Thursday, November 27, 2003
Chapter Three
It was raining and the fire warmed the hall; people crowded in seeking comfort and the lulling story narrated by one woman holding the audience in rapt attention. Elias sat back, hard wood supporting his head and watched like all others as Janna raised a hand to emphasize an action.
Earlier in the evening he was the one in the center, pushed and persuaded to play an old ditty to this folk, whom he was told knew almost nothing about the songs of other countries. It was something beyond him, this concept of ignorance and he was about to say so when he caught Janna’s expression, half anger, half something else Elias could not read and then he was pushed and he began to strike chords he was familiar with in his youth.
It was an extraordinary experience akin to the days he played for the family when he was a child but surpassing it by far; then he was a tolerated child but here in this place they listened intently, drinking up the words and the rhythm it was almost frightening if it weren’t so exhilarating; except he didn’t quite know how to end thankfully Janna swoop to his rescue all jokes and glittery words.
“That was quite the performance,” She said, holding him like a cherished friend and gently pushing from the center until he was dislodged to the place he now stood. “Since we have heard the music stylistics of Yrdle, how about the old tale from his home country?” There were murmurs of approval and Janna forged on; Elias leaned back and listened to another story he knew since boyhood.
(Here was the collective groan Elias was accustomed hearing from women and a few of the experienced men. Janna paused and gave her amused smile, the groaning faded.)
Word count: 8,559
It was raining and the fire warmed the hall; people crowded in seeking comfort and the lulling story narrated by one woman holding the audience in rapt attention. Elias sat back, hard wood supporting his head and watched like all others as Janna raised a hand to emphasize an action.
Earlier in the evening he was the one in the center, pushed and persuaded to play an old ditty to this folk, whom he was told knew almost nothing about the songs of other countries. It was something beyond him, this concept of ignorance and he was about to say so when he caught Janna’s expression, half anger, half something else Elias could not read and then he was pushed and he began to strike chords he was familiar with in his youth.
It was an extraordinary experience akin to the days he played for the family when he was a child but surpassing it by far; then he was a tolerated child but here in this place they listened intently, drinking up the words and the rhythm it was almost frightening if it weren’t so exhilarating; except he didn’t quite know how to end thankfully Janna swoop to his rescue all jokes and glittery words.
“That was quite the performance,” She said, holding him like a cherished friend and gently pushing from the center until he was dislodged to the place he now stood. “Since we have heard the music stylistics of Yrdle, how about the old tale from his home country?” There were murmurs of approval and Janna forged on; Elias leaned back and listened to another story he knew since boyhood.
It is told in the old days when the elditas (an Yrdlian term for elves) were new to this world, beautiful and wise and powerful and were worshipped as gods. Among the elditas was Macarag, daughter of Manaman and Ditas, she was beautiful even among her kind. Macarag was loved not only for her beauty but her carefree spirit and kindness.
One day Macarag was bathing under the falls, when Haluke, a mortal man saw
her and he immediately was in thrall of her beauty. So entranced was Haluke that he disregarded all laws and ventured into eldita territory and requested the hand of the maiden Macarag. Angered Manaman asked what right did a simple mortal have in claiming Macarag as wife. Haluke revealed witnessing Macarag bathing and professed his love of Macarag’s beauty and his devotion as token.
Macarag stood and said that she was not averse in marrying a mortal but asked Haluke if it was only her beauty he loved. Trapped in the violets of Macarag’s eyes he answered without thinking and said: ‘Yes’.
(Here was the collective groan Elias was accustomed hearing from women and a few of the experienced men. Janna paused and gave her amused smile, the groaning faded.)
In the blink of an eye Haluke found himself far from eldita lands and in his own humble woodshed home. Haluke railed on fates and wept sorrowing for the loss of Macarag’s beauty, he stayed home for months until his kin found him and forced him to resume his lost life.
In the months after his old life was resumed but never again with the same fervor as before. He told no one of his great fortune and misfortune and only at nights dreamt of Macarag’s wondrous face. Until one day Haluke struck upon an idea: He would prove to Macarag he loved her by performing deeds of great renown and so he sent forth to fulfill his mission leaving a note saying he was to seek his fortune.
And soon he won acclaim after acclaim until he became the best warrior known
in the land. Sure of his worthiness he sent forth a note and a tribute but the gifts were returned with a note from Macarag. ‘Doest thou think love only of beauty and acclaim?’
Haluke stared at the note and came to a decision: He would be the richest man in the land. After months of hard work Haluke finally found himself richer than kings, he sent forth another note and a tribute far richer than the last but like the other it was returned to him, unopened and with another note with the same words: ‘Doest thou think love only of beauty and acclaim?’
