Interview with a Golem

When I crossed the Grenadan River, my cart nearly spilling with wares, I had expected to be received by some mayoral figure or emissary. Instead I found before me a village carved out of the mountains. Caves had been scooped out of the hillside like honeycomb, and little rock structures lined the roads. Without knowing what the village was, one could hardly call it a village at all. There was no sound of voices, or signs of movement, or the energy that came from a place of life.

A small line had been laid out with pebbles to mark the threshold. I had my mule halt just outside of it. The rock piles remained still. Silence ebbed over the scenery. Up close, I could see the glitter of exposed mineral veins peeking out from the caves. Now that I sat still, that familiar scent of silver filled my nose, bringing back a hint of home.

“Hello?” I called out.

“Hello?” My voice echoed back.

With this, I smiled and climbed down from my cart.

“I come in peace!” I shouted.

“Come in peace!” My echo returned.

The ground rumbled up against my feet. The pebble line danced in place, and as the energy grew they folded away from the center of the village entrance.

I tucked my hand to my chest and gave a low bow. “Dr. Sergio Vallez, for the emissary of Sela Terra.”

The earth rumbled again, this time from farther off. Stone hissed on stone, clamoring and clacking together. I trembled with excitement, but I didn’t look up. No, I had to obey their customs. You might think a peek would have meant nothing but innocent curiosity. To a human yes, or perhaps a dwarf, but in all our knowledge and traditions, we did not know the extent of the Golem’s eyes. And stories of less polite visitors were often strewn over the mountainside.

I kept my head and body bowed. I contained my excitement. I kept my arm outstretched until the rumbling could no longer distract me from the ache in my shoulder.

I heard the whirl of wind and stone approach. With it came the sensation of being watched. A deep, rumbling mrrrr emanated before me.

“My lord, I am your humble guest.” I replied.

“Mrrrhrrr.” Stones tapped the ground before me. Once, twice, thrice. I exhaled relief and looked up. The golem was a construct of whirling stones all encircling a runic plate. Dozens of rocks encircled the plate like earthen shields. Immense energy radiated off the core, the fixture - Its eye. This one was a shimmering azure blue, like the purest of sapphires. For a few moments I could only marvel. The runes that held the stone in place reminded me of the ancient Fae writings back in the capital.

“Hrrrr.” It’s eye shifted in place, “looking” over my form. I stood up fully and rolled my shoulder.

“Err - yes, of course.” I straightened my tunic, smiling as politely as I could manage. “My Lord, I am an archivist from the Tower of Adall, from the East. I have spent my life studying--”

The golem raised a series of stones. Five smaller ones encircled a larger one, as if to mimic fingers surrounding a palm.

“I -- right. The point. I was hoping you’d do me the honor of an interview, my lord.”

The blue energy core behind the eye glittered. It moved between me to the cart at my side.

“Mrrrr?”

“Yes, I brought wares as well my lord. Some are provisions, some artifacts and gems…”

The golem moved forward. At first, it floated, and the stones surrounding the core whirled in place like a tornado. But as it gained momentum larger rocks moved towards the left and right sides, then the bottom, forming appendages to carry the core. The stride reminded me of the great apes that walk on their knuckles and smaller hind legs. As it approached the cart, the Eye shifted in place, the stones carrying it to move up and down as it browsed the goods.

“M-my lord, if I may?” I offered. I kept my stride slow and visible, though it took some effort. A spring met each step as I moved beside the enormous creature. Oh if my mentor could have traveled with me, he would be tickled pink at the sight. I grabbed some of the tarps that had kept my wares shielded from weather and pulled them aside to reveal the cart’s contents.

The creature made a soft, almost trilling like sound. It was not quite a rumble, but rather a deep and pleasing sound. The golem’s eye flashed with energy, and I saw the collection of cooking pots glow with a soft blue aura.

“You… want a pot?”

The golem made a second pleased sound, and I nodded. Privately I made a note to thank Dr. Ramsay, who had mentioned golems often traded for such pots.

