Date: Wed, 29 Oct 2003 12:07:50 +0100 (CET) From: "[iso-8859-1] Elias Schwarz" Subject: "the mountain" chapter 2 Hey, who'd have thought it? The second chapter is already out and over with. Oh well, after the great support I got from you for the first installment, sitting down to write the next chapter seemed like the most natural thing to do. So thanks a lot for the words of encouragement, they were greatly appreciated (and I hope that by now, I have been able to reply to each and everyone of you). Now, as things go, here is the obligatory LEGAL DISCLAIMER This story is a work of fiction. If you read on past the marked line, you are very likely to encounter the one or other homoerotic content. If you find this morally or aesthetically engrossing, If you are of minor age or accompanied by a person of minor age, If you live in a country/state, that considers the property of a gun a god given right, but the reading of homoesexual prose a legal and moral abomination, I'd strongly advise you to stop reading and, in the latter case -- move to Europe (of course, if you should be of the handsome, intelligent and humorous type -- feel free to move in with me!) There is going to be no warning of graphic sexual narration (and again I am sorry to disappoint my single handed auditorium), as there won't be any such scenes in this chapter. To have the main characters meet and immediately hump each other like rabbits in heat would have been just to inconsistent with the main plot. Well, that was one reason. Another is --I hate to admit it- my lacking grasp of this language. I really am lacking some vocab (and -- another fact, I hate to admit -- some uhm practical experience) in the erotic department. To quote Han Shan, an ancient Chinese poet, my tries "read like the words of a blind man, describing the sun." So I thought, what the heck, if somebody's out there, who knows how to write stuff like that -- come on in, the water's fine! If you're interested, have some experience in writing and think you can adapt to my warped style of writing with strange metaphors and tape worm like sentence structures -- just send me an email (and maybe some uhm "reference material" *grin*) at eli_schwarz@yahoo.de and I will contact you for the details. But now I better go on with things... So here is ----------------------the bad black line, axe of evil. Homoerotic prose beyond this point. ------------------------- The mountain Chapter Two On the way back, my mood is lightened by the beauty of the valley stretching out below me. I leave the thin air of the top and slowly descend back into the living world. There is a sense of purist beauty, of freedom and endless empty space to the highlands, but the world I am entering now has its own magic. After half an hour of hiking, my feet leave the sheer rock and tread lightly on a fresh carpet of green mountain grass. Soon I come to the wide forests of hazelnut and chestnut, that are so typical for this region. The sun has risen completely above the ridge and warm beams of golden light break through the thick roof of a million greens above me. I stop to lift my face into the air. With closed eyes I breathe in and savour the spice of the fresh morning air mixed with the mossy, earthy smell of the forest. I focus my mind on the way that the breath takes through my body, until it reaches the centre of me, djood pran -- a point about two finger below my navel. For a moment I hold my concentration on this point, then I exhale and a surge of life runs through my body like a wave of sweet, green light. Gradually my body vanishes or more my distinguishment of where my body ends and the world around me begins. My eyes open and for a moment my senses are overwhelmed, like a newborn infant that takes its first glimpse of its world. Everything around me seems fresh and clear, like edged into crystal, a multicoloured prism of light. A deep love with the world fills my self and a deep gratitude for Anshun, who taught me how to experience it like that... The rest of the descent is lost for narration, but as I reach the wounded paved road leading to the small village at the slope of the mountain, the sun has already risen high into the pale blue sky. I decide to follow the road for the last few serpentines. Stepping out of the forest and onto the road, a sudden sense of danger comes over me. Too late to jump back into the bush, I instinctively throw my body forward in a long dive to the other side of the road. I feel the rush of wind on my back, as a car races around the corner and past me. Red metal glints in the sun. A horn is honked wildly. Brakes screech. Then I hit the ground, manage to roll on -- just to crash into the metal barrier at the other side of the road. Luckily, my backpack has dampened most of the crash. Still I lay on my back for some seconds to savour the pain in my head. I groan and look up -- just to see the back of a wine red Volvo vanishing behind the next serpentine. Chung Hua Manda Man, ai hia - the pest on your mother's head, bastard. I silently keep swearing while I get up and do some damage research on my body. Nothing seems to be broken, but my head hurts like hell and along my left side there is some throbbing of what are going to be some nasty bruises later on. There is also an ugly rip in my jeans and a patch of dark red is slowly growing there as some blood is oozing through it. I curse myself for forgetting the small first aid kit that is usually my constant companion on any longer hike. Well, at least it's not that far to the village anymore. The "unity with the universe"-feeling