"He found the knowledge at the heart of the universe; Returned, and cut his story into stone..." -- The Epic Of Gilgamesh Whom The Telling Changed By Aaron A. Reed Would you like instructions?>no The people have always gathered on moonless nights to hear the telling, since the time of your ancestors' ancestors. The heat of the fire and the glow in the storyteller's eyes make the past present, and the path to the future clear. Tonight the stars are bright, but the minds of your people are troubled. May the words of the telling guide your way. ----------- The walls of your tent glow yellow in the lamplight, your simple possessions casting flickering shadows on the wall. A straw bed; some skins of water, oil, and wine; a small, guttering lamp--it is simple, but it is enough. The symbol of your occupation hangs from the central support of the tent. >look The walls of your tent glow yellow in the lamplight, your simple possessions casting flickering shadows on the wall. A straw bed; some skins of water, oil, and wine; a small, guttering lamp--it is simple, but it is enough. The symbol of your occupation hangs from the central support of the tent. >symbol Which do you mean, the medicine bag or the copper dagger? >take bag The leather strap feels cool and familiar in your hands as you take your medicine bag down from its place. >look bag The walls of your tent glow yellow in the lamplight, your simple possessions casting flickering shadows on the wall. A straw bed; some skins of water, oil, and wine; a small, guttering lamp--it is simple, but it is enough. Your lover's copper dagger hangs from the central support of the tent. >bag Your medicine bag is like a tiny garden, filled with dried herbs wrapped in leaves and small clay vials. You have saved many lives with the power in these small things, and, of course, with skill. >go outside You step outside into the warm night air. It has been night for many hours, but the air is still warm, and the stars are a million brilliant fires above you. Nearby are the vague outlines of your neighbors' tents, but on this moonless night only the distant glow of the fire pit seems truly alive. In the darkness a few feet away, Sihan and Saiph talk quietly in strained tones. As you approach, your enemy grows silent. Your love turns to you with a look of relief and reaches out a hand. >talk love Who do you mean, Sihan or Saiph? >hug sihan You clasp Sihan's soft hand and turn to Saiph with a frown. "What business have you here?" you ask him coldly. Saiph stares down at you with distaste. "I came to see if Sihan is truly a woman of action and not only of words," he says levelly. "But I see that, like you, she is counted among the cowards and the weaklings. I have no more to say." He turns and strides fiercely into the darkness. >follow saiph Let him go; he is clearly not in the mood for your company. >talk sihan "I care for you more than you know," you say, kissing Sihan on the cheek. Sihan sighs. "His heart clamors for war with these newcomers," your lover says, "and was upset to find I do not share his views. We shall see if your enemy has better luck at the telling." She looks up to the stars, and adds, "It is a good night for it." >newcomers "Have you heard the news?" she asks. "Young Ada found traces of a camp less than an hour's walk from here, and more than half a day from their fires in the valley. Saiph and his friends are already sharpening their spears and preparing for war," she says darkly. >saiph "Saiph has been asking all the warriors to support his plan to attack the newcomers," your love says. "He is convinced they are planning to murder us all in our beds at any moment. He is so sure of himself; how nice it must be to have such conviction in one's own superiority." >fires "The moon has waxed and grown small again since they arrived," Sihan murmurs, holding you tightly. "Why don't they come to us? Why do they hide when we send our emissaries? They must know the unrest they're causing in us." >telling "It is almost time," your love says seriously. "I wonder, what story will we hear tonight? The people are buzzing about the newcomers; perhaps the teller's story will be about them." >show bag to sihan "It seems almost a part of you," Sihan says with a smile. "As if the spirit of your healer's skills lives and breathes within the leather, some small creature you keep out of sight." >story This is a story about a healer in the village who was in love with a strong warrior woman, Sihan, and how the night of the telling would change them both. >look It has been night for many hours, but the air is still warm, and the stars are a million brilliant fires above you. Nearby are the vague outlines of your neighbors' tents, but on this moonless night only the distant glow of the fire pit seems truly alive. Your beloved gazes up at the stars. Sihan glances towards the fire pit, ducks inside the tent and emerges a moment later with her copper dagger, sliding it into its familiar place at her waist. "Let us join the gathering and hear the story," your love says lightly, and turns to the fire at the center of the village. >fire You walk to the firepit with Sihan, and friends and neighbors greet you with a nod or quiet word. Always the fire pit is the center of the village, and always the people gather there. Faint smells of tonight's great feast still linger, but the fire now smolders low, only a shadow