“You resemble one,” the minstrel said, “as Saralinda resembles the rose.”
“I resemble only half the things I say I don’t,” the Golux said. “The other half resemble me.” He sighed. “I must always be on hand when people are in peril.”
“My peril is my own,” the minstrel said.
“Half of it is yours and half is Saralinda’s.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” the minstrel said. “I place my faith in you, and where you lead, I follow.”
“Not so fast,” the Golux said. “Half the places I have been to, never were. I make things up. Half the things I say are there cannot be found. When I was young I told a tale of buried gold and men from leagues around dug in the woods. I dug myself.”
“I thought the tale of treasure might be true.”
“You said you made it up.”
“I know I did, but then I didn’t know I had. I forget things, too.” The minstrel felt a vague uncertainty. “I make mistakes, but I am on the side of Good,” the Golux said, “by accident and happenchance. I had high hopes of being Evil when I was two, but in my youth I came upon a firefly burning in a spider’s web. I saved the victim’s life.”
“The firefly’s?” said the minstrel.
“The spider’s. The blinking arsonist had set the web on fire."
(from The Thirteen Clocks by James Thurber)