Bidal-Karon: Part II

Now the six daughters came to the private hall of their house, as they were bidden, and Licoann came also. When they had gathered, Tiendar and Venyai described and read out the proposals. The eldest of Dyavan’s sons was to marry the eldest of Tiendar’s daughters, second eldest with second eldest, and so on. They spoke quietly among each other for a while, exchanging thoughts and impressions of the suggested arrangements, and the suitors. At this (for little could be made of their true intentions and the color of their hearts), Licoann told of the glances and furtive peeks during the feasts last summer.

At this Neler, the eldest daughter shook her head, but did not speak until she had thought a little more. “I know not what to say of this, for though truly they ask for our hands in marriage, who but Amentoris can judge their spirits and deepest thoughts? Nevertheless, we must discern what we may. What say you, Father, Mother?”

Tiendar and Venyai heard this, and remained silent for a while. Venyai ancient gray hair gleamed briefly like silver, as did Tiendar’s beard, but then it stopped. They turned up to their children, and smiled somberly. “Perhaps, it would be wise to bid the sons of Dyavan to come again to our house, so our children may speak with them, as is the ancient custom. However, we must be wary, and keep our eyes and ears and minds open and alert. Then we shall make our choice.”

And so it was. The messengers were sent back to Dyavan’s household, at which, when Dyavan heard the reply, brought his sons together and was furious, for he hadn’t until then realized what his sons had done. “What is the meaning of this? Your iniquity is testament to the training of your mother and scorning of your father!”

Alas, the father sent his sons away to Tiendar’s house, though without his blessing, and sent them with many gifts and golden-made objects to the house of Tiendar (to make all appearance all was well in the Court of Dyavan). The six sons left immediately, and sojourned for two weeks and two days. They were welcomed into the house, though not as warmly as when Dyavan had first come, for the daughters were careful and wary.

For the first and second days, the brothers remained ever courteous, constantly being good in seemingly all ways. But during the third day, Thelin the Eldest son requested that he and his brothers could speak with the Sisters. The message was sent to Tiendar (who was elsewhere in his realm). To this, Tiendar accepted, though he insisted that he and Licoann be there at each meeting, for Tiendar had desired to be careful with this potential arrangement.

Thelin and the Brothers consented, and so Thelin, the eldest, met with Neler the Eldest, as was the custom. Tiendar and Licoann sat between the two, but watched closely. They met by the lakeside, and spoke. Neler asked of Thelin many questions, of interests, of wisdom, of passions, and of morality. What she found in the Thelin the Fay was warlike of heart, strong in will, brave, but lacked the control to hold his own might. Yet, though she was not pleased, she spoke a little more before until sunset arrived, and they group left for the evening meal.

The next day, the second eldest, Baranin, and the second eldest, Feian met. They spoke, and Feian found the same in his heart.

Then Borthonin met with Thiendori, then Carin with Pienhor, then Thruilin and Lerya, and then finally Thruanin with Treyal. After this, the family of Tiendar took counsel once more, and they spoke as one. They all found, though, that the Sons of Dyavan were as Neler had perceived; willful, uncontrolled, fearless, yet not disciplined in righteousness or the way of right. Their father had seen this, but had perceived also a kind of darkness over his heart whenever he saw the swords at the Brothers’ waists. This he spoke of none to, except Venyai (many a season later). This was one of the least wise of the acts of Tiendar, though he was discerning and upright throughout his immortal days on Endramius. Perhaps had he brought his troubled thoughts to Amentoris the Wise, the course of events may have differed, but he did not, and he regretted his silence.

But for the time, Tiendar spoke carefully, and he and his family declined the brothers’ proposals. But though they refused, they still invited the Sons of Dyavan to a great feast at Tiendar’s table. A messenger was sent, and Thelin received the news in his apartments (for all guests of Tiendar and Venyai were given large staying quarters). Thelin read this, and was infuriated, and he flew into a terrible rage, for ever had his desire been growing, and his initial disappointment turned itself into the black form of hate. He then read the message to his brothers, and they too became angry. Now in his rage, Thelin devised a second wicked scheme, now for the purpose of obtaining vengeance. He suggested this, “My brothers, we have been scornfully rejected by the great house of Tiendar the Steward. He and his household have believed that their place shall be happier without our presence here. We must deprive them of happiness forever! We, of the Greater Fays, sons of Dyavan the Mighty, shall, by this time in three days, slay the six daughters of Tiendar!”

