sâmbătă, 30 august 2008
Requiem pentru o vara tarzie
Ultimele zile... si senzatia ca este ceva care se sfarseste ca sa nu se mai intoarca niciodata... Poate viata intensa condensata in lunile astea ca-ntr-o conserva nu vrea sa fie aruncata in camara... Poate e teama ca toata caldura, si bucuria, si faptul c-am fost atat de mult impreuna au sa se stearga treptat, pe masura ce frigul ne va alunga in case.
Ce frumoasa a fost vara asta!
Vara prietenilor, a libertatii, a renasterii (la anul astept cadourile tot pe 8 iunie:), a increderii neconditionate in El, vara in care am descoperit intunericul si blandetea din oameni, vara in care am descoperit intunericul si blandetea din mine... Vara in care am inceput sa traiesc din nou, cand am redefinit a trai in termenii pe care i-am visat dintotdeauna, liber, curajos, fara hamuri, lanturi si colivii, alergand peste prerii intinse ca o herghelie de cai salbatici... Vara in care am invins frica... de durere, de moarte, de incertitudine, de inaltime, de inec, de oameni, de a fi descoperita...
De fapt, vara in care mi-am slefuit inima de piatra pana la inima de sange, vara in care am fost mai mult ca niciodata ALIVE!
Iar acum privesc cu recunostinta la toate acestea si ascund un zambet in inima...
vineri, 29 august 2008
Chapter II - The Thas'thali. Diplomacy
The great Thas’thali has reunited for the third time since the beginning of the age of light. There were controversial issues to be debated… The tensed relations with the human civilizations and especially with Priamthal were starting to become a reason of worry and discontent for some Elven Lunthosz. Three of the seven Lunthosz forming the Thas’thali sustained the idea of a nonaggression treaty with Priamthal. Yet, there were many powerful voices that opposed the idea, considering the defying attitude of Priamthal and their territorial pretentions over the mixture lands of Palinesti, a small region next to Silvanesti, with mild climate and long, sunny autumns that were famous for their extraordinary effect on the golden vineyards. The Golden wine of Palinesti was one of the best on Atri and one of the many racial prides Elves used to sacredly guard. But Palinesti wasn’t always Elven territory. In the age o f shadows, human nomads from the Middle Lands settled there. They named the place Paldaroth, land of the swamps. Paldaroth was an unwelcoming land, dangerous and savage, haunted by strange beasts and wandering spirits. It was a place of Rubshi and legends said somewhere in Paldaroth there was a hidden door to the Abyss…
The barbarians didn’t come there by their own good will. Igrishes pushed them away from their homeland and the humans, people of the planes, had to start it all over in a place where their enemies felt too uncomfortable to hunt them down. The barbarians tamed the land. They drained the swamps and changed the course of the rivers; they cut down the dark forests and turned the savage relief into fertile planes. Their villages of tents boarded the farms and vineyards; they lived peacefully and traded grains, spices and leather with the Silvanesti Elves. The Elves were content with their neighbors, which, despite their primitivism, brought security and composure in the region. But the outsiders still kept the memory of the evilness of the land and even if accidents or bizarre disappearings were not taking place more often than anywhere else on Atri, they were put right away under the sign of the dark spirits that once cursed the misty woods and swamps of Paldaroth. For many centuries peace reigned over both Paldaroth and Silvanesti. Then Turturi came, the high priestess of Rubshi and started a search for the Abyss portal. There were few untamed places in Paldaroth, but those were indeed terrifying and no living being would adventure in there and get out alive. Yet Turturi dared to step into the forbidden lands… It’s still a mystery what happened with her and her army, but legend says that hoards of dark spirits, calling Rubshi’s name in horrifying ceremonials, came out of the swamps at night and decimated the villages in the neighborhood. These night attacks extended like a plague and soon fear and desolation have spread among those peaceful people. The most skeptical blamed the brotherhood of thieves that attacked even before from time to time in the North… But even they feared the name of Turturi.
In time barbarians left the place and Elves extended to the deserted lands. They pledged it to Demius, changed it name in Palinesti and planted the famous vineyards, Elves were so proud of. There were no violent attacks since Elven sovereignty and the forbidden lands in the hard of Palinesti seemed to bury their secret forever under the sweet coat of tranquility.
But now Priamthal showed a bizarre interest in Palinesti, claiming certain domains to be human territories in their try to reach the forbidden lands. And winds of change started to blow again.
