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Creation of the World
Gunnhild was holding her granddaughter's egg when the call to story was made. She tried to settle down on a perch high above the others, but a niggling suggestion in the back of her mind insisted on being set in the front to listen and observe properly.
Story... the thought whispered happily. Then, the egg began to wiggle a little. Story story story! Stoooory! Story story story!
Gunnhild blinked at Ira, who smiled and shrugged. Löwenherzchen dashed forwards to protect Sharona from any might-be-bondmates. It had began to support the choice made by Kipfel and Ira. No bondmates for this happy little girl. She was developing well enough without one, though she'd probably become ridiculously mundane. As long as she was happy, though, it wouldn't matter.
And she was always happiest when someone was telling a story. Löwen could feel the egg listening with rapt attention as Astrid sat slowly on her chair. She coughed a little, since she was fighting a cold, and began.
"My ancestors were of Midgard, a world enclosed within the coils of a snake that had swallowed its own tail. But long before that world was realized, the Yggdrasil was planted..."
***
Long before even Yggdrasil was planted, there was a great chasm, the Ginnungagap. On one side was the fire of Muspelheim. On the other was the ice of Niflheim. These two worlds would later form the two lowest rooting places of the world tree Yggdrasil.
In this chasm of Ginnungagap, the fire and the ice met and melted. It formed a great cow, which is not unusual in the tales of my ancestors, which reared Ymir, also created of the fire and ice, and father of the frost giants.
The cow stayed alive by licking salty blocks of ice, and from this licking came Bur, whose son would father the Aesir, my gods. Ymir fathered the frost giants in a similarly odd manner. One male and one female were sweated out of his underarms.
The group of them lived together in the chasm of Ginnungagap until Bur's son Borr's son Odin killed Ymir. Ymir's blood flowed forth and flooded the chasm, killing all the frost giants save one.
And Odin, being an Aesir, used Ymir's blood to create a world above the chasm. He made the sky, the mountains, the plants and the creatures and the sea. And he called it Midgard. He used Ymir's eyebrow to fence in the place where mankind would live. And he stretched the sea to house the Midgard serpent, Jormungand.
From Ymir's body grew a great tree, Yggdrasil. Its branches supported the whole of the universe. Its roots sucked from three streams on three worlds, one of which was the realm of the Aesir, Asgard. That stream was tended by the Norns, the goddesses of fate. And so it was for many long, long ages. Yggdrasil supported all the worlds while nourishing itself by them as well.
***
She finished to an appreciative round of applause. Löwen smiled to itself as Sharona continued to listen, as if expecting that weren't the end of the story. But it was all Astrid would tell.
Story, story! Sharona urged at Löwen.
The sufan smiled at the egg and patted it carefully. All gone, it told her.
Stooorrryyy... Sharona keened.
Löwen decided to see what it could do. It reached out to touch the other bishen minds at the gathering very carefully, so they wouldn't know it was snooping. Which one knew the creation myths...
Gunnhild knew the norse myths like the back of her tail, but that was all. Clarinet knew some myths, but not enough. Kipfel could care less. But Ira....... Löwen smiled and pushed the boldness into the blue to make him speak his subconscious.
*We have a similar story,* Ira said, blinking suddenly afterwards in surprise.
*No we don't,* Kip argued, mostly just to be contrary.
*Well, not similar in details,* Ira clarified. *But in reading the old books Xylon has brought back, I've stumbled on a series of creation myths, and I've listened to the stories of some of our clan at gatherings.* He looked at Kip as if daring him to deny this. Kip said nothing. Ira continued. *I'd like,* he said in spite of himself, *if I may, to tell what I think is the creation myth among our people.*
Astrid smiled and yielded the chair to the dragon.
Sharona let out a series of chirps from inside her egg. YAY! DADDY STORY! she gleed to Löwen.
Löwen felt ridiculously proud of himself.
*There are two tales of our creation,* Ira began. *One is the evolution of our species from terrible lizards, what Tor's people call dinosaurs. The other is the creation of our people as a people by the aid of the gods...*
***
For those of you who don't know, dinosaurs were great lizardlike beasts that lived on the surface of the planet Earth a long, long, long time ago. Before even Astrid's ancestors were born. Earth is rather like Midgard, except it's a very free-type of growth. Many gods, many peoples.
Even our people have many gods and their underlings. Sometimes they cavort with mortals, sometimes not. And there are forever two sides, who sometimes blur their own lines, provoking each other without much reason. Sometimes they had great reason, other times they worked together against a common enemy.
All of us bishel know two of our deities: Gratira and Aritarg. They are as two sides of the same coin, often the chiefs of two warring tribes, Gratira's tribe that of joy and easy life, Aritarg being the tribe of hardship and stress. Yet the bishen of these separate factions are no more evil or good than any other. And while the two may seek revenge by trifling in the fates of the other's mortal pawns, many of us are not important enough to bear a second glance.