Frustrated Haluke threw the note and spent his days in solitude until another
thought set in his mind. Perhaps Macarag would love him only if he were equal
to her. Setting his great fortune to his task he consulted with the greatest scholars and mages, students of the elditas themselves and was told in order to achieve his dreams he must go forth on a journey of pilgrimage.
Haluke agreed and left his fortune to a friend until he returned and he set forth with only his sandaled feet, the way he began long years ago. In his accumulation of fortune he acquired a servant out of measure of pity. She was a poor girl, wandering and with a certain charm, if only she were not so terrible to look upon. Haluke never treated her anything else but a servant she was and on the morning he was to leave he found the lowly servant was already by the gates with the horses. Haluke was surprised for he thought this was one journey she would not follow but follow she did and Haluke this did allow.
The journeys were punctuated with long distances and so Haluke turned to the young servant for conversation and was surprised to find wit under the terrible scarred looks. Throughout the quest Haluke came to depend heavily on the young servant for friendship and found her a truer friend than any he had had since his quest for fortune. As Haluke grew powerful so did his perception and philosophies he traveled wide and far and long months until he realized he did not mind, nor did he even see his companion’s ugliness.
Finally he acquired the power he sought and so he returned to his fortunes and was welcomed with feasts. He demonstrated his power and his friends were awed, he had become of almost equal strength as the elditas, then one of his friends said the he might now win the hand of his beloved. At that Haluke was struck dumb for all the wanderings and quest he had forgotten about Macarag, truly his memory of her was now but a faded memory of splendor and its place like a chord was only the voice and the wit of the servant, his friend. Haluke dismissed his fancy for truly did he not love Macarag, whose beauty was renowned even among her kind? So he sent forth another tribute made of his own magic, a gift of intricate nature, an offer of marriage and this time no note.
He sent the gift away with a heart heavier and without spirit; this time the gift was not returned and a note was in its place, with shaking hands Haluke read it and was amazed. It read: ‘I accept’.
There was a flurry and a procession but Haluke was not moved and only thought to seek his friend, the faithful servant. He was troubled when it was known the servant could not be found. It was too late to back down, especially if he wished to court the ire of the powerful elditas. He resumed the procession and finally on the day of the meeting he once again saw Macarag and her beauty recalled his old memories of her and he fell on his knees staring at the maiden for a long time.
‘Lady,’ he said and spoke no more.
‘You have taken great pains to prove yourself more than your worth,’ she said, ‘would you now care to answer my query?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you love me for my beauty.’
Once again Haluke was trapped in the violets of her eyes and answered. ‘No.’
‘What then do you love me for?’
Haluke bowed his head. ‘I loved you all these long years as an ideal I aspired to, to a dream I wished come true. I have fought in wars and distinguished myself, I have amassed fortunes but I had never sought to find peace and knowledge.’
‘Now that you have your dreams almost within your grasp?’
‘I wish for it no longer.’
The great hall came alive in outraged shouts and shocked gasps, no one had ever dared turn away from an eldita. Only Macarag was silent. Manaman and Ditas were the loudest of voices.
‘You love another.’
Haluke raised his eyes, stared fixedly on the pale face. ‘I do.’ The admission caused another uproar, which Macarag silenced with an upraised hand, when silence finally descended Haluke continued: ‘My quest for magic brought not only power but with it wisdom. I realized that though you are my ideal, I am not yours. It is unfair to treat it as such. And in that journey I also discovered a true friend, a person of great wit, strength and kindness. I deserved not her loyalty and faith but I found in myself the strength to continue not for my own sake but for her own.’ His voice grew quieter and more solemn. ‘She is not of great beauty such as you have only her strength in spirit and for that I love her.’
Macarag studied him. ‘I will marry you.’
‘But, my lady!’
‘Only a great man can see beyond the face and see the true person within. I will marry you.’ And before his eyes Macarag transformed from great beauty to the disfigured but familiar form of the loyal servant and Haluke was transfixed. ‘You have risen to the occasion well.’
Astonished beyond belief Haluke stood and stared until understanding flooded in and he knelt once again, catching the servant’s—Macarag’s hand and placing it on his cheek and pledged his undying love and obedience. And when he looked again Macarag’s violet gaze was settled on him and they were married at the same day. It is never known after what became of the eldita and her mate only that they lived solitary in a mountain and lived peacefully other than that it is speculation and conjecture and
fairy stories.
