The kings from the "House of Trees" - love and suffering E-Book

Johanna Maurer

• Herausgeber: novum publishing
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Seitenzahl: 1269

Beschreibung

Queen Gurjana and Stell King Yirdim rule the "House of Trees". And although the elves live forever, it is time to prepare for the handover of power. Thajo has been striving for the throne since a young age. The king slumbers within him and he sees himself riding into battle with sword and steed before his warriors. In the distant future, he wants to be a just regent with a wise queen at his side. Tharandil is certain that he wants to become a saddle and bridle maker. Gurjana and Yirdim observe his inclination towards a trade with a grin; if he wants to take up a profession, then he should do so. The king's sons have the same claim to the crowns; if they agree now, there will be no jockeying for places in the throne room later, unless the gods decide otherwise ...

Leseprobe

Dedication

This story is

for my twin sister, Karin, who supported me with advice and criticism.

For a friend, Michéle, who encouraged me to send the manuscript to a publisher.

For my husband, Heiko, who got to read the very first version and supported me to continue writing.

Introduction: Creation myth of the Elves of Pelegorn

Every folk has its history. Every people remember in stories and legends from generation to generation where their world and themselves came from. Every people, every world, every universe has its origins in the past. In the first moment of an eternity that has long passed, lies the beginning of everything and everyone.

It's a cold day at the beginning of the first winter lumnos and it's snowing and raining alternately in constant mode. Slowly a slight excitement spreads among the children, and a quiet joy creeps into the hearts of the adults. The High-Timehave begun and with it the birth of the children of the gods is getting closer and closer and the offspring in particular are longing for it because they hope for rich gifts. What might the messengers of the gods bring to their rooms as a gift? The two royal children whisper their most secret dreams in each other's ears and in their minds, they weave their wishes into prayer: “Dear deer, dear wolf, I would really like a pair of new winter boots with embroidery on the shaft. Exactly the ones I saw at the winter market yesterday,” asks Jamena, and Thelekos asks: “Dear wolf, dear deer, could you bring me a saddle made of red leather? It would look so good on my gray horse.”

It is the time of wishes for children and teenagers and the time of stories for all elves. Sad and exciting, funny and scary, and almost every afternoon a small crowd of curious listeners gathers in the palace library. All of the servants' children are allowed in there during the four dekare before the High-Feast, and the old librarian talks freely or reads to them from a thick book.

And every year he reports first and foremost on the history of their people. About the emergence of their world and their becoming. Starting with the first flash of sparks, with the first thought of the gods, to the completion of the creation of all things and all life through their will alone.

Most of the children have heard the myth about the creation many times and yet they always come back to the opening reading. So too today, and on the carpet, in nests made of pillows and blankets, two dozen boys and girls are crouching and lying, from fourth graders (the myth is too complicated for the very little ones) to the yearlings who will be visiting the yearhouse next fall. On the one hand, they are excited to finally belong to the adult world, but on the other hand, they look a little sad because they will be opening presents one last time on this High-Feast.

The old librarian sits in a comfortable armchair and next to him on a small table there is a glass of wine. Narrating dries out the throat and, especially with a long chapter like today's, it is advisable to oil the voice a little in between.

“Quiet, may I ask for quiet in the hall,” his sonorous voice sounds through the large room and the giggling and chattering dies down.

“I welcome you all to the beginning of the time of stories. May your ears be awake and your mind present," laughter from the older offspring, "for as always at the beginning of the High-Time I remind youof the origin of the Elven people, and where you come from you must never forget."

And the librarian begins, a book is unnecessary, he has already said the words a hundred times, he never forgets anything.

“Everything was gray. Pelegorn, or what would become Pelegorn, was gray, light gray, medium gray, dark gray. Fog, clouds and haze in every shade of gray imaginable. The gray was formless, flowing, swirling into one another, without beginning, without end, formless, incomprehensible, intangible, blurred before the eyes and there was no up, no down, no left, no right, no front, no back. Suddenly something happens and “hiss”, a tiny flash sparks in the middle of the gray, and then a second one. Over and over again and they dance around each other and chase each other and jump from one shade to the next. Inana and Morojo in the form of divine sparks appeared one day in the gray and they came from another dimension or world or sphere or time. You all know the name of your homeland. Who can tell me?”

Immediately a lot of fingers point to the ceiling and since the librarian doesn't want to favor any of the clever people, he conducts with his hands as if he had a choir in front of him.

“We call it the First World,” the whole gang shouts together, most of them knew what was coming anyway, and he nods approvingly before continuing:

“For times untold, the gods have been slipping through the gates between the countless worlds and they have found and are finding, and in the future will find places in which they can bring about change with their creative power.

Now here they were in the gray, and I would like to note that two things have always been there. The gates exist forever and the divine sparks are eternal; one would like to say that they somehow belong together. Both exist without a temporal beginning and without a temporal end. Incomprehensible and inexplicable to our little minds. But perhaps at some point one of you will become a trained servant of the gods and discover the time of creation.”

Some of the children in the audience grin, while most of the young people in the area around the palace have career aspirations that are more in the direction of being a hunter and a craft. What they have around them every day.

Unimpressed, the old elf continues with his words.

“The sparks happily turn and circle and rotate through the gray. For those of you who have ever seen will-o'-the-wisps in the moor, I can tell you that you have to imagine it in a similar way. In the middle of a billowing mist, it flashes and shimmers, jumps up and down, flits from side to side. Confusing the senses, irritating the eye, but these lights have no evil thoughts. They do not tempt the hiker astray into the deep morass, but rather they carry the idea of creating our world.

