Songs of the Seven Gelfling Clans
Page 7
Hollerbats, Nurlocs, and Other Cave Creatures
The caves are home to many creatures, of which the Grottan consider themselves shepherds. Many are responsible for the daily task of bringing food to the creatures that cohabit in their dark space. The Nurlocs and the Hollerbats in particular have grown very accustomed to their daily and nightly feeding routines. The shepherds have learned over generations how to provide for the creatures, passing the wisdom of quantity and menu through carefully preserved oral instructions.
In exchange, the Grottan benefit from the creatures in many ways; the Nurlocs loosen soil and rock as they dig, bringing aerated dirt into the caves as well as making conduits for fresh air. Without them, it would likely be impossible for Gelfling to survive within the caves. They also shed skin, fur, and scales, which are valuable materials for Grottan crafting; these durable remains are used in clothing, ornamenting, and the creation of instruments. The reedy antlers of the water variety of Nurloc, which fall off every thirty-four days, are hollow and make for very fine flutes.
Hollerbats—the Grottan’s sigil creature—flock in enormous colonies within the caves. Although the Grottan sometimes complain about their constant and noisy companions, the truth is that life within Domrak would be cold and dark if it were not for the Hollerbats.
Upon studying these cave creatures, I’ve found that their dung is extremely flammable and, contrary to what you might believe, does not have a terrible smell when used in fire and torch burning. I was shocked at first to see the Grottan collecting the dung in barrels; Hollerbats cluster in colonies numbering in the thousands, and their droppings transform the floor of the caves they roost in. The stalagmites and mounds of the dung are collected when semi-fresh—just soft enough to break into manageable portions for transport. The dung is then combined with sterilizing and stabilizing salts by the Grottan apothecaries and made into a thick, viscous paste, which can be stored indefinitely in jars. The paste is applied to torch ends, lantern wicks, and the inner stones of hearths—anywhere one might want to see a long-lasting, cool-burning flame. Candles will burn for days if their tallow is mixed with the paste. For this reason, the paste is called everburn, an invaluable resource in the depths of Domrak.
Living in the Shadow of the Arathim
The caves that make up Domrak and its surrounding area were not all dug by the Grottan. In fact, some elders say most of the caverns are the remains of what was once an enormous Arathim nest—perhaps the original hive in which the ancient race spawned. However, the Arathim left the caves long ago, when the Skeksis arrived and gave Domrak to the Grottan, who have lived there ever since.
Before living among the Grottan, I did not know about the caves’ previous inhabitants. When I first heard this rumor—that the cave in which I would rest my head every night was once a burrow of ten thousand Threaders—I thought that surely I was being told a joke. But as I read my diary within my cozy cave by the light of a candle, I looked closer. I saw the strange holes pocking the walls, just big enough to put my finger through. Hundreds of holes, dug by tiny Threaders, generations before the Grottan or I had arrived.
Signs like these were everywhere throughout the caves, once I knew to look for them, though many traces of the Arathim have been erased by the Grottan. Though, of course, all remains of webbing and silk have long since been removed, the Arathim are known for their “thread hooks”—the sculpting of stone on which to hang their webs. These hooks are large and conspicuous, but within Domrak, they have been crafted into other features by clever stonework and carving. Many of the bridges that span across the cavern are anchored on the thread hooks, to the point that they seem as if they could have been of Gelfling design instead of Arathim.
I asked if the Grottan ever thought the Arathim might return. They are known to roam aboveground, especially in the densest regions of the Endless Forest and among the highlands where Gelfling rarely go. The elders regarded my question as if I were a youngling, and as if every youngling asked the question at least once; their answer was that the Arathim would never return. Thra deigned to give the caves to the Grottan. If this were not so, why would Thra have evicted the Arathim to begin with?
The question—and its answer—became more abstract and philosophical from there, but my mind remained on the Arathim. The Arathim Ascendancy—the Threaders, Stingers, Spitters, and every other kind. Intelligent and loyal and powerful. Why would Thra have sent the Arathim away from this place to which they are so perfectly adapted only to be replaced by Gelfling, who commonly fear the dark rather than embrace it?
Food
The Caves of Grot reach straight into the heart of Thra, and it is no surprise that they are filled with flora, fauna, and fungi of a thousand varieties. Although they rarely seek game or ingredients from aboveground, the Grottan enjoy a wide array of foods. However, their rich menu of dishes was not the most delectable thing about their traditional cuisine; in fact, the way in which each meal was prepared was just as unique, thanks to their mind-boggling collection of spices and flavor dusts. Using everything from dried moss to salt-rock shaved from the interior walls of the caves, every Gelfling I met in Domrak had their own way of preparing even the most common of meals.
The Grottan diet consists largely of vegetarian fare, with large portions of mushrooms and root vegetables that are grown in cultivated colonies by Grottan farmers. Meals are often accented with a small amount of fish or seasoned paste. I was even lucky enough to try my first taste of dwarf Armalig, though to my understanding, such game is getting harder and harder to come by. The flavor reminded me of roast Nebrie. Leafy vegetables are a rare treat, as they only grow where sunlight reaches. When such things are included in a meal, the Grottan call it “dayfare,” a phrase usually said with a half wink and a grumbling, hungry stomach.
