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Riddles on the Bridge

Chapter 11

Esther shouted for the group, but they were too far behind to hear. Rocks and pebbles crowned the edges of the violent river, Weeper’s Run, while Volkswagen-sized boulders popped up, here and there, and weaved the river’s white rapids every which way, shrouding the vicious black water in mystery. 

Esther watched a branch fall from an oak tree and land in the water; it was sucked under and bobbed up fifteen feet away before it crashed into three separate boulders and tangled into a small dam. Her heart thumped wildly as she imagined the thought of fording the intense river. But her fear was vanquished when she saw twenty feet north, a rickety, makeshift bridge of discarded lumber that crossed along the tops of brilliant gold and white boulders to the opposite side. She recalled it was the type of stone that Aaron kept describing during the ascent. “Soapstone,” she said to herself. 

Wrestling the overhanging saplings, she made her way along the bank until she stood at the edge of the first rickety beam and gazed across the bridge.

“That’d be a nasty dip for a little girl to take alone in the forest,” a voice said.

She jumped round, startled and afraid, to see a man hidden back among the trees, whom she immediately recognized as the man she’d seen around town watching her family; the thin, pale man with black top-hat, crocodile-and-snake-skinned shoes, and an elegant cane supporting his decrepit figure. His top-hat shaded his eyes; nonetheless, she felt their cold hard stare piercing through her.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. Esther never greeted people angrily, and she rarely spoke as such to her elders, but something about the Top-Hat Man brought out the most spiteful voice she could muster; though to be honest, it still sounded rather sweet. 

“Oh hello, Esther,” replied Mr. Dauer. He lifted his hand to shake hers. She didn’t want to take it for two reasons. One: she didn’t trust the Top-Hat Man and being so close to the edge of the river frightened her, and two: his hand was covered in dust and dirt and looked icky. 

“How do you know my name?” She asked.

“My name is Mr. Dauer; and I know lots of things, Esther Dolor,” said the Top-Hat Man. “I know the names of these trees and the birth of this river; I know the birds in the air since the day they first shivered; I go whence-ever I please, up that mountain, or down this valley. I came from this forest, you see, but there’s no more time to dally.” He swung his free hand through the air, pointing at all that he sang about, and looked up to the canopy careening over the river. “It’s nice to be home.” 

Something strange happened to Mr. Dauer. A chill or spasm went down his spine and his head jerked to the side wildly; it looked painful, and for a moment, Esther felt bad for him.

“You came out of the gate when I opened it?” Esther asked.

“No, quite the opposite.” He removed the cork protruding from his right ear. “In fact, I should thank you for opening the gate and letting me back in.”

“Well, I didn’t mean to do that,” said Esther smugly.

“And yet, you did, didn’t you?” Mr. Dauer tilted his head to let a dollop of wax and oil drip from the ear to the ground. “Opening the gate; convincing your sister to enter it; and finding the bridge across the Weeper’s Run! Why do you even need your brother and sister?” He tapped his cane on the wooden plank between her legs. 

Goosebumps lifted the hair on Esther’s neck and arms. “They do good things, too,” Esther replied. “We are a team.” 

“Marian couldn’t even take a proper photo of a unicorn,” Mr. Dauer mused. “My goodness, a once in a lifetime opportunity like that, wasted.”

Esther furrowed her brow; she almost said something, but Mr. Dauer wouldn’t give space.

“Oh, I suppose she brought a sandwich for you.” Mr. Dauer put the cork back in. “So she’s as good as a lunch-lady. And Herbert—well, Herbert doesn’t do a darned thing, does he?”

“I love my little brother. He’s sweet and brave.”

Mr. Dauer drummed his cane with his crooked fingers before tapping it on the plank again. “You know, Esther, soon enough you will learn you are very fast all on your own, and then you won’t have to sit around, waiting for others to catch up—that Marian who is always distracted by her emotions, and that Herbert who is always afraid and…hiding something.” 

Esther’s thoughts felt cloudy and unsure; she tried to shake them from her head, but found herself staring catatonically into the rushing water below and lost the sense of time. Where was she again, and how long had she been dreaming? It was a glorious dream about a talking Donkey and a funny looking Ghost; there were magnificent unicorns and spooky Bigfoot creatures. But somehow it all grew dark and horrifying; her Dad was in trouble. A vampire that could change him forever if she didn’t act quick enough. She had to get back to Dad! Oh, but Dad wouldn’t listen! Oh, God, what was coming next? Some sort of stiff, hideous Monster like Frankenstein with arms reaching out for her. Was it her father? Was it someone to help—Oh, how could anyone help? But the glory of this forest remained. Maybe if she didn’t leave, maybe is she stayed here forever all would be well!  The next coherent moment, she heard voices from behind her and realized that Mr. Dauer had disappeared. 

“I tell you, I always hated crossing mud.” Balaam’s rusty voice came through the forest. “It gets in your horseshoes and takes weeks to get out.”

