“Sir Perceval pressed on [toward the light of the Grail]… But suddenly the sky was plunged into darkness and a mighty wind struck up, bringing with it such violent, limitless rain that it seemed the earth and the whole vast forest would be swept away. Perceval was aghast; he covered his head with his shield and took shelter beneath a tree until this fearful storm had passed. He had to endure this wretched, dismal plight until it was almost dawn. But then the clouds dispersed, the darkness lifted and the weather began to turn fair. He looked ahead and all around, expecting to see the light [he had been following during the night], but there was no sign of it, and he couldn’t remember in which direction it had been. He was frustrated and downhearted, but pressed on nonetheless until he came to a glade of the greatest beauty, though it was not wide or large. It was now close to daybreak, and such a pleasant end to the night that Perceval hadn’t a care in the world, despite all he’d been through, for trouble is soon forgotten when God restores joy to the sufferer. Sir Perceval decided to rest a little and let his weary horse graze. So he halted in the glade and placed his lance and shield beneath a tall, leafy tree. The grass was fresh and new, and he took off the bridle and then the saddle and set his horse free to graze and rest. For his own part he lay down with his head propped on his shield, for he was weak with tiredness. Soon he was fast asleep, with his dog beside him, lying quietly at his feet, not leaving him or straying off at all… He made a fine companion.”
— From the Tale of the Bridge of Glass, part of the Second Anonymouas Continuation of Chrétien de Troyes’ “Perceval – The Story of the Grail” (late 12th century), trans. Nigel Bryant
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A chimera bombinating in a vacuum.