Saturday, June 30, 2012
The First Tale of Men
This story is known to all Roni’im as “The First Song of Men” or the “Song of Beginnings,” but here the tale is told in prose, for my scribe cannot hear the song as easily as she can interpret words.
In the beginning there was nothing save the King. No darkness; no light.
No silence; no song. No red; no grey.
Then the King sang. As the notes of His song, the First Song ever sung, echoed throughout the Void, they took shape, and became the Abir. Stories say they appeared as ordinary men, yet that was not their true form. For they existed before the foundations of the world were laid, and their bodies are to ours as a candle flame is to a forest. But none have come openly since the fall of Ahava and Avidan, though that is another tale and may be told another time.
The notes were taken up by the Abir, and became even deeper and higher and longer and richer. The world unfolded like a garment new-cut from the loom. Hills and mountains, valleys and plains, the forests of the east and the deserts of the south, and the great sea, called the Endless, were all created, yet they were empty of living beings. So the Abir followed the yearnings of their hearts and created the beasts: leaping, crawling, swimming, flying, creeping, running, prancing; loud, quiet, short, tall, tiny, huge, ugly, beautiful-- all came into the world.
And the King began the Second Song, which created the roses. In those days roses were not as they are now, but had a different glory: strange, yet not more beautiful. For the thorns were not painful to endure, but glorious reminders of life. And they had a different name, a name which none now living know. It is said that each rose whispered a word, and the breeze through their branches was as the voice of many choirs.
As the roses sang the lyrics and the Abir the melody, the King descended to the world he had made. It is said in many songs that he took the petals of a rose and made of them a beating heart; poured the rushing waves through the veins; called down two stars from the heavens for eyes; molded the ears from soil; wove the lips from the strings of an Abir’s harp. Last of all, he breathed his own breath into them, on this all the tales agree. And so the man was made, and he was named Avidan, first made of all men. Avidan opened his mouth to join the songs, and his heart was lifted into the wonders of the world the King had made. But he felt the need for another, a partner to join voices and hands with.
Therefore the King cast Avidan into a deep sleep, and he awoke to find a new creature by his side. She was like him, and yet not so, a being of his own nature, yet different and grand. And he named her Ahava, beloved, for she was the greatest treasure of his heart. She took his hand and led him into a clearing where they joined hands in the First Dance. Roses sprang up where they stepped, and the sky shone clearest blue overhead. And there will never be another dance such as that, for they did not grew weary nor stumble, but clad their praise in movement and song for his glory. And so they were called the Dancers, but in after days the Roni'im, his song and his delight.
Scribe’s note: Yes, I have noticed the similarities to Tolkien’s Ainulindalë, but Micah has yet to read it. With writing rarely used in his world, he has a difficult time understanding the concept of ‘novels.’