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Legend of the Uor-tings

"Way out on the other side of the Ocean is the land of the Uor-tings. The Uor-tings are gods, but not like our Gods. Our Gods live in the skies, under the earth, in the trees and the animals, and sometimes behind our thoughts. The Uor-ting gods don't live in those places. The Uor-tings live beyond the water. The Gods can never be seen, although we know they are there, and we can feel their presence if we let ourselves. The Uor-tings can be seen whenever they walk the Land, although they don't come to the Land very often any more. It has been such a long time, many have stopped believing they are real. Since our only proof is with our eyes, and not with our feelings, when we cannot see them, we cannot know if they are still real."

"Grampa, how do you know about the Uor-tings?"

"Well, that would be because I met them..."

"All of them!"

"Oh, I don't know if I met all of them. No one knows how many there are, or how many there were, or how many there will someday be. But I know they are real, for I have seen them, and spoken with them, and even touched them on the outside."

"You touched them? Was it gross, Grampa? Are their outsides really like sand?"

"Like sand? Now where did you hear such an idea? Just because their outsides looks like sand -- like the sand on the Northern Beach, where the squilli play in the cool season, all pinkish and pale -- does not mean that they feel like sand. But did you know that some of them have outsides like the earth that we dig for kula and fael? Yet their outsides do not feel like the earth we dig. All of the Uor-tings feel the same on the outside, no matter how they look."

"So, what do their outsides feel like?"

"They feel like... well they feel like death."

"Like Death?!"

"Yes, like death. I know you're probably too young to be hearing this, but you asked, and I see no reason to deny you the truth."

"I'm old enough, Grampa!"

"If you're old enough to ask, and listen, then you're old enough to hear the truth. They feel like death, like the way our outsides feel when we die -- dry to the touch, but still soft and yielding."

"Like death...."

"Are you sure you want to hear about them? Maybe you are too young."

"No, no, I want to hear about the Uor-tings!"

"Maybe I should tell you about the time my brother followed a huge thye-boag for twenty days to find its cache of resch'k pods, only to discover it was only a half-day's travel to the west, and our cousin had already stumbled across it and taken them all. That cousin was always so lucky..."

"Did that really happen to your brother, Grampa? Wait, no, I want to hear about the Uor-tings! I'm not afraid, and I'm not too young. Tell me, Grampa?"

"Oh, I could never resist that tone in your voice, little one. Alright, the Uor-tings..."

"Thank you, Grampa! My favourite Grampa!"

"Enough flattery, thank you very much."

"So, how did you meet the Uor-tings?"

"Well, they came across the ocean, of course. In a boat. But not like the wide, flat boats we paddle out to the islands to gather mal fronds, and not like the fast little boats with their yellow sails that the young men ride out to the edge of the horizon to scoop the sea julp that forms a floating red mat as far as you can detect. No, this boat was a magic boat, much bigger, made of the same smooth stone-like material with which their weapons, and armour, and tools are constructed. It moved without sails or paddles, far faster than even the strongest gales could have blown them. And it floated not on the water, but on the air above the water, so that a wind blew up around it, like when you throw the flat stones out onto the water, and they skim along the surface, pushing the water up whenever they touch. Except the Uor-tings' boat never falls and sinks to the bottom, even when it stops moving. In fact, in never even breaks the skin of the water."

"They came in their boat, and the boat floated right up onto the pebbles on the Middle Beach. Oh, there were women there, sewing, and mashing kula and julp together, and singing their working songs. And the Uor-ting boat floated right up to them. At first, they all trembled, not sure what to do. Then many of them fled, back to the village to call the men, but some of them, the older ones, stayed to see, and maybe lead the Uor-tings astray, away from the village if the need arose. Of course, all the women knew it was the Uor-tings. It had only been seven years since the time two of the Uor-tings had come up to the village, riding skinny Uor-ting beasts that slithered across the ground on a thousand sticks. That time, the Uor-tings stayed for three days and played games with many of the children."

"Were they boys, or girls, or both, Grampa?"