It was done. They declined the feast, and pretended to need to be on their way home, on the pretense their father was expecting them. They then left, cordially making their farewells and blessings upon the household of Tiendar. But they only had left the borders of Tiendar’s realm before they stopped, and camped there. Every day they would move silently towards the Dinkaron Lake, and waited for the six daughters to pass by. The first and second day yielded nothing. But on the third day, Thelin (who had been scouting, sighted the six daughters with Licoann their brother, and he quickly returned to his camp to alert his brothers. They were ready, and ever so silently they crept back into Tiendar’s realm.

They sighted the Stewards again, and stalked them silently. Alas, when they had stopped by the lakeside for a drink, the six brothers sprang their trap, and rushed out of the woods. Licoann drew his sword the instant he saw them, and he call his sisters to go behind him. Then Thruanin fell upon Licoann first, with his sword drawn, and the two fought fiercely. Thelin drew his sword out, and slew Licoann from a mighty spear thrust from his side. The other brothers rushed upon the sisters. They had at first intended to rape the six Stewards, but Thruanin and Thelin had been adamant, for they wanted nothing other than their swords to touch the six daughters. The other brothers consented, and, one by one, the slowly plunged their swords into the six daughters they had once desired.

As each daughter fell, each cried out “May Amentoris remember us!”

Then each perished.

Neler fell first, followed by Feian, then Thiendori, then Pienhor, then Lerya, then finally, Treyal. Treyal wept bitterly, for she had to see all her other sisters slain. Then she wept for a moment, and said, “May my blood yet bless this reddened ground!” Then Thruanin’s sword fell upon her heart, and she died.

The six brothers left.

When Tiendar and Venyai did not see their children again for the evening meal, they began to grow worried, for their trip was to be a short one. Then they, with troubled hearts, began to send search parties in search of them. The searcher found their dead bodies on the ground in the northern stretch of the lake. They brought their slain bodies to Venyai, then Tiendar. The whole household wept for many a season afterward.

Now Amentoris the Wise saw his faithful Servant’s distress, and he came down from his great abode in Thol-Maran to speak with Tiendar and Venyai. When he first came down, he did not speak, but only sat down and wept with them. Then, when they had settled themselves, Amentoris spoke to them.

“My friend, I have heard your sorrow, and have seen the sadness in your eyes. I come to pay my deepest condolences.”

Then Tiendar looked up and said, “My Lord, You have come!”

Amentoris smiled sadly, and held Tiendar’s hand firmly, and comfortingly.

They spoke quietly of things, of other things, that took Tiendar’s and Venyai’s minds off of sorrow. But their minds came back to their children’s murder. And they beseeched Amentoris the Mighty, “Oh great One, could You not have prevented it? Could You not have allowed them to live?”

Amentoris looked into their eyes, and his eyes were sorrowful. “Oh my dear friend, I cannot explain all now, but one day, when the world is no more and you will return to dwell with me in Thol-Maran, I can explain, but for now, I cannot.”

“But, as a reminder, and a gift, I will give you my last token of love to you.” He pointed to the sky. “See that bow of seven colors in the firmament. Of red, and orange, and yellow, and green, and blue, and sea-indigo blue, and violet. That shall be my gift. May it be a bittersweet reminder for all of us to see, in memory of each of the colors that your children had chosen as their own,” he paused, “Then may this be. A gift, a reminder, a joy, a sorrow, a beam of hope to this world, as Endramius may endure.”

Then Amentoris’s presence left them. Leaving the rainbow to hang there, for the rest of time.

Bidal-Karon

Starting a 2-part series. Another addition to my little stock of Tyatoran legends (haha!).


In the later years and seasons after the Great Making, and after the Rebellion of Jalkir, there were yet many of the faithful stewards of Endramius. Among which, the wisest of their number, were chosen to be the Jyelvarin, the Princes, by Amentoris Himself. Each of these Princes, were delegated tasks and regions to care for and look after, as time and earth may endure. Each was given one place to call their own; some were given mountains, some rivers, some principles or natural laws to supervise. They and their households would watch over the land, as a gardener over a great field, or a Guardian over a doorway. They were not masters of the land, only caretakers, for their duty was different from that of us mortals. Yet, for this, they were content to be, and they lived happy ages, and still live on, throughout the Seasons of Endramius.

Among these Jyelvarin, Lord Tiendar set up his stewardship of the Lake of Dinkaron, of the Merry Heart. He and his wife, Venyai, cultivated the land surrounding the lake, and caused the fish and water-flowers of the lake to flourish. Beautiful was the land under his and his fair wife’s care.

It came to pass that Venyai became with child, and she gave birth to their first daughter, Neler. After her, Venyai had another daughter, Feian. And after Feian, came the Twin Sisters, Thiendori and Pienhor. After the Twins, Venyai had two more daughters, Lerya, and Treyal. And finally, Tiendar and Venyai, had their last child, a son named Licoann.

