The village was nestled high on the slopes of a towering mountain, its peak often shrouded in white clouds from afar. It was, of course, a breathtaking sight, set against a vast blue sky.
Countless times throughout history, mortal men have come and gone, etching that very image into their finest paintings, relying on their creative ingenuity. From the era of primitive cave dwellers to modern humans who proudly declare themselves civilized beings residing in luxurious buildings.
For thousands of years, the mountain had stood majestically, supporting billions of lives scattered across its slopes, including a small village that would carve its name into the nation's history.
The village was no different from other mountain slope villages, with open grasslands interspersed with trees where birds sang at every sunrise and hatched their eggs. Thus, new generations emerged, replacing the birds that had fallen to the ground like autumn leaves. Rivers flowed, providing sustenance for the settlements that grew along their banks.
It was in one of these hamlets that a human child would begin his journey into the future. The child's name was Rugald. He was known by his villagers as an unfortunate teenager who lived alone in his hut on the outskirts of the village. He had no one to lean on or depend on at his young age. No one knew where his parents were. For Rugald himself, it was not an issue.
Every day he went to the forest to find food. His way of life reminded people of the lessons they received from their teachers about primitive peoples who once inhabited and still inhabit some parts of the earth. Nevertheless, no one denied that Rugald was able to integrate well into the local community.
Neighbors often utilized his agile hands and feet to help with their work. Rugald, who had never received formal education, learned many things from his experiences. From farming to making pottery and various other tasks. No one had ever heard him complain. His days were always filled with a sincere smile on his lips. And no one disliked him. He was always happy to help those who needed his strength, including those who invited him to hunt for a share of the spoils.
Rugald was highly skilled in hunting. His hands and feet moved in rhythm, deftly throwing spears or knives to incapacitate his targets. He seemed to be one with the forest. Animals appeared to submit to his touch, and even the fiercest beasts seemed unable to reach him. With agility, he would leap to avoid dangerous animal pursuits and hide until the animal left.
One bright summer day, as a gentle breeze rustled the leaves in the trees, Rugald, as usual, extended his thin, sun-darkened hand to a neighbor who worked as a farmer. The middle-aged man, whose hair was streaked with gray, asked for Rugald's help to deal with the rampant rats in his field.
“Those creatures have caused several of my harvests to fail,” the farmer complained wearily. “I've tried to deal with them hundreds of times, but I always fail.”
Rugald, of course, felt challenged by the task. That night, he prepared to eradicate the tiny rodents that had ravaged his neighbor's field. With sharp, watchful, and confident eyes, he descended into the severely damaged field. The food crops, carefully and lovingly tended by their owner, were ruined. Some were cut and torn to shreds. Others lay withered, partly gone, leaving only gnaw marks and the imprints of rat teeth. Everywhere on the ground, rat footprints were scattered like bullet holes.
Rugald explored the rats' former feasting ground with slow, careful steps. Occasionally, unexpectedly, he would leap, body hunched. A moment later, a piercing shriek tore through the night air, and a rat lay limp, covered in blood, at the tip of his spear.
That night, luck seemed unwilling to abandon Rugald. Enthusiastically, he leaped here and there, slaughtering many rats with his spear. Once, he found a rat in the corner of the field. He was somewhat surprised because its appearance was not the same as the helpless creatures lying in the sack he carried.
Its white-furred head stood out strikingly in the darkness of the night, while from the neck down it was black, no different from the occupants of the sack Rugald carried on his back. These corpses would be burned to ashes immediately after the hunt was over. The farmers, weary of the rats' antics, would be glad to do so, to vent their revenge. .
Relying on his agile footwork, Rugald leaped like a cat about to pounce on its prey. But the white-headed creature seemed to have read Rugald's movements. Without the slightest difficulty, it vanished behind the ravaged plants. Rugald pursued it. Annoyance rose in his heart.
Rats squeaked in surprise as he passed their hiding places, but Rugald seemed not to hear them. He completely forgot his task and continued to chase the white-headed rat. His irritated mind was focused on the strange rat that dodged with great agility, avoiding the tip of the spear aimed at it.
A moment ago, before disappearing behind the plants, Rugald had caught a glimpse of the rat's eyes, gleaming like black beads on its white face. To Rugald, those eyes seemed to radiate mockery. When Rugald managed to corner it in the field, the rat unexpectedly leaped and darted quickly out of the field area. The sudden movement startled Rugald.
He increased his speed and darted into the night's darkness. The flashlight he carried illuminated the ground, revealing the footprints of the rat running alone towards the forest. Rugald felt somewhat disappointed. The dense trees there would make it difficult for him.
