25th of Fall
Year 513
22nd Bell
The fires were lit well before dark. They have been burning for bells now, leaving a layer of warm, pulsing coals to heat the surrounding sand. But as the people trickle down from the city to celebrate this solemn holiday more and more wood has been added. Now the fire pits find their energy again and dance in the dark, towering high atop their beds.
Fire dancers borrow tongues of flame from each other and take up their stations. The dances start off slow and patient, as if they are waiting, but the night drags on and soon they pull off more and more incredible feats of grace and skill. One woman lights six colorful balls in her hands and starts to juggle, another man fills his mouth full of liquid from a ceramic jar and holds a torch to his mouth to spit fire over the water, and still another amazes nearby children by dancing barefoot on a bed of red hot embers.
Yet for all these marvelous feats, nobody cheers or exclaims their praise. Their only reward is the still gasps of astonished onlookers when they narrowly succeed in their dangerous art. No, all the sound to fill the night comes from around the fires, where stories are being told. Where strangers are coming together to share great acts of heroism and bitter defeats, true love and personal things. Someone opens a wine skin and the dark liquid is passed around to loosen tongues and pass the night in a sweet and somber haze.
And as strange as it sounds, Uleru has always wanted to take part in the Fire Festival. The promise of stories and songs, both novel and well-loved, pulls at her. But why did they have to consummate this celebration with fire? Where is the logic in that?
Bobbing in the water a length from the sandy shore, the Otani bubbles soundlessly, twisting her wide purple scarf in her hands. She watches the dancers weave in between the bonfires and the people the same way a fish would warily watch an eel. And every loud crack and flurry of sparks that erupt from the settling fires has her ducking back under the water like a startled turtle.
Because, of course, fire is the only thing that would keep her away from stories.
Never the less, Uleru is determined to join in this year. She approaches in much the same way as she has been watching: quietly, warily, and silently daring the bonfire to jump down the shore to meet her. She has chosen one of the fires at the end of the beach, fairly secluded from the rest, where a Svefra holds the audience's attention with tales of his adventures.
There is a pause as the few Svefra around the fire sense her presence and look to the sea, but the story quickly has their attention again and they turn back to listen. Though some still sneak glances to the water.
As the story finishes Uleru breaks the water and crawls to the shallows. She sits and the water is still up to her hips, the small breaking waves pushing at the small of her back, but she can still feel the fires heat sapping at her exposed chest and face. The moulding pulls up the soaked and heavy purple scarf from beside her and drapes it over her head and shoulders like a shawl, and that helps a bit.
A few of the Svefra look at each other, silently wondering what the creature is doing here. But if the rest care -or even realize- that she is here Uleru doesn't notice.
And without a lead in or so much as a hello, she shares a very short tale of her own. She doesn't tell proper stories, since she finds it hard to marshal her thoughts in that very human way. Instead she sings it like a song:
"Once a fair and handsome Otani
Lay his foot upon the sand
For to woo the Fisher's daughter
And to claim her marriage hand
'I have come in from the ocean
I have come in from the sea
And I'll not go to the waves, love,
Lest ye come along with me.'
'Lord, long have I loved you
As a Otani on the foam
I would gladly go and wed ye
And be lady of your home
But I cannot go into the ocean
I cannot go into the sea
I would drown beneath the waves, love,
If I went along with thee.'
'Lady, long have I loved you
I would have you for my wife
I will stay upon your shoreland
Though it robs me of my life
I will stay one night beside you
Never go back to the sea
I will stay and be thy husband
Though it be the death of me.'"
Year 513
22nd Bell
The fires were lit well before dark. They have been burning for bells now, leaving a layer of warm, pulsing coals to heat the surrounding sand. But as the people trickle down from the city to celebrate this solemn holiday more and more wood has been added. Now the fire pits find their energy again and dance in the dark, towering high atop their beds.
Fire dancers borrow tongues of flame from each other and take up their stations. The dances start off slow and patient, as if they are waiting, but the night drags on and soon they pull off more and more incredible feats of grace and skill. One woman lights six colorful balls in her hands and starts to juggle, another man fills his mouth full of liquid from a ceramic jar and holds a torch to his mouth to spit fire over the water, and still another amazes nearby children by dancing barefoot on a bed of red hot embers.
Yet for all these marvelous feats, nobody cheers or exclaims their praise. Their only reward is the still gasps of astonished onlookers when they narrowly succeed in their dangerous art. No, all the sound to fill the night comes from around the fires, where stories are being told. Where strangers are coming together to share great acts of heroism and bitter defeats, true love and personal things. Someone opens a wine skin and the dark liquid is passed around to loosen tongues and pass the night in a sweet and somber haze.
And as strange as it sounds, Uleru has always wanted to take part in the Fire Festival. The promise of stories and songs, both novel and well-loved, pulls at her. But why did they have to consummate this celebration with fire? Where is the logic in that?
Bobbing in the water a length from the sandy shore, the Otani bubbles soundlessly, twisting her wide purple scarf in her hands. She watches the dancers weave in between the bonfires and the people the same way a fish would warily watch an eel. And every loud crack and flurry of sparks that erupt from the settling fires has her ducking back under the water like a startled turtle.
Because, of course, fire is the only thing that would keep her away from stories.
Never the less, Uleru is determined to join in this year. She approaches in much the same way as she has been watching: quietly, warily, and silently daring the bonfire to jump down the shore to meet her. She has chosen one of the fires at the end of the beach, fairly secluded from the rest, where a Svefra holds the audience's attention with tales of his adventures.
There is a pause as the few Svefra around the fire sense her presence and look to the sea, but the story quickly has their attention again and they turn back to listen. Though some still sneak glances to the water.
As the story finishes Uleru breaks the water and crawls to the shallows. She sits and the water is still up to her hips, the small breaking waves pushing at the small of her back, but she can still feel the fires heat sapping at her exposed chest and face. The moulding pulls up the soaked and heavy purple scarf from beside her and drapes it over her head and shoulders like a shawl, and that helps a bit.
A few of the Svefra look at each other, silently wondering what the creature is doing here. But if the rest care -or even realize- that she is here Uleru doesn't notice.
And without a lead in or so much as a hello, she shares a very short tale of her own. She doesn't tell proper stories, since she finds it hard to marshal her thoughts in that very human way. Instead she sings it like a song:
"Once a fair and handsome Otani
Lay his foot upon the sand
For to woo the Fisher's daughter
And to claim her marriage hand
'I have come in from the ocean
I have come in from the sea
And I'll not go to the waves, love,
Lest ye come along with me.'
'Lord, long have I loved you
As a Otani on the foam
I would gladly go and wed ye
And be lady of your home
But I cannot go into the ocean
I cannot go into the sea
I would drown beneath the waves, love,
If I went along with thee.'
'Lady, long have I loved you
I would have you for my wife
I will stay upon your shoreland
Though it robs me of my life
I will stay one night beside you
Never go back to the sea
I will stay and be thy husband
Though it be the death of me.'"
