, which was bad.





The Lady sang, which was good. The Lady left the tower, which was bad. The tower stayed, which was neither.



The holly changed, which was both.





The holly stayed. There was a stream, which was beautiful. There was wind, which was beautiful. There were birds, which were beautiful.





The Lady came to the tower, which was good. She turned the earth, which was good. The Lady sang, which was beautiful. There were tomatoes, and the Lady ate them, which was good. The Lady sat beneath the holly reading books, which was beautiful and good.





There was sun and rain. There was day and night. There was summer and winter.



The holly grew, and that was good. The Lady sat upon his gnarled roots and fished, and that was good. The Lady watched the squirrels play among his leaves and laughed, and that was good.





The Lady turned her foot upon a stone, and that was bad. She leaned against his trunk and frowned, and that was bad. The Lady sang a song to holly. Holly listened. Holly bent. The Lady sang and branch became a walking stick, and that was good.



She walked and leaned on him, and that was good.





The Lady climbed into the highest reaches of his branches, looking into nests, and that was good. The Lady pricked her hands upon his thorns, and that was bad. She sucked the bright bead from her thumb, and slipped, and screamed, and fell.



And holly bent. And holly bent. And Holly bent his boughs to catch her.

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