The Map Merchant and the Road That Had No Name

More about The Map Merchant and the Road That Had No Name

The Map Merchant and the Road That Had No Name
Gribbel Fenn was a map merchant, although the title was misleading.He did not sell maps of places people already knew. “What would be the point?” he often said. “If you know where something is, you hardly need me to tell you.” His bags therefore contained maps of roads nobody had travelled, bridges not yet built and villages whose inhabitants had not decided what to call them. His mount was called Thousandfoot.The name was an exaggeration.Gribbel had once counted eighty-two legs before Thousandfoot became annoyed and deposited him in a stream. Since then, eighty-two had been considered close enough to a thousand.One bright morning they travelled through Fernwood. Three rolled maps stuck from Gribbel’s pack. Two were blank. The third was labelled THE ROAD THAT HAS NO NAME. “Left,” Gribbel said. Thousandfoot turned right. “I said left.” The creature stopped. Gribbel checked the map.The line clearly went right. “Fine. You were correct.” Thousandfoot continued. Ancient trees rose around them, sunlight spilled through green leaves and mushrooms crowded the roots. A stream followed the path. Everything looked peaceful, which made Gribbel suspicious. Roads without names were rarely ordinary. After an hour they reached a fork. Gribbel opened the map. There was no fork on it. “Interesting.” Thousandfoot waved his antennae. “Interesting does not mean dangerous.” The antennae moved again. “Usually.” Gribbel drew the fork onto the parchment.The moment his pencil left the paper, the two paths became one. His new line vanished from the map. “That was rude.” They continued. Soon a small cottage appeared among the trees beside the stream.Moss covered its roof and a lantern hung near the door.Gribbel checked his map. No cottage. “Now that is interesting.” Thousandfoot stopped.Gribbel climbed down and approached the door. A wooden sign read: PLEASE KNOCK IF YOU KNOW WHERE YOU ARE. Gribbel considered this and did not knock. The door opened anyway. There was no room behind it. Instead he saw another forest. The trees stood in different places and a broad road of white stones disappeared between them. A voice asked, “Name?” – “Gribbel Fenn.” – “Not yours. The road’s.” Gribbel held up the map. “It doesn’t have one.” The door began closing. “Wait!” He put his boot against it. “That is why I came.” – “You brought the name?” – “No. I brought a map.” There was a pause. “Wrong merchant.” The door slammed. Gribbel stared at it. “Definitely rude.” Something rustled behind him. Thousandfoot was already following a narrow trail that had not existed moments before. “Hey! Wait!” Gribbel ran after him. The trail wound deeper into the forest. Soon they passed wooden signposts. Every one was blank.At last they reached a clearing. In its centre stood a stone post covered with dozens of empty wooden signs pointing in every direction. Gribbel opened his map. Lines began appearing across the parchment.