The Hermit of Chamonix

Johann rested a moment against the stone wall. This was his favorite view of the grounds. Most visitors preferred to climb the prospect tower and gaze upon the grand manor, the largest and most progressively designed house for many days’ ride, or at the eye-catchers set about in the garden and home farm, his own hermitage among them. But from the hillside on the path of his daily walk, the monstrous house was hidden and the landscape of rocky ground and wildflowers and trees was nearly unblemished by the touches of man. Only the mock castle ruin on the next hill and the scattered livestock gave evidence to the hand of man on God’s masterwork.

Johann was on the hill later than usual that day, his morning having been spent at his monthly audience with his patron. He smiled in thanks to God that he was able to have his lunch in his favorite spot because of the delay. Being careful not to tangle in the long skirt of his robe, he sat cross-legged with his back to the wall. The bread he had baked that morning, and the cheese from the share-cropper’s wife were pulled from the cloth sack at his waist, and he reached into a pocket for the two early apples he had picked on his way through the orchard. Johann beheld the bounty on his lap and again sent prayers of thanksgiving to his Creator.

He much preferred this lunch to the rich foods he had been invited to share at the manor. He knew that the simple flavors of the land would best nourish this body which the Creator had entrusted to him.

As he ate his lunch, Johann opened his senses. He took into himself the beautiful view, the warmth of the sun on his face and brown robe, the pleasant taste of the simple food, the smell of a wood fire in the distance, and the sounds of birds and wind and small insects and the lowing of the spotted cow. Johann treasured each moment that he had to just fill his awareness with God's goodness, and His greatness. William of Chamonix, Johann's benefactor, marveled that any man could be happy as a hermit, much less a young man.

Though William felt he needed Johann for his soul and his status, he tried often to dissuade the hermit from his calling. William was not a bad man, if a little worldly. Johann had doubts that his extra prayers would truly balance William's lack, but he prayed daily that God would bless the young lord for his kindness and generosity toward Johann. Though his presence on the estate as an ascetic hermit was beneficial to William in his social and political circles, Johann had no doubt that William would happily honor his offer to move him into the house, and treat him as a member of the household, somewhere between family and favored servant. William had offered that Johann could continue to read and walk and pray, just in the house, instead of his small hut in the garden. William had hinted that he would enjoy nighttime visits with the young hermit, as well, but had never pushed the issue.

Reynold, William's half-brother, was another matter altogether. He, too, desired Johann in his bed, and encouraged his brother's efforts to move him into the house. Reynold was not concerned for Johann's welfare, though, nor did he respect his piety or regard him as near equal. His comments to Johann were condescending and offensive. He viewed Johann as a leech, a whore who was receiving payment without performing his duties. Johann mentally recited religious precepts to refrain from pointing out that Reynold, born on the wrong side of the blanket, did less to earn his brother's generosity than he.

Johann smiled, sharing God's joke that it was the good man who tempted Johann from his avocation, and the n'er-do-well who steeled his resolve. The arrival in the past year of the mistress of the house, and her kindness to him and obvious devotion to William, also strengthened his conviction that no good would come of prevailing more upon the young lord's kindness. Even it if was very hard sometimes not to wish he were a weaker man.

Offering a prayer for his pride and asking for humility, Johann shook himself from his thoughts of the manor.

It was here. Or, as Johann was beginning to think, he was here. None of Johann's five senses could detect anything, and yet there were times, like now, when Johann knew he was not alone. Brushing crumbs from his lap, and putting the apple cores in his bag, Johann leaned further into the wall. His routine was already off for the day, and he thought perhaps God would be okay with the break in scheduled prayer and meditation in favor of attempting to greet another of His creations.

Johann relaxed his arms at his sides, attempting to look as disarming as possible. If indeed he could intimidate anyone with his lithe frame and short stature; he was at least a shaftment short of a fathom (5’6”;p). He closed his eyes and concentrated on his awareness of the other. Slowly he sorted through the messages from his ears, nose, mouth and skin, acknowledging and dismissing each by turn as his mentor had taught him. But instead of clearing his mind of everything, he held to those bits of different, letting them form a pattern in his mind.

