Schip

In the end they built me a ‘nest’ right there on the wall... I told them they didn’t really need to, but they insisted and brought a whole bunch of sticks up. I felt like a fool... sitting on a nest as an adolescent male, all by myself with no mate.

The guards, after the first couple of days, got used to my being there and would come over and talk to me, telling me stories. I was particularly fascinated with stories about my brother’s realm, ‘Come the Day’.

//You have fought Dragons?// I asked the guard as he begun a story. //They use Farmers now?//

//Only if we’re good at crossbows,// the guard said, //which I am. We, that is, your father, were visiting the Dwarves and Ghosts at Endorii, our newest fort at the time, when the Dragons mounted an attack.//

//Do they often attack?// I asked.

//It’s funny. Sometimes they do, and sometimes they don’t. The Elves have some explanation, but I have never understood it. But, anyway, they mounted this attack and when the Spearmen found out I could man a crossbow they let me. They’d always rather use their big spears, you know.//

//Did you kill any Dragons?// I asked him.

//Not all by myself!// he said. //At least, not so I’d know. I loosed off at least a dozen quarrels, and I know several hit, but I didn’t have time to figure out if I killed them myself, or if a Spearman or Ghost finished the Dragon. We killed them all, more than a dozen, and only lost two Spearmen and a Ghost lad//

//Are we winning?// I asked him. //The war against the Dragons, I mean.//

//Oh, well, it’s hard to tell. We’re not losing, anyway. We keep adding more and more forts, and killing more of their lairs... but there doesn’t seem to be any fewer of them... and we almost never kill a female or her young.//

//That can’t be good,// I said.

//No, no it can’t. Mostly just young bucks we kill and...// he glanced at me out of the corner of his eye... //well, maybe you know that that doesn’t exactly help keep their numbers down.//

I laughed, //I knew all about that before I was even captured,// I said. //Especially with Dragons having so many males compared to females.//

//Exactly,// he said, sounding relieved. //So, I don’t rightly know the answer to your question.//

//What question would that be?// A voice said from behind me, and I turned. It was an Elf, a young male. The guard scurried off the way that they always did when I had ‘company’, and it was up to me to answer the Elf’s question.

//We were wondering if we were winning the war against the Dragons,// I said, staring at him with my head to one side. I had a hard time telling people, Grubbers, apart sometimes, but I didn’t think I had seen this Elf before.

//Ah, yes, an excellent question. In territory we are winning, but it is very costly, very bloody. And our war with the Dragons is slowing our conquest of ‘The Day’ greatly. Overall I would have to say we are winning, but not quickly.//

//My name is Jonathon,// I said, in Eagle fashion hoping that he would...

//And I am Tsentlo,// he responded, bowing slightly. And then, in horrible Eagle, “You are my ++Kolchen++.”

Kolchen? I was his area (or person) of study?

“I am sorry I am so slow in arriving, but there was a great deal of discussion about who would get the post until eventually I was chosen. None of us have, as an expertise, the study of Eagles, but my whole family has long studied birds in general and...” he added hastily,”…I myself was going to be studying languages. So it was decided that the combination was appropriate.”

“I... you are going to be my Kolchnar?”

Elves don’t blush, but he came close, “That would be wonderful, but, as you may know, that doesn’t happen very easily. And, in your case, it would be very, very difficult, as I cannot travel with you. I am merely your Kolchno.”

My parents agreed readily that I should go, and, as far as the guards and my cousin told me, everyone was excited about the trip. And, after I asked, my young cousin got to go too. I think I was something of a celebrity. Of course, I guess I was a Prince. There was a little bit of concern about what I would eat, until I convinced them I would be happy to catch (and eat) my own fish.

//Are you sure you want to go?// My Farmer Mother asked me, as we stood on the dock. I think she was embarrassed that we had done so little together.

But really, what could we do? I couldn’t even go in the rooms where they had their parties, or even my cousins and siblings bedrooms. I couldn’t eat with them… and neither one of us would want to (although I enjoyed my meals with my cousins on the beach! Almost every evening they would make a bonfire on the beach, and I would catch fish for everyone that wanted to come (and myself).

//Yes, Mother. I want to see Seth again, and Haddassah, and my nephews and nieces… and Tristan// I said, repeating what I knew what would make her happy. And it was true, too. My oldest brother, my only older brother, was King of ‘The Day’, the island we were settling, and I has always admired him, and loved the trips that I had gotten to take to The day before I had transformed. And this trip, well, I was sure it was glorious.

//Time to get aboard,// Caleb said, waving at me, and I turned back to my parents. //I’ll be back,// I said, touching them with my wings… the compromise we had reached for ‘holding hands’ (with my father) and ‘kissing’ (with my mother). A couple of flaps (and admiring ‘ooohs’ from some visserknappen) and I was up on the crosstree besides the lookout.

//Greetings// the lookout said, knowing that I spoke Fisherman //ready to travel?// He was a grizzled old Fisherman, who probably had refused retirement and so got given jobs like lookout.

