The Wizard and the Tale of Adana
by Fokion Triantafyllidis
at Radio Highway Pirates
Once upon a time, in an age when stories still wandered freely through the night, there lived an old and wise wizard who dwelt in a wooden house at the edge of a quiet forest.
Each evening, as the sun sank behind the hills, he would sit upon his wooden veranda in a gently creaking rocking chair, listening to the whisper of the wind and the murmur of distant worlds.
One such evening, as twilight deepened and the first stars awoke, a little night owl came fluttering softly through the air and settled beside him.
“Please, dear master,”
she said, her voice trembling like a fragile leaf,
“tell me a beautiful tale, for my heart is heavy.”
The old wizard smiled gently, folded his hands, and began:
“Then listen well, little one. I shall tell you a very old tale – older than sorrow itself. The tale of Adana, Princess of the East.”
And so he spoke:
“Long ago, in the vast kingdoms of the East, there ruled a mighty king and a queen whose beauty was known in every land.
They possessed riches beyond measure and power beyond compare – yet for many years, they were denied the one thing their hearts most desired: a child.
For many years they waited.
At last, by grace beyond understanding, a daughter was born – and she was more radiant than the morning light.
As she grew, her beauty only deepened, until it seemed that even the flowers turned their heads to look upon her.
But where there is great beauty, envy is seldom far behind.
The queen, once unmatched, saw her own fading reflection in her daughter’s rising light.
And so she spoke cruelly:
‘You are nothing. You are not beautiful.’
The poor child, wounded by such words, would flee in tears.
Her refuge was a forgotten tower, hidden deep within the palace grounds, beside a quiet spring that no one else remembered. There she would weep and whisper her sorrows to the still water.
Now it happened that one day, as she fled once more from her mother’s harsh voice, she was seen by the son of the king’s royal advisor. Curious and kind of heart, he followed her.
When they reached the old tower, he gathered his courage and spoke to her gently:
‘Why do you weep, fair one, whose beauty would shame the dawn?’
But Adana, for so she was called, was too ashamed to reveal the truth.
Instead, she told him that her father forbade her from speaking with ordinary folk, and that her life had become lonely and joyless.
The boy moved by her sorrow, sought to comfort her, and before long, her tears gave way to quiet smiles.
From that day forth, they met often by the old tower.
Seasons passed, and what began as kindness grew into love.
Yet time, as it ever does, carried them apart.
For it was the custom of noble youth to journey into distant lands and learn the ways of other kingdoms.
Adana was sent to the realms of the Northwest, and the young man to the lands of the Middle West.
Many years passed. Adana met noble lords and princes of fine bearing, yet none could stir her heart as he once had.
At last, she returned to her father’s kingdom – only to find her mother’s cruelty unchanged.
Then one day, the king decreed that his daughter must be wed.
He sent messengers far and wide, and in time chose a young nobleman whom he believed worthy.
Though Adana felt little love for him, she agreed, hoping he would prove kind and faithful.
But alas, once they were wed, his true nature revealed itself. He became cold, self-centered, and empty of spirit.
When she sought her father’s help, he turned away from her, and instead sent the unhappy pair to a distant corner of his realm.
There they lived for many years, until Adana’s sorrow grew too great to bear.
At last, she fled the kingdom and journeyed to the forests of the West, where she lived alone in a small and humble hut.
Her life there was hard. None came to her aid, and none sought her company. Slowly, she withdrew from the world, until she spoke to no one at all.
But one morning, a small hobbit knocked upon her door.
He was simple in form, yet his heart was pure and full of kindness. Seeing her sorrow, he listened as she told him all her grief.
Day after day, for a year and more, he returned – never asking for anything, only listening, only caring.
Then one day, Adana was gone.
She had set out to find the love of her youth, the son of the royal advisor, whose memory had never left her heart.
She wandered through many lands – the South, the West, the North, and even in disguise through her own homeland – until at last she found him in the Middle West.
At first, their reunion was filled with joy, and she believed her happiness restored.
But time revealed a bitter truth: he, too, had changed.
The warmth she remembered had faded, and in its place stood a man concerned only with himself.
Her heart broke once more.
After another year, she left him and returned to her lonely hut in the western woods.
Yet as she approached, she beheld a wondrous sight.
There, before her door, sat the little hobbit – waiting.
So long had he remained that roots and vines had grown about him, binding him to the earth like a silent guardian.
With trembling hands, she freed him from the tangled growth.
And in that moment, as she looked upon him, she understood:
This small, quiet being – who had asked for nothing, who had stayed when all others left – was the only one who had truly loved her.
So she gave him her heart, and chose to remain by his side.
And So…
Adana remained.
Not in splendor.
Not in illusion.
But in truth.
And there, in the silent forest, she found something no kingdom had given her:
peace.
And it is said that, if one wanders deep into the forests of the West, one may still hear their voices – speaking, laughing, and pondering the mysteries of life together, without end.”
The wizard fell silent.
The night deepened.
With eyes shimmered and shining in the dark the little night owl sat very still.
“What a beautiful tale,”
she whispered softly.
“Thank you, wise old wizard.”
The wizard rocked gently.
“Yes,”
he said quietly.
“But only those who listen… understand it.”
And the owl spread her wings and vanished into the night sky, carrying the story with her among the stars.
by Fokion Triantafyllidis