Lemalian tried not to show his discomfort around all these people coming from the highest classes of Elven society and inspiring him to a cold and politically correct distance. Himself coming from the leading family of Qualinesti, the hair of the Pyrurs after the tragic death of his elder brother, Livurbalian, in strange circumstances that the Pyrurs always avoided to discuss, Lem didn’t enjoy at all the icy company of the politicians. Lemalian was 2 years before Phyothas (the age of maturity, around 20 in human years) when it happened, meaning that he was big enough to figure out some of the reasons Liv’s death was covered in silence yet not being an adult, many of his questions remained unanswered. Liv was a magic user, just like Roun. But his passion for magic led him in a close relationship with human mages, wizards of great power, but whom company was not appropriate for an Elven Thosz. Yet, Liv didn’t care and continued to dedicate himself to magic despite the increasing worry and discontent of the family. One day he disappeared leaving a strange note that Lem never red but heard it brought more confusion than perspective into the matter. Rumors were heard that he changed the white robes of good with the red ones, which was totally intolerable for the praisers of Demius. While white robes mages were feared but tolerated and high classed Elves could only practice white magic in restricted limits and as some kind of spiritual development, red and dark robes were practically exiled out of Elven territories. Even when important guests from other races, mages of any kind, but especially red and dark robes were treated with great suspicion. In fact, due to both its mysterious and incomprehensible nature and its seducing power, magic was feared among all the races. And the conservatory Elves never considered it the best occupation for a prince. Lem was close to Liv, he saw the transformations magic produced in him, he understood his passion and he knew his soul. He could never believe his brother could have made an evil choice and when they received the news of Liv’s death in Saligredan, the woods of magic, a place of gathering for magic users in human territories, he was devastated.
Lem thought he could never take over his brother’s dues. Liv grew up as a future Thosz, he understood politics, he was good with strategies and intrigues and his drive for magic only completed his natural talent for leadership. Lem loved to wander freely through the beautiful woods of Qualinesti, he loved his arrows and his bow, he loved to chat, tease and laugh with Roun, his best friend. He enjoyed the sweet game the evening sun played in the rye fields and the slow movement of stars he and Roun could watch for hours, lying on the back and staring at the dark skies. Lem dreamed to live great adventures, but not the kind Liv saw in a trading agreement… He wanted to become a warrior and fight for the cause of Demius. Yet, after Liv’s disappearance, everything changed.
Even now he could hardly hide his anxiety and uneasiness around politicians, men of slippery words and manners that were simply made from a different stuff. And today, he had to represent his family with honor, he was all alone and he never felt more helpless in his entire life. He wished his friend was there, but Roun, though Thosz of Parthanasti, stayed home in Qualinesti having to sustain his first white robe apprentice test with master Tartas.
Suddenly, Lem heard his name spoken clearly in the council.
-Thosz Lemalian of Pyrur, from Qualinesti…
Lemalian rose up and saluted the seven Lunthosz. Then he sat down in his chair and tried to make some sense out of the complicated discussions and arguments he didn’t seem to get.
Should they grant the humans’ free pass in Palinesti, covering with a well done convention the fact that Elven territory was taken away? Should they refuse their pretensions? But that would most certainly lead to war… Priamthal grew year by year in arrogance and power. They were well armed and respected nothing but their own will. A confrontation would mean destruction and death in Palinesti… Elven blood would be shed… Losses would be considerable… But allowing them to pass through Palinesti and granting them a free maneuver aria in the forbidden forests, where they intended to go in search of some irrational superstition, would be more acceptable. But there is, of course, the shame….
But the shame could be covered under the appearance of cooperation…
Yet what if there was some truth, some terrible truth, hidden in the forests? What if they had some information Elves let slip?
But everyone knew humans were driven by their immense vanity and they saw this maneuver more like a demonstration of power for the Elves and their superior attitude and for the gods they seized to praise. They just wanted to show they have no fear and no limit other than death. So, the wise Elves chose to bow their heads and cover the shame in well written words. This way, they should be able to avoid the slaughter humans seemed not to be bothered by and keep good economy in the region. The famous vineyards would also be kept out of the reach of destruction. In the mean time, the Elven army would get prepared to smash future intolerable pretensions from other races.
