by J. M. Lee
The Drenchen have a morning and evening ritual called waterfasting. Though this is not observed by all within the community, many of the elders make their way down into the lake at the foot of the Great Smerth to join in a group meditation with the water. It is not uncommon to see small groups of elderly Gelfling standing waist-deep in the lake, eyes closed, humming softly as they move their flattened hands across the surface of the water as if in dreamfast.
I joined the elders many times, after I was invited, of course, and I found waterfasting to be a most meditative and relaxing experience. Though I was not able to enter the mind of the water, there was still something very reciprocal about the feeling of the gentle waves rolling under my hands. Especially when waterfasting with a small group, I could feel the projection of dreamfast emanating from my companions, as if we were creating a field of harmony that could truly be heard by the water. After spending many mornings waterfasting with the Drenchen elders, I must say I have no doubt the Crystal does, in fact, hear us. In its own way, even if that way is not the way of the Gelfling. Nay, it is the way of Thra.
The Mystic Blue
Although Drenchen art, whether weaving, painting, or otherwise, is often colorful (as many paints and pigments are available in the rich land of the swamp), I found the color blue was used much more frequently than other hues, especially in depictions of a mystic or spiritual nature. I counted roughly ninety dyes and pigments used in painting and weaving among the Drenchen artisans; of that ninety, nearly a third were shades of blue. Blue for the sky, for the water, for stone. Different blues for rain and for rivers and lakes. Made from fruits and vegetables, pollens and minerals, refined by colorists with great care and specificity.
This rainbow of blues can be seen in depictions of the Crystal, the celestial bodies, or Gelfling, for example. Drenchen Gelfling are always painted in blue, while Gelfling of other clans may appear in blue or other colors, depending on their narrative role within the work. The maudra’s chambers are protected by hundreds of wood medallions, each with a sigil inscribed in blue ink. Blue eyes are considered a sign of mystical affluence. Indeed, when the sky clears and its blue face shows through the swamp canopy, the days are called mystic smiles.
Blue is also the color used when depicting fire, despite its naturally amber and red color. Fire, of course, is the most sacred of elements, representing spirit and the third eye. When illustrating fire of any kind—sacred or not—a particularly dark, rich, and shimmering blue is used, made from a mineral found within the swamp. The mineral is called vliyaka, named after Gelfling magic.
Hammers, a useful tool anywhere, but especially in the swamp, are made of blue stone, a variety of extremely dense rock common to Sog. While blue stone hammers are used mainly in construction, they are also crafted for ritual purposes, and often given as gifts. Drenchen song tellers say the tradition of the blue stone hammer dates back to Maudra Ipsim Vlisabi-Nara—also known as Ipsy the Blue Stone Healer. This title is passed down to the Drenchen maudra generation after generation.
Food
Though traditional Drenchen meals are predominantly composed of fish and fresh game, there is no shortage of fruits and vegetables in the swamp. Thanks to this abundance of variety, my meals were never boring when I was living with the Drenchen in Sog.
One thing I found unique and wonderful about the Drenchen was their style of eating. It is called dotraba, which means “big table,” and perfectly describes this communal style of meal. In dotraba, dishes are prepared in bountiful quantities and served on large platters that are used by all who sit at the table. In this way, mealtime becomes a community event, and everyone is invited to share and to feed one another as well as themselves. Mealtime among the Drenchen was always joyous and energetic, and everyone was always well fed.
The dotraba style becomes more interesting when all the Drenchen—not just small groups, such as families—gather on special occasions in Great Smerth’s dining hall. This chamber is large enough to fit nearly all the Drenchen of the clan, and during these dodotraba—very big tables—the dishes are brought out from the kitchens by the chefs one at a time. As each platter is finished by the group at the table, another arrives to replace it. And, as the Gelfling become sated by the meal, they retire to the kitchen to begin preparing the next round of platters, thereby relieving those who were so recently cooking and serving. When I asked about this tradition, the Drenchen maudra Elaia told me that dodotraba is not just a method of eating, but a symbolic ritual representing the unending cycle of life and death.
Fisheries
Fish is used in many of the Drenchen’s most popular meals, especially during spring, when the Blindfish spawn. To maintain fish numbers, the Drenchen keep underwater fisheries below the Great Smerth. These fisheries provide safe habitats for the fish, as well as allowing the Drenchen to count their numbers and, in turn, moderate their harvest.
The fisheries are constructed of lake stone, mined from the swamp bed, and aligned in concentric circles. If one were to stand among these small walls, they might come up to one’s knee. The Blindfish are mud-dwelling, and rarely swim higher than the walls, so they remain within the fisheries at peace, while simultaneously being easy to harvest for the Gelfling fishers who swim down from above. The curvature of the fishery tracks also prevents the fish from panicking, as the walls block water disturbances and sound vibrations.