Word count: 8,559
Sunday, November 23, 2003
chapter 2 cont'd
The inn was cozy and a far better comfort than hard ground and insect bites the happy shouts and buzz of talk wrapped around him like comfort and for a few moments homesickness overcame him Elias had to hold on to something to keep from falling.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“It would be no hardship then, if you remove your hand from my arm?” Elias stared in horror at his hand and immediately as if stung recoiled. An attempt of apology was immediately rebuffed and she became movement incarnate striding in the bar and greeting the patrons with familiarity.
There were sounds of laughter, not at all salacious but good natured jibes of her travels Elias entered cautiously and was treated to a rare sight of a joking, raucous woman totally alien to the woman who was his companion for days.
Har, the innkeeper approached him, gave him a mug of ale for which Elias wordlessly but gratefully took. “Wonderful woman, your mistress.”
The cool liquid refreshment almost sprayed from his mouth but ended up gagging him instead. A hand thumped his back Elias coughed and wheezed before he said. “I’m not--” The pounding continued until he was sure bruises bloomed between his shoulder blades and sidestepped Har’s hand and crashed on a pillar of wood, wheezing.
“I’m not—“ He began, saw Har’s approach and straightened. “I’m alright!”
The innkeeper looked at him dubiously. “Are you sure? Your mistress says you’re a delicate thing.”
This time Elias refrained from reacting lest he undergo another round of Har’s ‘aid’. Delicate? Elias thought placing more distance between them and taking care not to spill the ale. Your mistress? Lord Akmesh, do they think I’m her servant?
“Any new stories, Janna?” The question pulled Elias’ attention to the center of the drinking hall, where Janna at the center glowing with mirth held court.
“Too early for a story, Master Carpenter.”
“You’d be telling then?” Another voice asked, this time from a woman. Janna smiled at her in seeming conspiracy.
“As long as they’ll be food flowing, the hearth burning and currencies a brimming!” There was an amused chortle. “Now, if all you fine members of the community excuse me, I must bide my leave lest I ruin my ‘mystique’.”
Another round of laughter and Janna strode away and toward the general vicinity of where Elias stood. Har intercepted before Elias could speak to her. “Your usual room, Janna?”
“My usual, Har.” There was a smile in her voice.
“And your servant?” Elias jerked and waited for Janna’s denial but none came, instead she said in a reasonable and amused voice.
“Surely not in my room!”
Har chuckled. “Surely not.”
“How about the room next to my own?”
“Taken, I’m afraid.”
“Taken?” This time Elias saw the line of her lips, pursed in thought. “The room after then.”
“Alright.” Unexpectedly Har rounded on him a big grin emphasized his buckteeth and thumped him once before pushing past him leaving him a clear view of Janna, the smile she sent his way banished momentarily the thought of inquiries. Elias shook his head, still dazed but doggedly determined to continue, but before he could even ask an abstraction of attention occurred, her attention sliding past him and again in a movement of energetic abandon pushed forward and was gone.
Elias stood in the quiet bar feeling bereft and catching a glimpse of her ebony hair decided to follow, unaware that he looked much like a lost servant landed in an unknown city. And just as he was about to round the corner he collided with a body he suffered a few moments of disorientation then looked down.
“You never look where you’re going do you?” Janna said dryly.
“I’m sorry.”
She looked at him a glimmer of amusement tingeing her dark eyes. “You say that a lot.”
“I keep colliding with you a lot.” He offered then stepped back. “I’m sorry, I’m still disoriented and fatigued.”
The amusement vanished and in turn an analytical gleam entered, Elias felt the discordant naked feeling of examination. “A little food would fix that. You should have listened to me and not to Sita.”
“I rather your company.” The words were out before he could register them and was suddenly looking at her in horror realizing the mistaken implication of those words but she took it in stride and guided him to a table, sat him and ordered a meal.
The moment the waitress left she looked him over and shook her head, resigned. “What shall I do with you?”
His mouth opened slightly and he closed it with a snap. ‘Oh, Elias, what shall we do with you?’ was the single unifying theme of his childhood and its strains followed clearly to his adulthood. The echo of it sent a sliver of irritation and finally decided to give voice to it. “You’ve apparently decided.”
She looked at him blankly. “Surely, you’re not playing the aggrieved card?”
Embarrassment reared its head but he was tired and his control was slipping. “I only ask you not spread that I am your servant.”
“You did not ask and besides which, I did not say you were my servant.”
“You did not deny it either.”
