As the old story goes, the traveler came to a giant hill. His feet sore and his back weary, he wanted nothing more than to sit down and never look at another hill again. He told himself that he would enjoy his rest much more splendidly with a pretty view to look at, and so he tightened the straps of his sandals and made his way up.
The view atop the hill was indeed pretty, and as the traveler caught his breath, he saw that there was a large boulder crowning the hill, on top of which sat a small army of crows. The crows made him quite uneasy, but the crows, equally uneasy of his presence, made their exit hastily enough, and the traveler gratefully took his rest in the shade of the boulder.
Only three crows remained. This was fine, the traveler thought, though he'd never known crows to be so silent and so still.
The boulder, he noticed, had a very distinctive shape. The traveler, his rest forgotten, began to circle it, examining it more closely. Its folds and crags, he decided, looked almost like faces. Three faces. The first face was pleasing to look at – it reminded him of a childhood sweetheart. The second face was a little distressing – it looked almost like his poor late mother. The third face looked almost like himself.
The boulder was precariously perched upon this hill. One small push looked like enough to send it tumbling in any which direction, only the traveler was sure that it had sat here for centuries.
In jest, he began to speak to the third face, the one that looked like his own.
THE TRAVELER: Is my nose really so long?
?: Don't you know what your own face looks like? You really are useless.
The traveler was startled. The answer had come from the crow perched atop of the face in the stone. Sweat began to pour down the back of his neck.
THE TRAVELER: I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you.
?: You never mean to do anything, yet you always manage to do it anyway. I have no doubt that you will spend the rest of your life apologizing to everyone and everything. In fact, if you stubbed your toe against a mountain, you'd most likely waste all your breath saying sorry to every rock and stone and pebble you might have possibly offended!
THE TRAVELER: Well, all right. Good day, sir.
The crow ruffled its feathers in a displeased way, emitted a censorious croak that made the traveler feel very small indeed, and flew away. Two crows remained.
As the story goes, the traveler spoke next to the first face, the one who looked like his childhood sweetheart.
THE TRAVELER: I'm very sorry. There, I've said it. I've always wanted to apologize for what an ass I was. I was sixteen, you see, and you were the loveliest person I'd ever met. I really shouldn't have asked for your hand in marriage and then said all those things behind your back and have your father get so angry at me that he stopped selling my father wool. It was all very beastly of me.
?: Who are you?
THE TRAVELER: Oh. Do you really not remember? We were young, I suppose.
?: I suppose. I'm so rich now. I live in a large stately house in the country except for when I live in the city in a very smartly located townhouse, and I'm much too busy and successful to think of bumbling childhood boys.
THE TRAVELER: Which city? Perhaps I could call in? Reminisce of old times? Do you–
The crow, more than finished with this conversation, flew off before the traveler could finish asking his question. His heart sinking, he approached the second face, the one who looked like his mother.
The traveler knelt.
THE TRAVELER: I'm sorry I wasn't with you then. I am with you now.
?: Rest, my son.
The traveler, at last, took his rest. He and the crow spoke until the shadows grew long. As the story goes, when the traveler finally began his journey again, the crow went with him.