Lemalian felt waves of fury invading his brain. Human attitude was defying and humiliating. They were not better prepared than the Elves. They had not the strategic masters Elves had nor their experience, nor their intelligence. Elves were better skilled and would have had the first chance in a battle. But the Thas’thali decided to bow in front of those arrogant and self-absorbed brutes… Still, he knew why the Lunthosz took that decision… It was the life they were protecting… If humans wanted to spend their energy hunting shadows and cutting down the forbidden forests, let them do it… After they’ll be done, Elves will grow vineyards and beautiful gardens on the place of the shame. And no Elven blood will be senseless shed…
But in his blood, the voice of the warrior sang a song of hatred and desolation…
The Thas’thali was over. Lemalian felt sad and tired. All he wanted was to go to his chambers and have a good sleep. He descended on the main stairs, made of pure crystal and covered in silver bear fur, wondering how could humans totally ignore beauty and good taste and fret their refined civilisation with the brutality of a muddy boot. Lemalian didn’t have a great taste for luxury nor for phylosophy but theese days did he seem to practice both of them. So, his mind fool of a bitter meditation, he went through the park, heading to the guest house. The garden, conceived in the most elegant Elven style was indeed remarkable. Strictly following the Elven principles of Pure Beauty, it put together in a soft embrace the delicate glitter of a brook, the tall silhouettes of the trees, the mysterious contrasts of light and shadow. Silver lamps hang from the trees, spotting the grass with dragonfly wings. Discrete fountains guarded silently in the corners and crystal statues rose from the foliages. The air carried a slight perfume of fruits and wild flowers. And step by step, Lem felt the spirit of the beauty invading his heart and taking the sorrow away…
Yet, it seemed darker than it should be at that hour, Lem noticed… and there was something else, something he couldn’t point his finger on, but something that made everything feel strange and unreal.
-I must be tired, he said to himself, and hurried up through the ivies. Only that the known footpath seemed to fade away in the darkness. It was, and it was not the same garden he crossed in the morning. And he was all alone… That weird sensation of unreal, of strangeness, like something was wrong in the inner nature of things, came again, giving him chills.
Then, a voice came out of nowhere, changing and wandering, whispering in his ear, whizzing from the trees…
-You should be tired… but I need you awake!
-Who are you? whispered Lem, turning around. Where are you? There was nobody there…
-Well… I am… the one who warns you…
-I like to be looked in the eyes when I am spoken to! Show yourself!
A pair of huge golden eyes suddenly shone in the darkness in front of Lemalian’s face.
-Oh, don’t be scared young warrior! I only wanted to fulfill your wish. I’m looking at you now, are you satisfied?
And laughter exploded from all around, from the foliage, from the earth, from the sky.
-I love to play, the voice continued. I hope this doesn’t offend you, young warrior… Lemalian…
-Who are you? What are you?
-Too many questions… And you don’t seem to listen… Just like your brother!
The darkness became dense, almost liquid. Lem felt it entering his lungs, his skin… He felt a terrible need for fresh air… and a pain in his chest, acute, sharp… He couldn’t breathe. And it was getting so cold he could feel icy needles stinging his face. A fear of death paralized all his senses.
-What do you want from me?
-Oh, now you are listening… your brother was more stubborn… Well, listen then!
The mood for Poetry:) sau Poem de inima vernil No.7 fara 5
Stiu ca n-am mai scris nimc demult (semn ca I got a life:) si ca este cineva care imi reproseaza asta cu fiecare ocazie, asa ca promit sa dau o dare de seama amanuntita asupra verii imediat ce voi avea mai mult timp. Cross my heart.
Pana atunci, citeste printre metafore, my dear...
Vegheaza-mi somnul!
Pe bratul tau lasa-ma sa-mi intind
visele si noaptea.
O, noaptea mea e plina de stele necunoscute
si vraji...
Lasa-ma, lasa-ma sa-ti prind bratul cu un descantec
cum sarpele-si incolaceste prada...
Lasa trupul meu zvelt sa atinga
pamantul ars al trupului tau...
Vegheaza-mi somnul!
Vezi ca focul sa nu se stinga
in ochiul meu inchis,
in inima ta,
in inima mea...
Te caut in gandurile mele,
in ape adanci si-ntunecate.
Unde esti?
Te leagana marea cum isi leagana mortii
pe care niciodata nu-i va mai da-napoi?
Dormi in pace... Umerii tai
de arama
imi vor mai bantui o vreme visele...
Si pentru o vreme mainile tale salbatice
inca-mi vor mai prinde gandul
in bratari barbare...
- Parca as mangaia valurile...
Cred ca asa este sa mori...
Adormi, adormi si nu vrei
sa te mai trezesti...
