"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?>Please answer yes or no.>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. >look symbol Which do you mean, the medicine bag or the copper dagger? >look dagger 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. >get dagger You carefully take your weapon down from the wall and study it thoughtfully for a moment. >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. Your lover's medicine bag hangs from the central support of the tent. >north You can leave your simple home through the open flap. > [Nothing entered.] > [Nothing entered.] > [Nothing entered.] > [Nothing entered.] > [Nothing entered.] >help [Things to try: LOOK | LOOK AT | GO | TALK TO | GREET | ATTACK | TAKE | TOUCH | HEAL | LISTEN | PRAISE | MOCK | STORY | UNDO | or an EMPHASIZED word. For more detailed instructions, type INFO] >info ["Whom the Telling Changed" is interactive fiction, meaning both that you must read it and interact with it. Whenever you see the prompt: >...you may type something that will shape the story. This can be a single word, such as LOOK to remind yourself of where you are, or REPEAT, to remind yourself of what was recently said. Certain words will be highlighted, drawing your attention to important objects or topics of conversation. You may also type simple commands to perform actions. The story understands basic VERB NOUN combinations the best, such as TAKE ROCK, GO OUTSIDE, TALK TO ISI, or ATTACK ISI. Try the verbs TALK, PRAISE, MOCK, or SHOW TO to interact with characters. If you don't want to do anything, try LISTEN or WAIT. Finally, you may type STORY at any time to see how the choices you've made have shaped the ongoing story. HELP will repeat these instructions.] >start [Things to try: LOOK | LOOK AT | GO | TALK TO | GREET | ATTACK | TAKE | TOUCH | HEAL | LISTEN | PRAISE | MOCK | STORY | UNDO | or an EMPHASIZED word. For more detailed instructions, type INFO] >story This is a story about a warrior of the village, the night of the telling, and whom the telling changed. >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. Your lover's medicine bag hangs from the central support of the tent. Lowered voices speak softly from somewhere outside your tent. >look at medicine bag Your lover's medicine bag is like a tiny garden, filled with dried herbs wrapped in leaves and small clay vials. Many lives have been saved with the power in these small things, and, of course, with skill. >look at herbs Your lover's medicine bag is like a tiny garden, filled with dried herbs wrapped in leaves and small clay vials. Many lives have been saved with the power in these small things, and, of course, with skill. >take herbs You lift your lover's medicine bag down from its place, handling it carefully. >listen to voices The voices are muffled, and you can make out neither who is speaking nor what is being said. >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. >what is enemy What it was that first made an enemy out of a dear friend you cannot recall, but it has been many years now since smiles passed between you. >love It has been a year, now, though it seems like only a day since you first felt the texture of those hands, the warmth of that fierce embrace. In a hundred years it will still feel as fresh. >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. Sihan and Saiph watch you expectantly. >talk to shan [I'm not sure what you are referring to.] >talk to sihan You clasp Saiph's strong hand and turn to Sihan with a frown. "What business have you here?" you ask her coldly. Sihan tosses her hair and fixes her sharp gaze on you. "I came to see if Saiph has sense left in his head after a season with you," she says levelly. "But I see that, like you, he would lead our people down the path of needless killing. I have no more to say." She turns and vanishes into the darkness without a sound. >talk to saiph "I care for you more than you know," you say, kissing Saiph on the cheek. Saiph frowns. "She still hopes for peace with the newcomers," your lover says, "and was upset to find I do not share her views. We shall see if your enemy has better luck at the telling." He looks up to the stars, and adds, "It is a good night for it." >what is telling [Things to try: LOOK | LOOK AT | GO | TALK TO | GREET | ATTACK | TAKE | TOUCH | HEAL | LISTEN | PRAISE | MOCK | STORY | UNDO | or an EMPHASIZED word. For more detailed instructions, type INFO] >story This is a story about a warrior of the village who was in love with a gentle man, the village healer, Saiph, and how the night of the telling would change them both. >lok [Things to try: LOOK | LOOK AT | GO | TALK TO | GREET | ATTACK | TAKE | TOUCH | HEAL | LISTEN | PRAISE | MOCK | STORY | UNDO | or an EMPHASIZED word. For more detailed instructions, type INFO] >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. >talk to beloved "I care for you more than you know," you say, kissing Saiph on the cheek. >look at fire The fire at the center of town is where the story is told. Around its guttering flames you can already see the shapes of the gathering people. >go to fire You linger for a moment in the starlight, tempted to enjoy more quiet words with your love. >talk to lvoe [I'm not sure what you are referring to.] >talk to love "I care for you more than you know," you say, kissing Saiph on the cheek. >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. Saiph glances towards the fire pit and takes his medicine bag from you, slinging it into its familiar place around his neck. "Let us join the gathering and hear the story," your love says lightly, and turns to the fire at the center of the village. >go to fire You walk to the firepit with Saiph, 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. Isi and Nabu stand near the fire, along with a growing crowd. Saiph stands near your side. >talk to isi "My brightest light," says Isi as she always does, a smile lighting her face as she pulls you down to kiss your cheek. >talk to nabu Your uncle Nabu regards you seriously. "Are you ready to fight for your people, should you be called upon?" 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." >look 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. Saiph stands near your side. Saiph places a hand on your shoulder. "Go on, my love," he says softly. "Give the circlet of office to the storyteller. It is time." >look at storyteller The teller is older than time and thick as space; wise as the moon, and sharp as the stars. The storyteller is older than the oldest king and will live yet when the last spark of the sun dies out. >talk to storyteller That title is meaningless until the circlet is placed on the storyteller's head. >put circlet on storyteller Your people have always believed in the power of names. For such an important ceremony as this, you must use the teller's name. >who is storyteller The teller is older than time and thick as space; wise as the moon, and sharp as the stars. The storyteller is older than the oldest king and will live yet when the last spark of the sun dies out. >look 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. Isi and Nabu stand near the fire, along with a growing crowd. Saiph stands near your side. >talk to isi "And how is Saiph?" asks Isi, a mischievous smile lifting the corners of her mouth. "Is all still well in your bed?" You blush and smile nervously as Isi's friends cackle uproariously. >talk to nabu "How is your knee?" you ask your uncle gently. He rubs it with a rueful smile. "It aches tonight," he says, looking to the stars. "Rain is coming, despite appearances. A heavy rain." >ask isi about storyteller [You may simply type the most relevant topic word in the future.] "The storyteller awaits," Saiph says. "The telling cannot begin until the teller's circlet has been gifted." >look 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. Saiph stands near your side. Saiph places a hand on your shoulder. "Go on, my love," he says softly. "Give the circlet of office to the storyteller. It is time." >greet nabu Nabu studies you for a moment thoughtfully. "Your father is proud of you," he says softly, "and all you have done. He cannot leave the underworld to tell you this, so I must do it for him. We are both proud of you," he adds, squeezing your shoulder. >greet isi "Have you heard news of the newcomers?" Isi asks. You tell her you have not. "Ada, the youngest scout, found one of their camps less than an hour's walk from here," says Isi. "Many are presuming at what this means. Perhaps the story will tell." >look 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. Isi and Nabu stand near the fire, along with a growing crowd. Saiph stands near your side. >nabu Your father's brother Nabu has never been good with a spear, but there is a warrior somewhere inside him that the wise respect more than the strongest man in the village. He is short and stern; quiet, but clever and collected. He is old, now, but his spirit is as strong as ever. >isi Isi's long black hair is white now, and her soft skin is loose and wrinkled, but her eyes have grown sharper with each passing year. Your father's sister sees more than most; the truth behind deceit and the sadness behind smiles. Her eyes sparkle as they meet yours, and she gives