inside of me is gone. As I move on to the village darker thoughts roam through my mind, most of them considering the equally dark future of a certain Volvo driver and his descendants on to the 7th generation. A short while later, the road turns one last time and I have a clear view of Caido, a small village that crouches between the banks of the Ticino on one side and the foot of the mountainside on the other. A big wooden sign, welcoming visitors to Caido, is written in both German and Italian as this part of Swiss speaks mostly an Italian dialect. I walk through the narrow alleys and admire the small houses around me. Many of them are still build in the traditional way, with unplastered walls of field stones and gables made of strong dark wooden beams. A sense of neat simple beauty lies in every small detail. The people of caido stack their firewood in carefully arrayed rows on the Southern side of each house. Nearly every window features brightly coloured wooden shutters and cheerful pots of flowers arranged in front of them. All of this is so wonderfully different from the modern glass, steel and concrete swamp that I had been stuck in during the last year. I wander around, caught in the magic spell of this place, when finally my way leads me to the piazza, a square open place in the centre of the village. There is a small stone well on my side of it, that is splashing and murmuring melodiously. Two bigger structures, build in a more mediterranean Italian style, stand on two other sides. I recognize one of it as the town hall and post office, the other one must be the local school, as colourful little paintings and silhouettes are taped to the insides of the bottom windows. Directly on the side facing me, there is a stairway leading up to a big kind of porch, with a number of tables and chairs set on it. The house behind it is built in the traditional way, though it's bigger than most of the other ones. It features a big wooden sign above the front door, that spells OSTERIA RUETLI in white gothic letters. There is a bed and a fork & knife painted next to it, indicating, that the owner also offers some rooms to rent. I walk up the stairway and step onto the porch. It's still early noon and there are no customers yet. Some diligent hand has already set the tables with white and red striped cloth and small bouquets of flowers. Two large pots of herbs are placed on a small wall on the backside of the porch, filling the air with a rich yet pleasant mix of scents. The entrance door is open and I step into the house. There is a big room, which seems to be the village's pub. Most of the space is occupied by a large bar. Like the tables around it, it's made of light brown wood, that has turned on a honey-like gleam with the years. There is a pool table and some flipper machines on the far side of the room. The whole place radiates a warm glow and immediately makes me feel comfortable. One can almost hear the chit-chat of voices, laughter and clatter of glasses, that filled this room on many an evening. Nobody's around, but I can hear some cheerful voices coming out of another room to the left. Carefully, afraid to disturb the owner in his private area, I move through the pub to the adjacent room. I knock at the wooden door and wait. The voices and clatter of plates subside. "Joh bitte?", a deep male voice asks in unmistakable Swiss-German. I open the door and step through it. The room is dominated by a huge long table. An equally large family, I count roughly 8 people, is seated around it, enjoying their lunch. That is, until now, as all faces are turned towards me. The smell of good warm food invades my nostrils and my stomach grumbles, while the water filling my mouth is reminding me that it has been quite a long time ago since I had enjoyed my last decent meal. I swallow and address the owner of the deep voice, a stocky man in his late forties, sitting at the head of the table: "I'm sorry for disturbing your lunch, sir. I just came to ask for a vacant room, but I guess, I will come again at a more convenient time." The man whom I presume to be the owner shakes his head, smiling at me and just sets to respond, as a door at the back end of the room opens abruptly and a huge black haired woman appears, wearing a light blue apron and carrying a tray with an equally huge bowl of soup. At the sight of me, she utters a small cry, while nearly dropping her tray. "Jesus Christo," she exclaims with an Italian accent: "what HAS happened to you young man? Carina, take that, please. Juelina, darling, go and get some iodine and bandaid from the small cupboard upstairs." She pushes the tray into the hands of one of her daughters never stopping to utter a spitfire quick stream of Italian, while the other one, Juelina, I guess, is dashing out of the room, her little black ponytail flying. As she makes her way towards me, I try to comprehend, what is happening. "Oh...please, Madam, I am fine. I mean, I might have some few scratches, but nothing..." "Fine, FINE! Jesus mio, listen to this boy! Standing in the middle of my osteria looking like St. Gallus after his fight with the bear, all bloody and scrawny and dirty and telling me he is FINE. ME! Now, young man, listen carefully, I ,Signora Rosa am a mother of four fine children, so don't tell me nothing about scratches and whatnot. YOU, bambino, are in need of some iodine, and plaster. Lots of plaster. And a bath and soap," she wrinkles her nose at me in mock disgust and lets out another flow of Italian. A small boy at the end of the table giggles. Resolutely, she grasps my