If you listen carefully, you can even hear them whispering in a quiet voice, over and over again, in an endless sequence - We were, we are, we will be. We build and create, unfinished becomes finished. Every thought in us is a step towards becoming. Fog becomes land, darkness becomes light, our will becomes plant, creature, elf.”

With the last sentence he lowers his voice to an imploring tone and the little ones look at him with wide eyes. In their childish imagination they believe they are actually hearing the words of two sparks of gods whirring around, with a bit of magic on their part perfecting the illusion.

“Where should the gods begin their work? There is so much they want to create. But they are already masters of world building and they know exactly what is needed first in a sphere like this. Some structure must come into the formless gray masses as a basis for the creation of a new universe.

Just by the power of their thoughts, some of the gray swirls into wobbly balls of all sizes and they use their hands to ball up the clouds, which are still barely shapeless. “They are the prototyp of the stars, the sun and Pelegorn with his moon,” while he stretches his two hands upwards and acts as if he himself were pushing the banks of fog together to form them between his palms.

“Hey, what fun Inana and Morojo are having with the cloud balls. In their high spirit of creation, they roll the balls with momentum through endless space. They rush towards each other in a criss-cross direction and just past each other. When the balls collide with each other, they disperse into thousands of tiny shreds and powder clouds. Poof happens and the shapes that have just emerged melt away and the gods once again press together huge marbles from the clouds of mist, only to shoot them down again with another one.

There is complete chaos in the vastness and for a while Morojo and Inana have childlike joy in playing with the celestial balls. Finally, it's enough of fooling around, because after all they are the creators and they are taking up their work again with the necessary seriousness.

They are now working diligently on the shape of the celestial bodies and on the sphere in which they should float.

According to your wishes, every ball now has its place and thus you create existence and persistence.

Every star, including Pelegorn, now hangs as if stuck in place, completely motionless and rigid in the gray soup.”

There's silence in the room, everyone's eyes are glued to his lips and the librarian calmly takes a long sip of wine.

“But then there is no day and no night,” a little girl slyly remarks. It was precisely for such a train of thought that he paused. In this way he checks whether they are following him attentively.

“Oh, we have a smart alec among us, and the gods also recognized exactly the problem a little later. But first things first. Now they thought, it's better if everything is in order, because what you want to create can only thrive in order. However, after a while they don't really like their work anymore because it just seems too lifeless to them. Dissatisfied, they scurry between the balls.

A world that is still gray, lightless and desolate stretches out around them seemingly endlessly. Although there are now the wafting mists and within them the small and large spheres, shapes that the eye can hold on to, but they seem to be nailed down in the vast emptiness.

What's missing is dancing and turning, liveliness would be nice to see. Maybe they should try moving carefully within certain limits. They tentatively poke a few balls with their fingers. Just don't use too much force and you have to watch where you roll, otherwise it will bang again. Just pushing them straight ahead proves to be extremely impractical in the long run because they have to run behind them and there is always the risk of a collision.

A circular movement is the solution and with their thoughts they form round and elliptical paths and place the cloud balls on them. A little nudge with your fingers and the constant dance of all celestial bodies starts its course.

A complicated system with countless globes is created, from immeasurably large to the size of an egg, and a particularly thick chunk rotates on its own axis in the middle. The other rows of rings dance around it and the laws of gravity and centrifugal force, the gods are well versed in physics, keep the cottony bodies firmly on their tracks. According to the divine wish, the balls now move along the heavenly roads and also rotate around themselves. Morojo was delighted with the gyroscopic motion when he happened to discover it on a marble and thought it should be included.

Here and there they have to intervene again and correct one or two of the orbits of a star and the running time of Pelegorn's moon is readjusted, but after that they are extremely pleased with their successful world creation. The system is perfect and everything moves in unison, apart from the somewhat idiosyncratic comets and asteroids. The large and small balls pass each other in the most beautiful harmony, always round and always round. Full of joy at the successful interaction, they flit back and forth from star to star as flashing stripes of light.

But there is a shortcoming. Every time they want to settle down somewhere to take a break after jumping, there is no suitable place. Of course, it is possible for them to hover very close to the surface of a fog ball, but sitting on it doesn't work. Even though they are light as a feather, they sink in and through and who wants to spend years sliding along the length of a planet or swimming to get a cup of kawas? Pressed fog mass remains permeable, no matter how much you squeeze and squeeze it.

For further development, there needs to be a solid crust on which anything, whatever youthink up in the course of creation, can stand, and therefore a stable base is needed.

Without this, everything that has weight would sink into the soft, bottomless ground and disappear as if in a deep, viscous morass. Swallowed never to be seen again, but with the difference that it will eventually emerge on the other side.

It takes the gods a lot of thought to find a workable solution. Until now, the spheres in which they operated contained solid matter in some form, but here? Here you have to start from the bottom up. Or?

Or they produce the necessary substance. Around it, connected by the gates, thousands of universes already exist. Well, thought out, but a task that even the gods can hardly accomplish. It would take millions of eons to bring enough rocks and earths and metals. In addition, they can't swipe as much stuff as they want from somewhere else. It would be missing in the worlds there and lead to irritation. What should the inhabitants think if their stars are suddenly gone, or the neighboring planet?

No, this approach is completely out of the question and another plan must be found. The spark Inana floats through the gray, cheerless and slightly disgruntled. Her radiance has diminished and she is tired of constantly flying. A look to the side and she sees Morojo. He still has energy and because of the effort to find a helpful idea, his light glows and tiny lightning bolts fly out of his big spark. “He's going to melt if he keeps this up,” she thinks, and at the same moment Inana is hanging in space, shaking with excitement. That's it! The solution! A simple chemical process. Melt and cool and hope that a solid crust forms. But how do you melt webs of clouds?”