//More than ready!// I said //I have always loved it at sea.//

//Can’t swim like that, though.// the Fisherman asked. //Are you going to transform?//

//No, Teltar says I can’t, or I shouldn’t try//

//We’ll miss you in the water then. Pretty much everyone transforms nowadays. I remember when I was a kid, there was only that Seth and his family that transformed, that is until that one trip. And then, after that for a while after that it was only humans and an occasional Elf. But now even the Dwarves transform, it is practically a requirement//

He was looking at me in the challenging way that Fishermen have, and I challenged him back, //I tell you what; you transform into Eagle and I will transform into Fisherman!//

//Well played.// he said, and we went back to watching the Schip get warped away from the dock by the rowboats. Soon that was done, the rowboats left, and the crew was scrambling up the lines to let out the sails.

It had taken a bit of work but they had found, created a spot for me that left me out of the way of the work. But still I felt like I was cramping (and distracting) them, so I took off. Soon I was far above the boat, and the harbour, watching my boat and the other boats moving in and out of this, the principal harbour of Eilish. It was a beautiful sight… combining loves from both of my loves. It was truly a view from a height.

I stayed up about two hours, and then, spotting a large school of Tuna swimming near the surface, I dove down. I had improved my technique out of all measure and grabbed my prey and was airborne again with hardly a struggle. The Tuna struggled mightily, though, and I could see passengers and crew watching me as I flew over to the Schip.

//Catch,// I shouted, and dropped the fish near a group of Farmer lads… grinning as I watched them leap back from the thirty pound fish as it landed on the deck and then flopped about mightily. Several Fisherlads and Fishermen ran forward before it could work itself off the deck, though, and, grabbing belaying in pins, stunned it… the Lads dragging it off triumphantly below decks, where their sisters and mothers would gut and pack it in salt.. or else the cooks would cut it up for dinner.

Speaking of dinner, I climbed back up again and sought out the school. When I spotted it I saw I wasn’t the only one, a pair of dolphins was feeding off the edges. I left them alone and sought out another large fish, on the opposite side of the school.

This fish didn’t come up so easily, and I had to struggle mightily to get back in the air, and then I had to flap hard to make it back to the deck. I landed and had killed it with a thrust to the brain when Tselnto came up.

“A heavy fish for you,” he said.

“Yes, just at the edge of what I was able to do.”

“Will you eat it all?” he asked, and I cocked my head at him… was he asking to share? Or was this just an Elf question? Oh, well, it didn’t matter.

“No, not all of it. You are welcome to take your share,” I added, starting in on the head, pecking out the eyes rapidly. A Farmer girl standing near squealed and turned away. The boys who came and ate with me were more used to my table habits, I would have to remember to be more careful on board Schip.

//Lads,// Tselnto said, //Bring knives and cut some filets. Let them know,// he said to me, //where to cut. They won’t be used to it.//

The Farmerlads came up with their knives and, between bites, I directed them to take what fish I didn’t want. I was feeling very generous so gave them quite a bit. It wasn’t like the sea would suddenly be empty.

//When you are done,// Tselnto said in Eagle //I would like to discuss the different varieties of wind again.// I sighed and finished up.

//Very well, but back on top// I insisted, launching myself up; and he, a younger Elf, and a gang of curious Fisherlads (and a couple of their sisters) climbed up to my cross tree.. the latter getting bored very quickly at the discussion.

When we were done discussing wind, the young Elf asked, //I would like to know about Eagle mating habits.// In Farmer.

I stuck my head under my wing, preening myself in my embarrassment, and Tselnto said, ++That is not an appropriate subject.++

++But, my father…?++

++It is not an appropriate subject to discuss with a younger Eagle, any more than it is with a younger Farmerlad or a younger Dwarflad. In the case of the Farmerlad he will be very willing, but reasonably ignorant, and it is culturally inappropriate. The Dwarflad, like the young Eagle, will be both ignorant and easily embarrassed about the subject.++

++Is that why he has his head under his wing?++ the lad asked.

++Jonathon speaks Elf++ Tselnto said ++and yes. That is an Eagle way of avoiding a conversation. Another Eagle will know this, and will either change the subject or go away.++

There was a pause, and then the young Elf tried again, //Is it comfortable here for you?//

//Oh, yes,// I said, pulling my head back out. //I love this, perched up here. Don’t you? You live in trees.//

//We do,// the young Elf said, //but we are a little more protected from the wind. I find this a bit exposed.//

//You have no feathers, only naked pale green skin,// I said.

//That is true,// he said. Elves didn’t get embarrassed easily. And he wasn’t ‘naked’ exactly, but dressed in the short pants of a Fisherlad.

//Will you transform tonight?// I asked him.

//Probably not,// he said. //I have never transformed before, and I am told that the first transformation takes some time.//

//And you are speaking Farmer,// I said, --You would do better to speak in Fisherman, if you wish to transform--

--That is so-- he said --but in my eagerness to talk to you I forgot.--

--An Elf? Forget?-- I asked him, and I could swear he blushed.