wrist, pulling me behind her -- and totally overawed, like a lamb walking behind the shepherd, I follow her through the hallway. She leads me to a small bathroom, where Juelina is waiting for us, a small bottle of medical alcohol in one hand, a huge package of bandaid in the other. As we enter the bathroom, I have the chance to catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror -- and am quite startled by what I see there. I do look a bit roughed up with that huge red-violet bruise across my left temple. There also are some dried strieks of blood on my cheek. At the sight of it, the pain is pulsing back in my head. Fuck. "Now don't you use that kind of language in front of my little Juelina, bambino. Why, we probably should wash your mouth out as well, just to be on the safe side! Now be a nice boy and sit down, here, WOULD you." Carefully she takes a piece of cloth, pours some of the alcohol on it and proceeds to wash some of the blood off my face, all the while muttering to herself. I notice, that her touch is actually a lot gentler than her tongue, but am wise enough to keep the thought to myself. As she is getting to the bruise, the alcohol starts to sting in the wound, and involuntarily I wince a bit. "Oh, will you hold still, bambino!" I am reprimanded immediately: "It can't hurt really all that much, can it? So what HAVE you done to yourself looking like that?" Her look suddenly scrutinizes me in every detail: "You haven't been fighting, dear, have you?" I shake my head and tell her about the almost-accident on my way to Caido. The signora lets out yet another flow of Italian, this time more pititful. She cuts off some bandaid and covers the bruise on my head with it. Then she stands back, takes a look at my ripped jeans and the bruises on my right arm: "Alright, so take off your shirts and pants, bambino. That thing on your right leg looks quite nasty, does it?" I start to panick. Not that I would be too bashful to take my shirt of, or even my pants under normal circumstances. But the thing was, as I had packed my stuff in quite a hurry, I had forgotten to get some extra boxer shorts. So now I haven't been wearing any for the last couple of days. My face is getting hot, as the blood rushes into my head, turning me beet red. "I.. uhm I ..." "Now don't get all bashful on me, my dear. Jesus mio, now take of these clothes, will you!" " I , um, I'm not um wearing any briefs, signora..." I manage to get out. Juelina, who is still standin behind her mother, starts to giggle. "No briefs?" Signora Rosa's face is a monument of shocked motherly care. "No briefs." "Oh, I see. Wait a second. Jonas! JONAS! WILL YOU COME AND HELP OUR GUEST OVER HERE?" she yelled through the hallway. Thers's some shuffle outside the bathroom and a moment later a guy about my age appears in the doorframe. "Si, Mama, what's up?" There is some Italian explanation of the whole predicament. A wide grin appears on Jonas face, which immediately earned him a scowl of Signora Rosa. "And don't let him get away doing the tough man thing, do you listen, Jonas? Take good care of our bambino over here..." She shoots me one last scowl and vanishes out of the room, dragging Juelina behind her. Jonas closes the bathroom door and turns around, facing me again with that bemused little grin of his. For the first time I really look at him -- and the sight really is something. He must be around my height, maybe an inch smaller, I guess. Immediately I like his face, the even features, the sensual mouth, cheek bones, that seem to be a bit delicate for a normal guy, but fit perfectly for him. Then I notice his eyes, two sparks of china blue fixing their gaze on me, like sapphires held against the sunlight. His hair is of a light chestnut brown with glimmering red streaks where the light shines on it. Some of them fall into his face and he is brushing it away with his left, probably feeling a bit unsure about what to do next. "She has ..uhm quite some temper," I say, trying to ligt up the situation. The grin returns to his face: "Yeah, man, she really does. So, now -- why don't you take off those shirt and pants of yours and we'll see what I can do for you?" I giggle at these words and Jonas, realizing what he's said, takes the alcohol and holds it up for me with an evil grin: "Well, don't get your hopes up, Mister. THIS is going to hurt." "Oh, fine with me," I turn to take off my clothes, taking my time to stripe those pants off above the wound on my thigh:"Ouch, fuck. See, I'm really into that pain thing" Stark naked I turn around again, facing Jonas. For a moment I can feel his gaze gliding down my body. "Like what you see?" This has really turned into a game about who gets the other guy really embarassed first. He breaks his gaze, turning a bit red. "Oh, well. I prefer'em past puberty. But as Mama Rosa always tells us -- the guest is king. Or queen, I should probably say." "Fuck you," I grin. "Now will you hand me some of that alcohol and bandaid, please?" Jonas shakes his head, clearly enjoying the situation. "No way, man. If this isn't done right, Mama's going to have my butt for dinner." "Oh sure, doc. And you're just the man for the job, right?" I snap, feeling a bit unsure at the thought of having these smooth long fingers touching my bare skin. "Well, yeah, my girlfriend's a nurse in training over at the district hospital in Airolo. So that makes me at least twice as qualified as you," he winks and pushes me down on the toilet seat. Girlfriend. What the heck, I tell myself. The odds had been 10:1 anyway... I'm still not happy with this, but