Once upon a time, in a far place,nestled in a nook of a sleepy mountain in the never forgotten land, lived an elf,as thousands of others. It was not a troll or an Irish elf. It couldn’t think or believe in anything. It didn’t believe in the Sun or God. Whenever it needed help, it didn’t go to any kind of church, and there wasn’t any sacred place with an altar to pray.
The mountain was full of all kinds of different elves, each speaking a different language , so they couldn’t communicate in any way. The language they spoke was revealed to them at the moment of their birth.
No mother gave birth to them, they were created the way worms are, after rain, growing in the morning mist and formed with a thousand different faces, colours and builds. All of them were short, not taller than grass, not shorter than the pebbles which were found by the bank of a small rivulet flowing in the deep valley surrounded by tall figs, pines,oaks and a myriad of colourful flowers and herbs.
At the foot of the mountain there was a village where people lived, as people live everywhere in the world, totally unaware of the existence of their tiny neighbours, as the elves always changed colour as a chameleon does whenever a person was present.
For them people were no different to any other animal, bird or insect which would kill them or eat them, or just step accidentally on them. They were driven by the instict of survival and the only noble feeling they had , was that of elation. They couldn’t describe it, as their languages were limited to the basic vocabulary to speak to flowers, herbs and the big roots, which spread like spines on the forest floor. Only these could listen to them and only these would respond by moving their leaves and stems. Only roots could change colour since they couldn’t move and warn them in case of danger.
Whenever they saw one another they had a feeling of connection without exactly knowing the reason, since their appearance was so different , yet similar to the eyes of the other inhabitants of the mountain.
Since the rain and the morning mist were their source of their nourishment , they exclaimed with joy, and as the rainbow appeared in the sky , a mystical music was heard from the mountain , composed by their thousands of voices, making people feel afraid of the mountain.
People believe in whatever they see , or in whatever they think will control their souls after death, and they are completely unprepared for what there is in between , so it was beyond their abilities to understand the source of this heavenly music.
L;ife has its turns, though, even for our little friends. So, their life was interrupted abruptly one day, when torrents of rain fell on the mountain. The little rivulet bacame a big river , and mud covered everything.
TO BE CONTINUE………
The flowers drowned and disappeared into the soft soil. The elves found shelter in the thickest roots of the trees and they started to climb as high as they could.
The rain lasted for days, for endless dark days and nights the rain filled every inch of their land , and for the first time they felt a new feeling surging through them. We, people, call it, fear.
It was so strange, since water was their mother, but now the newborn elves were dying, even before they had time to take their first breath, in the mud suffocated in the guts of their own womb, the Earth. For the first time in their history, they managed to stand side by side . So many of them !!
In the shadows of the forests they were obliged to stand on the roots, climbing, day by day higher on the trees trying to save their lives. Then as suddenly as it had started it stopped.
The rainbow gloriously appeared in the sky. Never before was the music louder, never before was the feeling of elation greater, never before had they had a chance to look at one another so clearly, never before had they the opportunity to see how many they were.
Never before was there no flowers to understand them, to answer them back in a form of a language, never before had they felt a new feeling LONELINESS.
Never before had they seen their home from so high as a whole. They saw the river, the slopes of the mountain, the village in the distance. A whole new world appeared in front of their eyes. Never before had i occurred to them that the world was something more than the neighbouring flowers, that there was life a step away from the muddy bank. It was the first time they saw the sky so clearly in its splendor , and never before had they seen a rainbow in its magnificence.
The first thought was created in their tiny minds while looking around , he who is standing next to me, must be feeling the same as me. And for the first time they needed to express themselves in the same language.
The roots were changing colours so quickly so as to respond to all of them, but when they felt the same thing – loneliness, fear,elation, and courteousness, they all jad the same colour. So they understood that this meant the same for everyone. It was the first code for them, it was an evasive but definite way to put the cornerstone of their first conscious language.
to be continue…….
THE VILLAGE – DAY 1.
The flood didn’t only change elves’ lives, but also the villagers who lived in the nearby village. It destroyed their crops, demolished their barns, and washed away the fences that mapped out their properties. As they hadn’t marked their animals, when the rain finally stopped, nobody knew which animal belonged to whom , because they had all muddled up while they were trying to escape the mud and save their lives.
It was the first time, since they could remember, that they weren’t at all impressed by the music, which followed the rainbow,even though it was more melodious and louder than ever. They were soaked, miserable and totally confused when they came out of their half destroyed houses to see what the flood had done to their village.
Amazed , they saw mud enerywhere. Their gardens had vanished, their fields had totally disappeared. Instead there was a lake!
to be continue…