Fascinating, too, were the Grottan’s application of alchemy to food. They have developed ways of preserving foods by soaking them in vinegar, salt, and sugar. In this way they are able to store the rarer ingredients they find or procure from the daylighter world, and in addition, these pickling solutions lend very unique flavors to what might otherwise be a bland or boring ingredient.
Songs of the Grottan
Despite their disinterest in communing with their fellow Gelfling, the Grottan elders often invoked the name of Mother Aughra. Mother Aughra, the Helix-Horned; the three-eyed witch; the voice of Thra, if the old songs are to be believed. Of course, many songs tell of Aughra and her history of caring for us Gelfling; common tradition is to believe she brought us fire and water, earth and air; taught us to sing and dance; and explained to us the meaning of life and death.
If this is so, it has been hundreds of trine since those times, yet the Grottan speak of Aughra as if she were their friendly neighbor, living in a hut within the Grottan Mountains somewhere. Maudra Ermet told me that she often sends Nep, her young apprentice, out to the world beyond the caves to seek counsel from Aughra, or to trade with her Podling assistant for stocks of herbs and salves that are difficult to procure within the caves. In all my travels, I myself have not once seen a sign of Aughra—whether she is truly divine or just some old crone—so if this connection was contrived to impress me, I do not know.
The following is a wayfinding song, said to help a Grottan find their way to Aughra’s famed orrery. Though, when I followed the steps detailed in the song, they took me wandering through the mountain woods until I became almost too lost to find my way back. I never saw the high hill with the promontory shaped like a cloud; I never reached the red vines. Regardless of my lack of success, I found it an insightful song and have recorded it herein.
The Way to the Observatory
Exit ye the Tomb of Relics
Climb the twelfth stair
Until you hear the sound of
Daylighter blowing air
Wait till nightfall if you must
Then leave the caves behind
Round the mossy waterfall
Down toward the falls ye climb
For all of night ye walk beside
The largest river stream
Then as the sky begins to light
A promontory ye will see
Upon a highest hill, belike
A cloud head of a storm
Head yonder and if ye lose sight
Let the suns your left cheek warm
With high hill as your marker
Journey make in two days’ time
And when the river ends in rock
Up the rocky cliffside climb
A trail ye reach some distance up
Where red vines like long fingers grow
Whisper careful, boojay boojay
And into hidden tunnel go
Those who read deeply may have heard the legend of the Six Sisters, who were entrusted by Thra and the Crystal of Truth to found the seven clans and lead the Gelfling. Thra also assigned each of the sisters a nature and a divine task. The sisters went forth, and from their footsteps and hands sprang the Gelfling as flowers from the soil.
Though this origin myth, taking place long before even the Skeksis appeared in our world, is not regarded by most Gelfling as the true beginnings of our seven clans, the Grottan in particular are quite loyal to it. Perhaps this is because the song was told—if rumors are to be believed—by a Grottan. The legend of this song’s inspiration is a song in itself, and the framing for the song of the Six Sisters:
Song of the Six Sisters
Hidden within the ancient Tomb
Sylus, Grottan song teller, lay sleeping
When dream he had, his hand outspread
The makings of an etching
When he woke, he saw the mark
Proof of his magic far-dreaming
So he looked upon it and softly read
What he’d sung while he’d been resting:
A thousand trine and more ago
The land was calm before
No Gelfling walked below the trees
Nor sailed the windy shore
Then rise up from the flower bed
Sweet Gelfling, sisters six
And the Crystal turned its song to them
Within their dreams transfixed
“Awaken, hear my dreaming song
Ye Sisters, two times three
So seven clans may spring forth
I entrust these seven gifts to ye:
“To the Dousan, the endless heavens; the study of the skies
To the Sifa, the changing wind; the telling of signs
To the Stonewood, the burning fire; the essence of the hearth
To the Spriton, the protective land; the foundation of the earth
To the Drenchen, the vital water; the blue flame of life
To the Silver Sea clan, the records of shadow and light.”
Six sisters woke from their dream
And tearfully parted ways
Into six clans their gardens grew
For a hundred nights and days
But Thra’s voice had spoken seven
So the great clan of the Silver Sea
Split in twain and separated
To fulfill Thra’s fated prophecy:
The sixth became the sixth and seventh
Cursed and blessed, dark and bright
The Grottan and the Vapra
One in shadow, one in light
So read the dream-etched book of Sylus
As he looked upon the dreamed tome
He closed the cover and left it hidden
Where it belonged within the Tomb
Perhaps one of the most sacred locations maintained by the Grottan Gelfling is the Tomb of Relics, a catacomb of halls some half day’s distance from Domrak. Within the halls, protected by a heavy stone door, is an unending collection of artifacts gathered from throughout history. Tapestries, tools, artwork, and even books line shelves and fill crates, making up potentially the most comprehensive assortment of Gelfling treasures in existence.
