Tale of Choosing (book) - Revision history

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2011-03-21T08:43:37Z

moved Tale of Choosing, The (book) to Tale of Choosing (book)

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2009-01-28T19:07:25Z

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2007-11-19T03:09:19Z

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2007-11-07T03:35:04Z

Maintenance script: New page: ==The Tale of Choosing==

                                                                           (A teaching tale of the Wind Elves relayed by Matron Aberiskan Zelandoran  and inte...

2007-05-07T04:13:05Z

New page: ==The Tale of Choosing== <pre> (A teaching tale of the Wind Elves relayed by Matron Aberiskan Zelandoran and inte...

New page

==The Tale of Choosing==
<pre>
(A teaching tale of the Wind Elves relayed by Matron Aberiskan Zelandoran
and interpreted into the common tongue by Simon J. Bright)
</pre>
Turning upon turning of the seasons, the Elvenkind of the Winds had kept
the ancient traditions of the people, although our hearts soared in
freedom unknown to other Elvenkind. We were the wind unrestrained on the
backs of our sisters, the mares of the plains. We were the dance of the
air with the keen eye of our birds of prey. Yet still, we followed the
way of Ocean and the path the Two had blazed with full honor and
tradition.

When the evil darkness enslaved our kin into the chains of those most
befouled and hideous Dwarves and stole the sun from them, still did we
march on with our traditions, although we remembered and mourned the loss
of our blood kin. When Morganae rose up from the ashes of slavery with
the blood of conspiracy dark staining her left arm in an obscene tattoo
of our ways, and the head of the despot Dwarven King of the Mountains
impaled on the pike held firm in her right hand, celebrations ran riot
in joyous celebration about high bonfires of victory.

Yet, to our chagrin, our kin were much changed.

As the eldest sibling, we watched, as our hearts grew heavy with sorrow
when we observed our mountain kin grow as cold as the diamonds they
shape with their clear voices. We saw the mantle of tradition wrapped
hard about them in a brittle armor as the ancient forms of the rituals
were observed with the care of fanatics.

As the history of the bloodline unfolded, we witnessed with horror
Sidhlot plotting against his liege and sister as he attempted to steal
the torch of life and hope, only to sunder from the mountain those
disenchanted elves who now march a death-in-life attendance upon him and
his twisted plans. As we watched his dance forming those called Bone,
we shuddered aghast and turned our sight away as the traditions of the
blood were warped to extremes of sacrifice and honor.

Some of us kept our eyes on the clouds and the far distances of the
plains, but already the seeds of change were contained within us, for
our sight was tainted by seeing the fate befallen upon our blood kin.
Despite the dark path they have taken from us, they are still the fruit
of our bellies and blood. It is the fate of all Elvenkind that a hurt
taken to the smallest of us may fester to infect all.

We tell the tragic tale of Bellastar and her beloved Klrast so we may
know once again never to blindly hold to the ways of tradition and
never allow it to cripple us to unnecessary folly. It is said
he-who-is-never-named in the tale still walks among us, fated to spend
time beyond measure attempting to make retribution for the crime visited
upon Kree'laid'en, or those considered soul bound. We shall allow you,
visitor to our hearth fire, to discern the wisdom of these words.
<pre>
*******************************
</pre>
Bellastar was the darling of her bloodline, first-born daughter of an
ancient family honored not only for their strong, fearless warriors but
also for the way they cherished the finer traditions of family. The
fine cashmere of Bellastar was as snow, her graceful fingers forming
the fine weavings with a clarity that delighted the eye and soothed the
restless wanderlust that so oft inflicts us. Her soft songs accented
her beauty, her long, naturally pale hair flying free in silken flight
as she danced in the rituals of the year's turning.

In the ancient way of our kind, Bellastar's fate had been dictated at
birth when the elders of her family sought the most auspicious mating
for her. Well pleased they were to acquire the promise of mate of the
shaman of a neighboring clan, his own scars of honor of those feted to
him darkening most of his arm. This mating promise was achievement
indeed and coup for Bellastar's blood, for not only was the bride price
the shaman's bloodline paid astounding in its richness, but the clan
would benefit by the honor of acquiring an astute and revered shaman
into its midst. As always, our traditions dictate the mate of the bride
shall be received with full honor and blessing into the fold of the
family of his wife.

