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Life in the desert
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<blockquote data-quote="Siran Dunmorgan" data-source="post: 4645571" data-attributes="member: 39268"><p><strong>Raiding party...</strong></p><p></p><p>This is something that came to me after reading your description; it has the character of a party of elves preparing to raid a caravanserai on one of the trade roads. It's basically a mish-mash of images from different sources, but it mostly holds together; just a late-night thought.</p><p></p><p>=====</p><p></p><p>[Scene: a camp, on a ridge above the trading route from al-Iskandariya to ai-Yafa. In the distance, along the trade road, the lights of a serai can be made out in the distance. There are perhaps forty <em>naurael</em>, elves of the high desert, seated irregularly around a fire-pit; it is the full dark of night. The elves have been silent for some time, entranced by the flames.]</p><p></p><p>An elderly elf near the fire rises to his feet, supporting himself on a staff of stout ironwood, wrapped with the hide and teeth of some reptilian beast. He throws back the hood of his intricately embroidered robes, swaying in time with the dancing of the flames. He reaches into a pouch suspended from the wide sash about his waist, and casts a handful of powder into the fire. As the aroma of cinnamon fills the air, the gathered naurael sigh deeply and begin to rock gently back and forth with the old one's swaying. He nods, then begins to speak:</p><p></p><p><em>Ai! Ai! Naura, kri! </em> Hear! Hear! O elves, and attend my words!</p><p>Now is an-Thelur—the Sun—hidden from the sky! Now is al-Senan—the Moon—not yet risen!</p><p>Now is the time of an-Sehr, when secrets are told to urachim, the stones, and to elchim, the stars!</p><p></p><p>[the assembled elves whisper: iurachim, kri! ielchim, kri! ]</p><p></p><p>It was dawn in a fair country, that the bones of our ancestors remember, where green things grew, and all had their fill of water. The sons of dragons came, and took us from that place; to the beat of drums—tan! tan! tan!—they made us march. From the places of our ancestors they took us, and across the Great Sea.</p><p></p><p>[the assembled elves whisper: iurachim, kri! ielchim, kri! ]</p><p></p><p>To this land, this land of fire in the light of an-Thelur, this land of ice in the light of al-Senan they brought us, and here did our ancestors weep, remembering—glug, glug,glug—the waters of their home. In the light of an-Thelur did we learn to hide by day, and in the light of al-Senan did we learn to revel in the night, and in the darkness and the silence of an-Sehr did we learn patience.</p><p></p><p>[the assembled elves whisper:<em> iurachim, kri! ielchim, kri!</em> ]</p><p></p><p>Then woe came to us, then weal came to us, then an-Sehr, the darkness, led us to al-tinam, the spice. Ai, Ai! Al-tinam is sweet! Ai, ai! Al-tinam is bitter! For the love of al-tinam did our we dry our tears, for the love of al-tinam did our ancestors forsake the land of green and water!</p><p></p><p>[the assembled elves whisper: <em>iurachim, kri! ielchim, kri!</em> ]</p><p></p><p>Many times has an-Thelur gone into the darkness! Many time has al-Senan gone into the east! Many times has al-Khusre the Lady of Shadows crossed the land, and yet we remain! The sweetness of al-tinam we remember, the bitterness of al-tiname we do not forget! But with our swords—ket, ket, ket—we are revenged on those whose ancestors brought ours to this land!</p><p></p><p>[the assembled elves whisper:<em> iurachim, kri! ielchim, kri!</em> ]</p><p></p><p>With our swords and our knives and our fleetness—esh, esh, esh—we take what is ours... </p><p></p><p>—Siran Dunmorgan</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Siran Dunmorgan, post: 4645571, member: 39268"] [b]Raiding party...[/b] This is something that came to me after reading your description; it has the character of a party of elves preparing to raid a caravanserai on one of the trade roads. It's basically a mish-mash of images from different sources, but it mostly holds together; just a late-night thought. ===== [Scene: a camp, on a ridge above the trading route from al-Iskandariya to ai-Yafa. In the distance, along the trade road, the lights of a serai can be made out in the distance. There are perhaps forty [I]naurael[/I], elves of the high desert, seated irregularly around a fire-pit; it is the full dark of night. The elves have been silent for some time, entranced by the flames.] An elderly elf near the fire rises to his feet, supporting himself on a staff of stout ironwood, wrapped with the hide and teeth of some reptilian beast. He throws back the hood of his intricately embroidered robes, swaying in time with the dancing of the flames. He reaches into a pouch suspended from the wide sash about his waist, and casts a handful of powder into the fire. As the aroma of cinnamon fills the air, the gathered naurael sigh deeply and begin to rock gently back and forth with the old one's swaying. He nods, then begins to speak: [I]Ai! Ai! Naura, kri! [/I] Hear! Hear! O elves, and attend my words! Now is an-Thelur—the Sun—hidden from the sky! Now is al-Senan—the Moon—not yet risen! Now is the time of an-Sehr, when secrets are told to urachim, the stones, and to elchim, the stars! [the assembled elves whisper: iurachim, kri! ielchim, kri! ] It was dawn in a fair country, that the bones of our ancestors remember, where green things grew, and all had their fill of water. The sons of dragons came, and took us from that place; to the beat of drums—tan! tan! tan!—they made us march. From the places of our ancestors they took us, and across the Great Sea. [the assembled elves whisper: iurachim, kri! ielchim, kri! ] To this land, this land of fire in the light of an-Thelur, this land of ice in the light of al-Senan they brought us, and here did our ancestors weep, remembering—glug, glug,glug—the waters of their home. In the light of an-Thelur did we learn to hide by day, and in the light of al-Senan did we learn to revel in the night, and in the darkness and the silence of an-Sehr did we learn patience. [the assembled elves whisper:[I] iurachim, kri! ielchim, kri![/I] ] Then woe came to us, then weal came to us, then an-Sehr, the darkness, led us to al-tinam, the spice. Ai, Ai! Al-tinam is sweet! Ai, ai! Al-tinam is bitter! For the love of al-tinam did our we dry our tears, for the love of al-tinam did our ancestors forsake the land of green and water! [the assembled elves whisper: [I]iurachim, kri! ielchim, kri![/I] ] Many times has an-Thelur gone into the darkness! Many time has al-Senan gone into the east! Many times has al-Khusre the Lady of Shadows crossed the land, and yet we remain! The sweetness of al-tinam we remember, the bitterness of al-tiname we do not forget! But with our swords—ket, ket, ket—we are revenged on those whose ancestors brought ours to this land! [the assembled elves whisper:[I] iurachim, kri! ielchim, kri![/I] ] With our swords and our knives and our fleetness—esh, esh, esh—we take what is ours... —Siran Dunmorgan [/QUOTE]
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