"Boys or girls? The two riders? Who can tell? They don't look like you and me, and they don't look like your mother, or your sisters. Maybe each was both, or neither."

"So, everyone still remembered the Uor-tings from their last visit. Most still believed they were real -- seven years is not so long. Even I believed, although I had been away with my father and sisters on the islands when it happened. Everyone else believed, so I believed too."

"My mother was one of the women who stayed at the beach when the Uor-tings came in their boat. My mother was a brave woman."

"Grampa, your mother must have been very old. You're so old, your mother must have had twice as many brown spots on her as you."

"If she was still alive today, that would be true. But that was many years ago, and I was only a boy like you when the Uor-tings last came, so she would have been very close in age to your mother. Imagine your mother standing in wait for such a boat as the Uor-tings sailed -- no, I could not imagine it so either. But my mother had much more fortitude, so she stayed to see, and to divert the threat if needed. She had already had all the children she would have, so there was no loss there, and her sisters could take care of her family if she was lost."

"When the other women came running into the village, screaming and yelping about the Uor-tings, I was cleaning and repairing my father's tools. I quickly wrapped them up in the tang-skin I had laid on the ground, and left them there to investigate. I took only my father's second-best axe, some old rope, and a sharp knife that I sheathed in my harness. I ran quickly down to the beach, but stopped, awestruck, at the crest where the tall piff-grass ends and the grey sand begins."

"My mother and the other women who had stayed were clustered, touching each other, some with limbs entwined, in the shadow of the boat's prow. The bottom of the boat rested in the air no more than a stone above the sand. The top of the boat's prow was fifty stones above them, and leaning over the edge were seven Uor-tings, pointing and waving with their strange upper limbs."

"From my vantage point on the crest of the sand, I was high enough to see past the edge and into the boat. I was amazed to see nearly twenty other Uor-tings, moving around with great purpose, each with their own job to do on the big boat."

"As I watched, a large hole formed in the side of the boat. It opened up just like an eye, with pieces of the hull peeling back to expose what lay inside. A strong light came from that hole, and out of that light floated five of the Uor-tings. They stood on small discs of orange light, and floated over the heads of the women, like the seeds from the raffa pods in the late spring. The Uor-tings floated more than a man's height above the sand, and paused about halfway between their ship and me, as I stood there on the crest."

"I could hear them speaking to each other in their strange, clipped language. It has a rhythm, when they speak, that is unlike any natural rhythm you could hear in all the land. Not even the chattering half-people, the little ones who live on the slopes of the mountains hidden by the trees, and make all those noises that sound close to speaking, not even the rhythm of their sounds is as strange as the sounds the Uor-tings make when they speak."

"I became mesmerized, listening to them speak, and did not realize they were getting closer, coming toward me, until I heard my mother's scream from the beach below. The Uor-tings had floated quickly over to me as I stood in my reverie, listening but not watching. By the time I started looking around again, after my mother's warning, it was too late. They were all around me."

"I stayed in my place, frozen with fear. Perhaps I might not have been so afraid had my mother not screamed, but she clearly believe me to be in danger, so I reacted in that fashion."

"The Uor-tings were floating just above the ground on their glowing discs, pointing at my harness, at the rope I had coiled in my grip, and at my father's axe. They continued to chatter between themselves as they pointed. And then, one of them spoke to me."

"'Tell us your name, young one.' the Uor-ting commanded of me. The Uor-ting's voice seemed to spring from the air around me, and it had a strange quality. When the Uor-tings spoke our language, their voices sounded very different from when they spoke their own language. In many ways, they spoke like children, like young one's who are still learning to speak. Yet, their voices had a thinness, like when one of our tribe is very old, very sick."

"Grampa, what did they say to you next?"

"I was too afraid to speak my name, afraid that they could somehow use it to put me in their power. Something bold did take root inside me, though, for I held up my father's axe, and waved it slowly in front of me as I turned in a circle to face each one of the Uor-tings. I thought to tell them, though my voice had left me, that I was not as harmless as my years made it appear."