A few minutes later, after pushing through bushes and zigzagging to avoid scattered trees, Rugald managed to corner the creature against a tree. His bare hand shot out quickly, slicing through the freezing mountain air. He seemed to have forgotten his spear. He caught the rat.
The animal struggled with all its might, forcing Rugald to tighten his grip to prevent its escape. He lifted the rat to his eyes and observed the tenacious creature. A smile spread across the fifteen-year-old boy's lips. The body of his prey felt warm and soft in his hands. Rugald was pleased with his swiftness.
But a moment later, a perplexing thought stopped him. What should he do with the tiny creature? It seemed a shame to simply kill it after going to such lengths, deep into the heart of the forest, to catch it. Rugald looked down at the rat, which was now trying to bite his hand. Suddenly, the wild squeak from the trapped rat became meaningful in his ears.
“Hey, human child, what do you want with me? You've acted cruelly by killing my people, so do you intend to kill me too?”
Rugald almost dropped the rat, so startled was he. He glared at his captive. He couldn't believe the rat had just spoken to him. The animal's eyes stared fiercely at him, not losing courage even on the brink of death.
“Come on, what are you waiting for?” The brave-sounding squeak stirred Rugald.
“Did you just speak?” he asked unconsciously. His annoyance instantly vanished from his mind.
“You have arbitrarily slaughtered my people. Even if I die, I will never forgive you.” The rat glared at its captor.
Rugald's eyes widened in a mix of surprise and irritation.
“What do you mean? Of course, it's the result of your own actions, destroying crops and causing farmers losses,” he retorted, glaring back at the rat.
The white-headed one's gaze hardened, and it didn't blink at all.
“We don't destroy. We don't mean to harm you. We're just looking for food,” the animal insisted.
Rugald clicked his tongue impatiently.
“Be quiet, rat, what do you know? You are very wicked. You steal, and you also dirty homes with your waste products. Disgusting. And do you still deny that your kind spreads various diseases that have killed millions of people?”
The rat showed no sign of shutting its mouth as Rugald wished.
“You are shameless. You yourselves cause those diseases to attack you. You let your homes be dirty. You provide most of us with comfortable places to nest, and then you arbitrarily slaughter and drive us away. You also make us scapegoats for your problems, when you yourselves are the cause. Is that fair?”
With anger radiating from its tiny eyes, the rat stared directly at Rugald.
“I can't fathom you. Your actions are incomprehensible.””
Rugald was stunned. He had never heard such a line of reasoning.
“Disgraceful.” Rugald heard the rat ramble on. “You still dare to speak and campaign for the mass extermination of rats just because of something that has been our custom for centuries. And be careful, young man. You are still very young, so you know nothing about this world. You must learn a lot to understand the mistakes of your kind.”
Rugald fell silent. The rat's rant not only surprised him. He pondered the words. Was it true?
The rat still looked at him angrily.
“Now, do you understand?” it squeaked.
“Alright, I won't kill you,” Rugald mumbled.
He was still dizzy from the rat's long lecture. He started walking but didn't release the tiny creature from his grip. The creature had stopped struggling.
Throughout the journey through the dense forest, it remained silent. Rugald also didn't try to talk to the creature, which, unexpectedly, was more intelligent than him. It was also very astute in observing reality, even if Rugald couldn't simply accept its advice. This was clearly a new concept that permeated his young mind.
From between his fingers, the rat looked at him with black eyes gleaming on its white face. Suddenly, it spoke again,
“Do you understand, child? Our presence is the will of nature. Humans must adapt, not us. Time keeps changing, and their lifespan increases, so why can't they change for the better? And you too,”
The rat, clearly fearless, looked seriously at Rugald's almost blank face. The teenager hadn't said anything, trying to process the rat's words that he couldn't yet fully grasp.
“You also need to learn to control your tongue. Humans possess great intelligence, so why can't you speak more politely?”
Upon arriving at his simple hut on the edge of the village, Rugald immediately lay down on his bed after cleaning himself of the dried mud from the field. The object, several times his age, creaked in protest when the boy jumped onto it.
A pair of bead-like eyes stared sharply at him from a small cage in the corner of the room. The cage was made of sturdy metal, so the rat couldn't gnaw through it. Annoyed, the rat paced its prison, hoping in vain to find a way out. A chunk of cheese that Rugald had placed at the bottom of the cage lay untouched. The sudden loss of freedom caused its appetite to disappear as well.