A long stare followed and finally Elias’ nerve mellowed the temper. She said. “You’re right, I didn’t.” And then more improbable. “I’m sorry.”
word count:6,888
The inn was cozy and a far better comfort than hard ground and insect bites the happy shouts and buzz of talk wrapped around him like comfort and for a few moments homesickness overcame him Elias had to hold on to something to keep from falling.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“It would be no hardship then, if you remove your hand from my arm?” Elias stared in horror at his hand and immediately as if stung recoiled. An attempt of apology was immediately rebuffed and she became movement incarnate striding in the bar and greeting the patrons with familiarity.
There were sounds of laughter, not at all salacious but good natured jibes of her travels Elias entered cautiously and was treated to a rare sight of a joking, raucous woman totally alien to the woman who was his companion for days.
Har, the innkeeper approached him, gave him a mug of ale for which Elias wordlessly but gratefully took. “Wonderful woman, your mistress.”
The cool liquid refreshment almost sprayed from his mouth but ended up gagging him instead. A hand thumped his back Elias coughed and wheezed before he said. “I’m not--” The pounding continued until he was sure bruises bloomed between his shoulder blades and sidestepped Har’s hand and crashed on a pillar of wood, wheezing.
“I’m not—“ He began, saw Har’s approach and straightened. “I’m alright!”
The innkeeper looked at him dubiously. “Are you sure? Your mistress says you’re a delicate thing.”
This time Elias refrained from reacting lest he undergo another round of Har’s ‘aid’. Delicate? Elias thought placing more distance between them and taking care not to spill the ale. Your mistress? Lord Akmesh, do they think I’m her servant?
“Any new stories, Janna?” The question pulled Elias’ attention to the center of the drinking hall, where Janna at the center glowing with mirth held court.
“Too early for a story, Master Carpenter.”
“You’d be telling then?” Another voice asked, this time from a woman. Janna smiled at her in seeming conspiracy.
“As long as they’ll be food flowing, the hearth burning and currencies a brimming!” There was an amused chortle. “Now, if all you fine members of the community excuse me, I must bide my leave lest I ruin my ‘mystique’.”
Another round of laughter and Janna strode away and toward the general vicinity of where Elias stood. Har intercepted before Elias could speak to her. “Your usual room, Janna?”
“My usual, Har.” There was a smile in her voice.
“And your servant?” Elias jerked and waited for Janna’s denial but none came, instead she said in a reasonable and amused voice.
“Surely not in my room!”
Har chuckled. “Surely not.”
“How about the room next to my own?”
“Taken, I’m afraid.”
“Taken?” This time Elias saw the line of her lips, pursed in thought. “The room after then.”
“Alright.” Unexpectedly Har rounded on him a big grin emphasized his buckteeth and thumped him once before pushing past him leaving him a clear view of Janna, the smile she sent his way banished momentarily the thought of inquiries. Elias shook his head, still dazed but doggedly determined to continue, but before he could even ask an abstraction of attention occurred, her attention sliding past him and again in a movement of energetic abandon pushed forward and was gone.
Elias stood in the quiet bar feeling bereft and catching a glimpse of her ebony hair decided to follow, unaware that he looked much like a lost servant landed in an unknown city. And just as he was about to round the corner he collided with a body he suffered a few moments of disorientation then looked down.
“You never look where you’re going do you?” Janna said dryly.
“I’m sorry.”
She looked at him a glimmer of amusement tingeing her dark eyes. “You say that a lot.”
“I keep colliding with you a lot.” He offered then stepped back. “I’m sorry, I’m still disoriented and fatigued.”
The amusement vanished and in turn an analytical gleam entered, Elias felt the discordant naked feeling of examination. “A little food would fix that. You should have listened to me and not to Sita.”
“I rather your company.” The words were out before he could register them and was suddenly looking at her in horror realizing the mistaken implication of those words but she took it in stride and guided him to a table, sat him and ordered a meal.
The moment the waitress left she looked him over and shook her head, resigned. “What shall I do with you?”
His mouth opened slightly and he closed it with a snap. ‘Oh, Elias, what shall we do with you?’ was the single unifying theme of his childhood and its strains followed clearly to his adulthood. The echo of it sent a sliver of irritation and finally decided to give voice to it. “You’ve apparently decided.”
She looked at him blankly. “Surely, you’re not playing the aggrieved card?”
Embarrassment reared its head but he was tired and his control was slipping. “I only ask you not spread that I am your servant.”
“You did not ask and besides which, I did not say you were my servant.”
“You did not deny it either.”
A long stare followed and finally Elias’ nerve mellowed the temper. She said. “You’re right, I didn’t.” And then more improbable. “I’m sorry.”
word count:6,888
