Лингвазель

A pathfinder  was going with the bearskin on his shoulders, breathing the  air of warm forest. He was one of many adventurous people, wandering over the world. The hunter came to the glade and the sun brightened his ordinary face, covered with invisible scars. It was a young man 30 or 35 years old. His countenance was framed by curly dark hair, giving him the expression of a powerful and courageous person. He was wearing a black fur jacket, hiding from foreign sights an unprepossessing but durable armor. The jacket used to protect its owner from dangerous wild animals. On the stranger's feet there were fur boots, tied with a cord, on his back there was a bow, filled with black from the plumage to the iron arrowhead. Generally speaking, the pathfinder loved back colors.
On the side, thrown over the shoulder , there hung a bag making strange noises periodically.

 - Wait a bit, Shpuntik, we will reach our destination soon , - said the pathfinder.

The recipient of such treatment was a tiny, nagging hedgehog,  a spiny ball that has been offended by his master, who let him go for a walk only during the halt hours. You may probably ask: "Why he has chosen a hedgehog as a pet? Among the residents of the forests there are many more powerful friends: bats, rats,  falcons, bears and others". You are right to the certain extent , but the point is that such animals are rare in the northern edges .Furthermore the pathfinder needed a friend not a defender. And the most faithful friend is a creature that has been saved by you in the past.

Our heroes came to the village, surrounded by wooden fence and ditch. There was a bridge thrown over it, that could be lift by special mechanism in the wartime.

 - Welcome to our small settlement! We are very glad to see such a brave and experienced warrior. I am a manager of this place-  the head person in other words. Utbert Trevors is my name,- said the  person, coming to the hunter. The pathfinder answered immediately: Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Trevors. I an Edgar from Rovert or simply The hunter. I am tired from the road and need to relax. Where I can find a place to stay for some time?

 - Oh, don't worry,I will  put you up in my own house ,as people from Rovert rarely visit our village

Edgar didn't like to stay in debt but he thanked Utbert and promised to come by the evening.

He thoughtfully wandered over the neighborhoods, remembering the events from the past: battles,  difficult negotiations, duels, amicable conversations. While he was thinking about such things, it started getting darker and darker. The pathfinder glanced at the buildings and noticed a single house on the outskirts of the village. That building wasn't different from others, but the hunter saw it among them. He went there and carefully opened the door and   bowed an old man, who met him, with respect.

  - Hello,the most respected hunter, I am the oldest resident of this ancient village. I  know your name and mine is Logolom- said an old man, screwing his right eye. He understood that he didn't need to speak in such formal way as the strangers always came to him not to listen to pathetic speeches.
Logolom croak smth to Edgar and pointed at the chair. The pathfinder sat on it, without thinking . A long story was told by him after that without introductions, the story about fantastic adventures, different people, love, death in other words- about life. The old man listened to it attentively, inserting some words time to time.   Thus the story turned into  discussion  and into dispute in some places.

When all the words have been spoken, Logolom stood up from the chair,as if he had remembered about smth important  and handed a bottle with thick liquid to Edgar.

I know, that you, pathfinders, are more powerful than anybody else-he said. However you get ill more often than others, so a medicine won't do you harm. Take it.
 

 - I appreciate your help, said the pathfinder, glancing at the strange bottle with distrust.

 - I assure you, that nobody have died from the effect of this potion.-answered Logolom, but wait, is it the right potion?
Having calmed down, the hunter was bringing the bottle to his mouse, when suddenly he collapsed and looked at the old man with the bewilderment. Logolom seemed to be confused a moment ago and gave his face an expression of confidence – by this face expression he might show that his words were a harmless joke. All in all, he turned to be strange a little..

 - Well, - he smiled finally - drink it and I'll go for a walk for this time..

He shut the door and Edgar, wincing, put the bottle on the table. And opened a bag near it.He didn't want to drink it. Shpuntik, pulled out of the bag to measure the potion, started nagging and transformed into a ball..

The first men stepped over threshold  and shut the door. He was out of temper.
He has been humiliated once more, he has been robbed, has lost that thing, he cherished, that was the most important part of his body and soul.
He wondered in the room, scuffing his legs, deleting the soles of his boots.
Одним этим – стремлением – he has been living day to day with this ambition trying to find happiness in it. And here again! However,  he had to admit superiority of those people  in past times …
And then he started studying, and making progress. After some time  not an opinion of other people  became his measure, but objective rate. He distinguished the truth from  lies and misleading. He explored many sides of his profession . He went to pierces and took them together, passed things through himself. He started feeling, not thinking things over, better than others…
He looked his notes through and ,having raise them into the air, put them carefully on the table. The First Men wasn't indifferent to material things. Moreover, he knew, that they were innocent and very useful- they gave him basic knowledge.
The First Man has been insidiously fooled by… himself. maybe, he thought himself ready too early, Maybe ,too late. In any case, he chose a wrong moment. No, he hasn't made a mistake as inactive people don't make mistakes! Instead of this he has been thinking – and ideas spread in his mind like bottomless rivers. They were new, unordinary and very simple. He wanted to present it to the world. But he was shocked, when he saw his work, rotting without using– The ideas of others were immature, unfinished but has already been brought to life.
In despair , The First Man looked around him-he has been aheaded again. He has heard of injustice, oppression, stupidity and greed .But he could said nothing new, because new words hasn't been invented.
Finally he knew, that those, who Hadn't used his advice, had become respected and are teaching others, discovering obvious secrets.
On the contrary, he was nobody. He hadn't stayed in the shadow, but had gone to the light to be called dilettante and to return to the shadow.
He'll show his power!
The First Man went around the room the last time. He understood, that he couldn't waste any time. Then he took an axe from the table. Having thrown it away like a useless thing , he wrote carefully:

"Useful pieces of advice for beginner writer".