of its roaring fierceness at sunset. Nabu and Isi stand near the fire, along with a growing crowd. Sihan stands near your side. >hug nabu You put out a hand and squeeze Nabu's shoulder with affection. He puts his hand on yours and pats it gently. >talk nabu Your uncle Nabu regards you seriously. "Is your Sihan ready to fight for this village, should it be necessary?" he asks. "Perhaps it will not come to fighting," you say. "Who can tell?" he says, "But those who bear arms must be prepared, nonetheless." >talk isi "My brightest light," says Isi as she always does, a smile lighting her face as she pulls you down to kiss your cheek. Sihan places a hand on your shoulder. "Go on, my love," she says softly. "Give the circlet of office to the storyteller. It is time." >storyteller "The storyteller awaits," Sihan says. "The telling cannot begin until the teller's circlet has been gifted." >show circlet to isi She admires the workmanship. "Beautiful," she says with a smile. >give circelt to isi [I'm not sure what you are referring to.] >give circlet to isi You approach your aunt Isi and hand the circlet to the white-haired old woman. She takes it delicately, eyeing the craftsmanship, and then looks up at you and smiles warmly. Carefully, she lifts it up to her old head--and now before you is no longer your father's sister, but the storyteller... a role she has taken every new moon for many years. >talk isi The storyteller seems to be gathering herself together; you should not disturb her. Saiph approaches the far side of the fire and greets some friends warmly. >bag Your medicine bag is like a tiny garden, filled with dried herbs wrapped in leaves and small clay vials. You have saved many lives with the power in these small things, and, of course, with skill. >story This is a story about a healer in the village who was in love with a strong warrior woman, Sihan. On the night of the telling, when the healer's aunt Isi became the teller, something happened which long changed the people of the village, the warrior, the healer and even their enemies. >listen isi You focus on the story intently, letting the words form pictures and thoughts in your mind. Sihan kisses your cheek. "May the story bring you what you seek," she whispers, then slips into the crowd. Your beloved has always liked to hear the stories by herself. >listen story You focus on the story intently, letting the words form pictures and thoughts in your mind. The murmurings of the people die away as the storyteller rises to her feet and raises two bony hands. >hug isi Now is not the time for that. The storyteller shouts, "In this time of darkness the people gather for the telling. Will the people hear?" >yes You call out your response along with many others. The crowd cries out with one voice, "The people are ready." The teller bows humbly, accepting the people's blessing, then straightens with the hint of a smile. "Tonight," she says, "we shall hear an old, old story, from days long ago when great cities and mighty kings ruled this land. May you find in the story that which you seek." >yes You smile, your affinity lighting up your face. The storyteller lifts her hands in invocation. "Our story begins," she says quietly, "in the far-off city of Uruk. Uruk of the broad streets, Uruk of the mighty walls. Can you see them, gleaming in the desert heat?" The teller gestures into the night, and in your mind the walls come alive, shimmering in the desert air. "Come," she continues, "cross the ancient threshold, walk the streets and orchards and markets. Walk the streets and climb the great stone steps to the temple. Climb the steps and find the box of burnished copper. Find the box and undo the lock and draw out the great tablet of deep blue stone. Draw out the tablet and read of Uruk's king, Uruk's pride, Uruk's greatest hero. Hear of the trials of Gilgamesh." >tablet "From where came this tablet of bluest stone?" you ask. "Gilgamesh carved it," the teller says, "cut his words deep into the tablet of lapis lazuli, bluest of blues. Wise Gilgamesh carved all his exploits and knowledge into the tablets, and hid them under the cornerstone of Uruk, so men would remember his deeds long after he went to the underworld. But," the teller adds, "that was long after the story we shall hear tonight." >yes "Good," you call out forcefully, "a tale of mighty kings and heroes is a good story for these troubled times." There are some in the crowd who raise their voices in support of these words. There are other who stay pointedly silent. Saiph studies you thoughtfully from across the firepit. >uruk "Tell more of the city of Uruk," you ask. "Uruk, mighty Uruk of the wide streets," the teller says with shining eyes, "its heart the temple of Inanna, towering over all; its skin mighty walls of oven-fired brick, their like unmatched in all the world. Uruk, planned by the seven sages and filled with orchards and gardens. Never was a city more mighty and proud than Uruk, and never had any city so great a king." The teller continues. "Mighty was Gilgamesh, a lord among lords. Mighty is he who both leads the way and guards the rear. Mighty is he who both crashes like a wave and shelters the weak. Gilgamesh was tall, strong, bearded, a roaring bull among his people. Aruru, mother of the Earth, gave him his form, and Adad the Storm gave him courage, and Shamash the Sun gave him beauty--but," the teller's