Thursday, January 12, 2006
Page 2
“Did you tell me that you would only show me your name if I showed you mine?”
“No…”
“Did you hide your name that I could not see it by the light of the lady a dune away if I had wished?”
The boyhood returned to the youth as he lowered his head as beast would and shook it, indicating he understood.
“If you wanted to trade names, you should have asked first. It seems to me that you were more than happy to simply give yours out.”
The young man stood up on some sandy rubble and began jumping from one tiny dune to the next, sometimes landing on fallen walls showing through the sand, sometimes exposing them with his dancing feet.
“I know what you mean now, but it still isn’t fair.”
The man nodded his hairless head affirmatively, though the child was facing away, lost somewhat in his play.
“Are you a warrior?”
“All men of the desert are warriors, though I am not much of one now.”
“All of the desert are sand.”
“Oh? How do you mean?”
The boy looked very thoughtful as he sat down for a moment, the sun on his back and his face shadowed before he spoke very slowly, occasionally stumbling over his own words.
“All men are of the desert… I mean, all men of the desert are sand, to be…” He brought up his hand and touched his right index finger bending it back as he tilted his head up, saying, “carried to glory… on the wind…” he touched his middle finger counting a second reason in his head, “blown across the surface of the earth, touching and mingling as he tumbles. Wait… tumbles along, or buried in the earth by his fellows. He binds with others, like glass, only when inspired by the long touch of lightning on the dunes to do so.” The fingers of the boy idly rolling before he pulled back his last two as he accounted for each point of the passage spoken from memory.
“The Re’nan have wonderful poets. Still, you seem to be a tad young and a touch restless to spend your hours committing that to memory.”
“It is our way, As Re’nan we learn the way of the desert till death. Those who have lived to learn all of that the Re’nan know of the way may change it and add to it, that is how our understanding of the way grows. This is the purpose of the Re’nan.” The boy spoke the words, clearly from memory, with a blank look on his face before smiling and kicking his feet again.
The shadows had begun to lengthen across the sand, as they had talked, they were surrounded by the sound of gently rustling wind and the grains of sand rumbling over the dunes with a sound like that of the lightest rain. The sky itself seemed to lose a bit of the brightest blue that it has best at mid-day.
Some time later he jumped up after shadow boxing with a fallen wall and with a suspicious look on his face he shouted quickly, “You’re not a Tahh-Ho assassin, are you? Who are you hear to kill?”
He jumped quickly into defensive posture as he yelled his question in a voice both mature, and boyishly naïve.
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“No…”
“Did you hide your name that I could not see it by the light of the lady a dune away if I had wished?”
The boyhood returned to the youth as he lowered his head as beast would and shook it, indicating he understood.
“If you wanted to trade names, you should have asked first. It seems to me that you were more than happy to simply give yours out.”
The young man stood up on some sandy rubble and began jumping from one tiny dune to the next, sometimes landing on fallen walls showing through the sand, sometimes exposing them with his dancing feet.
“I know what you mean now, but it still isn’t fair.”
The man nodded his hairless head affirmatively, though the child was facing away, lost somewhat in his play.
“Are you a warrior?”
“All men of the desert are warriors, though I am not much of one now.”
“All of the desert are sand.”
“Oh? How do you mean?”
The boy looked very thoughtful as he sat down for a moment, the sun on his back and his face shadowed before he spoke very slowly, occasionally stumbling over his own words.
“All men are of the desert… I mean, all men of the desert are sand, to be…” He brought up his hand and touched his right index finger bending it back as he tilted his head up, saying, “carried to glory… on the wind…” he touched his middle finger counting a second reason in his head, “blown across the surface of the earth, touching and mingling as he tumbles. Wait… tumbles along, or buried in the earth by his fellows. He binds with others, like glass, only when inspired by the long touch of lightning on the dunes to do so.” The fingers of the boy idly rolling before he pulled back his last two as he accounted for each point of the passage spoken from memory.
“The Re’nan have wonderful poets. Still, you seem to be a tad young and a touch restless to spend your hours committing that to memory.”
“It is our way, As Re’nan we learn the way of the desert till death. Those who have lived to learn all of that the Re’nan know of the way may change it and add to it, that is how our understanding of the way grows. This is the purpose of the Re’nan.” The boy spoke the words, clearly from memory, with a blank look on his face before smiling and kicking his feet again.
The shadows had begun to lengthen across the sand, as they had talked, they were surrounded by the sound of gently rustling wind and the grains of sand rumbling over the dunes with a sound like that of the lightest rain. The sky itself seemed to lose a bit of the brightest blue that it has best at mid-day.
Some time later he jumped up after shadow boxing with a fallen wall and with a suspicious look on his face he shouted quickly, “You’re not a Tahh-Ho assassin, are you? Who are you hear to kill?”
He jumped quickly into defensive posture as he yelled his question in a voice both mature, and boyishly naïve.
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# posted by BentSea @ 11:53 AM 