“My lord, I’d be happy to grant you all of them. In exchange, would you answer a few questions.”

“Hrrrrrrr.” The golem replied. It turned its eye towards me. I saw the inner blue flash and twist. The inner threads of white light shifted. As I watched, I saw them join together, like paint drops in water, until their swirls joined to form the image of a humanoid sitting down beside the golem nearby one of the caves.

“Of course,” I replied. “I will set up our seats promptly.”

The golem did not respond. It’s eye turned back towards the cart of pots and wares, it’s motion completely stilled. Without the thrumming of the magical core it would have been completely still.

I turned back towards the front of my cart and gathered two chairs from it. Did golems even sit as we did? I suppose they could form a rear end to sit on, or even the chairs if wanted. I had brought with me one of the metal benches our archivists prized so dearly. A simple thing, with its own locks and hinges so it could be folded for travel. Still, looking at it now I could only imagine the snap of metal under the crushing weight of mountain boulders.

I glanced at the stilled village, then at the emissary at the cart. Then, keeping the bench close to my body, I waved an incantation across it’s length. The metal glowed briefly with soft creation light. As I held it, I could feel a slight heft within, as the spell took to increase the metal’s strength. It would only last a short while, but were it used, it would hold.

A few minutes later my cart was gently guided into the golem village. With an affirmative hrrrrrn from my interviewee, the bench was set up near the base of the leftward hill with the cart of wares completely unveiled. Some of the other golems had roused themselves at the spectacle, though instead of coming closer, they moved up into their caves. A few others moved deeper along the mountain pass, and briefly I wondered what further structures these creatures might have created.

“Hrrrrrrn.” The golem leaned over the bench. In a whirl of energy, the creature’s form closed in on the runic plate. A few stones were discarded like stray hairs until it had thinned itself. A rock the same size as the plate moved up the form and sat atop the core. Thinner stones had moved outward to be slender appendages, and the golem’s eye came to rest at a squared out center.

“You honor me.” I replied, offering a small bow.

The golem’s stones shifted around him, the core remaining inhumanly still, as if it adjusted for the interview. In its own way, I found the gesture cute.

I moved to my cart and folded down the wooden lip that I could sit on. I shuffled through my travel robes to pull out my notebook, then got myself comfy. The golem’s eye fixated on these moments. The vigilance would have been terrifying in my novice days, back when a hawkish gaze was isolated to children watching the stumpy little dwarf rush to classes. After years of hyper-vigilant archivists, professors, and tutors, the golem’s gaze was simply… larger. Faintly I wondered if these creatures saw humans, dwarves, or elves as the same. Or if their vision even worked the same as ours. But well, perhaps I could find out.

I swallowed a grin as I settled. My host sat patiently across, unblinking.

“Thank you very much for agreeing to this.” I started. “I’ve studied quite a few magical creatures in my time at the Tower, but I confess that I have always wished to have a conversation with you in earnest.”

A small rumbling sound emanated from the creature. Not quite the rumbling, pleased sound that came at the sight of the pots, but perhaps a polite response to the statement.

“Among the races of flesh and blood, our people have given names. Such as my own, Sergio Vallez. Is there such a thing I can call you?”

The golem stilled, as if considering this. Its eye lowered. Then, after a few moments of quiet passing, it replied with a series of small click sounds. It reminded me a little of the tick-tock of a clock. I did my best to repeat the sound.

The golem made a “Hrrrn” reply, then repeated the click-clack-clock. I listened carefully, sucking in my cheeks to more precisely mimic the sounds. At the second attempt, the creature’s makeshift rock head gave a single nod.

“I’m curious… your language… The clicking is similar to some sounds within the dwarven dialects. They are of similar roots, aren’t they?”

“Mrrrr.” It replied. The eye swirled with smokey figures, and short stout humanoids stood hammering against piles of stone.

“Of course… many early rune smiths were dwarves, weren’t they? Did dwarves live in the village with you for a time?”

The golem replied with a short, firm, negative huff. I nodded. Perhaps from travelers, or even their earliest creators?