- Sa te legene marea, ti-am zis
si am plecat... dar inca
se zbateau in mine cuvinte fara numar
cuvinte subtiri ca acele de mare
cuvinte sarate ca spuma
cuvinte care-ar fi vrut sa inoate libere,
spre larg...
Iar tu mangaiai valurile,
in somnul tau, in visul tau...
Ce mare fara margini e intre mainile noastre.
Ce hau in vazduhul dintre mine si tine...
Si-o-ntristare se lasa pe umarul meu
ca un soim de vanatoare.
O, daca aripile nu mi-ar fi de ceara,
daca trupul meu n-ar fi greoi si aspru
ca lutul...
daca am fi curati ca pestii in marea cea sferica
si daca fiecare secunda n-ar fi mereu a trecutului...
Ce cauti? Cand privesti in mine
sfasiindu-mi carnea pana la os,
sfasiindu-mi oasele pana la suflet,
cand patrunzi in hatisurile intunecate
bantuite de fiare salbatice
si-nsetate de sange,
ce cauti?
In inima mea doarme
o lupoaica turbata!
Paseste usor, sa nu o trezesti...
Calca pe apele raurilor si nu te opri,
sa nu-ti adulmece urma...
Si dac-ar fi, luptatorule, sa gasesti
cararea firava care te cheama-
-atunci, te rog, ramai...
Ramai...
There are seas of wonders, salted seas
that lay between my heart and yours.
Oh, the dark waters, boiling waters
of magic and enchantement...
You, traveller, don't wander
across the misty waters.
You won't get closer, but
deeper instead.
I myself tried many times
to sail the sea of magic. Your fingertips
did never caress my wandering heart...
Travelled I more into the darkness...
Pana atunci, citeste printre metafore, my dear...
Vegheaza-mi somnul!
Pe bratul tau lasa-ma sa-mi intind
visele si noaptea.
O, noaptea mea e plina de stele necunoscute
si vraji...
Lasa-ma, lasa-ma sa-ti prind bratul cu un descantec
cum sarpele-si incolaceste prada...
Lasa trupul meu zvelt sa atinga
pamantul ars al trupului tau...
Vegheaza-mi somnul!
Vezi ca focul sa nu se stinga
in ochiul meu inchis,
in inima ta,
in inima mea...
Te caut in gandurile mele,
in ape adanci si-ntunecate.
Unde esti?
Te leagana marea cum isi leagana mortii
pe care niciodata nu-i va mai da-napoi?
Dormi in pace... Umerii tai
de arama
imi vor mai bantui o vreme visele...
Si pentru o vreme mainile tale salbatice
inca-mi vor mai prinde gandul
in bratari barbare...
- Parca as mangaia valurile...
Cred ca asa este sa mori...
Adormi, adormi si nu vrei
sa te mai trezesti...
- Sa te legene marea, ti-am zis
si am plecat... dar inca
se zbateau in mine cuvinte fara numar
cuvinte subtiri ca acele de mare
cuvinte sarate ca spuma
cuvinte care-ar fi vrut sa inoate libere,
spre larg...
Iar tu mangaiai valurile,
in somnul tau, in visul tau...
Ce mare fara margini e intre mainile noastre.
Ce hau in vazduhul dintre mine si tine...
Si-o-ntristare se lasa pe umarul meu
ca un soim de vanatoare.
O, daca aripile nu mi-ar fi de ceara,
daca trupul meu n-ar fi greoi si aspru
ca lutul...
daca am fi curati ca pestii in marea cea sferica
si daca fiecare secunda n-ar fi mereu a trecutului...
Ce cauti? Cand privesti in mine
sfasiindu-mi carnea pana la os,
sfasiindu-mi oasele pana la suflet,
cand patrunzi in hatisurile intunecate
bantuite de fiare salbatice
si-nsetate de sange,
ce cauti?
In inima mea doarme
o lupoaica turbata!
Paseste usor, sa nu o trezesti...
Calca pe apele raurilor si nu te opri,
sa nu-ti adulmece urma...
Si dac-ar fi, luptatorule, sa gasesti
cararea firava care te cheama-
-atunci, te rog, ramai...
Ramai...
There are seas of wonders, salted seas
that lay between my heart and yours.
Oh, the dark waters, boiling waters
of magic and enchantement...
You, traveller, don't wander
across the misty waters.
You won't get closer, but
deeper instead.
I myself tried many times
to sail the sea of magic. Your fingertips
did never caress my wandering heart...
Travelled I more into the darkness...
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