A rustling sound beneath his bed woke Rugald. He immediately bent down under the bed, sharpening his gaze. A moment later, he stood up again with a black rat clutched in his hand. The creature thrashed wildly and squeaked loudly. Suddenly, Rugald's keen ears caught a sound from the direction of the cage. The voice was angry.
“Release my grandchild, human! Don't you understand what I just said?”
Rugald saw the white-headed rat's eyes seem to double in size with anger. The two beads staring straight at him looked as if they would pop out of their sockets.
“Grandchild?” Rugald repeated, a mix of surprise and astonishment in his voice. “So this rat is your grandfather?”
The rat clutched in Rugald's hand fell silent for a moment, startled to hear Rugald speak to it. Rugald stared at it, dumbfounded. “You can talk too?” he asked.
“Of course, all rats, if they wish, can make their words understood by humans.”
Rugald shook his head. The curt words he had just heard came from the corner of the room where he had placed the white-headed rat.
“Really?” he whispered to the tiny creature in his hand.
“T-true.” The rat squeaked haltingly. “I-I came here to help my grandfather. My relatives in the forest reported that he was captured by an arrogant, cold-blooded human.”
The bold statement startled Rugald,
“What did you say?” he snapped angrily.
The tiny rat, whose body size was less than half of the rat in the cage, squeaked in fear,
“Those weren't my words. That was the report delivered by my kin.”
To his surprise, Rugald heard the tiny, jet-black-furred rat sound almost on the verge of tears. Simultaneously, the white-headed one cried out a warning.
“Don't be a crybaby, child. How many times have I taught you that a rat king's grandchild must be strong? You must face any situation with a heart of steel, even death itself.”
The words deeply moved Rugald. The teenager then looked at the rat in the cage, fascinated. A sense of admiration arose in his heart. He felt almost respectful of the rat, even imagining his own grandfather giving such advice. They are just rats, he mumbled to himself. He began to think about how much he could learn from a rat. The tiny creature in the cage was right that Rugald still had much to learn.
A moment later, Rugald was back lying on his bed. Two rats now occupied the cage in the corner of the room. But the noisy squeaking from the black rat kept him from sleeping. He got up, annoyed,
“Be quiet, can't you be still? Just relax in there, haven't I provided food?”
He glared through the cage bars at the tiny rat. The rat, it seemed, had found its courage. Its bead-like eyes stared back at Rugald. Calmly, it said,
”I was just trying to send a command to my troops that they cannot attack now.”
It fell silent, its black eyes watching Rugald as if to gauge his reaction.
“You're not alone?” Rugald asked.
The rat let out a squeak that resembled laughter,
“Of course not,” it replied. “Did you think I would be alone on a mission this important? No. We rats must unite to face humans who are much larger than us.”
After a moment of hesitation, it spoke again,
“If you don't believe me, look outside your door. Many of our kind are willing to die for their king.”
Rugald opened the door of his hut. He was stunned as the words of the rat king's grandchild proved true before his eyes. Hundreds, even thousands, of tiny rodents gathered before him. They were almost imperceptible, hidden behind the shadows of various objects in front of the house, but Rugald's keen eyes could see them. Sensing their presence was known, the rat army simultaneously charged. Rugald heard a loud squeak from the terrifying-looking horde.
But just as the rats were about to swarm Rugald, another, louder squeak stopped them. Rugald was astonished to see the miniature army halt in unison. They looked like well-trained soldiers from military academies. Rugald was very impressed. He was so captivated that he couldn't say a word.
At that moment, the rat king took over command from his grandchild,
“Listen to me, my people,” he began to speak. “As you can see, I lack nothing. Therefore, you may go. I thank you for your loyalty to me. I will call upon you again when it is time for you to render service.”
Rugald was amazed to see the rats bow as if in salute. Simultaneously, one by one, they disappeared into the shadows. But before the last rat darted away, Rugald called out to them.
“My friends, the rats,” he called. “Come in. I happen to still have a few pieces of cheese, perhaps not enough for all of us, but we can try to share.”
The rats did not immediately respond to the invitation. The rat king's grandchild was very surprised. He hadn't expected this human to act this way. The rat king observed Rugald intently. The teenager's face looked sincere. No hidden ulterior motive was visible in his sharp gaze.
A rat walked awkwardly towards the door. Seeing no danger, it entered the hut. Seeing it, other rats also entered the hut. One by one, they moved towards the open door. Patiently, Rugald held the door open, making way for the rat army to enter the hut. In an instant, the small hut was filled with rats that stayed with Rugald and never left.
From then on, Rugald's house was never empty of freely roaming rats. Rugald never refused new rats that arrived. He felt he had found the family he never had.