there is some true concern in his voice and I can sense that he really isn't going to give in. I sigh, close my eyes and try to relax, concentrating hard on a hoard of fat nude old ladies lying on beach. "So, here we go. This might hurt a little," I can hear his voice close to my left. Then I feel the gentle, warm touch of his fingers on my outer thigh. Wow, look there, these grannies are REALLY fat... "Ouw, this really looks nasty. How did you get these any way?" "Almost got hit by a car," I grumble. The touch of alcohol stings on my thigh, but then I feel his breath against my hip, as he is leaning in close to cover the wound with some gaze and band aid. Keep focusing, Eli. Oldnudegrannydancingonthebeach. OldFATnudegranny... "Alright. Here we are. Good as new, eh?" I open my eyes and see that he has finished bandaging the leg. He pulls me up and turns me around like a dressmaker inspecting his work. "Those bruises on your ribs don't look too bad. They will heal by themselves, I guess, and you're covered up enough as you are already." He finally states satisfied with his inspection. "Well, yeah. So, thanks man," I say a bit awkward. Jonas twists his face in mock humility: "Thank YOU, marthter. We are alwayth happy to therve... Now wrap that towel around yourself and I will show you your room." He tosses me a towel to wrap around my waist and leads me out of the bathroom. This house really is huge. We enter the hallway again and take a stairway up to the first floor. There is another hallway with four doors down the way. Jonas leads me to the last door on the right and we enter it. "Fine, so this is your room." He grins. "It's got the second best panorama view of the whole house, windows to both sides. Feel free to take a look around." It's a small sized room, but the bed looks like a dream of downs and white blankets. There is a small table next to one of the broad windows. Some diligent hand has already put a small bouquet of flowers on it. The same somebody, I guess, that has also taken my backpack upstairs and set up fresh towels in the adjacent bathroom. The whole place is oozing simple comfort, an invitation to rest and forget about all worries for a wile. I step to the front window and take in the view. Jonas really was right. This is breathtaking. The window is slightly above the rooftops of the surrounding houses and I have a fantastic bird's view on Caido spreading out below me. The bright silver ribbon of the Ticino slithers through the valley, vanishing in the distant, where I can make out another mountainrange, fading into the pale blue of the horizon. "This is beautiful." I can literally hear him smile behind me. "Yeah. Mama Rosa must really like you. Normally we keep this room reserved for special guests of the house..." He turns towards the door. "Now, after you've made yourself comfortable in here, feel free to come downstairs for lunch." The bemused grin is back on his face:"You looked quite hungry, when you came bursting through the door..." "Hey, I knocked it, remember?" I say, searching my mind for something to say. For some strange reason, I don't want him to go now. "So, um, Jonas, what're ya up to today?" Oh, just brilliant rhetoric. "Me? Oh, I'll probably go up to Grandpas hut. There's some work to be done up there and I'll probably spend the night there. How long are you planning to stay?" I stop to think, I didn't really have a plan on my mind when I left Berlin three days ago. "Dunno really. A couple of days, maybe a week. There's no masterplan, yet." "Alright. So I'll probably see you tomorrow evening then. Take care -- uhm..." I suddenly realize, that he doesn't even know my name yet. "Elias;" I say, as I extend my hand. "Or just Eli." "Eli.." he repeats as he takes my hand into his. Our fingers meet, then something strange happens, that neither one of us can explain until today. His gaze meets mine -- and the time seems to freeze around us. I get lost in the endless blue sea of his eyes and somewhere beyond it -- for a brief moment -- or souls are touching. A warm tingling feeling pulsates through my body, like a soft current of electricity. The world around us dissolves in a stream of flurring colours and I don't know where the magic of the moment would have taken us -- but suddenly a voice shouts Jonas' name from down below and in the same moment the spell is broken. With a confused expression on his face he lets go of my hand. The loss of physical contact to him causes a short pang inside of me. I try to regain the grasp of what is going on here, but am still too confused by what has just happened between us. Jonas steps backward through the door. He shoots me another strange glance: "Well, uhm so ... see you tomorrow then, Eli..." Then he is gone through the door and I hear him hurrying down the hallway. Still in a trance like state of mind, I close the door behind him and step back into the room. I let myself fall on the bed and my body sinks into the white blanket. With closed eyes I slowly breathe in and out, letting the scene pass again in my mind. Finally the confusion lifts and I stare up at the wooden ceiling and groan. I still can't believe what has happened, but there is no mistaking my feelings. I have just completely fallen in love. So this was chapter 2. I hope I can keep up the same one week rhythm for the ongoing chapters, but honestly I fear that university (and the upcoming first term bachelor parties) will eat up more and more of my time, so please be understanding. As before, I'm looking forward to your comments and criticism at eli_schwarz@yahoo.de.