The librarian looks around questioningly and those who are sitting here for the umpteenth time shout in unison: “In the oven with fire and heat.” He deepens the explanation for the newcomers.

“You little sweet tooths all like cotton candy. And what happens when you heat it up? Of course, only a little, otherwise the delicate mass will burn in one fell swoop. The sugar liquefies and begins to drip and when it cools down, it becomes lumps of sugar.

Inana and Morojo move close together and unite to form a large spark and with the divine energy within them and full concentration on the one thought, a magnificent forge fire blaze up. It must burn at a good temperature and evenly, because even the best metal does not produce a good sword if it is forged too hot.

They carefully lower themselves into the cloud balls and their heat causes the gray mass to bubble and flow from within. Rotate, rotate and rotate, quickly and evenly, so that the ball shape remains. The initial results are quite satisfactory, although a few misshapen lumps appeared. Waste that they hurl into wide space and that we now call meteorites. They move along unpredictable paths, coming and going; some scientists even claim that they change spheres through gates. But you should ask your teachers at school about this.

Practice makes perfect and they improve their approach and the subsequent results are impressive. After a few thousand years, a large number of celestial bodies float through the endless expanse, flawlessly round and smooth and shiny. A few allow them to continue to exist as nebulae, and that includes our moon. Why, you ask? Because they like it that way.

Behind every gray color there is a different element and every color tone becomes something different and when mixed they create interesting new creations. Under the pressure of their hands and the warmth of their sparks, all known minerals, metals, all earth and the precious stones are created.

Inana is happy, she can finally sit down and take a breather, and together with Morojo she looks at the creation of cold things.

Gold and silver veins, green-flecked copper deposits, smooth basalt, finely marked layers of marble, splintered gray slate and smoldering spar, and hidden in between lie diamonds and shiny gemstones.

Inana especially enjoys their flashes and sparkles, which at this time are only visible in the light of the gods, and she decides to let some divine magic flow into some of the stones.

She weaves the gestures and speaks the words and creates the siberyl in all its variations, giving each one its useful quality. However, they are still gray on gray and without the colors that are typical of them today. Simple yet perfect crystalline structures with a touch of eternity inside.”

At this point the librarian takes a break; experience has shown that after this section there is guaranteed to be a listener who wants to go to the toilet.

Why should it be any different today, and some of the younger people promptly jump up and with a “I have to go somewhere” a small crowd disappears through the door into the side room to which the useful location is attached.

The remaining boys and girls stretch and stretch and to refresh themselves, Almuth brings juice and snacks to keep the audience happy.

“So, everyone back? Everyone provided with food and drink? “Continue in history,” calls the old elf and claps his hands.

“Now comes the light, I think that part is the most beautiful,” a, yearling whispers into his neighbor’s ear and then he quickly closes his mouth because he’s stopping the whole club in their tracks.

“A long time passes and the new universe now consists of gray, shapeless clouds of fog in which round balls of all sizes move. Nice to look at, the balance of movement and the alternating gray colors. So many nuances, countless nuances and yet everything is gray and has a constant, diffuse shimmer. Constant twilight everywhere, only where their sparks flash is there radiant light, at least in a small area.

It would be nice to have light and dark everywhere, and in every corner and on every sphere. They want to create an object that glows on its own that fills the entire wide space with light. It should shine like a huge candelabra with the brightness of thousands of candles or siberyl, and the gods create the sun. Much, much later and as a pleasant side effect, so to speak, the warmth and light of the sun nourishes all life.

Get to work, the light has to go on one side and the dark on the other. However, with a universe made of gray this is not as easy as with an egg. All it takes is a careful click for the shell to break and we can then separate yellow and white with a flick of the wrist because the boundaries are clearly visible.

They have a big task ahead of them as they have to carefully filter out the white mist drops from the mishmash. And with what? All they have is their knee-length hair. Morojo finds it difficult to part with his hair, but he has to sacrifice his hair so that they can weave it into a net with the finest stitches.

Over and over again they throw the fabric out in a wide arc and just like a fisherman pulls his net through the lake and catches fish, Inana and Morojo drive the white droplets together. Eagerly and tirelessly, they fill the planet at the center of the star system with the glowing brightness and they continue to force and push every tiny particle of light under the solid shell and with every handful that is added, it shines more and more.

But we already had that, when I take something away from somewhere, it creates a void and that's exactly what happened to cosmic space. They sifted and fished for every little mica particle and between the celestial bodies it became blacker and blacker because nothing remained except the dark mist. A development that Inana and Morojo had hardly considered in their enthusiasm and longing to create a radiant light, and with the deep darkness came the cold.

For now, however, they are extremely delighted with their work. All planets and stars now orbit a dazzling sun and, due to their rotation, are illuminated with light sometimes from one side and sometimes from the other. Our moon quickly circles Pelegorn and thanks to the sunlight it changes its appearance. Sometimes it can be seen in all its beauty and sometimes just as a narrow crescent. The gods thus created the phases of the moon and thus a measurable time sequence for their elven children.

Satisfied with the things, they have created so far, the two sparks settle on one of the marbles and enjoy the warmth of the light rays that shine down on them for a while. It's nice and cozy to sit in the sun, but it gets pretty hot after a while. During each revolution, the same shimmering light burning in the eyes for half the time and only the dark hours bring relaxation. Neither mountain nor valley provides a shady spot during the day. All around them is only white brightness and absolutely smooth and gray wasteland and heat. There is no cool, shady shelter to be found anywhere and they are thinking about redesigning some of the celestial spheres.

Light and shadow should be equal during the day and this requires a varied surface. Once again, Morojo and Inana go to work and take a hard approach. A well-dosed hot breath from the sparks and the solidified substance of Pelegorn softens again and becomes malleable like tough rubber.

