The Tale of Kutava (Part I)

(Continued from the Introduction)

‘I am not a native of this country, but I was born in the land of Ĝimlu, far across the sea, in the eighteenth year of the reign of Vetakishli Lata (lata signifying “king”). I lived in Stalshi, a small town among the northern hills, where each man knew his neighbour.

‘I have many fond memories of my childhood there, tending the llamas, hiking into the hills alone, and travelling to other parts of the country with my father. Yet what I enjoyed most was hearing stories told, just as I now tell stories to thee. There was an old man in our village, hight Zêstika, which translated is “Many Waters”. Our village was located on a large hill, and the house of Zêstika was perched at the very top. Every month, on the first day of the month, all the children of the village would go up to the house of Zêstika, to hear him tell one of his many stories. Though we were children, he never failed to keep our attention, and he surprised us each time with a new story which we had never heard. He told all manner of tales, of the coming of men to Ĝimlu, of the manner in which the lizards lost their fur, of the beginning, when the stars were set in the sky, and many other tales besides. Yet those that fascinated me the most were those tales of the zintushe, great beasts which roamed the earth long ago. Among these were the terimlae, with their fearsome claws, the tolshae, which had three heads, and the êsnae, great serpents of the sea. I have not time now to tell one of these tales, but perhaps I shall have a chance later.

‘One evening, I and my friends went up with the other children of the village to the house of Zêstika, for it was the first day of the month. That night, we gathered around him by the fire, much as we are now, and the old man told to us the tale of that hero of old, Terimla Kon the Dragon Slayer, who slew single-handedly the great terimla that was terrorizing the villages of northern Ĝimlu. What a tale! I savoured every word of it, and one part I still remember, to wit, “Since the day that Terimla Kon wrought that great deed, no terimla has since been seen in Ĝimlu.”

‘As I walked home that evening, I thought on this. “So that is why there are no more terimlae,” I thought, “Terimla Kon scared them all away. What a shame that none remained for others to fight!” More than anything else in the world, I wished to see one of these great beasts. That night I dreamt of terimlae, and I dwelt on them still as I went out to feed our llamas the next morning. As I was preparing to give the llamas their feed, my father sat nigh making a special saddle for one of the llamas.

“My father,” I said, “may I ask of thee a question?” “Please do, my son, for thereby mayest thou learn.”

“Are the words which Zêstika speaketh true?” “Zêstika? Speakest thou of the old storyteller?” “Yes, my father, I wish to know if the grand tales which he telleth are true.” “A good question, my son, and one for which there may not be a satisfactory answer. You see, the tales are old, old as the hills, older than the storyteller himself. What he telleth he heard from his father, and he from his father, and so on. You ask whether the tales are true. No one knows. I myself find it hard to believe many of his fantastic stories.” I considered this for a moment, then replied, “The reason for which I ask is on account of the zintushe. Zêstika saith that they fled before the hand of Terimla Kon and have never been seen since.”

‘My father set down his work and looked at me. “My son, this is what I advise thee to do: Enjoy these tales of beasts and dragons whilst the storyteller yet lives. For these I believe to be mythical creatures, which existed only in the minds of those who contrived them.” I was greatly saddened at this. “But what of the shamnuje that nearly overran Ĝimlu? And what of Terimla Kon who saved Nuĝim from the terror of the terimla? From whence came his name if there were no terimlae?” I was almost in tears. “I know not, my son, for those years are long past. But be not downcast, my dear son, behold, it is now time to mount the llamas and go tend the crops below.”’

[Editor’s note: At this time Yeklashi, the wife of Melpalêpsen, informed us that the evening meal was prepared, and thus the tale was paused for a time.]

Continue reading: Part II

College already?

No, I didn't wake up this morning and realize that I had become Rip Van Winkle and missed two years of high school. Rest assured that I'm still a junior, it's just that this semester I'm taking a couple of online classes at Weatherford College as "double enrollment." They tell me that this means I'll get credit for both college and high school from these classes.

Being my first college classes, I figured it would be best to take a class on something I enjoy, so I chose Web Programming. Basically in this class I'll be learning how to make a webpage from scratch, starting from a blank text document and working from there (yes, with notepad!).

I'm also taking a database class for Microsoft Access this semester, so that I'll be able to take the advanced web programming class in the spring. Not quite as thrilling as HTML, but good to know for MySQL (the type of databases used with websites).
So there you have it—I'm an official student of Weatherford College. I even got my very own students.wc.edu e-mail address! How cool. And I don't even have to go to the college since my classrooms are online.