Journey To Singing Mountain

The autumn air was crisp and cool. The moon shone brightly and the stars twinkled merrily. Far off in the distance the Castle of the Great King on Singing Mountain was clearly evident in the moonlight. As the young man and woman walked slowly among the trees, the newly fallen leaves swirled playfully at their feet. “Good night, dear Alice,” said the young man. “I must hurry or I shall be late arriving home, and my father will again be displeased.” He kissed her gently on the cheek. “Tomorrow night at the same time.” With that he turned and ran quickly toward the lights of a cottage twinkling in the distance through the trees.

As young Charles neared the cottage he was surprised to see it brightly lighted. “Father must have started fires in both fireplaces,” Charles thought, something done only on the coldest days of winter. Suddenly he realized that his father was standing at the door waiting for him. “Charles,” said his father gravely, “there is a visitor to see you.” He had never seen his father look quite this way. “The Great King himself from the Castle on Singing Mountain has come to see you. I do not know exactly why. Remember to act as is fitting to his dignity.” The best Charles could manage was a feeble nod of the head. With that his father turned and led him into the brightly lighted room.

Entering the room Charles saw three men, dressed in the clothes of travelers. They looked much alike; yet somehow he had no doubt that the one seated nearest the fire was the Great King. He took several steps toward him until he remembered. “My Lord,” he said, and bowed a bit clumsily. “I am Charles, thy faithful servant.” To his great surprise the king rose from his chair and walked to where Charles ...

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