We should listen to this tale.
+1 it's an answer.
+1
"Yes. If you will tell me"
"Very well. Sit down, it is a long tale, and full of sorrow." A chair sprouts from the ground, you take your seat. The Ant-god gathers his thoughts and begins:
"Sheshbaalu was born in the west, where elephants roam and lions hunt. His father was Bhheshbuma, a man of low birth in his village but the best hunter anyone had ever seen. Bow or spear or poison dart, his aim was true and his strength unbreakable. He feasted on the flesh of prey and clothed himself in the skins of predators. And because he was excellent in his craft and because he was unmatched, the village chief decided to wed the most beautiful woman of the tribe - his own daughter - to Bhheshbuma. And so it was that Bhheshbuma took Eshkis to wife, whose beauty was a terror unto her father - for he feared that the chiefs of other tribes would war for her. But marriage was a sacred institution, rooted firmly in the tradition of the gods, and though one could challenge the husband and slay him and take his wife for one's own, yet none could do this to Bhheshbuma, for he was perfect in skill and strength." The Ant-god muses and draws breath.
"Alas, as it sometimes happens, their marriage was not a happy one. Eshkis did not love Bhheshbuma and Bhheshbuma loved Eshkis to the toe-tips. It was not her beauty that enchanted him, for Bhheshbuma...was blind -- but her voice, ah! Even Inkis would kneel before such a voice. And what was Bhhesbuma but a mortal? A hunter by trade with no sensiblities, with rough hands and a broken voice - his love was so great, it twisted itself into fear. Can you imagine? A killer of lions and tigers, blood on his bare hands, and his heart sped by soft words from softer lips." The Ant-god chuckles. "Such is the nature of the fabric, she deals and doles out irony in heaps, never in moderation." The Ant-god sighs.
"But Eshkis never sang for Bhheshbuma, for she did not love him and Bhheshbuma heard her voice only as a man hears a bird at the break of dawn: seldom and in secret and never for long. Eshkis, for her part, did not raise any commotion or quarrel. She understood that things could have been much worse and that the marriage was one of necessity and not of desire. Still, though she slept in the same bed as Bhheshbuma, she did not cleave unto him and they were childless -- to the chagrin of Bhheshbuma. He was mocked by the other villagers and especially the other hunters, and no amount of danger or risk or skill in the hunt could redeem him. But Bhheshbuma loved his wife unto fear and could never do anything to hurt her, least of all force himself upon her. As it was, Eshkis understood this and cleaved unto Bhheshbuma of her own will. Alas, her first child died in the womb. And the second in birth. Eshkis sang no longer, not even in secret. And Bhheshbuma wept." The Ant-god draws breath again.
"Then it was that Bhheshbuma prayed to the gods and the gods answered. Though Bhheshbuma could not see his wife and love her beauty, Glimiki, the All-Seeing, saw and loved. He came down in flesh-form as a witch doctor and offered Bhheshbuma a deal. He would ensure his wife conceived a healthy child, if he returned the tusks of a certain wild elephant, called Utharr by the tribesman -- meaning blood-tusked, for it had killed many of the hunters -- to him. Bhheshbuma understood who it was that stood before him; no ordinary man, but an immortal. He understood too the hidden malice of the god's words. Still he accepted. What was death to him, to his beloved's song? So he returned to his wife and told her the news. And told her what he would do. But she did not understand the sacrifice and she was enamored with the mortal form of Glimiki, handsome beyond all reckoning, but said nothing.
When night came, Bhheshbuma lay with his wife and went in unto her, knowing, perhaps, that it was the last time he would see her. And he asked her to sing for him, though it took all the courage of his heart, though the roars of lions and trumpets of elephants were as water to her lips, still he asked.
And she refused.
She turned away from him and slept and dreamed of the handsome witch doctor in the village. Then Bhheshbuma wept and rose and took his spear. By wind and the heat of the moonlight, he found Utharr and engaged her till the morning sun. But when the sun came, Glimiki looked upon Utharr and strengthened her. But such was the skill of Bhheshbuma that he could not be broken. Then Bhheshbuma threw his spear and it met its mark, but Glimiki empowered the elephant still more, and it charged and gored Bhheshbuma. Then, mute and blind, they felt the other die, the man and the elephant. And Glimiki went to the house of Bhheshbuma and went in unto his wife Eshkis, and fulfilled the terrible promise to Bhheshbuma. And so it was that when the funeral pyre was drawn for Bhheshbuma and Eshkis understood what was his sacrifice, she loved him as her own soul and wept and sang." The Ant-god paused, thinking, then continued.
"But death, is a curtain that never rises, and the fabric may not be unmade. Amus, the Mother, saw all this and was furious. And thus she gave Eshkis three children in one womb. Two of divine blood, a boy and a girl, and one, called Sheshbaalu, purely mortal. Then Amus took the girl from Eshkis and raised her as her own and named her Inkis, for her voice was sweeter than her mother's. Sheshbaalu was dressed in the skin of the elephant his father had slain, as proof of his lineage. And the other son -- Sheshbaalu's younger by a few seconds -- was twin to Inkis, called Azumah. Though you know him now, as George."
A vision flashes before you eyes, the screaming of bronze on bronze and the cheers of men from high stands. It seems your time is up, the tournament has already started. Yet, this story intrigues you. The Ant-god has noticed your tension and speaks:
"I see your time has come, Arlore. Will you go or listen to the rest of the story? Of course you may return to me at a later time, my doors are always open to you."
WWYD? 
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Topic: You Are a Minor God (Read 104481 times)