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When the fourth traveler stumbled across the waterfall with a fiddle in his hand, Emil resigned himself to the fact that he would forever be known as the fiddle player. He sighed, cherishing the final few moments he had to himself before he heard what the man would ultimately play for him. He supposed it was human custom to assign a common trait to folks like him, however, the reason for such a custom always baffled Emil, and he could never really understand why humans were not happy with versatility.
Years became decades and decades became centuries and, with the flow of time, Emil’s reputation grew. Travelers from exotic lands would hear of him and seek his audience, and Emil was always grateful for the company for the waterfall, while beautiful, was no companion. The fiddle rumor never lost its path, and Emil found himself not only embracing it with open arms, but also indulging in its benefits and carrying it further. There was only so long he could go by feeding on elk as a main source of protein, and even they were hard to find sometimes. Emil was nothing if not an opportunist, and so he demanded a price - as payment for obtaining knowledge. Even though he had never made any specific mentions, by the time the rumor returned to his ears he found out that he primarily gave information on fiddles and their music form, and that he mainly accepted food as a payment. He understood why his general statement had been twisted into something so precise, but he still found it amusing how humans picked up the right implications but applied it in hilariously inappropriate situations. And so, Emil, now popularly labelled the Fossegrimen by the locals, waited for company and pleasantries, always willing to exchange such for a price.
****
A low, resonating hum broke through the barriers of the waterfall, and Emil lifted his head, curious. The humming grew louder, and as the volume increased so did Emil’s curiosity. However, one of his favourite quotes that he learned from travelers was ‘Curiosity killed the cat’ and so he held his patience. Soon, the humming gave way to a melodious song, whose words Emil barely registered as French. Despite the change, the volume inched higher and after a moment, it seemed that the source of the melody had situated itself on the rocks at the base of the waterfall. Even then, Emil waited, for he was sure that the source was a traveler who was trying to lure him out of his abode. He fingered the pages of the book he had abandoned but couldn’t bring himself to appear nonchalant as the waterfall parted to allow the source through.
As Emil noted that the traveler carried on his shoulders a bag big enough to carry all his belongings in it, the traveler himself shook droplets off his body, flipped his gold hair back and lifted a hand to scratch the brown strands underneath. With a perfectly crafted sheepish smile, the traveler said, “I suppose you are the Fossegrimen. I’m, um, quite lost, and was hoping if you could help guide me back?”
Emil’s eyes narrowed. “I could. And your name would be?”
The traveler’s smile relaxed. “Chris.”
Emil leans back on his armchair, “Christophe. I highly doubt you’ve lost your route but if you’ve lost your path then maybe I can help.”
The smile transformed into a smirk, “Ah. I should have realized how knowledgeable you are. And extremely intuitive too. I was certain I would only find a fiddle player of a caliber exceeding the Almighty’s.”
“Well. If you’ve heard of me you must know, I demand payment.”
“I have enough thaler for your needs.”
“What use would that be for me in here?” Emil gestured towards the waterfall. He thought long and hard. What would be the equivalent for his information? Oh, and he had to consider his hospitality too.
“I only need something that equals the value of what you receive. In that case,” Emil let his face slack and beamed at Chris, “I’ll take that beautiful roll of cheese and a lock of your hair!”
Chris took a step back, unable to restrain the shock from the request. “How did you know of the cheese? And why my hair?”
Ignoring his queries, Emil continues, “The only thing I can tell you for now would be to sharpen your senses. Not all is as seems in this world. Now now, stay the night! I would love to hear about your journey all over that block of cheese! And that wine! I have the perfect grapes to accompany them too.”
As Chris lifted his pocket knife to carefully cut a lock of his hair, Emil arranged the low table for dinner, knowing that he would have great company for the night.