And many long years passed, as the household grew larger and merrier with the laughter of young children, and the sound of music was constant. Many a traveler and pilgrim, even Solemn Lathur, came to see the shimmering lake of Dinkaron, and bear gifts to the great house of Tiendar and Venyai. Of gifts, they refused, but instead constantly gave, and despite it, they grew wealthier and greater still. Truly and mightily was the blessing of Amentoris upon them.

Their daughters and son grew tall and fair, as was the appearance of all the great Stewards. And they each took upon themselves a robe to the shade of color that was their own. Neler took maroon, Feian took the hue of citrus, The Twin Sisters each took to themselves the shades of gold and forest green. Lerya took the blue of rivers, while Treyal took the shades of the Blue Sea. Licoann took the rich violet that symbolized tenacity and loyalty.

Now very fair were these, especially among the daughters, of which there was no comparison on Endramius, though none among them were the greater. They were raised faithfully in the way of Amentoris, and they faithfully took on and upheld that which they had been taught.

As it was, to the south, there were the Greater Fays, led by King Dyavan, which means Gleaming Sword. He, among all the other fays of Endramius, opposed Jalkir heavily, and was one of the most upright and warlike of his race. He had six sons, Thelin, Baranin, Borthonin, Carin, Thruilin, and Thruanin. They, like their father, were warlike and strong, yet unlike their father, and more like their mother, were impulsive and less upright.

Alas, when King Dyavan and his sons came to visit Tiendar and his household, he came bearing many gifts. As was his custom, Tiendar refused, and instead treated his mighty guest with many feasts and celebrations. At the time, the seven children of Venyai and Tiendar had been off to deal with a large infestation of weeds on the Northern Lakeside. A messenger was sent to tell them to return for the feasts.

On the fifth day of celebrations, they came, having dealt with the large bulk of weeds. Down they came, in their flying robes, and spent the day readying for the night’s merriment.

That night, they came to the feast, for King Dyavan and his sons were staying but for one more night. And on this day, the six brothers first met the Steward maidens of Tiendar. At first sight, the brothers found these sisters very beautiful, but they kept their thoughts secret, to each other and to their father. However, throughout the merry-making and celebrations, the six brothers’ eyes were ever on the daughters of Tiendar. Licoann, though, by chance saw their furtive glances and was troubled by that flash in their pupils, but he spoke of this not, for he decided such suspicions as folly.

The next day, Dyavan returned to his realm, with his sons and their retinues. Dyavan, upon their departure and return, noticed a cloud over his sons’ heads. He was wary for a while, but let it slide off over the weeks to come. In truth, the brothers had great desire for the maidens of Dinkaron, and time oft breeds greater desire for all manner things. Their desire ever grew greater, and in time they spoke among themselves about it. They had all considered asking their father to arrange a series of weddings between they and the Stewards, but pride stubbornly held them back.

Finally, Thelin, the eldest of Dyavan’s sons, suggested a plan that surely would allow them to arrange marriages of their desires. It was a crafty and conniving plan, but impulse and want overruled morality and uprightness.

“Let us then invite our father to a feast, and make him drunken with heavy wine. Upon this, we will persuade him to give us all a promise, and we will arrange our plans well. We will send the messages to the King Tiendar. When our father has awoken from his stupor, he will have no opposition to our plans, and will not realize his decisions the day before.”

Thruanin, the youngest, heard this proposal, and was unhappy. His love for his father was no greater than that of his brothers, but his standards were more upright, and he was reluctant to partaking in the plan. But his desire too overruled his conscience, and he remained silent.

The sons of Dyavan executed the plan. All went as was expected, and messengers were sent to Tiendar’s household, bearing proposals. The bearers of the messages were welcomed cordially by Tiendar, and their proposals were considered. Venyai and Tiendar called his family together from their duties and held a private council among them.

And that is where we stop for this post. To be continued. . .

Whale-song

Another fantasy-poem. This one isn't too sad.


The Eastern Whales, the descendants of Tranalri,
Who sing under ancient stars, and under open sea,
In search of Hidden Tralvinurr,
The place once of their ancestors, a place of old lore.

None, in all the many realms of the deep,
Know where Hidden Tralvinnur lies,
Where time itself seems to have fallen asleep,
Who's timeless sea-beds age defies.

And so the Whales are singing,
bellowing heavily in the waves,
In hope to hear the reverbration,
That all of Whale-race craves.

That echoes across the sea so vast,
And fills the crying shades of blue,
And Hidden Tralvinurr sings back,
humming the whalesong, great and true.