Alas for the plans of the wise elders! Bellastar had the beauty and
heedlessness of youth. Her blood ran hot and searing within her veins,
and when she gazed upon the face of her betrothed, she saw not the many
years of wisdom and experience that had made him beloved of his allies.
She saw not the revered shaman who stepped astutely among his gods in
vision trance. Nay, she saw only an old man.

She stamped her foot with vexation as her relatives cooed over her good
fortune in acquiring such a mature and experienced male as her mate.
However, since such emotional displays are frowned upon after the years
of youth pass, she found little sympathy among her bloodline, and none
at all from her mother.

"You should fall upon your knees and give thanks to the powers that be
that a bloodline suitable for you has been found!" Her mother would
exclaim with complete exasperation, flinging her hands wide into the
wind. "Think of your future children! Consider how well we have
wrought for you!"

However, Bellastar's thoughts were regretfully less mindful of how
appreciative she should be of the efforts her elders had expended on her
behalf and more particular of her personal distaste and horror at the
thought of the old man touching her. Long were the nights she would lie
shivering with revulsion on her sleeping mat after her kin were long
asleep, her tears of self-pity at her upcoming fate staining the fine
wool of her pallet.

Craidyn, third daughter of a lesser bloodline, was always ready to
listen with grave seriousness to Bellastar's outpourings of outrage and
unhappiness. Some speculate she hoarded a malicious heart and secretly
despised Bellastar's grace and beauty while she held the mask of
friendship over her own scarred features. It has been said her bloodline
was closely related to the clan of the lost Bone Elves, and the vat of
boiling lye she had fallen into as a child had not only twisted her body
into a contorted, painful crouch and mocked her face with livid scars the
pulled her mouth into a perpetual snarl, but seared her spirit as black
as their own. Yet others, perhaps more forgiving of nature, accused her
of nothing more than sympathy towards her childhood friend and seeing
the romantic tradition of many of the old tales as a way out of her
dilemma.

Regardless of motive, she was quite adept at encouraging Bellastar in her
tantrum against her fate. She reminded her that there would be many
visitors of fine station at the clan holdings, for the time for the
ritual of the Blessing of the Foals was near. She urged Bellastar to
choose for herself the most handsome of these strangers and spread her
wiles to capture his heart and perhaps an offer of a mate. Craidyn
observed with some alacrity that Bellastar was unlikely to be successful
in any deception she might attempt and decorum would not be upheld when
she were discovered. The shame of being discarded in favor of a young
man made it unlikely the shaman would wish the embarrassment of burdening
himself with her, particularly if she were most fortunate and the Mother
of all Foals granted her a new life to carry beneath her heart.

As has been said before, Bellastar was young and heedless of the wisdom
in the actions of her elders. She immediately saw this foolish play as
the answer to her prayers and was ecstatic. Confident of her beauty,
she laid out her most beautiful snow pelts and cashmere veils as light
as a summer cloud in preparation. She braided thick plumes of glossy
feathers dyed rich colors throughout the fine veil of her pale hair, and
painted intricate and marvelous designs upon her face and slender arms.

In the circle at the celebration of the Blessing of the Foals, her feet
flickered in the dance like the spring zephyr, her slender frame a
willow shaped by the caress of the wind. Many were the admiring gazes
lingering upon her as a low murmur of male appreciation swelled from
the outer circle, lending counterpoint to the flashing feet of the
dancers. Proud stood her shaman among the watchers with complacent
possessiveness wreathing his features as he watched her graceful swaying
among the other dancers.

She was like a star blazing in the midnight harvest sky, compelling all
to gaze upon her beauty. Her heart swelled with pride at how easily
they were stunned into staring at her with rapt fascination. Or at
least, these were her thoughts as she swirled into a high pirouette
...and fate took a hand.