"Instead, the Uor-tings made a funny, rhythmic noise, all together, but in different beats and tones. Then a different one reached out and touched the axe, showing that there was no fear among them of my simple tool. I felt ashamed at my posturing, and lowered the axe to my side."

"The one who touched the axe then approached me, coming into the circle of Uor-tings, with the others closing the gap behind. The Uor-ting then reached down to touch the rope, which I had dropped on the ground beside me."

"After that, the Uor-ting in the circle spoke in the Uor-ting language to the one who had first spoken to me. Once again, the voice spoke from the air around me: 'We would like to make a trade. Will you trade with us? We will give you tools that we have made, and you will give us the tools you have shown us. Will you trade with us?' More Uor-ting chatter followed, and then the voice in the air asked, 'Do you have any other tools we can trade? You have a tool on your harness. May we see it? Will you trade it?'"

"I was amazed to hear that the Uor-tings wanted our humble tools. Yet, I am not an Uor-ting, so how can I know why they would want to do such a thing. I carefully drew my knife from its sheath in my harness, and held it out to the Uor-ting beside me in the circle, with the handle to the Uor-ting, and the blade in my grasp."

"This caused more chatter from Uor-tings, as the one beside me accepted the knife, and then the voice said, 'Yes, this is good.' The Uor-ting returned the knife to me, and then all the others lifted up into the sky and flew quickly to the hole in the ship. This left me beside the one who had examined the tools."

"Is that when you touched the Uor-ting, Grampa?!"

"Yes, that is when I touched him. The Uor-ting wore garments of a strange fabric, but parts of appendages were exposed. The Uor-ting extended one limb, and pretended to touch it. I repeated the gesture; I did not know what else to do. Then the Uor-ting reached out slowly and touched my outsides. I was very afraid, but I did not know what else to do, so I let the Uor-ting touch me. The Uor-ting then extended a limb again. The Uor-ting spoke, and again the voice came from the air, saying, 'Do not be afraid. I touched you. You may touch me.' So, trying to control my trembling, I leaned forward and touched the extended limb."

"And it felt like sand, Grampa?"

"No, young one. It did not feel like sand."

"I remember now. You said it felt like... felt like..."

"Yes, that is what is felt like. But do not be afraid, like I was then. I did not die, and the Uor-ting did not die. Not harm came to either of us."

"So then what happened?"

"Then the other Uor-tings came back. They floated out of the hole in the boat, and flew up to encircle me again. The one who had stayed with me spoke to me through the air again, but this time I did not understand the word: 'Dah-kuu'. Then the Uor-ting rejoined the others in the circle."

"Another one spoke, 'We have brought tools to trade. Will you trade with us?' Then the Uor-ting who spoke reached into a strange bag, and drew out an axe, a rope, and a knife, laying each on of the ground between us."

"Finally, I felt brave enough to speak, and said, 'Yes, I will trade. I will give you my axe for your axe, my rope for your rope, and my knife for your knife. It is a fair trade, and the Gods favour it.' My father told me to always end a trade with a blessing, just as your father has taught you."

"That's right, Grampa!"

"Then one of Uor-tings spoke through the voice in the air, repeating my blessing. 'It is a fair trade, and the Gods favour it.' The Uor-ting who had brought their tools out of the bag then carefully placed my knife, the old rope, and my father's axe in the bag. I completed the trade by placing the Uor-ting knife in the sheath on my harness, and gathering up the Uor-ting rope and axe."

"The Uor-tings chattered some more, and again they all flew up and over to their boat, except for one, who stayed behind. This Uor-ting spoke to me, and told me that there was important news I must relay to my elders."

"'We are leaving, young one.' said the Uor-ting, with the voice in the air. 'We are returning to our own land. Not the land beyond the Ocean, but our true land, Uor-ta, a great land above the sky. We thank you for the trade, and will take your tools with us.'"