It's hard work, even for gods. Day after day they knead and push the rock up and down with their hands. They make dents and depressions with their feet and their skilled fingers create true works of art out of the earth.

With a loud noise and deafening rumble, the once smooth surfaces are breaking apart. You have to imagine it in a similar way to spring, when the ice sheets on the rivers and lakes splinter and crack. However, on a much, much larger scale. The entire crust of our home planet is shaking and reforming.

Jagged crevices tear the land masses, folds undulate as far as the eye can see, thin and thick layers of earth push over and under each other, formations made of rock and sand take shape.

Mountains and pinnacles rise higher and higher and deep valleys lie in between, long mountain ranges divide the wide plains and small hills and mighty pointed peaks break out from the high plateaus.

Rugged ridges rise into the sky, gentle slopes slide down to the valley floors and steep rock faces grow into insurmountable walls.

Covered in dirt, Morojo laughs happily and Inana casually brushes the dust off her palms. They really succeeded in doing this. This star has an unmistakable face and they are very proud of it. What fun it is now, they jump from the sun into the shadows and discover lots of places to hide. Two sparks of the gods are racing up and down the hills, jumping over steep cliffs and sneaking through narrow gorges. The gods play catch until, gasping for breath, they finally sit in a grotto on a mountainside and admire the sunset in a gray world.

Again, what they have created is enough for them for a while and then they get tired of the gray monotony. In the bright light of the sun, gray, even in its thousand shades, sometimes seems boring. In addition, it tires your eyes to always look at gray streaks, and a change in color seems like a wonderful thing.

Morojo and Inana go to work again; they know from experience how to create a colorful world.

All that is needed is their will, their divine thoughts and sunlight, and this is available to them in abundance. Her hands gently stroke the surfaces of all things and every touch and every glide over with her fingers leaves a colorful trail, because the absolutely smooth surfaces break into tiny folds and cracks. So small that you can only see them with a special magnifying glass.

A miracle and yet just a simple physical fact. Color is created solely from reflected light; the rainbow is the best example of this. All the colors of this world are contained in it and their origin lies in pure, white sunlight, which is broken down into its individual components by the reflection in the raindrops.

Blue the sapphire, green the emerald, yellow the citrine, red the ruby, white the rock crystal, pink the quartz, golden and silver the precious metals, red the sandstone, black the coal, cream the marble, fox red the copper.

Now the siberyl also shine in their own colors, Inana chose them carefully, red stands for warmth, blue stands for the starlight in the night, deep violet stands for the power of thought and white stands for the purity of the soul, the truth of words and the integrity of actions.

All stones contain a tiny reflection of her divine person, her immense power, her strong will and her enormous creative power.

They are unique gifts from the gods to us elves and at the same time an everlasting sign, a constant reminder that the gods were there, are there and will be there.

But it will still be many centuries before her elven children will walk on Pelegorn and Inana is a little worried about the mighty siberyl. The Gates are open to all living things, and even if only some have the ability to pass through them, creatures from other worlds can appear in this new universe at any time. If such magic-filled gemstones fell into the wrong hands, it could have far-reaching and undesirable consequences.

This has to be prevented and Morojo and Inana put a spell on the siberyl and the magic that was locked in them. They should sleep until a people populates this world, whose members wake up the stones with the sheer will of their thoughts, the power of words and gestures and they should use them for good, for the truth and, above all, according to the Use instructions from the gods.

When this is done, Inana feels relieved by this worry and she and Morojo indulge in the riot of colors during the day and at night they wake up in the silver light of the moon and watch the stars dance in the firmament. The new world is indescribably beautiful in its shape and excitingly colorful in its dress.

Her bottom hurts from sitting on the hard stone and Morojo also shifts restlessly. A soft surface would be nice as well as velvet surfaces. You could lie down and rest comfortably on it. What is missing is a gentleness and also movement. All the stars run in circles around and around, why should there be a standstill on Pelegorn?

Despite all the beauty and colorfulness in which the rock and the sand come, they are still rigid objects that remain in one point. If you ignore the sand that the wind sweeps over the stone ground and builds up into dunes at obstacles. Although the grains migrate, they are ultimately just dead stone.

You want something alive, something that sways loosely in the wind, something that rounds off the rugged edges, something that covers the bare areas and while you're at it, something that provides shade on the sprawling plains would also be of great benefit.

All you need is seeds, and they get them from the other worlds. A handful from this planet, a bag full from the next. Inana and Morojo busily scurry out and back through the gates. Colorfully mixed and with a large selection, they bring all imaginable plants and greenery to Pelegorn.

However, if they were sown on bare ground, the grains and seeds would quickly dry out and fly away, so they proceed to make narrow furrows with their fingernails where there are no natural cracks in the rock.

Fast-growing plants, grasses and lower plants begin to sprout their first green tips from the gray background after just a short time. Bushes and trees of all kinds follow them and in no time a sea of green covers the surface of Pelegorn.

Blankets of grass swaying in the wind stretch to the horizon, soft carpets of moss in the forests and ferns and herbs thrive in the shade of the sky-high trees. A rustling and murmuring fill the air, the wind makes its music in the leaves and branches, and the thinner, flexible bushes sway in the breeze like dancers.

For a while, Inana and Morojo are very happy, every plant live through their thoughts alone, but they can't just think about trees and grass all the time.

As soon as they turn their minds away from their creation, dying begins. Without moisture, your beautiful garden will visibly wither. What they need is water, refreshing water that regularly runs down from the sky and soaks the plants. Clouds are necessary, they are the ideal water storage and the easiest means of transport.