One question I asked, of course, was who is responsible for finding such items and bringing them here. To this the Grottan had varying answers, ranging from Gelfling adventurers to Aughra herself. One youth even suggested that she had once seen a pale four-armed creature moving about the Tomb, mumbling to itself. These songs of fancy imbue the Tomb with a most mysterious charm.
There is a game played by the Grottan called Gricksies, which is based loosely on the layout of the Tomb. The following is a short ditty about the game and the Tomb, usually sung by parents while tending to their infants.
Gricksies
Over, under, over, under
Weave through Gricksies maze
Forward, backward, round the corner
Right and left and sideways
Toss the stones and shells and gems
Before the candle burns out
Clicky clacky running backsies
Gricksies! Everyone has struck out
The Sanctuary, a grand valley in the heart of the mountains, is one of the few locations the Grottan frequent that is outside the caves. Judging from the petrified aquatic plant formations—including giant lily pads and fungi—as well as the shallow water at the very base of the gorge, I believe the open valley may have once been a mountaintop lake, perhaps even the elusive headwaters of the famous Black River.
Here in the Sanctuary—only at night, when the light of the suns does not bother their sensitive eyes—the Grottan Gelfling meditate upon the Song of Thra, which they say can be heard here better than anywhere else in the Skarith Land. Whether this is true or not, I have no authority to say. All I can add is that, with the wide sky above and the deep earth opening into the belly of the world below, I have never felt so much an intermediary between the Crystal of Truth and the rest of Thra as I did within the Sanctuary.
This Grottan chant bears a resemblance to other meditative chants I have heard among Gelfling of other clans. I am told it invokes the four elements in the language of Thra:
Grottan Meditation Chant
Arugaru aru agura aru
Deatea dea deratea tea
Kidakida ki kira kida
Every seven hundred trine, song tellers say, Bell-Birds roost in the Sanctuary. Though I did not see any of these magnificent creatures during my stay, I came across evidence of their passing in the form of enormous stone nests and loose feathers longer than I am tall. It reminded me of one of Gyr the Song Teller’s most famous love ballads, which I include herein.
The Bell-Bird and the Mountain (Attributed to Gyr the Song Teller)
Let me tell you a song of these windy peaks
Whose stories fill hearts like a fountain
This song of a love ne’er meant to be
The Bell-Bird and the Mountain
As you know, every seventh ninet spring
The Bell-Birds flock to the Sanct of Grot
Where they roost, line their nests, warble and sing
Echoing songs of the past that the rest have forgot
One Bell-Bird arrived long after the others
No mate would she find left around them
But sad she was not of the burgeoning mothers
For her love was the very mountain
It had echoed her call since the beginning of time
No matter where she called from, it responded
Through perfect refrain in a mirroring rhyme
The Bell-Bird and mountain were bonded
For hundreds of trine, the Bell-Bird retu
rned
Ne’er roosted, nor nested, nor a single egg laid
But happy she was with the light that she burned
And never once from her sweet mountain strayed
Through trine and unum, wind, storm, and snow
The Bell-Bird grew old on her love’s cliffside face
Though to her soft murmurs it never first spoke
She died happily there in its stony embrace
Above the caves, flourishing in the thin mountain air, is Vliste-Staba, the Sanctuary Tree. This magnificent, pink-petaled tree is visible from many peaks in the Grottan range; its bright hue is impossible to miss, especially as it flowers three seasons out of the trine, only shedding its blossoms in late winter. The Sanctuary Tree is also called “the mirror of the mountains,” perhaps alluding to one of the Grottan’s more romantic songs, which I have scribed here.
Because of the reference in the song, some Grottan elders believe that the Sanctuary Tree has two faces: As if looking at itself in the reflection of a mountain lake, they told me. Does this mean the Sanctuary Tree has a twin, hidden somewhere in the caves? Were I a Grottan myself and able to see in the dark, I might risk a journey even farther into the belly of the mountains . . . but alas, I am unequipped for such an adventure, as much as it pains me. And so, all I have as evidence of this mysterious reflection of the Sanctuary Tree is this song:
The Mirror of the Mountain
Gaze she now upon her feet
Pink petals dance on surface
Stone pebbles sink in water deep
Through the mirror of the mountain
A Final Word
When my time with the Grottan came to an end, I left at dusk with a pouch of glowing moss and a collection of traveler’s salves. Returning to the daylighters’ world after living in Domrak was like being born into a new world; I felt as if I were seeing it for the first time. As I waited in the shade for the burning in my eyes to subside, I pressed my ear against a stone and could hear the tapped words of the Grottan sending their farewells. Though still clumsy in spite of my practice, I touched the rocks and told them of my gratitude as best I could. Then I listened to the stones as I had when I was a childling in Stone-in-the-Wood, though this time, accompanied by the chorus of my Grottan friends, I felt as though I could hear more of the Song of Thra than ever before.