The rocks of Hidden Tralvinurr,
Will echo out the whale-tune,
When it hears that song again, once more,
Under the glowing palor of the moon.

Perhaps the Whales may find their place,
Where krill and herring come in numbers great,
Rebuild their slowly dwindling race,
And restore the broken Cetamor State.

On the Ocean throne of Anidralut,
A mighty whale-king may yet again arise,
And retake from the pirates, their stolen loot,
That the whale-song may again shake the waves and skies.

But of yet, the kingdom of the Western Whales,
Again, has gone asleep,
Dormant through the winters,
Till awakened from the Deep.

And when the once-fallen land, Tralvinurr, has awakened,
Deep will be the singing of the whale-song.
The foes of cetaceans may be shaken,
And broken the manacles that had held the Free Lords so long

The Eastern Whales, the descendants of Tranalri,
Who sing under ancient stars, and under open sea,
In search of Hidden Tralvinurr,
The place once of their ancestors, a place of old lore.

Ice Legend: Part Three

This is a really short part of the Polar bear story.

Everont did not sleep well that night. Maybe it was the hopeful expectation that kept him awake, or the thought of the things that the Schoolmaster had warned him about. In any case, the future seemed as up in the air as the night wind that howled like a mourning wolf above him. He shivered. Funny, he thought, that he had always dreamt of being an Ursidian kinght, battling wolf and walrus in heroic fights to defend Glorious Pernia. And now, with the chance to become the warrior of his dreams, he was so hesitant. The Schoolmaster had given him the night to think about his decision. It was hard to think, though, when your mind was tired and faraway, and when three other bears were snoring loudly in the bunks next to and below you. Everont reviewed the encounter with the Schoolmaster once more, and forced himself to make the decision that could change his life forever.

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I'll reveal Everont's decision in part four.

Ice Legend: Part I

This is the continuation of the Polar Bear story:


"Oh Everont! The School-master told me to tell you he wants you in his office. Oh-oh, you're in trouble now."



The polar bear called Everont turned back to see who was calling him. It was Al-Tevan, a small-sized bear known schoolwide as "The Tattler". What an irony, thought Everont, that the word "Al-Tevan", in the polar bear tongue, meant "Truth-bearer."





Everont turned his head menacingly at Al-Tevan, who was thinly concealing his gleeful contempt. The school-master was a stern teacher -a lesson learned quite painfully by the Tattler, and it felt sinfully good to know his rival was in the Schoolmaster's displeasure.


Everont bared his teeth before returning to the gray stone building that was his home and school. He walked briskly past Al-Tevan, and head held high, closed the distance between him and the door. He would not show his fear to his enemy, never! He stoically tried to banish the growing fear from his mind, but like rebels in a stronghold, the fear could not be dislodged.


He passed the door, with its faded stone-carved: Fifth Royal Pernian Orphans' School and Board. Its large imposing letters were painted cherry red, but age and time had reduced the once-pretty shade of crimson to a disgusting tone of dull red-brown, like the color of dried blood.

He gave an involuntary shiver at the thought of the doom that was patiently waiting for him. What had he done? He, now a little slower, walked down the cold corridors until he reached the the Schoolmaster's office. Another involuntary shiver. He breathed deeply, then Everont nervously tapped the door with the back of his left paw, as was the custom of the Pernian Polar Bears.

"Come in," was the laconic reply. Everont opened the door a little, and slipped inside. The schoolmaster was sitting behind his desk. He was a tall, old bear, with small slanting eyes and ears that were strikingly long (for a polar bear). "Greetings, Everont son of Ternovont. Sit down."

The room was austere and Spartan in design. The sparsely set furniture were arranged in painfully neat rows on either side of the small room. The only central furniture was the desk, with a chair for the schoolmaster, and a small fireplace behind it. The fireplace was presently not in use, for it was not winter and coal was not cheap. However, upon this fireplace, was a mantepliece on which rested a sheathed sword. This sword was long and thick, and the sheath was enlaid with great large gems. It was the only decoration in the room.

Everont took a seat on one of the chairs, and looked up meekly at the schoolmaster. His right paw scratched his left wrist, as he always did when he got nervous. He licked the fur a little around his lips, then bowed forward respectfully before greeting the elder bear, "May the great Creator -whom we know little of- protect and bless my Elder."

"And the great and wondrous Creator bestow favor and blessing upon my Younger," was the reply. "You look nervous, Everont son of Ternevont. Would you like to tell me what may be troubling you?"