Swirling gray masses, storm clouds, storm clouds, rain clouds, but all gray masses of fog are hard and rocky. There isn't a shred of gray muck left on Pelegorn that would be suitable for this.

Inana and Morojo glide over the now parched, once green expanse, listless and sad, and she is inconsolable at the sight. Bare tree trunks, dry crackling grass, dusty mats where once there was thick moss.

The night covers misery with its darkness, but sleep may not come and the gods look up to the sky where the moon is just climbing over the horizon. That's the solution, the moon, for whatever reason they let it exist as a ball of fog. Now in hindsight, it was a wise decision.

If they were to get some of that, they would have clouds packed with billions of drops of water. Well, the moon would then be a little smaller and it would be less bright, but who needs a giant satellite?

This is where our story ends today. Most of you know what happens next anyway. Anyone who would still like to listen again is warmly invited. Same time tomorrow.”

Brief applause for the narrator and then the crowd of listeners gets up from their seats and disappears into the hallway. All that remains is a mess of pillows and blankets on the floor, and Almuth and the librarian, with indulgent smiles on their faces, clean up after the rascals and turn out the lights.

“I am happy to see so many of you again. “Now then, let’s tackle the story again,” the librarian greets the boys and girls the following afternoon.

“Where were we?” he asks the group, pro forma. Everyone should actually know it was only yesterday.

“By the moon and the clouds,” comes the answer in the chorus and he picks up the thread.

“I don’t think I need to tell anyone the fairy tale about the moon, you’re all out of that age,” giggles from the little ones, “so let’s stick to the actual events. Inana and Morojo can only estimate how much cloud mass will be necessary to adequately water the plants. If you remove too much of the moon, it will look puny and there would also be a risk of flooding if it rained constantly due to the excessive cloud mass. It's important to be careful and approach the work with a sense of proportion. They carefully fill the sky above Pelegorn with gray and white balls of fog and so that the moon retains its size, they pluck the remaining fog apart a little. This does give it a few darker spots because the blackness of the world shines through, but Inana manages to create a beautiful pattern of light and dark.

At the behest of the gods, rain clouds are now moving around the world and millions of drops are falling from them. Despite all the measurements of the amount of mist and careful distribution, there is simply too much moisture for the ground alone. All the earth is soaked like a sponge and after a while not a single sip can fit in it. It comes as feared and there is no end to the flash flood and the rain collects in the depressions and ravines and ravines. Inana and Morojo look desperately at the rising water levels, but they can't think of a quick remedy. Where should they skim off the excess water and with what?

Inactive because they don't have a solution ready, they have to watch as part of the plant's production simply disappears. All that is left for them is to let things take their course and they retreat to the position of attentive observers.

At this point I would like to take a little diversion and point out one thing. The gods always act in this way when it seems appropriate to them. For them, the fates and events in our lives are often events whose direction of development they leave solely to us. Only they know and decide when to intervene, but their eyes always and always rest on the Elven children.

So much for that, continue in the text. Every plant, drinks and drinks and at the same time the deeper depressions and levels fill with rainwater. The sea and lakes spread out and countless rivers and streams make their way through the area. An astonishing change in the surface takes shape and the result pleases the gods. Sunlight dances on the tops of the waves, clear springs bubble up from cracks in the rocks and rivers, colored silver by the moonlight, wind like ribbons through the meadows and forests. What beauty can come from stupid planning and chance.

Apart from that, with such quantities of water, you no longer have to worry about constant replenishment. There is enough moisture and they work on a cycle of evaporation, cloud formation and rain until the change between dry and wet seems perfect to them.

From then on, clouds bring their precious cargo to all corners of the world on a more or less regular basis and thus what we call “weather” came into being.

It is green, green in all imaginable shades and shapes, leaves, needles, fronds, stems, trunks, countless types of trees, bushes, grasses, mosses, ferns and whatever else there is.

Inana and Morojo are happy in their wonderful new world and it would be even nicer if they could share it with other beings.

The vast plains, the impenetrable forests, the slopes of the mountains, the oases of the desert, the waters and the sky appear empty to them. Infinite space around them for something new that enriches the world with its existence.

So why not create the animals here too? Other worlds are full of them and you can let your imagination run wild. Two-, four- or six-legged, teeth or long tongues, horns or hair, fur or scales, grass-eaters or carnivores, a wide field to let off steam and try out.

They diligently collect the fruits of the trees, because creatures are said to grow from them. They collect acorns, beechnuts, chestnuts, nuts and whatever other seeds and seedlings there are and fill each of them with their thoughts and their will.

Row by row, they press the fruit into the ground, always one variety close together, so that they can keep an overview. Rain and sun do their part and after a short time the seedlings germinate.

At first the shoots look like those of a normal tree, but then something happens. The green shoots change, instead of reaching straight up towards the light, they begin to take on interesting shapes and at the same time the green disappears. Delicate leaves curl up, thin stems curl up, lumps with heads and eyes, with legs and wings, with hair and feathers, with hooves and claws form. All kinds of creatures grow out of the ground. Tiny animals as well as large creatures, beautiful and ugly, cute and hideous, useful and harmful. Creatures of the day and night. They find a home in all habitats, sky, earth, water, desert, beneath the surface and high in the mountains.

The sparks know no good or evil and therefore every creature has its place in their world and over time they populate the planet in an unspeakable variety of numbers and appearances.

