The Tale of Kutava (Introduction)

(Continued from the Prologue)

It was a warm summer evening, and having arrived to a town, I sought a place where I could spend the night. I inquired of a merchant in the centre of town who was packing up his wares. ‘Well, lad, inns we have not in this small town, but there is an old man down that road who is quite hospitable. He’s a great teller of stories.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Methinks they’re all tall tales, though he insists they’re true—but regardless, he tells them well!’ I was quite interested to hear a tale of that land, so I thanked the man and followed the road which he had indicated. I knew not which house was that of the storyteller, so I knocked at a house built of logs to inquire.

A maiden opened the door.

‘Elkon! No silpite? – Greetings! What do you seek?’

I told her all I knew from the merchant’s description. ‘Ah! You seek Melpalêpsen, the old storyteller! And this is his house. Alorite!’

I followed her into the house, and she led me along a passage lined with torches of fire. We entered a dimly lit room. To the right was a roaring fireplace, and to the left was a curiously fashioned wooden chair. It was carved with all manner of designs, and it was cushioned with the furs of beasts. And in this chair sate an old man, whose hair was white as snow. As we entered the room, he spoke.

‘Tharelis! Nen lori? – Thareli! Who cometh with thee?’

The girl replied, ‘Odales, to kê shorgês, ten azelki. – I know not, grandfather, but let him speak for himself.’

He looked at me. ‘No manite? Melpalêpso Anicho ven manê. – Who art thou? I am Melpalêpsen Anichen.’

I replied, ‘I am but a traveller from another land; I seek only a place to rest this night.’ He replied, ‘I will gladly give thee a place to stay, for I too was once a traveller and a wanderer. Please receive our warm welcome, and I bid thee eat with us as well.’ I gladly accepted his offer, and he went on to explain that dinner would be ready presently.

‘Dost thou wish to hear a tale of mine?’ he asked. ‘I would fain hear your tale,’ said I, ‘for I am fond of hearing stories of the places I visit.’

‘Well, perhaps thou shalt not be disappointed, for my tale begins not in this land, but far across the sea. But please have a seat by the fire, and I shall tell thee the beginning of my tale while my wife prepares the meal.’

I was carrying a pack, from which I drew paper and pen, for I wished to record the story of this old man. He spake using the tongue of Zéfelen, the land in which I was sojourning at that time.

I have still that manuscript that I wrote as I sat beside the fire. I learned later, after his death, that he himself had written the story in a book. Thanks to his gracious family, I was able to obtain a copy of this book, in which I found several events and details which he did not mention to me when I heard his story. The tale which follows is the story of the life of Kutava, or Melpalêpsen, as he was called in his later years. I have combined his written version with that which I wrote down, although his original wording has been preserved in all places. It is also well to note that he both told and wrote the tale in the tongue of Zéfelen (although it was not his native tongue) and what follows is my best attempt in translating it into English. I have added notes in places where it was impossible to convey the original meaning in the text.

And now, without further ado, let us begin the tale. Seat yourself by the hearth of Melpalêpsen with me, and let us listen to the tale of Kutava son of Anitijova.

Continue reading: Part I