The young bear scratched his left paw even harder. What should he say? Tentatively, he said, "I-I am concerned that my, um, misdeeds might be the cause of you summoning me. Have I done anything wrong, S-Sir?"

"Do you think you have done anything bad?" the Schoolmaster asked.

Everont jogged his memory. He didn't recall anything particularly bad. He had forgotten to finish reading that poetry the other day, but his teacher had already given him a long lecture for that. Otherwise, nothing. "No, Sir," he said, a little less uncomfortable, "I haven't."

"Good! Because I didn't call you here because you did something wrong."

"You didn't?" asked Everont, quite surprised at his own un-badness. He wasn't in trouble! A burst of great relief poured over him.

"No, not at all," he confirmed. "You're actually a very well-behaved young lad. I called you, rather, because I thought you may want to be our orphan school's representative in the National Squire's Contest." The Schoolmaster's voice was almost amiable now, all the severity gone out of his manner and words.

Everont's eyes widened. The National Squire's Contest was a sports competition that brought young bears from across Pernia to compete for a chance to become a squire in the Imperial Palace. The competion was fierce, but the prize was of such high honor and prestige that only the toughest were allowed to compete. There were qualifying matches and races that determined those worthy of the contest. Upon which, the surviving contestants were tested for weeks through dozens of sports and tests. The finalists; the ones with the highest points, were given the privilege to be trained to become a Ursidian Warrior. They would be trained and tutored in the Palace of the Creshqatarrh, and if they graduated, these warriors would fight along the best of the knights and nobles in the Elite Guard. The thought of it filled Everont with surprise and wonder. Did the Schoolmaster really think that he was good enough for the Contest? True, he had been the winner of the school's marathon contest for two years in a row, and he could outswim and outplay most his friends in a game of Aqua-Poled, but was he really Contest material? There were a couple of other bears that were stronger and better than him, so why had he been picked?

The Schoolmaster seemed to read his mind. "You are one of the best sportsbears in the school, and though there are some of your peers that are faster and more athletic than you, your endurance and determination level surpasses all of them. You have potential, and I see it in you. The preparation for this Contest will be hard, and the life of a Ursidian Warrior is not easy. You see, I was one of them, once -before I got my kneecap wound. The training is excruxiatingly painful, and the teachers may seem harsh. There will be times when you will have to make choices, hard choices, so be prepared. You will have to be quick on both your feet and wits in the Palace of the Creshqatarrh." He stopped, and looked into Everont's eyes deeply for a moment. Then he continued, "The decision to join this Contest is completely up to you, Everont, so I give you the rest of the day and tommorow for you to decide. Choose wisely. So Everont at this I dismiss you, so may the Great and Wondrous Creator bestow Blessing and Favor upon my Younger."

Everont nodded. "And may the Great Creator, whom we know little of, protect and bless my Elder," he replied. Then he bowed respectfully, and left, closing the door behind him.

That's where Part One ends.

The Ice Legend: Introduction.

This one's an story I thought would be fun to write.


It was winter in the North, and the harsh, icy, bitter winds whipped across a barren, desolate island mercilessly. An ancient polar bear sat on that desolate island jutting out of the wide sea, staring wistfully at the cold stone ruins of some structure that stood on the center of the isle.


The ruins seemed to have been once a mighty building, a fortress, maybe. Its past glory and splendor seemed to have faded into the ice, but it still seemed to stand proudly, regally, amidst its vast habitat of white and blue, not because of what it now was, but because of what it had been.

Beside the ancient bear was his young grandson, who sat, somewhat puzzled. For a young polar bear who had been so accustomed to the guttural snarls and growling gurrs of his bear-clan's complicated tongue, such silence seemed unbearable.

Finally, after a period of time, the Grandson ventured to ask in his small voice, "Grandpapa, why did you take me with you on this trip? It's so awfully lonely out here."

The old wrinkled bear turned from the ruins, and bent his old head downwards, meeting the curious eyes of his grandson. "Well," he said, "I come here because it is," he paused, "part of the story of our family."

"Ohh. That story," the young bear stopped to scratch an itch on his belly. "Could you tell it to me?"

"It's a sad story. You don't want to hear it."

"But I do! I know Papa says you'll tell me the story when I'm bigger. But I am a big bear! Look, my teeth are growing big and sharp, see?" he opened his mouth as wide as he could to illustrate the point, "Couldn't you tell me now?"

The ancient bear sighed. his grandson should know, when he's still young. Some things are harder to understand when you grow too old and fill your head with all sorts of knowledge, he thought.

"All right. Sit by me, Thervin. The tale is a long one, so it's best you make yourself warm."

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This is just the intro, I'll continue the next episode . . . someday.