piercing eyes fixate on the crowd, "he was still a man, nonetheless." >aruru Your mouth is already open to respond when Saiph's voice booms across the circle. "How awesome to have such divinity in one's creation," Saiph says. "The people of Uruk were blessed indeed to have such a king to lead them." "And they knew it," says the teller with a twinkle in her eye, "even if they sometimes wished for a leader who provoked awe less frequently." Voices mutter in agreement; for one or two, this point has touched home. >aruru "I would hear more of Aruru," you say. "Lady Aruru," the teller sighs, "Lady of the Gods, Lady of the Foothills, Mother of the Earth, made Gilgamesh as she made the first man long eons ago. She formed an image of Gilgamesh in her mind, took up her clay, and kneaded it, shaped it into Gilgamesh's form. More mighty she made him than a normal man: taller, broader, and stronger." >shamash "What did great Shamash give to King Gilgamesh?" you call out. "Shamash, Father Utu, Lord of the Sun and of Justice, gave to great Gilgamesh beauty and nobility," the teller says. "Shamash's burning touch woke within Uruk's king the fire of legend." The telling continues. "With his friend and companion Enkidu," the storyteller says, "Gilgamesh ruled Uruk with a young and prideful heart. But he saw the dead and dying in the streets of Uruk, and his mind was troubled." >dead "Why were there so many dead in the streets of Uruk?" you wonder. "No special reason," says the teller, "other than that which must one day take us all. In the cities things are different than here, or so my father told me: the people there are so many that every day there is death; every day a birth; every day a wedding or a feast or a piece of intriguing news." >troubled Saiph is speaking before you can react. "Death comes to the weak quicker than the strong," booms out Saiph from across the circle. "It is the way of things, and cannot change. Gilgamesh spent his worries needlessly." His eyes meet yours for a moment, as if challenging you to agree or disagree. >gilgamesh You wonder why the teller has chosen a story of Gilgamesh, whose name is legend. Is it to inspire the people in a time of fear? >why "Is this a well-chosen tale?" you ask respectfully. "Should we hear stories of battle and war when they lie on our very doorstep?" The crowd looks hesitantly between you and the storyteller, who regards you with inscrutable eyes. "Stories are not all of far off places and distant times," she says softly. "The world tells us stories every day, and the wise pay heed. Gilgamesh may teach us much tonight, if we have the ears to hear." You bow your head, accepting the storyteller's decision. The storyteller continues. "One night," she says, "as Gilgamesh knelt in prayer, Shamash, god of the sun, came down to whisper in his ear. Shamash whispered to Gilgamesh of a far off place called the Cedar Forest, where dwelt the demon Humbaba. Shamash whispered that he who could defeat Humbaba would gain fame greater than any man. He who could chop down the tallest cedar and defeat Humbaba the guardian would gain everlasting fame. He would burn in the minds of men forever. He would never be forgotten. And the heart of Gilgamesh became restless." >humbaba Your mouth is already open to respond when Saiph's voice booms across the circle. "You said King Gilgamesh was restless when he heard Shamash's call," Saiph says loudly. "And of course he was! What king would not seize a chance for glory, to prove his strength and power? A leader is trebled in stature when admired by the people." Whispers of assent float across the fire; a fair number nod visibly at these words. Saiph's words seem to be reaching the crowd's more than yours. >cedar "What magic was there in the Cedar Forest that made it special?" you ask. "Uruk was a land like ours," the teller answers, "where the tree is scarce and the wood is poor. Cedarwood is strong, and beautiful, and pleasant to see and smell, and in those days was valued as gold. In the Cedar Forest far, far away, the cedar trees are so thick you could not see a man a hundred paces away; and so tall you could not see the sky." >gilgamesh The story has moved on; there are other things to say. The story moves on. "The heart of Gilgamesh burned with the words of Shamash," says the teller. "Gilgamesh sought out his friend Enkidu and said to him: 'You came from the wild. My friend, you came from the wild and you know the secret paths of animals. Do you know the way to the Cedar Forest?' "Enkidu sighed and his heart grew heavy," says the teller, and then seems to become young and strong as the gruff guise of Enkidu comes over her. "'Yes, I know the way to the Cedar Forest, but it is long and lonely. And what awaits you at its end but the demon Humbaba? The lord of all gods, mighty Enlil, has set him there to guard the Cedar Forest. What man or god could defeat him, my brother?'" >enkidu "Let us hear more of Gilgamesh's friend Enkidu," you say. "Enkidu the wild man, made by the gods to tame unruly Gilgamesh," says the teller, a smile lighting her face. "He lived with the animals in the wild lands till he came to Uruk to challenge Gilgamesh. But their battle united them, and instead of enemies they became closer than friends. Inseparable were Gilgamesh and Enkidu; together they faced all foes and fought all battles." >restart Are you sure you want to restart? yes