This, at last, brings me to how Gratira and Aritarg created our society. In the early days, there were no gods. We were little-minded and were just beginning to come into the light to see that it was cold and therefore bad. That was when the meddling began.
They had come to Luka and Ghal to tell them to remember to be thankful for the gods who had created them and their kind. Gratira, Aritarg, and their siblings, Col d'tirra and Kynadtuli were met with arrogance. The gods cursed them.
But those four were not the only gods, only the most well known. The others were quiet gods, lesser gods, ones who had not intended to betray their creators, Heaven and Earth, for their own desires. There was Shepternu, whose name has no direct translation. She was the bringer of order to our world, direct from the soul of the entity itself. A personal envoy. Her twin, Shedyam, was the envoy of the void, the dark nothingness in which the universe had been created.
The two of them began to whisper words to Gratira and Aritarg and Col d'tirra and Kynadtuli. However, they spoke their words to the bishel of earth.
*The best way to earn the respect of the people of earth is to give them order,* Shepternu told Aritarg.
*I want nothing to do with those living creatures,* he spat.
*Think of the power you could have over them. Think of the greatness they would know of as their gods...*
Meanwhile, to Gratira, Shedyam whispered sweet nothings. *The people are happiest if they are free to do as they desire. Aritarg wants to create an ordered state. We must stand against this.*
*But great freedom brings much risk,* Gratira knew.
*What is the greater risk? A few foolish actions taken by few individuals, or a cold, clenching system created only to serve your cousin, Aritarg?*
They told the people, also. At one end of the world, Shedyam set to work tearing down social boundries. At another, Shepternu spoke greatly of the glory that could be had by doing as Aritarg desired.
And while the gods seemed to be doing nothing, they went in disguises, more common-looking ones than before. Aritarg set up a series of high priests in the states that Shepternu had influenced. Gratira walked freely among those Shedyam had seen to.
For a while, it was good. Time passed, however, and the priests and free people began to corrupt themselves. The priests skimmed some of the offerings for themselves. The free people took advantage of each other, becoming greatly more wicked without the laws of a higher power to bind them to goodness.
Each confided in their siblings the troubles they were having. These siblings spoke to each other, and then back to their siblings. So it was that Gratira learned of Aritarg's troubles, and he of hers. They agreed to meet on neutral terms.
*These people cannot govern themselves,* Gratira said with a sigh. *They need a leader.*
*The leaders do not help,* Aritarg grumbled. *They skim profits for themselves. They take advantage of the people.*
*The people take advantage of themselves, too,* Gratira countered. *There must be some way to keep them free but controlled.*
*Loyal but not too powerful,* Aritarg agreed.
Together, they schemed. *One leader,* Gratira put forth. *Only one position of power. Perhaps with some advisors, but only one making the decisions.*
*That's not a very solid chain of command,* Aritarg said.
*But it's safer. There's only one person to stand up to if things start going sour. Instead of thirty.*
Aritarg growled. He had liked the high priests building temples and alters to him, but he supposed she had a point... for once. After all, it ensured more of his offerings got to him.
*Naturally the rest will sort themselves out,* Gratira said calmly.
*What do you mean?* Aritarg asked. *We need rigid jobs for everyone.*
Gratira laughed. *Didn't you learn, Aritarg?* she asked with a knowing smile. *They must be free to learn their own paths, but they must also trust the one leader absolutely with their safety.*
The two bickered and bargained for a while longer, and then, at long length, decided on the course of action. One leader, a Kailan. He would be the oldest and wisest of the group. If there were two possible candidates, it would be put to a vote.
Shedyam and Shepternu were not heard of for a long time since then. Their purposes had been fulfilled.
The other gods and goddesses saw to it that the societies agreed upon were implemented all over. And so it was that our gods and goddesses gave us the civilizations we have now. Some may have changed, and some may have died out. But by and large, each clan has a Kailan, and that one dragon is the leader, protecting all the others above all else.
***
The other three bishen present presented outward looks of pride and agreement with the story, but none could really hide their thoughts from Löwen, who felt Gunnhild's solid "knowledge" of the world shift a little, while Clarinet's private philosophies bent a little to adapt to this thought of other gods but the four they had known. Kipfel... he didn't give a damn. Still.
Löwen could see the smile on the black's face, though, when he thought of how much Sharona must be enjoying all the stories and songs. She certainly had taken a great shine to them. Other stories followed, but Sharona didn't stay long to listen to all of them, because all the bishen knew she'd stay up too late if she did that. Instead, Kip and Ira and Löwen took her back to the tower and curled up around her by the fire.
She was safe there, no matter who created the world and how it was going to end. All that mattered, really, was that there was love in this very tight family circle. And love was the best soil in which to grow things.
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