In the land of Nier there lived a dermit. He was a humble-bumble sort of fellow, short and fat with a thick grey beard and deep smile-wrinkles etched into his kindly face. His name was Burble, but to his neighbors he was simply Old Fats. He did not mind being called fat and laughed when children called to him.
In his youth Burble had gone on many adventures, the liveliest of which he would tell to young dermits cuddled close around campfires. They sat enthralled for hours as Burble acted out great battles and close escapes, portraying opposite sides by changing his voice and expression.
On occasion he would leave his dermit-shack and wander alone in the woods for a few days. There was a lake he liked to go to so that he could study nature and read mysterious books written in ages past. One day while he was at the lake Burble noticed a dark object floating close to the shore. Being curious by nature he swam out to fetch it. It was a black chest, many centuries old by the look of it and remarkably well-preserved. Its lid was carved with a strange message: "No treasure within if locked without, yet this treasure is lost if opened."
Burble was baffled by the inscription. The next four days he spent at the lake pondering the riddle and examining the chest. It was very heavy, which puzzled him all the more since it floated. There was but a single small lock holding it shut and it was very rusty. Burble wanted to open it very badly, but his old adventures had taught him to heed strange warnings lest an even stranger fate befall him, so he took great care not to damage the already-frail lock.
On the fifth day the dermit scoured the lake's edges for the key. He found it a few feet up a small creek that fed into the lake, hidden among clumps of tussock and blackberry shoots. The key was every bit as small and rusty as the lock. It looked much like any other key Burble owned, but when he took the chest and key home to his shack he found that it opened any locks that he accidentally tried it on.
Needless to say, the villagers were quite amused and bewildered with the strange box and its magical key. They held a council to decide what should be done and concluded to leave the box in Burble's care, but the key was locked inside a safe in the money lender's house so that it couldn't be used to open things that must stay locked.
It is not that they didn't trust Burble or even each other; Niernans are quite a trusting people. But word travels quickly in this land, and they were afraid of the key being stolen by strangers. Visitors came from far and wide to see the black chest and read the warning for themselves. But whenever they inquired about the key, Burble would just smile and say, "Well, that's half o' the mystery, ain't it now?"
Years passed, and the marvel of the box faded until it was all but forgotten by the world. But not by the Niernans. They continued discussing it amongst themselves, always debating if it was time to open it yet or asking if its origin had been discovered. Some new writing would be found on it from time to time when Burble scrubbed and polished a bit more grime away, writing that was carved in many different hands by those who had found the chest ages ago and cast it away for fear of spoiling the treasure by opening it. One of these, apparently a scholar from thirty tens of years ago, left this message: "An unknown treasure lies inside. It is thus both worthless and priceless, like a jewel that cannot be seen."
Now Patir, the money-lender's son, was growing up. He helped his father manage accounts and filed papers. One day, when Burble was gone to the lake, Tyron and Qint, two of the lad's friends, came calling. "You've had that old key around here for years," Tyron said. "Why don't we take it out for a little air?" Qint piped up, "Let's go to Old Fats' place and have a peep in that box. Nobody will know if we just crack it open a little."
Patir rather liked the idea, and running to the safe in which the key was held he thought to himself, "Old Fats has had that old chest forever without knowing what's inside. We'll just take a peek, and maybe let him know if it's worth keeping." So he took the magical key and snuck over to Burble's house with his friends. They used the key to open his door and slunk inside. The black chest was on a table near the fireplace. Tyron and Qint wrestled it to the flooor, exclaiming at its weight that it must be filled with pure gold. Excitedly Patir held out the key. It seemed to quiver in his hand and the rust that coasted it vanished. The lock also quaked slightly and was restored to a steely silver shine. All three boys held their breath in suspense as the son inserted the key into the ancient lock and turned it.
The lock clicked. But when Patir pulled it open, the key became very hot in his hand and he let go. The onlookers gasped. It was melting! Glowing molten metal dripped through the lock and spattered on the stone floot. The lock flung itself from the chest into the cold fireplace and sparks flew as the coals caught fire. Burble's home was filled with light and the boys coiled together in shock. It was several minutes before they were calm enough to let go of each other. Qint recovered first. "Well," he started, "we're in it deep now. Let's see what we came to see." He carefully lifted the lid of the chest and stared inside. His face blanched and he slammed it shut again. He grabbed some tongs and rummaged in the hearth for the lock, gibbering. "We've gotta get out. Lock it again, quick!" He fished out the lock and held it out to the money-lender's son.
"I can't lock it!" Patir cried. "You saw the key melt! What's in the chest? Tell me!"
But all Qint could do was wail. "We're in so much trouble! What can we do?"
Curiosity overtook Tyron and he cracked open the lid to look in. "This treasure is lost if opened," he recited. Patir looked in with him. The chest was empty.