Fate's intersect

Upon a clearing in the swamp-filled forest lay a motte of greater size than I ever saw. Outside the air is thick and wispy, fog-like. My eyesight begins to fail me as I stumble up the staircase, a light calls to me and beckons me towards a warm hearth inside. I grasp out desperately to find its warmth before the chill of the swamp creeps further into my soul. Door does not budge. Engraved in it is a sign: “drink and ring;” with a cup next to a trough filled with water, a bell chime above. Proceeding in the described order I drink the water and ring the bell. Immediately, the door opens and I am greeted by the host, a king or lord dressed regally, who bows to me and hurries me inside, lest the air of the swamp penetrate the interior.
 Greeting me were a baker’s dozen other travelers, thirteen! I scarcely could believe that there were other travelers as lost as I. My eyes grew weary and soon I could not make out the details of the guests. I held my hand in front of me to guide my feet as I tromped forward, their fleeting beckons the last thing my eyes could make out. By their guidance I found my spot; my spot? Yes, it appeared that they anticipated my arrival. I fit snugly in the seat and soon a plate of food was placed in front of me, the last of my eyesight parsing the contents before fading to black: a slice of bread, various root vegetables in a soup adorned with slices of boiled pork belly.
 The other guests did not talk, nor could I. I opened my mouth to thank the noble host but no sound came forth. I could hear the rolling of the fire and the clattering of dishes, so certain was I that I was not struck deaf I could only conclude I was blind and dumb. However, a mouthful of the soup gave birth to a small flame inside my soul, and I felt the world grow colourful again. A second mouthful and I could once again make audible my enjoyment of the meal. The immediate guest next to me nodded, reassuring me that this is normal. His face I could hardly see, simply a smeared painting of flesh of eyes. He then began to pour a pint of liquid for me. The ambiance of the room with the single hearth did not permit my eyes the ability to discern the liquid. When it reached my lips it was unmistakeably foreign. Not ale, a similar bitterness, and not wine, for it lacked the same sweetness. One sip and it was if I granted one word of speech to utter: “thanks,” was all that I could squeak before my mouth lost the ability it had just gained. The stranger took a swig himself and replied “no problem,” his voice hoarse and gruff. He must not have spoken for a long time.
 Concluding my meal, my eyesight had returned to functional capacity but I still lacked the ability to discern minute details in what I gazed at; it was if my mind could see the object but replaced the actual object with the abstract description of said object. A fork without tines or slots, only a root and what felt like points as I ran my hand over its edge. It was only then that I realized where I was, but without any knowledge of why I was there or how I had come to be there. Was I on a trip to somewhere? I must have had a destination in mind, but where? Does this motte devour senses and memory? “Where?” I gasped. My neighbour turned his head to look at a throne. I looked with him and there sat the lord of the motte, his hands on the armrest, his head forward, and eyes surveying, which soon met mine. I felt unsure yet unperturbed at the same time. Then the noble lord stood up and vanished into the darkness where the fire’s light could not reach. Far in the distance a heavy door opened and shut. The man poured me another pint of the mysterious elixir. He topped his own mug off before setting the jug aside. I don’t know where it went but it disappeared soon after he had placed it down. I could not be certain, for my eyes were still unrecovered, yet I suspected the noble lord of the motte had placed a retinue of servants to lie around us in wait for our needs.
 I took notice that beside me was another neighbour, his features I could not see clearly, but still nonetheless looked more fair than the other’s, unfurled a roll of papyrus and handed me quill. Taking a sip from his own mug he then muttered: “draw.” I squinted and looked around, unsure as to what he meant. Draw what or who? Why should I draw? A hand from the shadows lunged at me and gripped my shoulders. I whirled my neck around to see what had grasped me and it was the noble lord, peering into my face with his; a soft, serene, gentle smile. He tapped my shoulders before letting go. My eyes cleared for flash before a darkness once again assaulted their outer edges. I turned to look and he was gone as quickly as he had come. I took hastily took a sip: “what shall I draw, o noble lord?” Silence replied. My gruff neighbour reached into his clothes to withdraw his own scroll. He laid it before us. On it I could see him. He was a noble knight of great renown, and there beside him was his king, to whom he had pledged allegiance. With his finger, he guided my eyes to the next chapter of his drawing: his king lay dead, he was banished. There were many flags and crests and all the panoply of war. Atop the leading horse was my neighbour, leading the soldiers of some kingdom as a mercenary captain for hire. Time weaved itself into the drawing to show that my neighbour, the mercenary captain, had founded a kingdom based on his exploits and renown. A procession followed him as he traveled from this far off kingdom he founded to where we are now.
 It was clear now what was expected of me. I immediately began to draw my own tale; but where to begin? I indicated the process of going backwards. First I am here at this motte, before that I am in the forest of the marshland. How did I get there, though? Yes, I was looking for someone… or was it something? A great treasure was lost to me. I needed to find it before it became lost forever. Did they understand how urgent my quest was? My neighbours’ gaze told me as much. The others? I could not clearly recognize their faces, only that there were eleven others nearby. This treasure, or treasures, from which I was searching had eluded me so far. A witch divined my path, which had led me to here. What would I find here? My hand stopped drawing. The fair-faced neighbour urged me to continue, my thoughts would have to wait. Before reaching the witch I searched high-and-low for the treasure I sought. I was instructed by someone that a diviner would elucidate my course. I jumped further back between the two events, back to where it all started. I was kneeling before my lord, for he had offered me his daughter’s hand in marriage; however, I first had to prove my resolve. A task he gave to me. Not just one or two treasures were I to find, but three so had sayeth my lord: a cup that never empties; a staff that never splinters; and a candle that never melts.
 I reached into my pocket and produced the candle. Where had I gotten it? While I pondered this, a guest reached across and took it from me. He lit the wick and watched it intently. Sure to its properties, it did not melt. A fourth guest stood up, went somewhere out of sight. I heard a cupboard open and close. When he returned, in his hand he held a bejeweled cup which he promptly emptied of its contents. He set the cup down, and lo, inside the contents had refilled—or had never emptied at all. A collective understanding electrified us at once whereupon we knew that my missing third treasure must be located here in the motte. Around me was a wall, circular in nature, bar the entrance, that showed no other egress. The cupboard from which the endless cup was located did not have the capacity for a staff. I circled the hall slowly before returning to my seat. If there was no alternative exit from the motte’s main hall, then what nascent exit did the noble lord use to travel? We could find no such structure. All the guest returned but we found that there was now an extra place upon the table for a final guest, a fifteenth one. Perhaps we were fated to remain here until the last guest arrived. Perhaps he would have with him the staff that never splintered. And so we waited; and waited; and waited.