Esther smiled and waved her hands in the air. “Over here! Come quick!” 

“Whoa!” Herbert’s amazed eyes ran down the wild river bank as the group found their way up to where Esther stood. They stopped at the largest boulder nearest the bridge, and busied themselves brushing the cuffs of their pants and hooves. Herbert removed his shoes and squeezed the soggy brown water from his socks.

“About time you showed up.” Esther crossed her arms, leaned against a young red cedar and smiled proudly.

“Wadn’t our doin,” Aaron whined. “This dummern heck Donkey don’t do nothing but drag ‘is hooves and whan.”

“I beg your pardon, sir Aaron,” Balaam quipped. “My name is Balaam, I have hooves, and your slippery, sinking sneakers are the cause of our delay.”

Esther giggled when she looked down at Aaron’s white sneakers covered in filth. Huffing and puffing, Aaron balanced on one while attempting to wipe the other in the air; which gave him the look of an ungainly flamingo forgetting how to balance. The group laughed when he finally fell over onto his backside; but not in a mean way; rather, like all jokes should be expended, with delight and selfless behavior. After a good laugh, and Aaron finished cleaning his shoes, Balaam interjected, “Now then, where are we going?”

“Where indeed!” An unfamiliar, spry voice cried out from above.

The children looked across the makeshift bridge to see a bright red fox wearing a pair of trousers, button-down dress shirt, and a red pocket-handkerchief, sitting with his legs crossed on a red and orange boulder; his eyes were peering from underneath a wool bycocket and playfully dancing from child to child. 

“A talking fox!” Herbert couldn’t contain his delight and grinned while he beat his socks into the side of the plank.

“Where did you come from?” Esther asked. 

“The forest,” replied the fox, wryly. “The name’s Pascal, and this is ma’ home.” He leapt off the boulder to the bridge and landed on his rear legs like a human; reaching in to his pocket, he presented a pipe. 

“Hello, Pascal,” Marian replied. She introduced the group while Pascal stuffed tobacco in his pipe and lit a match. He fascinated the children with his whimsical mannerisms and cocksure behavior, but Balaam remained unamused. “Never much liked foxes,” he muttered.

“If you were nearby, you must’ve seen the Top-Hat Man,” Esther blurted out.

“Top-Hat Man?” Aaron asked and glanced at Herbert, who looked up from his socks like he heard a curse word. 

“Yes,” Esther confirmed. “He was just here speaking to me, and then he vanished. Herb knows who I’m talking about. We saw him around town. Right, Herb?”

Herbert nodded.

“Yeah, I don’t know if I know anything about all that yet, dearie,” Pascal replied, and puffed his pipe. “What I do know is the bridge belongs to me, and no bunch of kids and their half-witted Donkey is getting through the Forest without passing the Queen’s riddles.” 

Esther’s eyes widened. “There’s a Queen of the Enchanted Forest?”

“Oh, the greatest Queen anyone has ever known,” Pascal replied. “Alas, she is gone. And I don’t know if anyone will ever see her again. But I stand by her rule and governing.”

“You seem like a very noble fox, Pascal,” Marian said. 

“Eh—noble? No, not me—well, at least not ’til very recent, like. I used to walk on the walls and try to break ‘em down. I’d tell false stories and tricks…” Pascal spat on the ground and turned his pipe upside down. The used tobacco dumped into the river. “But I don’t do those sorts anymore.”

“I ain’t buyin’ it,” Aaron said. “Foxes’re ah-ways up to summin. I reckon this here a-riddle thang is a trick, twos.” 

“Only one way to find out, Freckles, cos you ain’t getting by the bridge without three answers.”

The children huddled together, while Pascal leaped onto a boulder on the opposite side of the bridge, and resumed his leisure. The girls didn’t see a problem with answering a few questions, but Aaron warned them. “That there’s jist how all this sorta thang starts with abody like hem,” he said. “Hem get you-all thinking and unawares, and sunly you bean robbed and lef fer dead as four o’ clock. Happen all a-time. We-all a-need to keep up our wits and aready to fight hem.”

“Fight him?” Marian asked. 

“With what?” Esther added.

“Our fists, a’course!” Aaron answered.

“Why wouldn’t he attack us before we noticed him?” Herbert asked. He looked over Esther’s shoulder and saw Pascal the Fox laying on his back, tossing a small stone into the air. “I like him. He’s got a funny hat like Robin Hood and talks nice.”

“Robin Hood is a thief, ye’n—” (Aaron was going to say “dummy”, but stopped himself short.) “Who do you-all athink Robin Hood robbed from? People whacking afoot in the woods!”

“We can’t fight him,” Marian said matter-of-factly. “There’s just no option for it. We have nothing but a talking Donkey on our side.”

“Who has a name,” Balaam reminded.

“Sorry,” Marian corrected herself. “We have nothing but Balaam with us.” 

The Donkey smiled proudly.

