Part I
Once upon a time, on a dull, dreary day, a boy named Velho awoke. He stretched within his moss-covered alcove and sat up, patting around for his pack—a small sack made from a single square piece of cloth, containing all his worldly possessions. Velho, though young and on the verge of adolescence, knew how to fend for himself. Emerging from his nook into the grey world beyond, which seemed even bleaker compared to the cheerful orange hues of the previous night, Velho shouldered his bundle and set off on his journey, spitting derisively into the ash-lined road as he passed.
He walked until his strong, calloused feet, toughened by years of barefoot travel, could carry him no further. Stopping by a stream to drink, Velho knelt before the crystal waters. As he drank, he heard a small, singsong voice ask, “Who are you? What are you doing?”
Velho turned his head slowly. The child-like voice belonged to a middle-aged man—a large, bear-like figure with a comically small head and filthy, patchwork clothes. Velho ignored him, cupping water in his hands and drinking with slow, deliberate motions. The man's shallow breathing and nervous shuffling were audible. Once his thirst was quenched, Velho stood and, in a deep, harsh voice that belied his youth, replied, “I am Velho, and I am drinking water.”
The man clapped his hands excitedly, grinning and dancing a little jig. “Velho! I am Jovem! Why were you drinking water?” he asked earnestly.
Velho looked at the strange man steadily and answered, “Because I was thirsty.”
“I’m thirsty too!” Jovem exclaimed, flopping onto the ground and attempting to drink from the stream as Velho had. But Jovem spilled the water from his hands before it reached his lips. Tears welled up in his eyes, and his upper lip trembled. Velho, saying nothing, showed Jovem how to drink properly.
Jovem was delighted but fell into the stream in his enthusiasm. The river was shallow, and he quickly found his feet, sputtering. With a rare ghost of a smile, Velho commented, “Since you’re already wet, this might be a good time for a bath.”
“Bath! I like baths!” laughed Jovem. After their bath, they sat companionably, waiting for their clothes to dry.
“Where are you going, Velho?” asked Jovem.
Velho’s expression turned blank, and he replied curtly, “Why should I tell you?”
Jovem, startled by the sudden change, began to cry in great heaving sobs. “I… I just wanted to know! I think I am lost…”
Seeing the big man hunched over, rocking with his face buried in his arms, Velho felt something break inside him. His voice, now soothing and tranquil, said, “Listen, Jovem, I am on a journey to find a Father. You—”
Jovem brightened instantly. “Yes! I remember now! I am on a journey to find a Son! Where are you going to find your Father? Can I follow you?” Noticing Velho’s face, he asked worriedly, “What’s wrong, Velho? Did you eat something bad?”
“No, I am fine,” Velho replied in a strained voice. “And no, I don’t know where I am going; I don’t care.”
“Then let me ask the Wind! He’ll know where to go!” Jovem leapt to his feet, closed his eyes, and cupped his hand to his ear. “O Wind, O Wind, where should we go to find our treasure?”
Velho, a serious boy, couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of Jovem talking to the wind. “Quiet!” hissed Jovem. Shaking his head, still smiling, Velho tried to listen but only heard the mild whisper of the wind rustling his hair.
“Yes! Thank you, O Wind, we shall set off right away! Did you hear what the Wind said?” Jovem asked, turning to Velho.
“Yes, he told me I was a prince, and that my father was the king of a thousand thousand men,” Velho replied mockingly.
“Really? The Wind told me we need only follow this road, and we’ll find our treasure at the Circus!” Jovem said, looking pleased with himself.
“Of course not, Jovem. I am not a prince, and my father was not a king. Why would I be looking for one now? How could the Wind possibly speak?” Velho replied with heat.
Velho thought Jovem would become upset and cry again, but instead, a serenity settled over him. “No, the Wind can speak. You just don’t know how to listen.” Jovem’s serenity slipped away as quickly as it came. “Let’s go!” he cried, running down the road, looking back, expecting Velho to follow.
Velho sighed and muttered, “He could try putting his clothes on first.”
Part II
And so, Velho and Jovem traveled together along the winding path. Velho kept a steady, measured pace, while Jovem alternated between running ahead, trudging behind when tired, and chasing after things that caught his attention.
Eventually, they encountered a merchant hawking his wares. The merchant's cries of “The finest silks! The most exquisite gems! The most interesting trinkets! Gather round, one and all!” reached their ears, but it was the smell that captivated them. The aroma of freshly baked bread and the fragrance of cooked meat made them realize how hungry they were.
Approaching the merchant's stall, their mouths watered. The merchant, a morbidly obese man with a bald, round head like a crystal ball, looked like a snowman wrapped in multicolored scarves. He sweated profusely in the heat.
