The Holder of Language

I heard a bunch of stories from an odd old man living in the streets a few years ago; some bizarre quest for "Objects" that doomed the world or somesuch. He'd never ask for money or food, all he wanted was for his stories to be heard. One of his stories really popped out to me, though, so I decided to try it. I wish I hadn't.

First I had to go to a small library. He said it didn't matter where, or if you have a membership there. You're supposed to ask any elderly librarian for "The Holder of Language". If she responds with unearthly words and gestures you to some dark corner of the library, you continue, but if she tells you that it is on hold, you've gotta quickly find any book in the library on language and read it completely within the hour. The old man never said what would happen if you didn't, but I was stuck with the latter anyway. Just as I finished the boo the library began to close, so I decided to try again another day.

This time it worked. The old woman wailed in some ear-piercing singing sound (that no one else seemed to notice) and pointed me toward an old unused corner of the library. I took a random book, and sat in that corner pretending to read it, as I was supposed to do.

It seemed like hours before it happened, and it came so suddenly that I almost pissed myself. The walls closed in, the floor opened up, and I began falling. No sensation of falling, just... Movement. After about five seconds, I found myself in what appeared to be an ancient archive, and by ancient, I mean like ancient. The shelves were made of rough hewn stone, and were filled with tablets and scrolls with words from every language randomly interspersed between them. I made the mistake of trying to read them, but I'll spare you from those details... I just barely managed to escape after that, and had to come back the next day. I don't know what possessed me to continue, but I am still hella freaked out by those... things?

It wasn't too long after I returned to the archive that a young man dressed in ancient scholarly attire greeted me from across a corridor, gesturing that I come follow him. He led me to some sort of study hall with all sorts of statues and such (The old man said not to look into the statues' open mouths. Again, he did not say why.), and sat down. I asked him to use (yes, use) the Holder of Language, in as stern a tone as I could make. He, of course, didn't understand my words, but the tone seemed to have roused him. He got up and led me into an old tunnel system spanning the underside of the archive, and what I experienced in there was just... Let's just say I don't want to think about it. You're on your own here, but whatever you do, don't open your mouth. The old man said having "Object 31" was almost invaluable, as was "the ear", but I (think) I made it through all in one piece without them.

I eventually reached a more modern-looking room with several small children chained to the wall. If you can bring yourself to do it, you're supposed to take your chisel and remove each of their jawbones, discarding the teeth. If you can't do it, the old man said the path back through the way you came will lead you back to the small library, but that which you passed earlier won't be happy to see you again.

There will be a small forge in the back of the room. I picked up the hammer and it was like my hands had a life of their own; I formed the bone into a small square tablet, and detailed its edges with a strange knot-like pattern that seemed to defy its two-dimensional space. The old man said not to stare at it while you're making it no matter how curious you may be, and to let your hands do all of the work, or you will replace the chisel for the creation of the next tablet; it is the Holder.

I then wrote what felt like words on it, with my hands guiding my every step, even though I began to feel control coming back, and let the process go on. If you influence its face in any way aside from what your hands are doing now, you'll forget every language you ever knew and be unable to learn or relearn any other. The old man didn't tell me that; the jawless children chanted it silently in a language that I could not fathom, yet understood regardless.

When I finished, I finally got to look at it. On it was detailed the most beautiful carvings I've ever seen, with flowing letters forming words of unearthly perfection. When I looked up, I found myself back at the library, sitting in the corner, with the tablet in place of the book.

The bone tablet I carved is Object 941 of 2538. If you obtain it, deciphering its text will give you insight into every language ever devised, but be warned - I know now that there are some languages mankind was never meant to understand. Also, the library will still want their book back.