“And the rest of your language; Is it largely based on feeling? How much does the core convey?”

The golem’s makeshift rock head tilted. After a few moments, the eye at the being’s core shifted again. The smokey magic within swirled and danced as if in bursts. It surrounded ghostly figures of humanoids and dwarves, then retreated back to a central core.

“I see… you get a sort of sense from the creatures around you, and the core in turn produces a sound we can recognize.”

“Hrrrrrrrn.” The creature replied.

This made me smile in turn. “The Tower - where scholars such as I come from - haven’t much made this journey, but this pass has often been visited by merchants, has it not?”

“Mrrrrrrn!” The golem said, the core glowing with warmth. It extended a swirling arm of rocks, making a few other sounds. The core flashed with images of figures and the large rock formations arriving, conversing, and passing smoke items between each other. The golem before me straightened then and gestured to my cart.

I hid a grin. “You… would you like a pot now?”

“Mrrrrrrrrn.” It replied.

I set aside my notes, then turned to the stack of pots and pans. I scanned over each one briefly, using my sleeve to quickly polish off any stray dust or grime. I chose a small but wide copper pot with a braid carved around its middle. When I turned I saw the golem’s eye brighten, shifting over its center of being as it examined the gift. I held it out for the creature.

The golem’s front limbs mirrored my own and hovered in place, waiting for me to drop the pot in its arms. I gently set it there. The golem continued its inspection. Small clicks, clacks, clocks, sounded from within the core. It was like the smaller stones that made up the creature were rushed together quickly, chattering with excitement. After a few moments, the golem brought the pot up over its head and let it rest there like a bowler hat. Once there it folded its arms in the lap of stones, the golem looking back at me expectantly.

“It matches your eye quite nicely.” I replied.

“Mrrrrrrr.”

I chuckled to myself, and carefully pondered my next question.

~*~

In my travels and subsequent studies of the rock formed creatures known as “golems”, I would like to amend earlier essays on the brutish nature of such beings. Rather, in my experience, I found them to be more mischievous than the lesser cousins of the Fae.

I arrived in the golem village with a cart, a mule, 29 pans, 13 pots, three weeks of supplies, a tent, a broom and dustpan, two notebooks, a satchel of charcoal, ink, three quill pens, and a length of rope.

Upon leaving the village I had my mule, my backpack of basic food supplies, my notebooks, ink and one-and-a-half quill pens.

Where did the rest go, you might ask? To the Golems.

My visit intent was to observe, interview, and adhere to the highest levels of respect. I too had heard stories of rock giants who crushed the unlucky bandit, or the traveler who dared to trespass into the creature's territory. I remembered the stories of the last scholar, whose surviving letters to the Tower about the brutality of golem attacks kept me awake at night as a child. Still I attempted to put such thoughts out of my mind, for in other studies I had heard of merchants who had long-standing connections to such remote places. These same merchants, who had grown rich from rare gems exchanged for meager wares and polite conversation, cautioned the opportunistic fools who had been crushed in those mountainside attacks.

The golems, in amusement, or perhaps even delight at the wares I had brought, allowed me within their village. Over the course of my interview with their emissary, I relinquished one pot after the other, in exchange for answers to my questions. The golem adorned the objects throughout their person. A pot as a hat, then pots as shoulder pads, the broom as a scepter, the dust pan like a slipper… so on. Until, as you guessed, barely the cart itself remained.

As I wandered into the mountains once more, I noted several other golems take form as humanoids and shared in the new items. The emissary relinquished his adornments easily, and these stray objects decorated the mountainside. The behavior made me think of magpies, but with a community of sharing, like how our poorer villagers would pass around food during harsh winters. But here rather, these constructs of magic and ancient craftsmen, found delight in these simply made things that so often we creatures of flesh and blood discard.

And, after the slow slog through the mountains and forests without my cooking pot, this creature in particular felt great appreciation at the first inn I was able to find.

--Dr. Sergio Vallez, professor of mythical creatures at the Tower of Addall Found in a private letter to the Tower’s Administrator of Study