Everywhere where Inana and Morojo walk and stand, there is now a swarm and commotion around them. They run their hands over the thick fur of the mountain sheep, look into the round button eyes of the owls, playfully brace themselves against the antlers of a deer and grab a bleating goat by the horns. Keeping your distance is necessary with the always hungry predators and yet Inana, in her high spirits, can't resist tugging on a Gmorks's tail. However, the joy of the gods over the new companions soon becomes bittersweet. In contrast to them, the animals are mortal and expire according to the time that is inherent in them. What they lack is the eternity of the gods. They can indeed plant seeds in the soil over and over again, but that would be a laborious undertaking. No, there has to be another way.

You all know the saying: 'Someone has reinvented the wheel', which means someone thinks they have a brandnew idea, even though it has existed for a long time and has been in use for centuries.

Well, the gods actually invent a wheel, or rather a thing that could be compared to it from a theoretical perspective. The wheel of life.

This wonderful automatic renewal of existence. Like a mill wheel, it runs around and around, divided into birth, lifespan and death. Once again, they plant all the fruits of the trees in the earth and this time, they put a touch of themselves, a tiny spark, into every seed, no matter how small, and thereby ignite the fire of renewal in every creature. Everything that crawls and runs receives a fingertip of the infinity of divine being. They don't place them in the individual being, which must die at some point, but in the species from which it comes.

The art of keeping their species alive on their own is given to them by giving the animals the sexes and the instinct to mate. May a male find a female and together they can provide new life on Pelegorn.

Now, overjoyed by the extremely clever invention of reproduction, the sparks are racing across the plain with the horses, diving deep into the sea with the fish, flying alongside the birds over the high mountains, tumbling through a sea of flowers with the butterflies and burrowing with them Dragons into caves. Small creatures can now be found everywhere, they hatch from eggs in the nests, they are born alive in narrow chambers and on the wide plain. Sometimes well cared for and protected by the elders, sometimes left to fend for themselves from the first breath. Each creature gives birth and raises its offspring according to its own kind.

And if you are now wondering what about Inana and Morojo, whether the gods also inhabit a body made of living matter, then that is a very difficult question to answer. How should we imagine them? In every temple you find statues and images and have you noticed anything about them?”

A short break so that everyone can mentally go to a temple and smile at the wrinkles on the otherwise smooth children's foreheads. A yearling girl hesitantly raises her hand and he motions for her to speak.

“In our small village temple, Morojo has dark blue hair, but his figure here in the castle chapel is depicted with a shock of green hair.”

He claps his hands and exclaims, “That’s what I was getting at. There is no uniform representation; in every temple and in every painting the gods look different. Their facial features, their hair, their eyes and anyone who has ever been to one of the other areas of Pelegorn knows that beyond our borders the statues in Nilmogard or Macyria show even greater differences from ours.

No one has ever actually seen the gods and no artist has ever created an actual likeness of them. We gave them all the attributes, all the characteristics, and they are purely imaginary.

Up until this point in the course of creation, Inana and Morojo were present in their divine form. As a spirit, as a spark, as a thought, disembodied and yet in an imaginary form. Their limbs, hands and feet, are nothing more than a mental substance with which they create and shape things, but they are completely different from having a body of flesh and blood. They are constantly changing inappearance, from sparks to what we would describe as a ghost. Just as it seems necessary and sensible to them.

The nature of their existence can only be guessed at, only partially described and actually it remains incomprehensible and incomprehensible to us elves and because no exact representation of them has been handed down, we create the pictures of them in a way that is familiar to us. We find ourselves in them, in all skin colors, with all hair colors, with our own eye colors.

Every day Morojo and Inana watch the living creatures and after a while a quiet desire arises within them. An interesting idea takes shape in their minds.

They want to participate in their environment in a new way, they want to feel, taste, smell, hear, and experience the things they created with their physical senses. So far, this, let's say, worldly perception has been denied them because of their divine origins. If they want this, they must change the nature of their existence, they must give themselves a body made of living material.

Of course, how could it be otherwise with gods, their bodies should be of fine stature and have a shape that is pleasing to the eyes.

In a nasty spider skin or as a writhing slimeworm, they would frighten and scare away every creature around them.

Slim and lithe, like the big cats in the jungle, agile and strong, like the horses on the plain, straight and walking upright because they definitely want to be different from the animals.

Even if they combine all imaginable power within themselves, they cannot achieve this change on their own.

To do this, they need a tangible substance that can be transformed, or, even better, some kind of vessel that they can put themselves into and transform according to their imagination. So, they start looking for a useful object. Here and there they float, over mountains and valleys, through the forests and down into the oceans. The selection is huge and at the same time very limited, tons of living creatures and thousands upon thousands of beautiful but dead stone formations. And none of this really comes into consideration, because an animal with a beating heart and independent existence is ruled out from the outset, just like cold matter. In the end, only the plants remain and Inana and Morojo, tired from searching, sit in front of a tree and look at the trunk. Inana casually places her hand on the bark, the wood feels pleasantly warm in the sun, in a certain way alive because it has grown, and yet again not a living being conscious of its own self.

Absolutely ideal as a place to live, and your eyes light up. The material is neither too hard nor too soft, malleable and yet with a firm structure. Inana laughs at Morojo and nods to him, the trees are just right and Morojo is happy for her and as sparks they each fly into a young tree and begin to work inside.

Just like their creatures, they want to become two sexes and Morojogives his tree the body of a man and Inana gives hers the body of a woman.

The multi-branched crown forms the head with the eyes, ears and nose, the branches grow into arms, the trunk becomes the torso and the roots form the legs with feet.

Their pupils are colored in the color of the resin of the trees and if one of you now notices: Wait, we elves also have yellowish eyes, let me tell you, this is exactly where the origin of our eye color lies. All shades, from pale yellow, like creamy honey, to dark yellow, like sea stone, translucent to cloudy, all there. However, we elves lack one thing, the light of divinity, which only shines from our eyes.