The fisheries are broken up by covered stone huts, which provide dark caves for the fish to bury themselves in. These shadowy sanctuaries are also where the fish deposit their eggs and where the young hatch.
Sogflower
Of particular delight is Drenchen sogflower wine, made from the pollen of a large flowering water plant that grows in huge numbers within Sog. When water levels are low, the flowers remain dormant. However, during rainy seasons, the flowers shoot up from the swamp beds on fast-growing stems, with the bulb of the flower developing just below the water’s surface. Then, as the water levels drop, the flowers spring open, ready to be pollinated. They remain open for only a short time, the flower’s stems unable to support the heavy blossoms when the water level is low. The stems then break or bend down from the weight, shedding their spores into the water for the next generation.
Thus, every time the water levels begin to drop, the Drenchen gathering parties travel into the swamp with large pouches and collect the sogflower stamens, heavy with pollen. This pollen is then reduced by the Drenchen apothecaries into a fine, very sweet syrup, which is mixed with various juices rendered from swamp fruits, and fermented. The result is a delicious wine with the consistency of mead, the delight of any Drenchen gathering.
Sogflower, like many of the flora native to Sog, also has medicinal and healing properties. When the pollen is made into a salve or paste, it prevents infection in cuts; sogflower wine is also used generously in the curing of illnesses, as it calms the body and mind while simultaneously promoting hydration.
Songs of the Drenchen
Perhaps the most remarkable thing about the Drenchen, which sets them apart from all other Gelfling, is their ability to breathe underwater. They are the only Gelfling known to have gills, and while their wings are too small and dense for flying, they make unparalleled fins for maneuvering underwater. Watching them swim in the lake at the foot of the Great Smerth filled me with envy; I can only imagine how much of our world will go unexplored by those who cannot pass below the surfaces of the lakes and rivers and oceans.
Like their healing abilities, the origin of the Drenchen’s gills is a mystery. And, as we know, mysteries are the source of many a song. The following is one of the Drenchen’s favorite folktales, often sung during rain festivals, when the water levels are high enough that the sogflowers bloom.
While the tree in the song is often assumed to be the Great Smerth, other songs say that it was, in fact, Mother Aughra who planted the seed that would later grow to be the Drenchen’s patron tree.
Ipsy and the Great Seed
Yea, do you remember the trine far past
When the first Gelfling came to Old Sog
Yea, they traveled so far for a place to rest
A home to be made out of apeknot and bog
Oh, Ipsy was the name of the maudra back then
And young though she was, she was brave
She saw future in Sog, saw a place to call home
In this tangled and dangerous glade
The water was high as it always was then
And the Gelfling, they drowned one by one
As they tried to survive in the treacherous place
Slowly but surely they were overcome
The Gelfling told Ipsy she must take them away
Before the waters devoured the last of their clan
But Ipsy did not know where else they would go
Where else they could live in the Skarith Land
So Ipsy went off into the deepest Sog
To find the answer to their desperate need
She promised to return in three days’ time
Three days later she returned with a seed
The Gelfling gathered round when Ipsy returned
Three fewer than when she had left
They watched as she buried the seed in the moss
Then fell to their knees and wept
“Oh, Ipsy, Thra’s failed us,” cried they to her
As the swamp licked their ankles in waves
“If this seed is the answer it’s offered to you
This terrible place becomes our watery grave”
But Ipsy had heard the great whisper of Thra
She believed, for she had to—and sang . . .
Light blossomed forth from the seed in the moss
The Gelfling sprang back in surprise and in fear
In moments a sapling had burst from the ground
And it whispered a promise in young Ipsy’s ear
Then the great tree grew out at a quickening pace
And into the waters the Gelfling were thrown
But as they gave up their last gasping bubbles of air
They found that they had not drowned
”Care for me as you’d care for your mother”
said the tree as they breathed with new lungs
”And I will care for you as my children
My dearest Drenchen ones”
And the Drenchen Gelfling promised at once
Breathing the water into which they’d been freed
They danced under the surface in the shade of the tree
That had sprung from young Ipsy’s great seed
Apeknots are trees that grow only in the Swamp of Sog. Their porous roots and trunks capture air, allowing them to survive even in areas which are completely submerged in water. As they grow, their branches reach out parallel to the water below, connecting with the fronds of other apeknots until the canopy is one interconnected web of leafy branches. The same is true of the apeknot root system. In this way, all apeknots are part of one living, breathing entity that embodies the entire swamp.
Of course, when anything is such an important part of daily life, it eventually becomes immortalized in song. There are dozens of Drenchen odes to the apeknots that form both the pathways and the latticed roofs of their beloved swamp; here is one sung by childlings as they practice counting.
Three, Six, Nine
One, two, three
Hop, skip, leap
Four, five, six
Leaf, twig, stick
Seven, eight, nine
Climbing up the vine!
