The Theatre
At the heart of Misty Mountains, there once was a puppet theatre. Here, thespirits of the mountains told old, forgotten tales, brought to life by the woods,the wind and the moon.
Master of the theatre was an old owl, made wise by watching the seasons shift.But sometimes that mission became a little weary, even for an owl. It was attimes like these that the puppet theatre put on a new show, with a repertoire ofstories told by the owls' clever friends.
When sent for, they all arrived, carrying a most important box – a box ofsomething particularly interesting to say. The first to arrive was the fox, knownfor a wit that always made the serious owl giggle. Wise or not, he too liked tosmile at silly things.
Next came the black swan. Staying true to her dramatic nature, she loved to citestories of long forgotten lovers.
Following the swan’s theatrical performance, the little mouse seemedparticularly shy entering the stage. But at each show, the mouse told the mostbewildering riddles, making everyone (including the owl) scratch their heads.
Silently climbing down from the trees, the tarsius was next to appear. With himcame tales of magic from the stars, like the owl’s favourite about the lighthousekeeper of the moon.
Finally, the two dancing fishes arrived, closing the show with their bedtimestories – for who else could put those mountains to sleep? “Goodnightgoodnight”, the rhythm of their movements seemed to say; “Goodnight, we’llsee you next time”. And with that, the owl yawned and closed his eyes.