Velho caught the merchant's attention. “Please sir, may we have some food?” he asked politely.
The merchant sneered. “Do you have any money? Perhaps something of worth in that tiny sack of yours? Or maybe that oaf has a hidden hoard?”
“Please sir, we are very hungry. He may be simple, but he is strong, as am I. We are willing to work to earn our keep,” Velho replied calmly.
“Ha!” laughed the merchant. “Work? What do you take me, the Great Lille Trille, for? Workers I have pl—” At that moment, Jovem, entranced by a shimmering bauble, cautiously touched it. The merchant flew into a rage, hitting Jovem's hand with a cane. “You dare! You dare sully my wares!”
In shock, Jovem snatched his hand back, causing the bauble to fall and shatter into a million sparkling pieces. His wail, when it came, was like an avalanche. He turned and ran down the road, holding his hand. Velho fixed the merchant with a stare and wordlessly left to follow Jovem.
When he caught up to Jovem, he found him curled up and sobbing quietly. Velho approached slowly, not wanting to upset him further. Jovem, noticing Velho, unfurled himself. “Why?” he asked plaintively.
“Because they can,” Velho replied. “Come, Jovem, let's make a fire for the night. I will hunt for us.”
They busied themselves with the task, and by twilight, Velho told Jovem to keep watch while he hunted. Before night fell, Velho returned with skewered meats, candied apples, and other treasures.
Jovem was overjoyed, and Velho smiled at his pleasure. The smile faded when Jovem innocuously asked, “How did you find all this, Velho?”
Velho was silent for a moment. Then he asked, “Would you like a story, Jovem?”
“Oh, yes please! I love stories!”
“Alright. Once, a magic dog named Spot found a huge egg with a lock in its center. The lock had no key, and Spot couldn't open it no matter what he tried. Eventually, a boy came along and asked what he was doing. Spot explained his dilemma, and the boy, taking a large branch, cracked the egg open. Spot was shocked and asked why. The boy simply replied, ‘Because what else was there to be done?’ and walked away.”
Jovem, listening intently, looked sad. “Do you think the egg can be fixed, Velho?”
Velho smiled a private, bittersweet smile. “I don’t think so, Jovem.”
Jovem then lit up. “Why not stick the pieces back together? Honey is gold and sweet and hardens when it dries. With lots of honey and time, you could put it back together!”
When Velho said nothing, Jovem grew concerned. “Are you alright, Velho? Are you still hungry?”
Velho started, the strange look on his face cracking. “I am fine, Jovem. Let's sleep. We still have a circus to find. Good night.”
“Good night, Velho!”
Part III
The next day, Velho and Jovem continued their journey. The day was uneventful but for the increasing traffic on the road. They were on the right path. Carts full of exotic foods and jovial people willing to share passed by. Traveling magicians and jesters entertained them whenever they rested together.
As evening fell, they prepared their fire. Suddenly, they heard a pitiful squealing nearby. Velho tended the fire while Jovem went to investigate.
“What do you have there, Jovem?” Velho asked as Jovem returned.
Tears in his eyes, Jovem
held out a pure white rabbit with a broken leg. “Can we make it better?”
Velho shook his head slowly. “I am sorry, Jovem. There is nothing to be done. We cannot heal it, and if we leave it, it will be eaten. Best it serves a purpose in filling our stomachs. Do you want me to do it?”
Jovem recoiled in horror. “No! It will be fine!” But his action only hurt the rabbit more, causing it to squeal. Jovem dropped to his knees, sobbing.
Gently, Velho knelt and put his hand on Jovem's shoulder. “I will do it,” Jovem suddenly said. “There is a song I used to sing for my sons.” He sang a rich, sparkling tenor prayer of loss and return. When he finished, Velho took the quiet rabbit and quickly ended its life. “For ashes we are, and to ashes we return,” Velho murmured.
The next morning, they scattered the fire remains and continued their journey. The weather was bright and the wind light, but the mood was solemn. They knew the end was near. As they approached, they saw the Circus tent rising before them.
Standing before the entrance, they mingled with the excited crowd. The Ringmaster's voice boomed, “Welcome to our kingdom, to our magic domain! We are you, and you are us!” Performers revealed themselves within the crowd. “Today we have very special guests. Behold!” The crowd cleared a path for the King and the Pope.
As the grand procession disappeared into the tent, Velho and Jovem were left outside. Jovem, watching silently, suddenly asked, “Do you think we will find what we were looking for, Velho? Was the Wind right?”
Velho put his hand to his ear and listened. Smiling, he took Jovem’s hand and said, “We may already have, Jovem. And the Wind was most definitely right.”