One, two, three
Up the apeknot tree
Four, five, six
Mind the nesting chicks
Seven, eight, nine
Climb a second time!
One, two, three
Along the apeknot tree
Four, five, six
Hear the Muski cricks
Seven, eight, nine
Climb a third time!
. . . and so on. Childlings are challenged to invent their own stanzas as the song goes on.
Spears are the instrument of choice among the Drenchen, closely followed by the Drenchen bola. However, spears are used in ceremony just as frequently as in hunting, as the spear represents spirituality (the blue stone head) and mortality (the wooden shaft). Spears are crafted by their bearers, usually under the supervision of an elder, and carried for as long as the spear itself can endure.
When a spear shaft finally cracks or bends—inevitable, of course, in the moist and rigorous conditions of daily Sog life—a tradition called spear breaking follows. During this short yet requisite ritual, the spear bearer breaks the shaft fully (if it isn’t already) and removes the spearhead. The broken shaft is discarded into the lake to rejoin Thra, and the spearhead is transplanted onto a new shaft. The tradition is often observed by close friends of the spear bearer, and is ritualized thus:
Spear-Breaking Incantation
Bend to my hand and break
Thra, my body take
Renew me now my mind
Leaving the old behind
Spear shafts are usually inscribed by elders with sigils of bodily protection against injury, illness, and other physical harm. The spearheads are left uninscribed. Instead, as they withstand action, either during hunt or ritual, any marks left (often temporary, as blue stone is nearly indestructible) are immortalized using blue dye. The spearheads belonging to elders are often almost completely blue after their owners’ many trine serving, hunting, and teaching within the community. When a Drenchen passes, their spear shaft is ceremonially broken by the maudra and buried with them. The spearhead—the existing proof of their spiritual influence within the community—is hung among the hundreds of others that dangle in the Great Smerth’s canopy. When the wind blows, you can hear their gentle, low-pitched song. I myself wrote a short song in ode to this.
Spirit Stones
Remember souls long past
Broken though their bodies be
Listen and you’ll hear their fast
Spirit stones among the canopy
Some songs say that the Great Smerth, the Glenfoot Tree, is the originator of all the apeknots within the swamp; other songs say that after the swamp rose from the mud and marsh, three magnificent apeknots grew together in a braid at the heart of Sog and became the Great Smerth. These two origin tales have one thing in common: heralding the Great Smerth to be the largest apeknot in the swamp. It is no wonder the Drenchen have chosen it to be their home.
Within the air-filled vasculature of the Great Smerth’s body, the Drenchen have gently, over many trine, made their homes. When I walked within the corridors of the magnificent tree, I could hear the footsteps of many tip-tapping against the wood. It sounded like the heartbeat of the tree itself. As the Drenchen tend to the tree that is their home, one can easily hear the sigh of love and relief that the tree breathes in return. The glowing warmth emanating from its heartwood is proof that it thinks of the Drenchen as its children.
The following is a hymn sung by the Drenchen maudra thrice a trine to honor the Great Smerth. This song is performed before the entire clan. I had the honor of witnessing it during the autumn equinox. The entire clearing was quiet and still, not a single bird interrupting the silence as the maudra stepped out onto the balcony overlooking the clearing. She turned to face the tree, her solitary voice sending chills up my back as she paid homage to the tree that protects her clan.
Drenchen Maudra’s Song to Smerth
O come, blue flames, from our very brea
th
O come, blue stone, from the very earth
O come, blue wind, to this Drenchen place
O come, kneel us down before the Great Smerth
Behold all we have without taking any
Behold all we are with your gentle face
And come blue skies and the bluest springs
O come, kneel us down in this sacred place
Arugaru, deatea
Kidakida, deratea
A Final Word
I left the Drenchen on a spring night to the sound of the beating drums and music in my honor. It was joyous, although bittersweet; my shoulders were sore from the friendly jostling, my belly full from dotraba earlier that evening. The glowing plants among the apeknots lit my way through the canopy, the Drenchen drums accompanying me long after I had left the glade at Great Smerth. And even when their booming faded, I could feel my heart was soothed and overflowing with love and generosity, and would remain so for many trine to come.
To End Is to Begin
And so here, after many unum of sleepless nights writing, I finally find a place to lay my quill to rest. My hand is aching, my second finger callused. My palm stained with ink, and my mind alive with the memories awakened by this writing. As if dreamfasting with my own past, if only so I might pour out those dreams into a cup from which someone else may drink.
I began a simple Stonewood song teller who wished to see the world. To find her own path, and to understand her place in the world. For her own ends, perhaps; perhaps it was a selfish quest in the beginning. But now I know what may have begun in self-service has ended in the opposite. I thought in the beginning there were Stonewood legends and Spriton myths, Sifan ballads and Dousan chants and Grottan hymns. Drenchen drums and Vapran choirs.