And then, yes, there it was. A brush across his cheek, like the pad of a finger. And then on his nose and eyelids. His head turned into the touch and he felt a palm close over his cheek. Resisting the urge to nuzzle, he again focused on the pattern. Now he heard soft breaths near his ear, and smelled the salty perfume of seaside heather, though they were miles from the sea. The hand on his face moved, petting his cheek and combing through his hair. Another hand slipped into one of his, thumb brushing his skin. He remained still, not wanting to scare his visitor, not wanting the light touches to go away. When he felt the pressure of a body leaning into his knee, his eyes opened without thought.

The creature was young and male, but not man. He did not look like the angels described and illuminated in the monks’ books, but rather more like the fae in the songs and stories that the common folk shared in the firelight. His hair was palest lavender, like the heather that Johann could smell more strongly now, and his eyes were the blue-green of the sea. Soft cloth was cleverly wrapped to cover his torso and down over his thighs, but left room for the beautiful set of four translucent wings that sprouted somewhere on his back. The faerie—for that is what he must be—sat rigid, eyes wide. He began to withdraw and Johann stopped him, tightening his grip around the hand that held his and bringing his other to hold the faerie’s fingers against his cheek.

"Don't go." He spoke softly while his heart thundered, not wanting to lose this moment.

"How can you see me?" The voice was musical, but deeper, older than Johann expected.

"The Father has granted me a wondrous gift, to see and meet one of his more beautiful creations." Johann thanked Him, over and over as he said this. His goal, when he chose the eremitic life, had been to make every breath a prayer. With the young faerie almost in his lap he felt every drop of his blood singing praises to God.

The faerie blushed, then frowned. "The Mother made me," he stated, sounding resolute and confused at the same time.

Johann smiled. "My Lord is both Mother and Father. We may yet be brothers." Smiling more broadly at the faerie's skepticism he amended, "Or cousins."

Johann gave in to the urge to move his cheek under the faerie's hand, then turned his nose into the palm to inhale the sharp-sweet scent of him again. He slanted his eyes toward the other and saw his gaze locked on their joined hands on Johann's face, his lips parted. A dark red tongue poked out to re-wet dry lips and Johann wanted to taste them, too, far more than he had ever desired to taste William. But, first things first...

"My name is Johann."

"Ah... Kies." The faerie, Kies, looked like... well, like he had just been told that faeries existed. Johann smiled, sending thoughts of amused appreciation for His sense of humor.

"How long have you been watching me?"

Kies looked surprised, which probably loosened his tongue. "A little more than a fortnight. I was traveling through and... paused in my journey, here." Heat rose on his neck and cheeks and Johann brushed his fingers over the pink skin. The hand he had been holding against his own cheek fell to his lap, but Johann was pleased that it stayed where it fell.

It had been about two weeks since Johann had first noticed another presence. Like a shadow, it seemed to follow him wherever he went, whatever he was doing. Quiet while he prayed, running, tumbling while he walked, close as he slept. Eager as he bathed.

Cupping the back of the faerie's neck, Johann pulled him close, leaning in to brush his lips with Kies'. It was Johann's first kiss, but he had seen how it was done, and could sense what would feel good. When he pulled back, Kies was bracing himself on Johann, hip leaning into one thigh, and his hand propped on the other. How many times had he felt these hands on him in the past two weeks, gentle, reverent, and loving? He knew nothing about this faerie, except that the feeling that told him to keep him came from the same place that allowed his senses to be aware of Kies, the same place that led him to William of Chamonix’s door. Johann wasn’t one to question a gift from God. He locked his brown eyes on those the color of the sea. "Will you end your journey here? Stay with me."

Kies eyes widened. "But... your kind... you have vows."

Johann shook his head, more happy than ever that he avoided the seminary and left the monastery. As a priest, or maybe even a monk, he could have climbed the political ladder, made his family proud. As a hermit he was free of the rules and games of man, and able to give all his time to God.

The God he called Father would welcome another joining in the song. "My only vow is to God, to praise him always. Will you spend your days and nights with me cherishing and glorifying the works of the Creator?"

Kies was shaking just perceptibly, and Johann pulled him closer. His hand brushed a wing and slid under the curtain of soft hair. If his own body was a temple to the Lord, then Kies was holy ground indeed, and Johann wished to thank God for every inch of him. But that would come—he hoped—later. Now he waited patiently for the answer Kies must give.

Kies looked up at him and nodded solemnly. "I will stay here with you and give Praise to the Lady."

Johann whispered a prayer of thanksgiving against Kies' neck, before moving to once again claim his lips.

The End.