The blazing star was transfixed, fallen to mundane reality by the
smoldering gaze of a young man with eyes as dark as twilight falling on
the desert sands in the cold season, blazing forth to her with a
yearning that astounded her with his need and bring her heart to a
sudden, lurching shock of recognition as it reverberated through her,
her breath catching almost painfully as the full force of his gaze filled
her being and brought her dance to an awkward, stumbling stop. Her
plans of seduction were shredded to the chaos of the fates around her as
surely as the desert wind rends the flesh from the bones of the dead.

Bellastar, daughter of the free winds, and Klrast, son of the fiery
sands, now gazed upon each other with the startled recognition of the
soul calling from across the eons of time to its mate. In this gaze
their fates were sealed and the rest of the story written, for they were
more surely mated at that moment than most marriages bound with full
force of the law and bindings.

This was disaster indeed! Klrast came of desert nobility and was
claimed in a handfast arrangement to another maiden of the sands, with
a child already of the union. Elves of the sand have little use for
romance, and none at all for what they derisively refer to as "star
sickness". His female relatives huddled about him protectively the
moment they observed the star sickness fall upon him. Surrounded by the
protection of the dusky sand of their softly slinking robes, they hustled
him with soft cries and endearments back to the sanctuary of the family
tent. The night was rent by the sisters' shrill cries, frantic for the
healer of the family to come and attend to this calamitous disability,
demanding their young brother be offered ease for his suffering, if not
healing from the infatuation that now caused his heart to gape wide in
yearning.

Stricken by desire and loss, Bellastar sought out her friend and poured
out the whole tale of what had befallen. Craidyn listened, barely
breathing in her excitement as the tale unfolded. Emphatically, she
swore her assistance to aid the lovers in eloping from their families,
alternately reassuring the weeping Bellastar that all was possible and
she would be in the arms of her beloved before another full day had
passed.

Leaving Bellastar to pack up her belongings in secret, she thought deeply
of how best to proceed. She garbed herself in the black veil of the
seer, secreting about her person a hastily penned message for Klrast.
Then, determination evident with every painful limp of her crippled leg,
she flung the hood of her cloak over her head and adjusted it so the
shadows emphasized rather than concealed the ruin of her face and
hastened to the family tent of the Sand Elf Visitors.

Craidyn knew the superstition of the Sand Elves regarding those pathetic
creatures crippled beyond reasonable expectation of survival in their
harsh desert lands. With a view towards her own survival should she ever
find herself lost upon the desert, and indulgence of her theatrical
nature, she had studied intently their practice of denying any share of
precious water unless it was believed they had been touched by the finger
of one of the gods. With this in mind, she allowed her gaze to become
unfocused on the shard of crystal she carried protectively in the crook
of her arm and hobbled to their tent with demands she must sift the
grains of the future to see the young man's fate. His sisters drew back
superstitiously, casting their eyes to the dirt beneath their feet and
made no attempt to bar her entrance as she hobbled painfully to the
center fires where Klrast sat, staring listlessly into the flames.

Craidyn murmured as many nonsensical, yet mystical sounding phrases as
she could recall and then snatched his hand to peer down at the lines
crisscrossing his palm. Around her, the hiss of indrawn breath was
like the cobra in anticipation, to be released slowly as she proclaimed
long life filled with his heart's desire before him. As she released
his hand, she pressed the hard lump of a note folded to the size of a
pebble into the center of his palm, a curt nod of approval answering his
sudden startled look as his fingers closed snugly over his palm. Her
mission accomplished, she tarried not but hobbled from their midst,
ignoring the sisters' pleas to take refreshment and her ease.

That night, under the concealing eye of Katamba in her dim light,
Bellastar and Klrast crept from the confines of their family tents and
met above the ashes of the bonfires. They took the two swiftest horses
and eloped towards the far western mountains and in the shadows of those
mountains the moons and stars above them gave witness to their mating
as they became soul bound, relinquishing the honors of their past lives
to transform into a new creature within one another. It is said their
joy was unsurpassed by even the raptures of the gods as they had this
time alone to drown within each other's gaze.

It is not to be supposed they were released from their kin without
consequence. When the elopement was discovered, not only were the
horror of the families at their audacity immense, but also the outrage
and fury of the shaman promised Bellastar's hand was without bounds.
In white hot fury, he called for the full council to meet and
demanded restitution for not only the astounding bride price paid with
full interest over the years for Bellastar, but also demanded restitution
for the years of patience he had spent waiting for his bride to attain
physical maturity.

