Free Tales Before Tolkien by Douglas A. Anderson

was deep as the centre. And with the repose there lay on his face a shimmer as of moonlight, which seemed as if any moment it might break into such a ravishing smile as would cause the beholder to weep himself to death. But the smile never came, and the moonlight lay there unbroken. For the heart of the child was too deep for any smile to reach from it to his face.
    â€œAre you the oldest man of all?” Tangle at length, although filled with awe, ventured to ask.
    â€œYes, I am. I am very, very old. I am able to help you, I know. I can help everybody.”
    And the Child drew near and looked up in her face so that she burst into tears.
    â€œCan you tell me the way to the country the shadows fall from?” she sobbed.
    â€œYes. I know the way quite well. I go there myself sometimes. But you could not go my way; you are not old enough. I will show you how you can go.”
    â€œDo not send me out into the great heat again,” prayed Tangle.
    â€œI will not,” answered the Child.
    And he reached up, and put his little cool hand on her heart.
    â€œNow,” he said, “you can go. The fire will not burn you. Come.”
    He led her from the cave, and following him through another archway, she found herself in a vast desert of sand and rock. The sky of it was of rock, lowering over them like solid thunder-clouds; and the whole place was so hot that she saw, in bright rivulets, the yellow gold and white silver and red copper trickling molten from the rocks. But the heat never came near her.
    When they had gone some distance, the Child turned up a great stone, and took something like an egg from under it. He next drew a long curved line in the sand with his finger, and laid the egg in it. He then spoke something Tangle could not understand. The egg broke, a small snake came out, and, lying in the line in the sand, grew and grew till he filled it. The moment he was thus full-grown, he began to glide away, undulating like a sea-wave.
    â€œFollow that serpent,” said the Child. “He will lead you the right way.”
    Tangle followed the serpent. But she could not go far without looking back at the marvellous Child. He stood alone in the midst of the glowing desert, beside a fountain of red flame that had burst forth at his feet, his naked whiteness glimmering a pale rosy red in the torrid fire. There he stood, looking after her, till, from the lengthening distance, she could see him no more. The serpent went straight on, turning neither to the right nor left.
    Meantime Mossy had got out of the lake of shadows, and, following his mournful, lonely way, had reached the sea-shore. It was a dark, stormy evening. The sun had set. The wind was blowing from the sea. The waves had surrounded the rock within which lay the Old Man’s house. A deep water rolled between it and the shore, upon which a majestic figure was walking alone.
    Mossy went up to him and said,—
    â€œWill you tell me where to find the Old Man of the Sea?”
    â€œI am the Old Man of the Sea,” the figure answered.
    â€œI see a strong kingly man of middle age,” returned Mossy.
    Then the Old Man looked at him more intently, and said,—
    â€œYour sight, young man, is better than that of most who take this way. The night is stormy: come to my house and tell me what I can do for you.”
    Mossy followed him. The waves flew from before the footsteps of the Old Man of the Sea, and Mossy followed upon dry sand.
    When they had reached the cave, they sat down and gazed at each other.
    Now Mossy was an old man by this time. He looked much older than the Old Man of the Sea, and his feet were very weary.
    After looking at him for a moment, the Old Man took him by the hand and led him into his inner cave. There he helped him to undress, and laid him in the bath. And he saw that one of his hands Mossy did not open.
    â€œWhat have you in that hand?” he asked.
    Mossy opened his hand, and there lay the golden