"The Uor-ting then used a word I did not understand, 'relics', but I took it to be a special word for 'tools'. The Uor-ting said, 'Your trade has given us wonderful relics of your people. When we return to Uor-ta, many of our people will come to see these relics.'"

"Feeling more bold because of the Uor-tings praise, I asked, 'Are there many Uor-tings in the great land of Uor-ta?'"

"The Uor-ting answered: 'Yes, there are many. There are more than you could ever count, if you spent your whole life counting.'"

"Then the Uor-ting floated up on the glowing disc, and flew back to the boat. The hole closed behind the Uor-ting, and it closed so completely that I could not see that there had ever been a hole there."

"Within moments, the wind started to blow up around the Uor-tings' boat again. My mother and the other women, who had been watching, stiff with fear, now started to wail, and ran up the beach toward me, away from the wind of the boat. As my mother held me close, and all the other women started speaking at the same time, I could only watch the Uor-ting boat. It slid through the air down to the water, and seemed to drift without currents until it was far from shore. Next, a strange noise, like a wounded thye-boag, came from the boat, and suddenly it was racing toward the horizon, getting smaller faster than anything you could ever see run or swim or fly."

"I tried to track the boat until it disappeared beyond the sea julp on the horizon. Only then did I begin to listen to what the women were saying. They were saying how I was a great adventurer, that I had brought these wondrous gifts from the Uor-tings, that I was a brave hero. And I felt good, and proud that I had indeed received these Uor-ting gifts, but when they said I was a brave hero, I could only think about how afraid I had been."

"Later, when my father arrived home, I presented him with the Uor-ting tools. The axe, and rope, and knife I had given to the Uor-tings had all belonged to him, so the Uor-ting tools rightfully belonged to him in return. My father, though, was a wise and just man, and he knew what to do with the Uor-ting gifts."

"My father kept the axe. It was a magical tool, that never dulled, and there was no earthly object that could resist its blade. The axe was lost, however, in a battle with the tribe that lives on the shores of the inland sea.

"The rope was presented to the leader of our tribe, as a present to show our respect for our leader's greatness. In return, the tribal leader made my father one of his peers, and our family did well by the favours gained by the position. The rope could not be broken or torn, never wore out, felt as light as a single stalk of piff-grass, and could be stretched to twice its normal length. When the tribal leader died, his sons buried the rope with him in their family's secret burial site."

"My father, to reward me for my actions with the Uor-tings, gave the knife back to me. I spent many hours every day, for many days, fashioning a beautifully ornamented sheath for the knife. The knife could be gripped and used for hours without effort, so finely crafted was it. It's blade too, never dulled or tarnished, and its grip never wore down. When I grew older, I discovered that the knife had a special magical power. When I twisted a piece of the handle, the entire blade would sing, like a little joha in flight. When the blade sang, it cut through even stone as if passing through water."

"Grampa! A rope that stretches!? An axe that never breaks!? A knife that passes through stone like water!? Grampa, I don't believe you! You're just telling one of your stories. Everyone knows that boats float on water, not air. Stone is stone, and very hard, and water is water, and always yields. Stone is not like water, and nothing could make it be that way."

"You do not believe my story?"

"Grampa, that was a good story. But you were young many years ago, and maybe you misremember. I do not mean disrespect."

"You speak the truth. It has been many years since I was young. Perhaps my memories are cloudy with time. Who can say if the Uor-tings were ever real, if they are no longer near for us to see?"

"I am glad you listened to my story, young one. Go now, play with your friends. I hear them calling for you. Good-bye."

"Ahh, children are strange. You never know what they will believe, or when they will stop believing. And old people are strange too. Who do I speak to now, now that my grandson is no longer here to listen?"

"But I can still believe in the Uor-tings, for I was there, and I touched them. And I still have a 'relic' of their passing. This knife I carry on the inside of my harness -- it is still beautiful to look at, when the light shines off its magically smooth surface, the blade still unmarked after all these years. And listen to its beautiful singing when I twist the handle just so, just like the little joha on their crooked paths through the tops of the tall piff-grass."

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