you a tiny nod. >look 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. Saiph stands near your side. >greet You'll have to specify whom you wish to greet. >talk to storyteller That title is meaningless until the circlet is placed on the storyteller's head. >help [Things to try: LOOK | LOOK AT | GO | TALK TO | GREET | ATTACK | TAKE | TOUCH | HEAL | LISTEN | PRAISE | MOCK | STORY | UNDO | or an EMPHASIZED word. For more detailed instructions, type INFO] >ino [Things to try: LOOK | LOOK AT | GO | TALK TO | GREET | ATTACK | TAKE | TOUCH | HEAL | LISTEN | PRAISE | MOCK | STORY | UNDO | or an EMPHASIZED word. For more detailed instructions, type INFO] >info ["Whom the Telling Changed" is interactive fiction, meaning both that you must read it and interact with it. Whenever you see the prompt: >...you may type something that will shape the story. This can be a single word, such as LOOK to remind yourself of where you are, or REPEAT, to remind yourself of what was recently said. Certain words will be highlighted, drawing your attention to important objects or topics of conversation. You may also type simple commands to perform actions. The story understands basic VERB NOUN combinations the best, such as TAKE ROCK, GO OUTSIDE, TALK TO ISI, or ATTACK ISI. Try the verbs TALK, PRAISE, MOCK, or SHOW TO to interact with characters. If you don't want to do anything, try LISTEN or WAIT. Finally, you may type STORY at any time to see how the choices you've made have shaped the ongoing story. HELP will repeat these instructions.] >listen A bat circles above the fire for a moment, then swoops away. Saiph places a hand on your shoulder. "Go on, my love," he says softly. "Give the circlet of office to the storyteller. It is time." >give circlet to storyteller Your people have always believed in the power of names. For such an important ceremony as this, you must use the teller's name. >who is the storyteller The teller is older than time and thick as space; wise as the moon, and sharp as the stars. The storyteller is older than the oldest king and will live yet when the last spark of the sun dies out. >look 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. Isi and Nabu stand near the fire, along with a growing crowd. Saiph stands near your side. >wait A log falls in the fire, sending a shower of sparks up into the night. >wait A gust of cool wind tugs your clothes. >wait A log falls in the fire, sending a shower of sparks up into the night. >wait A log falls in the fire, sending a shower of sparks up into the night. >show circlet to isi She admires the workmanship. "Beautiful," she says with a smile. >show circlet to nabu He admires the workmanship. "Beautiful," he says with a smile. Saiph places a hand on your shoulder. "Go on, my love," he says softly. "Give the circlet of office to the storyteller. It is time." >show circlet to storyteller That title is meaningless until the circlet is placed on the storyteller's head. >storyteller The teller is older than time and thick as space; wise as the moon, and sharp as the stars. The storyteller is older than the oldest king and will live yet when the last spark of the sun dies out. >give circlet to nabu You approach your uncle Nabu and hand the circlet to the small old man. He takes it delicately, eyeing the craftsmanship, and then turns to Saiph with a nod and a warm smile. Carefully, he lifts it up to his old head--and now before you is no longer your father's brother, but the storyteller... a role he has taken every new moon for many years. >look 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. The storyteller sits with bowed head, preparing himself for the telling, while voices speak softly as the gathering grows. Isi stands near the fire. Sihan approaches the far side of the fire and greets some friends warmly. >listen to nabu You focus on the story intently, letting the words form pictures and thoughts in your mind. Saiph kisses your cheek. "May the story bring you what you seek," he whispers, then slips into the crowd. Your beloved has always liked to hear the stories by himself. >listen Somewhere in the darkness, a night bird calls. The murmurings of the people die away as the storyteller rises to his feet and raises two bony hands. >listen A gust of wind makes the ashes of the fire hiss. The storyteller shouts, "In this time of darkness the people gather for the telling. Will the people hear?" >listen Somewhere in the darkness, a night bird calls. 