Monday November 26th, 2012

The exercise:

I would like to hear about some: folklore.

Not the best sleep last night. It seemed like Max had a better day today though, so perhaps tonight will be more pleasant as well.

Fingers, they be crossed.


My people have lived by Beltran's Code since the night all three moons hung in the sky, each a full, perfect circle. One white, one green, one red.

The elders declared a festival that evening, one whose name is now irretrievably lost. Many animals were sacrificed, much drink was consumed. A great bonfire was ignited, its flames reaching ever higher, as though they wished to warm the moons. Or perhaps consume them.

They say as midnight drew near young Beltran led the menfolk down to the lake. They carried no torches, as the heavens held aloft the only three lights needed to illuminate their rocky path.

Once the men reached the shore they stood in awed silence for many fogged breaths. There was no wind that night, allowing the calm waters to transform the three moons into six. That sight held powerful, ancient magic.

After some time had passed the men, at young Beltran's urgings, bathed themselves in the lake, leaving their swords and knives and bows on the beach. It was in this rare moment of vulnerability that young Beltran revealed his true, traitorous face.

The ambush was swift, bloody, and thorough. Our women were enslaved, our elders cast out to fend for themselves in the wilds. Only a handful survived to tell their sorry tale.

Thus, we now live by what we call Beltran's Code: Never allow your weapon to venture beyond your reach.


Greg said...

Heh, I was expecting something completely different from your ending; that's a very nice piece of misdirection! And I have to admire Beltran's idea for an ambush, it was very clever :)
I hope you do get a good night's sleep tonight!

Jayala's eyes were red-rimmed from tiredness and weeping, and her legs bore long red scratches from where she couldn't leave them alone. Her mother, who had spent the week listening to her complaints about not being able to sleep from leg cramps, also looked tired.
"Did you use the bar of soap your grandmother gave you?" she asked. Folklore held that putting a bar of soap in the bed would cure leg cramps, but so far the brand new bar had failed, and the three-day old bar had failed as well. Jayala's grandmother had produced a truly antique, crumbly, ill-smelling relic of soap and said that it was proven to work.
"Yes!" snapped Jayala. "And I'm not washing those damn sheets either!"
Jayala's mother sighed. "I don't understand it," she said. "This is what we always do when someone has restless legs."
"Always?" Jayala was extremely grumpy.
"Well," said her mother, her tone dangerously soft. "There was that time we got the barber to cut the cramping leg off."

morganna said...

Often ignored by
Lots of educated
Kinds of folks unless to
Report their own
Educated bias.

Marc said...

Greg - I had not heard of that particular cure before. I suspect the barber route would be more effective.

Morganna - having said that, I do believe many old cures and remedies work better than a lot of what can be found in pharmacies.

Pick and choose, I suppose :)