Author's Note: Or, "What Happens When The Author Listens to Too Much Kaoling (And Pane Dhiria, Of Course)"
I might as well just treat this as writing practice because BLUH this definitely didn't turn out the way I wanted it to (but then again, none of my stories do). Enjoy, anyway.
The stories tell of a mere mortal who had once saved the world through song.
They have been told by countless generations before, and will be told by countless generations into the future.
Now, you shall listen.
He who heads toward the root of the shining stars
Runs through the faint light
It was a troubling time. The rivers had dried up, the land was falling into ruin, and all were proclaiming it to be the final end.
A lone man, a harp his only possession, was walking up a deserted road.
Suddenly, his eyes came upon the strangest sight.
A young lithe girl, her long aquamarine hair blowing in the wind, was dancing with abandon in the light of a huge bonfire.
Her eyes came upon him, and she smiled.
"Traveler...dance with me."
She took his hands and pulled him in, and both spun around the bonfire with a feverish delight.
Eventually, the traveler stopped to take out his harp and play, because what was a dance without music?
The girl stared in wonder, and eventually started to dance, letting the music guide her movements.
Toerekunya en rai heya muhe.
Toya pahara para heya ryohe.
Para tyura, Pane Pane, ryotwurehe ryotsene beredore to raya to lu herajya.
Para thuryoe parahamaha ryomasa.
To rafajya thurye hedora ryoka tobanehe.
Thie ryehe to mea meryo thue li
Pane...jya. Pane, jya! Pane dhiria!
The song ended, and the dance stopped. The girl turned toward him.
"There is a certain magic in your music, traveler. No one has ever danced with me before. I am in your debt. Where are you going?"
The man stood straighter, and proclaimed, "I seek an audience with the gods."
"Such a strange destination...but..." The girl smiled once more and extended her hand.
"Come with me, traveler, I can take you there"
Wandering, he walks up the spiral staircase
And stands in front of the gate of heaven
A girl lead him by the hand towards the stage
Higher and higher and higher they went, on a stairway made of stars.
And still, they danced and sang, letting the music reach above and below, the heavens being their only witness.
Eventually, they ascended into the realm of the gods. The girl fell back, though unwillingly.
"This is as far as I can take you, traveler," she said, her head cocked in thought.
"And yet, I still don't know your name."
The traveler smiled mysteriously. "I am but a simple musician."
He knelt and kissed her hand gently, bidding her goodbye as he ventured in deeper.
As he reaches out, the door opens and light spreads all around
Guided by an arrow
Even from a distance, the Musician could feel the sheer rage.
Light of all colors flashing wildly nearly blinded him, a fierce gale was buffeting his progress.
And in the chaos, the gods screamed in anger.
The divine song of the angels can be heard
But the god was angry and lay waste the land
"Give me a beautiful melody this time!"
The Musician trudged on even further, to the center of the maelstrom, where the leader of the gods stared down at him in fury and amazement.
The Musician took out his harp.
"My lord, please listen!"
"I will play for your pleasure!"
On the stage of fate, fragile fingers play keenly against the strings
And he sang.
Stars of the Milky Way hold hands as the end draws near
In the music, the god cried
And the whole universe stopped to listen.
Blessed, the cradle of the land falls into sleep
The rain of consolation stops
In the world full of hope as it should be
They say in that very moment, the rivers began to flow once more, and the land became fresh and green. The gods had given their blessing.
The Musician was never seen again. No one knows what had become of him, some even guessing he had become a god himself.
Told in the dark nights, generation after generation
The festival of the all saints that spreads all around
The stories tell of a mere mortal who had once saved the world through song.
They have been told by countless generations before, and will be told by countless generations into the future.
On this very night, every year to this very day, the people of the land sing and celebrate in his honor, of the lone Musician who had managed to please the gods themselves and saved the land from utter destruction.
They say if you listen hard enough, you can still hear the faint echos of his song, where they will continue to resonate forevermore.
Pane! Jya terathi herara.
Pane! Jya faryoma herye.
Pane! Jya farero tseryone tore tsere hene...
fin.