However, all his neighbors became uneasy with this change. They all felt disgusted seeing the hordes of rats freely roaming around Rugald's hut, so one by one, they began to avoid him. This change in attitude was very noticeable to Rugald. No one wanted to talk to him or approach his hut anymore, causing Rugald to become even more immersed in the community of rats living in his home.
One day, a girl came to Rugald's hut. She stood a little distance from the building, disappointing Rugald because, like his other village neighbors, the girl also disliked his new friends.
With an expression of disgust, the girl named Virin called Rugald to come out and meet her. When Rugald came, she looked at him sadly,
“Why are you doing this?”
“Doing what?” Rugald asked, though he already felt in his heart that this visit from the girl his age had something to do with his rats.
“Keeping those rats,” Virin replied. “You've changed. Your hut used to be quite clean. But since those rats arrived, this hut no longer looks like a human dwelling.” The girl's voice sounded hollow. Several times she sighed to hold back tears.
She had always liked Rugald, who was honest and cheerful. Before, she didn't care about all of Rugald's shortcomings, but now she could no longer understand the teenager's actions.
Rugald immediately understood,
“Are you going to leave me like everyone else?” he whispered painfully. “These rats have become my family now. I hope you can understand.”
Rugald felt wretched as his gaze swept over Virin's face. His feelings were torn apart like the ravaged leaves in the field the other day. He loved this girl and hoped to make her his companion someday, but was it possible?
Virin shook her head in astonishment. Her eyes were wet with tears she could no longer hold back.
“I can't fathom you,” she said. “Those rats are disgusting animals. They're dirty. They carry diseases and...”
She could no longer continue her sentence. Tears streamed down her face. Rugald took Virin's hand.
“Listen to me,” he said softly.
Then he repeated everything he had heard from the rat king.
“But that doesn't mean you should ignore reality and gather them like this,” Virin said angrily. Her wet eyes glared.
Rugald looked at her, disappointed. Sadness filled him. If this girl still wouldn't understand his actions, then what would happen? Rugald let the blowing wind mess up his hair as he waited for Virin to finish crying.
“Rugald,” the girl said firmly a moment later. Her face was dry, and she glared at the boy who had once been close to her heart. “If you are so stubborn, I'm afraid,” Her voice almost trembled, but her face looked resolute. “I'm afraid I can't be with you anymore.”
Rugald's breath hitched at the words that had just come from the girl's mouth. He found it hard to believe that Virin had actually said them, but the girl's gaze reinforced the sentence Rugald feared.
“No,” Rugald still tried to soften Virin's heart, but he wasn't sure what to say. “Please understand, Virin,” he urged. “Don't you consider my feelings for you?”
However, those words only made the girl's tears flow again. She brushed away Rugald's hand that was holding hers and turned away.
“Goodbye,” she whispered before running away.
“Wait!” Rugald shouted.
He intended to chase Virin, but suddenly his legs felt weak. His body trembled, and his mind was blank. He stumbled into his hut. He immediately went into his room and found the rat king on the table beside the bed.
Its bead-like eyes looked at Rugald with concern, as if knowing what had happened. It no longer occupied the cage. Rugald had freed the rats to do whatever they pleased in his house. Another rat had just darted out the window. Perhaps the rat king knew everything that happened from it, Rugald thought. With a hollow feeling, he said,
“Now no human cares about me anymore.”
“Patience, child,” squeaked the rat king. “Humans are like that. It's not easy for them to accept new perspectives that contradict what they've always believed. We rats are used to facing the risk of being killed anytime, anywhere.”
Then he added, “There is no longer a place for us here.”
Then he explained that the rat nation usually lived a nomadic life, exploring place after place in search of new homes. Hearing this, Rugald's eyes lit up. He envisioned mountains with peaks that seemed to pierce the sky, green valleys full of trees, and the forest that had become his soul. Clear rivers and lakes teeming with fish and their splashing waters. White clouds sheltering cities and villages he had never visited. All of it waited to be explored, and Rugald would do it.
He was no longer alone. Everywhere, rats would welcome him as a brother. There was nothing left for him to fear. So, that night, he slipped away into the darkness with the rat king perched on his shoulder.
No one saw him leave, but all the villagers discovered that not a single rat remained in the village since Rugald's departure. Whispers spread, saying that the rats had gone with him. Rugald then occupied a special place in the hearts of all the villagers as the hero who had saved the village from destructive rats. And for centuries thereafter, the story of Rugald, the orphan boy, never ceased. It was told from generation to generation and continues to this day, who knows for how long.
Author: Chrysanova Dewi
Editor: Putri Istiqomah Priyatna