In vain did the bloodline plead for mercy, for they could no more
successfully meet his demands than one could fill a bucket with
sunshine. How is one to count the value of patience? Undeterred, the
shaman demanded, as was his right under tradition, for either his rights
to be returned or for his vengeance to be felt. And yet again, the
family answered they had no way of meeting his demands, for they knew
not how to count them.

And so the Shaman rose before full council, his features an evil dark
with the malevolence that oft overcomes a spurned suitor. Raising his
hands high to the heavens, he called with terrible words upon the gods,
cursing the soul bound mates and those who may have aided them in their
dishonor to take upon themselves the form of beasts that best suited
their inner soul.

Ripples of horror tore through the assembly as the crippled Craidyn
screamed, tearing at her throat as her body was further assaulted by
the curse of the Shaman upon her. Twisting in tormented transformation,
a huge insect-like creature rose, fuming with angry hisses and clicks
before it flew off. In other stories it is said she fulfilled her
destiny by forming the dynasties of creatures that occupy the mountain
fastness known as the Hive to travelers in these lands.

As for Bellastar and Klrast - the vengeance of the Shaman upon them
twisted in its cruelty. They were soul-bound and thus the curse could
not sunder them, nor could it remove their awareness of their bond from
them. Yet, although their binding held, it could not shield them from
the full effects of the curse. It could only cause it to warp into a
most macabre fashioning to cause the finest degree of torment.

In the midst of taking their evening meal, Bellastar fell to the ground,
her large jeweled eyes widening as her mouth opened to scream in agony.
However, what emerged was the shriek of the snow owl as her feathers
ruffled around her new form. Klrast beat upon his breast and swore
vengeance to all the gods, only to discover come the dawning that the
form of his mate returned to her Elven beauty as his own form shuddered
and thickened to become that of the yeerhar of the desert.

And so they became lovers unable to love, for when one was under the
shape changing of curse, the other held Elven form. At times, they can
still be seen on the outskirts of civilization in the borderlands where
the mountain ranges meet the desert lands, for he cannot be far from the
heat of the sands, and she must be able to fly to the coolness of the
forests. The man stalks the forested mountains with the shadow of the
snow owl flying above him, while the slender woman rides the back of her
desert beast during the heat of the day, forever restless and unfulfilled.

Upon hearing the dark curse fall from lips of the shaman, the council
rose as one, their wise eyes furious at this misuse of power for
personal vengeance. Their wills joined as the eldest of them
pronounced the Shaman's actions despicable before sorrowfully commending
him to his gods since he had demonstrated he was no longer fit to be
counted among the Elvenkind. Almost as one, each of the members of the
circle of elders swirled away from the Shaman, invoking the Rite of
Hinizen as the Shaman screamed out in despair, his name and history
forever forgotten from the annals of our history.

Such would have been his fate, and this tale would never have been
told except for a slim hope offered by the youngest of the council.
Starlieneia was but a girl-child and newly seated in the circle of
council, but the blood in her veins was that of Leyu, a family well
known for wisdom and thoughtfulness across the multitude of time and
lives they had held seat in the circle.

As the other elders of the council turned their backs to the Shaman
with a great swirling of cloaks, she stood still and watched his
dismayed visage. Her keen eyes deciphered every line upon his face,
every subtle expression as she carefully sifted truth from pain and
evil. She nodded to herself before lifting her trained voice in a myth
song of antiquity relating a tale of the tides of love overcoming the
young and warping their judgment, and of the families with the wisdom
to forgive and compromise. However, as she sang the song, she began to
subtly weave the tale of lass who danced like the wind who was trapped
in the hot gaze of a desert man and it was soon obvious to all she sang
not of the past, but pointed out the strong similarities between
tragedies of the past and what had befallen Bellastar and Klrast.

As her soft voice continued to sing of damages done by love and
forgiveness for impulsive actions, her clear eyes sought the head of
each family in attendance, deftly gaining their agreement with her sung
argument before flitting to the next, her voice growing stronger and
more compelling with each ally.

