"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. >examine (the feather circlet) Countless weeks were spent collecting the delicate feathers and weaving them together to make this circlet. It is light as air in your hands, and seems to glow in the lamplight. >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. >wine Water for your hands, oil for your lamp, wine for your thirst. You need none of them now, but knowing they are there brings comfort. >look wine Water for your hands, oil for your lamp, wine for your thirst. You need none of them now, but knowing they are there brings comfort. >symbol Which do you mean, the medicine bag or the copper dagger? Lowered voices speak softly from somewhere outside your tent. >bag A small leather medicine pouch hangs from a long strap, bulging with curative herbs. >get bag The leather strap feels cool and familiar in your hands as you take your medicine bag down from its place. >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. >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. >saiph Saiph has his father's tall strength and the bearing of a leader. His grace and bold demeanor draw others to him, though few know of his inner turmoil. >sihan Sihan is beautiful; you have always thought so, as have many others. Her long black hair seems to swallow up her face in the dark of night. >talk Whom do you want to talk? >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 is truly a man of action and not only of words," she says levelly. "But I see that, like you, he is counted among the cowards and the weaklings. I have no more to say." She turns and vanishes into the darkness without a sound. >talk saiph "I care for you more than you know," you say, kissing Saiph on the cheek. Saiph frowns. "Her heart clamors for war with these 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." >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." >newcomers "Have you heard the news?" he 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. Sihan and her friends are already sharpening their spears and preparing for war," he says darkly. >fires "The moon has waxed and grown small again since they arrived," Saiph 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." >unrest "Sihan has been asking all the warriors to support her plan to attack the newcomers," your love says. "She is convinced they are planning to murder us all in our beds at any moment. She is so sure of herself; how nice it must be to have such conviction in one's own superiority." >agree You nod your assent. >walk to telling You linger for a moment in the starlight, tempted to enjoy more quiet words with your love. Saiph glances towards the fire pit, ducks inside the tent and emerges a moment later with his copper dagger, sliding it into its familiar place at his 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 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. Nabu and Isi stand near the fire, along with a growing crowd. Saiph stands near your side. >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. >kiss isi You put out a hand and squeeze Isi's shoulder with affection. She puts her hand on yours and pats it gently. >talk 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. 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 Whom do you want to give the feather circlet to? >to storyteller [You can only do that to a human being.] >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. >storyteller "The storyteller awaits," Saiph says. "The telling cannot begin until the teller's circlet has been gifted." >ask Saiph the teller's name I didn't understand that sentence. >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. >look at teller 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 nabu the circlet You approach your uncle Nabu and hand the circlet to the small old man. He takes it delicately, eyeing the craftsmanship, and then looks up at you and smiles warmly. 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. >mock Sihan "Will you and your cronies hear tonight's story, Sihan?" you call across the fire. "Or will you be too busy sharpening spears and grinding axes?" Sihan stares at you with dagger eyes. "Your taunts only reveal your immaturity," she says. "Do not trouble me with more of them." 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. >story This is a story about a healer in the village who was in love with a strong warrior man, Saiph. On the night of the telling, when the healer's uncle Nabu became the teller, something happened which long changed the people of the village, the warrior, the healer and even their enemies. >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, while across it Sihan whispers with a group of grim-faced warriors. The murmurings of the people die away as the storyteller rises to his feet and raises two bony hands. >listen It is strangely quiet around the fire. 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," 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." >yes You mutter a quiet word of support. 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." >temple "The great temple of Inanna: what did it look like?" you say. "Mighty and tall and grand and proud," the teller replies, "so fine that Inanna herself dwelt there instead of in her heavenly palace. Inanna, goddess of warfare, goddess of lust, dwelt often in Uruk herself." Sihan speaks under her breath with a friend across the circle. >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." >king Before you can speak, Sihan steps forward. Sihan smiles broadly. "Ah, good!" she says, "a story of my ancestor Gilgamesh. There, there was a true hero to inspire the people in troubled times." Some in the crowd murmur in excitement, but older faces look as if they question Sihan's claim of lineage. >question You snort and raise your voice. "So it is Gilgamesh you descend from now, is it Sihan?" you say derisively. "Last moon it was Sargon of Akkad, was it not?" A few near you snicker as Sihan flushes furiously, then she turns away from you with cold disdain. 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." >adad "Adad, god of storms, blessed mighty Gilgamesh?" you ask. "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." Somewhere in the darkness, a night bird calls. >mighty Sihan is speaking before you can react. "How awesome to have such divinity in one's creation," Sihan 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 his eye, "even if they sometimes wished for a leader who provoked awe less frequently." Whispers dance around the circle as the people share their views; one or two seem in agreement. >agree "I have no response to these words," you say simply. "They are well said, and perhaps have truth in them." There is no response from across the fire, but the crowd murmurs in approval. >attack sihan You step forward in a rage and raise your hands, but before you have gone more than a few steps, Saiph is at your side, holding you back. "No," he says softly, "do not lessen yourself this way." "That's right," says Sihan with a sneer, "control your dog before he bites more than he can swallow." "Enough of this," says the teller harshly. "Are you children? Do not interrupt the story again with your pointless bickering, or I shall become angry." He fixes each of you with a fierce stare. >attack sihan Your rage boils; but you will prove to your people that you are capable of containing it. 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." >restart Are you sure you want to restart? y