The children glanced knowingly at one another and then over their shoulders to Pascal; he was eating a piece of cheese, but quickly stuffed it in his pocket when he noticed all of them staring at him. “Ready for some riddles, kids?” He shouted and grinned at them.

“I think working together and answering them is our only good option,” Balaam declared. 

The group followed Marian to the start of the rickety boards while Pascal dropped down to meet them. 

“Alright, Pascal,” said Marian. “We don’t quite understand what’s going on, but we need to get through to find Atagahi. What are the riddles?” 

Pascal bowed before them, removing his bycocket with grace. He recited:

“I’m always ready, while not, though,
I’m too fast, but I’m too slow;
You think you need me, but it’s not so
Once you found me, now I go.”

“‘Unce you-all afound me, nows I go’.” Aaron recited quietly in thought. 

“Poppy-cock and nonsense,” Balaam complained. 

“Write it down and let me see,” Marian said. “I’m not very good at things read aloud.” 

“I’ve got one!” Herbert raised his hand. “It’s a race. Hares and tortoises. Going fast and slow. No—that’s nothing.”

“Kep an eye on yer pockets, fellers,” Aaron warned. 

“Let me write it down for you, Marian,” Balaam said, and dragged his hoof in the dirt.

“Esther, you’re the good one at this,” Marian said. “Any ideas?”

“Clocks…” Esther whispered to herself. “Clocks that leave when you find them—It’s time!” She shouted. “Is it time?” 

“Very good, dearie,” Pascal said, and smiled grandly at her. “Only two more to go and Freckles will be rid of me.” He winked at Aaron. 

“Give it to us!” Marian cheered. “We’re ready.”

Pascal the Fox continued:

“What strengthens and tears down,
Always produces and destroys?
What’s a cause and an effect,
And births young girls and young boys?”

“This one’s weird,” Herbert said. 

“It equals is-self out,” Aaron added. “Produces and ‘stroys. Ain’t nothing a-can’t do both.”

Esther thought quietly; she desperately wanted to get it first again. 

“It’s time again,” Marian said. “Right?”

“No, is worser than all that,” Aaron responded. “Vi’lence and Anger, or summin.”

“Moms and Dads?” Esther whispered. “What else produces young girls and boys?”

“If I may,” Balaam interrupted. “Begging your pardon, Pascal.” Here, he addressed the Fox on the bridge. “Are Talking Animals allowed to partake in this gesture?”

“What kind of person would I be if I didn’t allow such a thing?” Pascal answered. 

Balaam looked at the children. “Then the answer is simple,” said he. “Though I suppose it doesn’t make it any less difficult. But I’ve felt my fair share of this in the many more years that I’ve had than you. And one thing I know is that it is something that both greatly hurts and strengthens, develops, and ends all things. And all mothers know the joy and presence of it in childbirth. The answer is: pain.” 

“Very good, my Sho-gwili friend,” Pascal congratulated.  

The children cheered; Aaron and Herbert patted Balaam on the back; Marian and Esther kissed his neck; Balaam appeared taller and prouder than ever in his life. 

“I suppose that only leaves one last riddle for you, kids,” said Pascal. “If birds have nests and foxes have holes, what do four little children in an enchanted forest have?”

The company thought silently.

“That ain’t a riddle!” Aaron critiqued. “S’just a question with ain’t no real answer!” 

“That may be,” Pascal replied. “But I didn’t write the riddle, and neither did you answer it.” 

No one said a word. They each in their own way grew flustered, sitting down on the pebbles at the edge of the river. 

“What do we got?” Marian asked. 

“A biddy-peckin’ Donkey,” quipped Aaron. 

“Back to nothing but a Donkey,” moaned Balaam.

Aaron smirked at him. “Jist pullin’ yer hoof, Balaam.”

Marian tapped her lips; Esther wiggled her nose back and forth; Aaron drew his fingers in the sand; Herbert drummed his knee; and Balaam stamped in the mud. Marian thought about giving up and pleading with the Fox when Herbert slapped his knee and jumped up. 

“Each other!” Herbert shouted at the Fox. “We’ve got each other!”

Pascal smiled at him. “I’ve always appreciated your spunk, kid.” 

“Wait,” Esther said, with her hands outstretched. “That’s actually the answer?”

“And one I hope you won’t soon forget, dearie,” Pascal replied. “I also hope the rest of your journey is as easy and pleasant. Though, to be honest, I have it under good authority that it won’t be. However, if you recall the things I taught you, that good authority also believes you will do much better than you could without it.” Pascal removed his hat again and bowed low to the ground. “Children, it’s always a pleasure. I hope to see you again sometime. Though I don’t think I’ll remember when I do.” 

The children watched Pascal leap to the branch of an oak, run the length of it, dive into an elm, and bounce off a persimmon into a magnificent maple; before long, he was a blurry shadow of red and brown in the canopy, and then, gone. 

“I like him,” said Herbert, and grinned. “He talks funny.”

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