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," he 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." >listen A gust of cool wind tugs your clothes. The storyteller lifts his hands in invocation. "Our story begins," he 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," he 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." >walls "How high were the walls of Uruk?" you ask. "As high as ten men," the storyteller replies, "and made of the finest brickwork both inside and outside. Gilgamesh built them, a work no later king could match, to defend the people of Uruk from her foes. From their top the whole city is laid out below you, only the temple still above." >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." >temple Sihan is speaking before you can react. "Is this a well-chosen tale?" Sihan calls out darkly. "Should we hear stories of battle and war when they lie on our very doorstep?" The crowd looks hesitantly between Sihan and the storyteller, who regards your enemy with inscrutable eyes. "Stories are not all of far off places and distant times," he 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." Sihan bows stiffly, accepting the storyteller's decision. A bat circles above the fire for a moment, then swoops away. >lok [Things to try: LOOK | LOOK AT | GO | TALK TO | GREET | ATTACK | TAKE | TOUCH | HEAL | LISTEN | PRAISE | MOCK | STORY | UNDO | or an EMPHASIZED word. For more detailed instructions, type INFO] >look 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. The teller stands near the fire, and all the people's attention is focused on him. 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." >mighty Gilgamesh had something of the gods in him, it seems, but also something of men. Which, you wonder, shaped him more? >god "How awesome to have such divinity in one's creation," you say. "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 his eye, "even if they sometimes wished for a leader who provoked awe less frequently." Low muttering comes from across the circle; it seems this has struck a chord with one or two. Saiph gives you a quiet smile from across the fire. >mock saiph You would not dream of harming him, not even in jest. "What did great Adad, lord of the storms, give to king Gilgamesh?" asks a muscled farmer. "He breathed lightning into the body of Gilgamesh," the teller says powerfully, "Adad of the tempest and the rain. He gave Gilgamesh the spark of courage and the fire of charisma." >look 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. The teller stands near the fire, and all the people's attention is focused on him. 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." Somewhere in the darkness, a night bird calls. >look 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. The teller stands near the fire, and all the people's attention is focused on him. "It was battle that united Enkidu and Gilgamesh in friendship, was it not?" Sihan says musingly. "It is often the way," the teller says, "that two foes may only find kinship through the bitterest battles. But perhaps," he adds humbly, "this is only the way in stories." >listen A log falls in the fire, sending a shower of sparks up into the night. The storyteller continues. "One night," he 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." >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." >listen A log falls in the fire, sending a shower of sparks up into the night. "Tell me," Sihan says to the storyteller, "had this demon ever set upon the city of Uruk, or harmed its crops or its cattle?" "The demon Humbaba did not leave the Cedar Forest," the teller answers. "Humbaba was charged by Enlil, lord of all gods, to guard the Cedar Forest against all intruders." Whispers of assent float across the fire; one or two nod visibly at these words. >praise sihan "Sihan's words have thought behind them," you say to the crowd, "though it is for the people to judge their merit." "Your courtesy is admirable," Sihan responds with a small smile while the crowd murmurs in approval. >look 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. The teller stands near the fire, and all the people's attention is focused on him. 