--I am young, still-- he said.

--So am I-- I laughed.

--Are you?-- he asked. -- How old are you?--

--My parents tell me I am twenty four years old.--

--So how old is that in Farmer time?-- the Elf asked. Everyone measured themselves against the farmers, with the Dwarves and Elves living longer and developing more slowly, and most of the other races living quicker.

--We are not sure-- I said. --We think perhaps I am as an eleven or twelve year old, or even younger.--

--That is slower than us or the Dwarves.-- he said.

--Yes, slower-- I said. --Do you like poetry?--

--Poetry?-- the boy said… and we were interrupted as the Fisherlads (no doubt observing that our ‘wind’ discussion was finished) came up and greeted us.

--Poetry?-- they echoed, when the question was explained to them. --Eagles do poetry?--

I stuck my head under my wing again, as Tselnto said --I have found out that Eagles do ‘do’ poetry, as you put it. Indeed, excellent poetry. If he will tell you ‘Diving Storm’ I will attempt to translate it for you. It is a beautiful poem, and one that I think you would appreciate.--

I pulled my head out, and all of the lads were sitting there staring at me, so I began, and this is the way that Tselnto translated it:

Diving Storm

The wind was rising, the waves were crashing, the sky was darkening but

I was hungry so

I rode the wind and braved the waves under the darkening sky and

Sought the fish

I sought the fish that I would need to

Eat and fill my

Hungry stomach and give me power to ride

The wind over the waves.

The fish in the storm went deep to the peace of

The depths and

I sought, through the darkening gloom for even one small fish to

Fill my stomach

I sought and I sought until I almost despaired of

A long hungry cold night with

Nothing inside me and no one beside me and

Bitter defeat

But just as I turned too return to a cold hungry nest there

Appeared to my eye

Just one brave and foolish fish that rode high seeking, itself

Smaller fish in the waves

The wave tossed surface confused my attempts to…

Here he stopped his translation for a minute, thinking. Then he said, --I can’t really translate that next word. It is a word that means kind of ‘calculating the rate and angle of a dive in order to hit a target. It is all one word in Eagle, and not even a big word.--

--Go on anyway-- the oldest fisherlad said --we are enjoying the poem. I never knew Eagles did poetry.--

--Very well. I shall say…--

Spot and dive and I cawed in frustration while

My prey, my intended prey, continued to frolic in the waves

Waves which defied me

Then, for an instant the world stood still

As he rose to the top

Of a wave that was going away perfectly and

I dove

The wind beat around me as my wings tucked tight I

Dove down to

The wave that caught the last rays of the sun and was translucent

And stretched ready

(He stopped for another few minutes there, to my disgust and that of the Fisherlads, to explain that by ‘stretched ready’ he meant that the wave was moving away from me and still holding my prey in a good position for my dive. He and I had discussed this word many times in our discussions but it was a horrid interruption to good poetry. You didn’t explain poetry while it was being said, you only critiqued it afterwards!)

Then the glorious shock as I hit the waves with my claws

Outstretched and they grabbed the prey while

I came out the other side and struggled, struggled, to gain height while my prey

Struggled, struggled to get loose.

Then the dark closed in for good and

My flopping prey in hand

And the wind threw me into its teeth even as I

Struggled to find the shore

For a while it looked like my enemy would win and

My prey and I locked together would

Fall into the waves but just as I dropped to the level of the waves I

Saw the shore

Pounded by waves it lay before me, tantalising near and far and

It drove me to a final thrust

Though I thought my wings were breaking still I gave one and then another flap and

Then locked steady

(Luckily he didn’t try to explain that.)

Even so I landed, tumbling in the surf, eager to land, eager to breathe and yet

Determined not to let go

Of my prey which, itself, feeling the water on it’s scales struggled yet more mightily and

Together we rolled.

But He Who Is blessed me and not my prey that night as

The waves, though they almost killed me still

Threw me with my prey far from themselves, knocking out my breath but

Throwing me on the shore.

Tselnto stopped there, and I stared at him, for that was *not* the end of the poem. But then I realized that the next verse dealt with the death of the fish it what was, for these perhaps, a rather graphic way… with the fish glaring at me steadily while I… well, perhaps enough said.

--Wow!-- the fisherlad said --That was beautiful. The translation was interesting, but the poem itself, in the Eagle language, that was powerful even when I didn’t understand it.--

--Yes-- the Elflad said, --The cadences and rhymes were very well done, and the meter was well adapted to its subject.--

The Fisherlad looked at the Elflad pityingly. --Are you going to transform?-- he asked him.

--Why yes, I will try.--

--Sleep with us tonight-- the Fisherlad said --We know how to make you transform. And then, once you are a Fisherlad, we will bring you up to hear the poem again.--

The Elflad looked confused, but nodded, slowly, in agreement.

—

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Von