As she finished her song, a hush fell among the council circle. She
paused for a few moments before speaking, her eyes compelling upon them
all.

"Elves of the Wind, of all the traditions of Elvenkind we alone
understand the value of freedom. Where would we be without our
horses beneath us on the wide plains and our birds above us in the
clear blue sky? I say this tragedy is of our own making, for we
cannot dictate the heart's choosing. We should guard and cherish
our daughters, that they may reach their full dance of life. We must
not allow such horrors to overcome our daughters and lose them to such
tragedy. Let us take lesson from what has transpired.

"I say that from this day forward, we sunder ourselves from the old
ways of promising our daughters for mate without their consent. The
family may test and guide, but they will no longer sell their
daughters into a loveless servitude to the highest bidder, be it in
material possessions, coin, or allegiance. Let our children choose
their own mates."

She gazed at the bowed head of the shaman. "Ghost walker, I speak to
you only this one time before I also turn my back upon you and forget
your face forever. I could have felt sympathy for your plight, for by
the law you were indeed cheated of your bride and paid dowry for naught.
Yet, your reactions to this loss were no less than reprehensible and
cannot be tolerated and you shall indeed lose the right to call yourself
one of the Elvenkind.

"Upon head I will lay my own curse. You may not choose to cease to
exist until you have cleared your own foul misdoings from this plane of
life and repaired the binding of the two Elvenkind you have so befouled
this day. If you succeed in this and earn their forgiveness, it is
possible they may recall your name and allow you to depart this plane
of Abiding with honor." So speaking, she nodded sharply as her flattened
palm described an intricate arabesque of confirmation before she also
spun around to present her back and complete the full curse of the
Hinizen.
<pre>
************************************************
</pre>
So it has been since that day. We may test our young men to insure
they may bring no disease or weakness into our bloodlines, but no longer
do we of the clan plot for advantage with matings. We may suggest, but
we may not dictate who joins our hearth fires with our precious
daughters. No other among the Elvenkind allows their daughters the
freedom to choose.

Bellastar and Klrast still wander in their half-lives at the edges of
the desert. The Elves of the Sands have their own legends of them, and
many the tale I have heard of youths gone out for their first vision
quest seeing either the man with the snow owl upon his shoulder in the
distance, or the woman riding upon the back of her mate. Travelers have
also reported becoming lost in dust storms, only to be rescued by the
couple leading them to safety. They are known by the deep pain in
their eyes and by the silence of their existence, for no one has ever
heard either of them utter a word. It is considered an uneasy sign
from the gods to see them, for those who do quite often meet their own
fate soon after in ways they had never imagined.

If you are most unfortunate, at times during the half light of the dawns
and the dusks, you may see the ghost of the man-who-is-never-named
skulking about the edges of the encampment, still seeking a way to
rectify his actions of the past. Turn your eyes from him immediately
should you see him, lest the ill fortune of his gaze contaminate your
own future and happiness.
[[Category:Book]]

← Older revision		Revision as of 22:35, 6 November 2007
Line 1:		Line 1:
	==The Tale of Choosing==		==The Tale of Choosing==
		⚫	(A teaching tale of the [[Wind Elves]] relayed by Matron [[Aberiskan]] Zelandoran
	<pre>
			and interpreted into the common tongue by [[Simon]] J. Bright)
⚫	(A teaching tale of the Wind Elves relayed by Matron Aberiskan Zelandoran
	~~and~~ ~~interpreted~~ ~~into~~ ~~the~~ ~~common~~ ~~tongue~~ by ~~Simon~~ J. ~~Bright)~~
	</pre>
	Turning upon turning of the seasons, the Elvenkind of the Winds had kept		Turning upon turning of the seasons, the Elvenkind of the Winds had kept
	the ancient traditions of the people, although our hearts soared in		the ancient traditions of the people, although our hearts soared in
Line 15:		Line 14:
	befouled and hideous Dwarves and stole the sun from them, still did we		befouled and hideous Dwarves and stole the sun from them, still did we
	march on with our traditions, although we remembered and mourned the loss		march on with our traditions, although we remembered and mourned the loss
	of our blood kin. When Morganae rose up from the ashes of slavery with		of our blood kin. When [[Morganae]] rose up from the ashes of slavery with
	the blood of conspiracy dark staining her left arm in an obscene tattoo		the blood of conspiracy dark staining her left arm in an obscene tattoo
	of our ways, and the head of the despot Dwarven King of the Mountains		of our ways, and the head of the despot Dwarven King of the Mountains
Line 30:		Line 29:

	As the history of the bloodline unfolded, we witnessed with horror		As the history of the bloodline unfolded, we witnessed with horror
	Sidhlot plotting against his liege and sister as he attempted to steal		[[Sidhlot]] plotting against his liege and sister as he attempted to steal
	the torch of life and hope, only to sunder from the mountain those		the torch of life and hope, only to sunder from the mountain those
	disenchanted elves who now march a death-in-life attendance upon him and		disenchanted elves who now march a death-in-life attendance upon him and
Line 44:		Line 43:
	taken to the smallest of us may fester to infect all.		taken to the smallest of us may fester to infect all.

	We tell the tragic tale of Bellastar and her beloved Klrast so we may		We tell the tragic tale of [[Bellastar]] and her beloved [[Klrast]] so we may
	know once again never to blindly hold to the ways of tradition and		know once again never to blindly hold to the ways of tradition and
	never allow it to cripple us to unnecessary folly. It is said		never allow it to cripple us to unnecessary folly. It is said
	he-who-is-never-named in the tale still walks among us, fated to spend		he-who-is-never-named in the tale still walks among us, fated to spend
	time beyond measure attempting to make retribution for the crime visited		time beyond measure attempting to make retribution for the crime visited
	upon Kree'laid'en, or those considered soul bound. We shall allow you,		upon [[Kree'laid'en]], or those considered soul bound. We shall allow you,
	visitor to our hearth fire, to discern the wisdom of these words.		visitor to our hearth fire, to discern the wisdom of these words.
	<pre>		<pre>
Line 102:		Line 101:
	wool of her pallet.		wool of her pallet.

	Craidyn, third daughter of a lesser bloodline, was always ready to		[[Craidyn]], third daughter of a lesser bloodline, was always ready to
	listen with grave seriousness to Bellastar's outpourings of outrage and		listen with grave seriousness to Bellastar's outpourings of outrage and
	unhappiness. Some speculate she hoarded a malicious heart and secretly		unhappiness. Some speculate she hoarded a malicious heart and secretly
	despised Bellastar's grace and beauty while she held the mask of		despised Bellastar's grace and beauty while she held the mask of
	friendship over her own scarred features. It has been said her bloodline		friendship over her own scarred features. It has been said her bloodline
	was closely related to the clan of the lost Bone Elves, and the vat of		was closely related to the clan of the lost [[Bone Elves]], and the vat of
	boiling lye she had fallen into as a child had not only twisted her body		boiling lye she had fallen into as a child had not only twisted her body
	into a contorted, painful crouch and mocked her face with livid scars the		into a contorted, painful crouch and mocked her face with livid scars the
Line 199:		Line 198:
	hastened to the family tent of the Sand Elf Visitors.		hastened to the family tent of the Sand Elf Visitors.

	Craidyn knew the superstition of the Sand Elves regarding those pathetic		Craidyn knew the superstition of the [[Sand Elves]] regarding those pathetic
	creatures crippled beyond reasonable expectation of survival in their		creatures crippled beyond reasonable expectation of survival in their
	harsh desert lands. With a view towards her own survival should she ever		harsh desert lands. With a view towards her own survival should she ever
Line 303:		Line 302:
	Such would have been his fate, and this tale would never have been		Such would have been his fate, and this tale would never have been
	told except for a slim hope offered by the youngest of the council.		told except for a slim hope offered by the youngest of the council.
	Starlieneia was but a girl-child and newly seated in the circle of		[[Starlieneia]] was but a girl-child and newly seated in the circle of
	council, but the blood in her veins was that of Leyu, a family well		council, but the blood in her veins was that of [[Leyu]], a family well
	known for wisdom and thoughtfulness across the multitude of time and		known for wisdom and thoughtfulness across the multitude of time and
	lives they had held seat in the circle.		lives they had held seat in the circle.