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 him. "'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?'" >defeat If Enkidu wonders whether even a god could triumph, then the fight must be truly hopeless--but surely, if any mortal could ever have triumphed at such a task, it was Gilgamesh? >hopeless "Wise is the counsel of Enkidu," you say. "Can even such a hero as Gilgamesh hope to defeat a monster as powerful and horrible as Humbaba?" "Thought before action," says Sihan with a wry grin, "such a rarity in those times--but perhaps not now," she adds, eyeing you thoughtfully. >praise sihan "Your point is taken," you say to Sihan with sincerity, bowing slightly. Sihan accepts your praise, returning the bow with a friendly smile while the crowd murmurs in approval. >look 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. The teller stands near the fire, and all the people's attention is focused on him. "Guard?" Sihan calls out. "Did you say the demon Humbaba was set by the gods to guard the Cedar Forest?" "By Enlil," says the teller, nodding, "Humbaba long had guarded the Cedar Forest against mortal intruders, at the command of Enlil, lord of all gods." "So Shamash who set this idea before Lord Gilgamesh sought merely to use him as a pawn in some divine gambit?" Sihan asks. A babble of astonished voices rises from the crowd. "You must find your own wisdom in the story," says the teller with a tiny bow. Several near you smile. An old friend briefly places a hand on your shoulder. >gambit Your voice shouts above the others: "Bold is he who dares to question the will of a god, even one now worshipped by few. How can a mortal know what purpose drives the divine?" "It is not our place to know," answers Sihan confidently. "If the gods choose us as their avatars in this world, ours is just to act." But the crowd is already muttering in angry response; this seems to be an unpopular view, and Sihan steps back with a red face. The telling continues. "Gilgamesh looked at Enkidu with disapproving eyes," continues the teller, who then seems to grow tall and strong. "Is this the brave Enkidu I know?" he asks in the voice of the king. "Is this Enkidu who fought with the wild beasts and once challenged King Gilgamesh himself? Have you traded courage for cowardice? Our days are few, and chances for glory far between. Do you not wish to burn forever in the minds of men?" The teller becomes Enkidu again, and seems to consider the words of Gilgamesh. "'You have set your mind, I see. You will make this quest no matter what your friend Enkidu counsels. Since that is your road, I will go with you. I will guide you on the hidden paths; I will find for you the hidden water; I will help you on your quest for glory. Enkidu will go with you.'" >quest Is Gilgamesh right to set off on this quest for personal glory? Should he rather stay and help the people of Uruk? >people "A strange king is Gilgamesh," you say loudly. "He is troubled by the sight of his people, sick and dying, so he leaves them to go on a long quest to distant lands. Would a better king not have stayed behind to help them?" Several of those near you nod their heads. >weak "There are few chances for glory," you say. "Why did Enkidu not relish such a chance to prove his valor, and that of his King?" "The story does not say," says the teller demurely, "and so neither shall I." At these words, one or two nod somberly. Spears glint in the firelight as hands grip them tighter. >listen Wisps of clouds mark moving black shadows on the stars above. The story continues. "Gilgamesh rejoiced," the teller says, "and summoned the blacksmiths to forge mighty weapons for the companions. He summoned the blacksmiths and summoned the servants to prepare food and supplies. He summoned the servants and summoned the priestesses to make generous sacrifices, to ask the gods for good fortune." "When all was ready, Gilgamesh and Enkidu passed through the seven gates of Uruk and set off into the desert. The people watched them go," he says softly, "the people of Uruk in silence watched them go." >weapons You call out, "What weapons did the blacksmiths of Uruk make for Gilgamesh and Enkidu?" "They were like the weapons of the gods," says the storyteller, spreading out his hands, "axes taller than men; knives with mighty pommels and inlaid patterns of gold and lapis; armor that no ordinary man could have bore. But Gilgamesh and Enkidu took them all and used them with skill." >listen Wisps of clouds mark moving black shadows on the stars above. "Tell us of these sacrifices," asks a weaver woman in the crowd. "Were there many?" "They were many," the teller responds, "and befitting of such a strong king; three fattened oxen and twelve fattened sheep; four golden bowls of honey and five silver bowls of butter. The incense was lit and the prayers were sung; the priestesses sang the prayers while the stars turned above." >mock woman That would earn you few friends tonight. "Hot were the sands of the desert," continues the teller, "hot were the sands and hard was the way. Many bones of less fortunate travellers marked their journey. But Enkidu knew the secret paths of the animals and the secret hiding places of water, and the land fell behind them swiftly." "The first