Wenizu Iyerot’e Newi (May 3010) {Odothel}
Apr 10, 2018 14:57:53 GMT -5
Post by ELIRA on Apr 10, 2018 14:57:53 GMT -5
Wenizu Iyerot’e Newi
The River Running
The River Running
In the daylight in this new country, near forest and the clear waters of the river which led toward the great lake, Kelet was not so afraid to be alone, even in these new surroundings. It was new, yet, not so new, for she had seen the waters and the far off mountain in her dream for many years She needed only to call out and they would come for her. The elf made short work of discarding upon a rock the small satchel she had tied about her waist, and then starting toward the water. She felt the cool mud beneath her feet, wiggling her toes and letting it seep through to her arches. What a lovely feeling it was! Kelet stood for awhile just as so on the banks of the river, and then moved to crouch where she had been standing; enjoying fully the mud as she leaned to let her fingers trace through it.
The rusted chain which held her wrists a length apart dragged in the mud and scraped against rock with an unnatural sound which upset her sensitive ears. At the discard of the chain, her movements would be much freer, yet she had not dared venture near the human villages she had passed, and one of the links was weakening. Kelet thought that soon she might be able to bend or crumble it. Then she would have freer movement, though the fetters had thus far been unbreakable. She leaned over further, pressing a hand print into the earth, her loose, white hair falling down against the deep brown of the soil.
She bit her lip in laughter, humming to herself as she traced her name in the soft earth, in the runic script of the Easterlings, watching the water and ripples at the edge of the river slowly fill it in and wash it away. Washing down the clear river, out to the long lake, and further south and east; to meet with the red river, until it washed all the way to the sea of Rhûn. There was her name. Kelet. Ghost. Washing away. None there would see her again.
Day passing by, she was still crouching in the clear air, playing with the mud between her toes as she thought of this; though finally she stood and took her steps toward the water’s edge. As her toes were overcome from the moist brown, to the translucent water, she smiled, inhaling at the cold enveloping her feet. Kelet did not feel what would be considered a chill; only the refreshment of the liquid coursing over her. After so many years upon the dry desert beneath the sun she had not yet grown used the delight that running water could be.
She walked forward, holding onto the edge of a fallen tree until she had taken herself up to her thighs, smiling still at the way it tickled upon her skin as she moved deeper, until finally she stood waist deep. Kelet closed her eyes and felt the gentle tug of the river, steadying herself in it's flow for she had not truly been able to learn to swim with her fettered arms. She could only grip the log and laugh a bit while she let her heart be taken by ripples.
Finally, she let her opposite hand trail into the clear water, marveling that she could still see her toes through the cleanliness of it all. Kelet skated her hand back and forth upon the surface of the water, raking tiny ripples into larger waves as she went. The elf woman laughed again, enjoying herself immensely, as she moved her hand quickly across the top of the river, sending a thin swell of water into the air. The droplets created a rainbow as they came to land again in the sunlight, and Kelet marveled at it.
She had yet to submerge herself into its icy depths. Kelet was no swimmer, and she knew not how deep the lake came to be, so she moved back toward her fallen log safeguard, and grasped ahold of it, taking a few deep breaths before she closed her eyes, and filled her lungs to capacity, and then quickly dipped down beneath. A moment later she came up sputtering and laughing, her hair now drenched and weighted down enough that though she was only submerged to her waist, the very ends of her hair floated atop the water as lily petals.
Kelet finally stilled her amusement, and began to wash, her long hair taking the largest effort, though it was as refreshing as she had expected, to scrub the dirt and dust from her skin, and rinse it from her hair without tangling it amidst her chain.
The elf, in her usual way, hummed to herself as she went about her routine, smiling as her music found words against her lips. She had been singing since she had crossed the desert, when she was sure she was alone and would not draw attention to herself. For years she had wished to sing, though she knew only those songs which she had heard sung through the halls of the Easterling palace; the lullabies sung to the children as their mothers tucked them in through the generations.
“Angir shuvuuni degdeekhei shigee
Alsaas eejiigee duudaad baina
Kharaatsai shuvuuni degdeekhei shigee
Khartsaaraa yundaa duudaad bainaa
Galuu sguvuuni degdeekhei shigee
Gadsaas eejiigee duudaad bainaa
Khairtai khongor ur minee chi
Khaluun mantsuidaa untaarai minii khuu
ee buuvei buuveei ee
ee buuvei buuveei ee
ee buuvei buuveei ee
ee buuvei buuveei ee.”
Kelet grasped the log again with a hand beneath it and walked deeper, deeper, holding to the bark as she stepped further toward the swifter currents, though keeping her steady balance, until the whole of her torso was beneath the flow, and she could feel the bubbles rippling along her neck and her chin. She turned her head to glance again toward the mountain standing alone off in the distance; always as she had seen it from her dreams. The exact vantage point, and she dipped beneath the waters entirely, holding her breath and coming upon the other side of the log, crossing her arms atop it and holding on as she lifted her bare feet and let the current pull at her legs and her tattered dress. The mountain was a beautiful sight; the mountain, the river, the trees. It smelled, and tasted and felt better than she could have imagined even in her dreams.
*Like the young chick of the white duck,
I call my mother from far away.
Why, I call her with the eyes
Like the young chick of the swallow.
Like the young chick of the goose,
I call my mother from outside.
My dear, dear child,
Sleep in the heated cradle, my child.
La la lullaby, la la lullaby