Morojo and Inana look at each other astonished by their new stature and the associated physical features. How strange each other looks, and they start laughing and immediately fall silent again. Her voice sounds completely unfamiliar to them; so far, they have only heard it in their minds, and they are frightened at first. Now they can hear strange sounds from outside with their ears and their vision with their new eyes also seems restricted. They turn their heads from left to right, move their fingers, arms, legs, and wiggle their toes. Very interesting and at the same time so imperfect in terms of her previous appearance and perception and movement.

Full of curiosity, Morojo touches Inana with a finger. Just a quick nudge on the skin on the back of her hand and an irritating tingling sensation pulls up her arm and her eyes become big and round at the feeling. How does Morojo feel? Inana dares to try and courageously clasps his hand in hers. It feels warm and soft and he clasps hers tightly with his own, breathing in quickly once or twice because the intense contact is like a lightning strike.

They gradually get used to the functions of their new bodies. Blood flows through their veins,breath flows through their lungs, stimuli shoot through their nerve pathways. What an unspeakably wonderful existence. With their change, with their becoming physical, they believe that they have completed creation. All they need now is a name. They named all animals and all plants according to characteristics or peculiarities and that's how it should be with them.

Inana, she calls herself, the first woman, and he chooses the name Morojo, which stands for the first man. Together they are the first couple on the new world of Pelegorn and the term also has its meaning. In our language it could be translated as “world born of gray” or “gray origin”.

One might think that they now have everything that makes a living being. Heart, veins, skin, organs, senses with which they perceive their environment in a new and exciting way, and yet after a while the gods realize that one tiny but crucial little thing is not given to them.

No matter how much they enjoy looking at their well-formed figures, there will be no spark between them. Neither in the heart nor in the body does desire for one another arise, and without that there is no desire to lie with one another.”

And every time the yearlings grin at this point in the story and every time he remembers his time in the yearhouse and deep down, he grins with them.

“I see some of you smiling. “It’s the easiest thing in the world,” you might think. Sure, for foxes and deer, stags and Gmorks, who follow their instincts and produce and bring their offspring into the world more or less tied to the seasonal rhythm, and the same goes for us elves these days. But are we gods? No. We are only their tree-children and only a few canclaim to be direct descendants of Ytharne and therefore of the gods. We are creatures in whom the naked animal desire to procreate no longer appears clearly on the surface. However, it still lies deep within us, controlled solely by our rationality and social norms.”

“Is it true that ice dragons break down all barriers with their immense magic?” shouts a smart alec from the group of older listeners. The librarian shakes his head as if he has to think about the answer.

“I don't know who you heard from, but yes, they can do that. However, you'll have to wait until after the yearhouse with the stories on the topic." Some chuckle behind closed doors and two or three petitioners' ears turns red.

“I ask for renewed attention, even if some of you are wandering in your thoughts right now,” and the old elf continues speaking as if the short interlude had not even occurred.

“With the gods, it is their inherent divinity, which of course still exists in them, that makes the decisive difference to the creatures of the animal world and therefore, in contrast to them, they are highly exalted above the lower act that only serves to reproduce.

An animal's innate physical drive to preserve the species simply doesn't work for them. A different driving force is needed. A power that is only now emerging. Later they pass it on to the elven children as a matter of course, but at this point it does not yet exist.

The mere realization that despite all their efforts they lack perfection makes Inana and Morojo sad. What good is a body made of living matter if their desire for an offspring remains unfulfilled?”

He has the full concentration of the entire crowd and more than two dozen pairs of eyes are looking at him, spellbound. And right now, when things are getting exciting, he says: “Well, we're almost halfway there, a short break,” and at the same time he reaches for the wine glass.

A few of the children slowly peel themselves away from the piles of blankets and pillows, others stretch out with pleasure and everyone courageously grabs the cookies and drinks from Almuth.

“What a dilemma. They have come this far and nowthey seem to be failing because of themselves.

They thought they had taken into account everything that was necessary and yet they forgot something that they don't even have a concept for and it gets even more complicated. They cannot pinpoint the problem on their outward appearance; it must be an inherent spiritual deficiency.

But how do you create a thing that has neither a form nor consists of any substance, cannot be grasped with your hands and is difficult to describe with words?

This thing has to be powerful and powerful and it has to come from deep within them so that they want it with their whole being. A source of diverse actions, cause of love and hate, origin of all togetherness, motivation for life and death.

A second existence alongside the pure body, consisting of more than just visible attributes, characteristics and mental abilities. A wide and diverse world invisible to the eye, embedded in the mind.

Head and heart, why do they have both, and if the mind is at the top, then what lives on the floor below?

For a long time and very intensively, Inana and Morojo listen into their own hearts. They hold the hope that they might discover something there that is sleeping there, far away from the rational and logical mind of the head.

Inana awakens, gods also rest, awakened by a minimal change in her. Confused, she looks around for Morojo. His sleeping form next to her, very close, causes a completely new string to vibrate within her from her toes to the tips of her hair. A single sound, a little lost, echoes in her body, or actually more in her mind. Her breathing is very shallow, just hold on to this quiet sound, just don't scare it away with a careless action, because he is something special and she feels that immediately.

The quieter Inana becomes in her thoughts and the calmer her movements, the more intensely she perceives the sound. She jumps briefly, the realization that the melody comes directly from her heart surpasses her understanding. And something else happens: the initially barely audible music, the hint of a tone, grows into a bundle of different frequencies and strengths. Inana begins to hum along to the sound sequences. The sequence becomes more and more complicated, the individual tones more and more interwoven.