mountain range they crossed in a day; the first desert and mountain range they crossed in a single day. On the next day they crossed the second desert and the second mountain range; on the next they crossed the third desert and the third mountain range. On the third night they lay down to sleep, utterly exhausted from their journey." >bones "Did the companions not stop to perform burial rites on the bones of those who had died in the desert?" you ask. "The heat of the sun burned on their backs, and the trackless ground wore at their feet," says the teller. "Whether they wished to stop or not, the companions had to keep moving." >listen Wisps of clouds mark moving black shadows on the stars above. "Without Enkidu, Gilgamesh could not have crossed the desert," Sihan points out. "Without Enkidu, who was once his enemy, Gilgamesh could not have prevailed in this quest." "It is true," nods the teller, "without Enkidu Gilgamesh would have been lost in the trackless sands." The warriors frown, but a few of the people smile and nod. >praise sihan "Well-spoken," you say, giving your enemy a courteous bow. "Sihan argues with the skill of one much older." Sihan accepts your praise, returning the bow with a friendly smile while the crowd murmurs in approval. >listen A gust of wind ripples through the grass. The teller continues. "In the darkest hour of night Gilgamesh woke with a start and clutched his chest. 'Who walks there?' he gasped. 'Why does my flesh tingle? Has a god touched me?' Enkidu heard and awoke, saying, 'Have you dreamt, Gilgamesh? Tell me your dream and I will unravel its meaning.' 'I dreamt we walked in a gorge beneath a mighty mountain, you and I,' said Gilgamesh. 'We were like flies beneath its massive bulk. Then, with a rumble, the mountain collapsed on top of us. What is its meaning, my friend?'" >dream Dreams are sent by the gods. Was this dream sent by Shamash, to presage the fall of Humbaba? Or, perhaps, by Enlil, warning of the consequences of destroying his guardian? >listen A flash of lightning on the horizon catches your eye, followed by a low, rumbling wave of thunder. "A dark dream," Sihan says, "for the heroes to have on their journey. Clearly it was sent by Enlil, to warn of the doom the companions will face if they destroy his servant Humbaba." "Your reasoning is sound," says the teller with a bow, "but the interpretation does not match the one Enkidu gave to Gilgamesh. 'The mountain is the demon Humbaba,' he said. 'Shamash has sent us this dream to show that we will defeat the demon, and his fall will shake the earth.' And Gilgamesh heard his words, and was at peace." >look 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. The teller stands near the fire, and all the people's attention is focused on him. "Dreams of portent are frightening," says a young mother, pulling her wrap tighter around her. "I do not like the gods to enter my head in the night." "Wise you are to be cautious," says the teller with a nod. "The ways of the gods are strange and obscure to men, their dealings laced with complexities we cannot understand." >listen A flash of lightning on the horizon catches your eye, followed by a low, rumbling wave of thunder. As the teller speaks more of the journey across the desert, an unfamiliar hand presses on your shoulder. You turn to see Sihan's face only inches from yours. "I did not expect these words of support from you," she says in a barely audible undertone, the breath from her words hot on your face. "Perhaps I have misjudged you in the past. I had thought you the type to rush blindly into a brawl before speaking and reasoning the consequences." >weapons The story has moved on; there are other things to say. >is there [Things to try: LOOK | LOOK AT | GO | TALK TO | GREET | ATTACK | TAKE | TOUCH | HEAL | LISTEN | PRAISE | MOCK | STORY | UNDO | or an EMPHASIZED word. For more detailed instructions, type INFO] >heal There is no one here who needs your help. "I see you do not wish to speak further," Sihan says with a scowl. "Yet you forget that silence can speak louder than any words." She turns and quickly disappears back into the crowd. >heal There is no one here who needs your help. You turn your attention back to the teller. "On the seventh day," he is saying, "the companions crossed the seventh desert and the seventh mountain range, and came at last to the edge of the Cedar Forest." "The cedars were green, and the forest cool after the barren heat of the desert, and it smelled inside of wood and soil. But quiet it was under the boughs of the trees; quiet, with a lingering whisper of fear." >restart Are you sure you want to restart? y