Finally, a symphony composed by a master's hand fills every cell of her body. Everything in her, everything about her is music, which captures all her senses and sends her into a frenzy. Her nostrils are trembling and her stomach feels queasy and her heart is beating faster and faster.

What an immeasurably beautiful experience, she immediately wants to share it with Morojo. Maybe the same thing will happen to him when he wakes up. She quickly shakes his arm and at the same moment she thinks she will burn her fingertips. The mere touch of his skin, yesterday something everyday, yesterday a simple meaningless gesture, yesterday without consequences, travels like a hot spark from her hand to the bottom of her being.

Morojo starts. What was that? A wasp sting? He looks even more confused than Inana, who is staring at her hand. Why is she doing this? And then he smiles. Then a quiet sound rises from his heart and he understands.

Music, but not played by an orchestra with horns, drums and violins. Music from the heart, the music of love in all its variations. Loud and quiet, hard and soft, staccato and gently gliding, tender and angry.

And with the sounds, a whole range of new feelings flood Inana and Morojo and, motionless, because they are fascinated and spellbound, they sit opposite each other for a while and listen reverently to the concert inside them.

It is an immersion in a previously unknown world and you are literally swimming in a confusion of sensations. Confused and without direction, they let themselves drift on the sounds, floating and enjoying them, until they decide that it is time to approach and explore this new achievement with their minds.

The moment they look at each other with full consciousness and under the influence of the music, they actually become aware of the different appearance of their bodies for the first time. What was just an idea when they formed their shape, two genders, now becomes the most important detail.

Why didn't he notice sooner how beautiful her femininity is? Why didn't she notice earlier how attractive his masculinity was? A previously unknown hunger becomes noticeable in them, the desire for togetherness takes root in their hearts and leads to physical desire.

The new melody, this special song, awakens in them the ability to meet one another in love, and this finds expression in the play of looks, words and gestures.

So far, touching, stroking, quiet whispering, bright laughter, and enticing eye contact have caused little reaction from them. Well, they noticed the other, had fun with it like children who don't know what to do with it, but that was it.

How completely different is it now? When they run their fingers over the skin, when they put their lips together, when they hug each other, when they put their hands on their partner's stomach, then there is something new in the making and it is so exciting that they always keep going.

Morojo and Inana are completely enchanted by the extremely attractive and interesting game. Tingling in all nerve tracts, goosebumps, lust, desire, desire up to physical union. Never before had they lost control of their actions to such an extent, never before had they been overcome by an even remotely comparable intoxication. With the desired consequences.

After a while, Inana's belly swells and after the sun has completed its orbit around this world, she gives birth to two children, twins. A boy and a girl see the sunlight of Pelegorn and they name the boy Yormas and the girl Ytharne.

Every day, Morojo and Inana watch the growth and development of their children with joy and amazement, because in the beginning they can't do anything except scream loudly and always eat. They have to learn how to grasp, crawl, walk, talk. Nothing is given to them by nature. The highest beings, gods, are their creators and one might think that their offspring would come into the world fully equipped with all the abilities for life. They generally have these within them, albeit hidden and still undeveloped, and it is up to Inana and Morojo to make the seeds that live within them germinate so that a wonderful tree grows from them into the sky.

Inana and Morojo are caring parents to their children and they encourage and challenge their offspring in equal measure. Because both have to be the case if they are to stand on their own two feet at some point and maybe even start a family themselves.

Time passes and your children grow and mature and become more independent from year to year. They are still enough for themselves, brother and sister, but it is foreseeable that the time will come when other beings very similar to them will come into their lives.

As they grow older, they need playmates at their side, boys and girls, and later, when they grow up, a woman and a man.

Quite surprised by how quickly their children are thriving, Inana and Morojo realize that they have to think about the future sooner than they would like. Yormas and Ytharne are rapidly growing out of their infancy and have been asking questions for several dekare. Questions that Inana and Morojo can't quite find an answer to. Why are we alone? Are there others of our kind? We long for a girlfriend, a boyfriend. For beings outside of our family that we can play and talk with.

They have now become adolescents and their mother and father no longer meet their demands. There has to be more and you have to give them that point. If they are to learn to fit into a diverse society and live profitably with each other and their peers, then new creatures are needed.

Despite all the haste, Inana and Morojo think very hard about a solution, because a quick shot could create more problems than it solves. What spirit and abilities do they give the new creatures and how much of it? Which character traits? Eagerness to learn, curiosity, strong will, a loving heart, a sharp mind, strength and speed, do you put good and evil in your soul and the ability to recognize both and act accordingly?

Difficult, the more you give them, the more they will resemble the gods. But would that be a real problem? After all, the new creatures are supposed to accompany their children and even bond with them.

So, it's actually clear from the start that they don't have much of a choice other than to distribute the gifts generously. In addition, they should resemble them in shape and countenance and they should feel, think and act as they do. The question that remains now is what material they use to form the bodies of the new creatures.

For a moment the trees seem very suitable to them, but they quickly reject the idea.

Since they settled in them to take shape, the trees have been their sole abode and the legacy of the gods to the living beings of this world.

Stone is too hard, moss too soft and wobbly, grass too light and unstable, sand too loose. Who knows what will happen next?” The librarian looks at the faces of his audience and waits.

“Now here comes the dung beetle,” a girl calls out and everyone laughs.

“Be careful. This tiny creature shows them the way. Morojo is sitting under one of the large trees on a sunny day and a beetle is crawling its way at his feet. Hardly remarkable in itself, but this one is pushing a ball of deer dung in front of him. He has laboriously removed a piece of crap from a pile of dumplings and now he rolls and rolls it until the chunk takes on the perfect shape.

A flash of inspiration flashes through the god. That's it! They knead the creatures from a soft yet easily malleable and durable material, clay.