Giving Thanks

Having made yourself decent and ready for the day, you made your way through the streets of Paude. Not as large or prosperous as the capital city of Dobeth, or the other coastal city of Lougen, it was still a decently large and prosperous community. It was a notable crossroads of roads that traveled northwards and southwards, a minor highway of sorts that connected the Naztalan Empire with the Linthalian Monarchy, and traveled more east and west that was connecting the coastal cities to the western border of Barkhis. As would be expected from laying on such a trafficway, the streets were bustling with all sorts of people carrying on in their day to day, of the merchants or other travelers and the locals that made their living supporting them. Though there may have been some angry shouting here or there, the environment was largely peaceful, despite the noise and commotion. The calm quiet of nature was more pleasing to your eyes and ears, to see the world as it naturally was, in all of it’s stark contrasts to the world you grew up and so recently escaped. A particular subject of your interest were the birds of T’sara. Living in large, dark caves, you’d never seen things that could move with such freedom before. Even bats were rare with how far below the surface you lived, and were still confined to the rock ceilings and walls. The diversity of their size, color, voice, and behavior astounded you as well, as it was perhaps only mushrooms that had anything close to such variance back home. Though they were a pedestrian thing to the various residents and travelers through the streets, of little to no notice, you kept a keen eye out for the avian visitors you could see as you walked the streets of Paude to your destination.

You wished your family could see sights like this or the other places you’ve been to in your short time on the surface. Most Drow never would, and even those that did would only emerge for wars of espionage, subterfuge, or other calculated strikes in their eternal war. If they could just pause and see T’sara with new eyes, even just the natural world the Gods created before the Six Sisters created the mortal races, most would realize the fault of their hostile behavior, or so you hoped. Right or wrong, changing how your fellow Drow viewed the world or the people in it was someone else’s problem. You had a new life ahead of you, and you were going to walk towards it.

It was extremely fortunate for you that your destination allowed you to pay homage to both your fascination with the birds, and your music. Zrajil was not the only the Goddess of music, but also the Goddess of Birds. There was a church dedicated to her here in Paude, one of the few places with such a place, so you’ve been told. It was near the campus of the Bard’s College, where you had found someone among the staff who was willing to train and mentor you on an individual basis.
Walking in alone, outside of the normal hours of a call to worship, allowed you to slowly walk about the interior. The high ceiling and walls, far narrower than the building was long, strangely reminded you of some of the passages and areas of home. The painted glass, bringing in all manner of colored light, seeing the smoothness of the stone pillars and wooden walls, the seemingly perfect curvature of the arched ceiling, were of course distinct differences, and the church was far better off for them. It allowed for sound to travel easily and far, reminding you of the vast echoing lands of your youth.

As impressive as the building itself was, what fully drew your attention was the immense set of metal pipes at the opposite end, arranged in varying heights and widths, with what you could only describe as a glorious sound emanating from them. You slowly walked towards it, seeing the likely culprit for the music being played, a human dressed in a simple robe of light blue with a white cloth wrapped over his shoulders. He seemed completely transfixed in the piece that he was playing, a fast paced technical piece that no doubt took great concentration and skill. You moved as quietly as you could through the church; although the music from the pipes was at a great volume and the building itself seemed to carry it throughout the space, you feared an unanticipated noise might break his concentration. Taking care, you stood along the front row of seats, still marveling at everything, watching as the music changed as he moved his keys across an immense board, until his piece was done. With the silence, you gave a small manner of applause, having the needed effect of capturing the man’s attention.

There was a great deal of shock in his eyes, as he turned to see you, which turned to a comforted and welcome smile. It took some time for him to rise from his seat, clearly in the autumn of his years.
“Good morning my child,” he rose his hand out as he slowly approached “forgive my old ears and poor attention, it was rude to have kept you waiting. I wouldn’t have anticipated a guest at this time, especially not one such as you.”

You gave a light bow as he approached “Oh, it’s nothing. I’ve never been here before, and was fascinated by all of this.”

“It’s a wonderful coincidence, you’re the first Draw I’ve seen in here before. Certainly not one with such rare beauty as you” You blushed slightly at his remarks, saying nothing “Enough my gushing, where are my manners?” He asked himself humorously “ Maestro Jokim Lurtz, as your humble service”

You gave a slight bow of the head, hands clasped in front “Margot Mallekin”

“Well met, miss Margot. In any event, don’t let my body fool you. I’m just a child at heart, and these are some of the toys that I’m allowed to play with” He turned back, raising his hands at the pipes. You noticed a crest at the base that you hadn’t before, a pair of hammers imposed over a wreath.
“Forgive me for asking, sir, but is that a sigil for Hjanda there, and why is it there?”
“Ahh, perceptive eyes young lady. Please,” He sat down and bid you to sit as well, which you respectfully complied with “Yes, that is the mark of Hjanda. It’s there for two reasons. The first is that the pipe organ, which is what this enormous contraption is, was invented by the Dwarves in the Hammerdeep mines. They were only too proud to show off and share what their ingenuity created, and it is a tradition to mark them with that symbol out of respect.”
“And the second?” You asked, curious and eager.

“Patience, young one” He said as he patted your leg “Hjanda, the Fourth Sister, is also the Goddess of Tools. When you think about, that’s all this is. Any instrument is a tool, meaning Hjanda governs them and is as much to credit for them as Zrajil for the music they create. You know, some think she takes the shape of a Dwarf most often because he’s enamored with the Fourth Sister, and maybe more than that.”

“You mean?”

“The Fires of Love, as it were” As he smiled, you let out a small, nervous laugh. Thinking of the Gods and Goddesses at all were prohibited, but you had certainly never had cause to think that they might be amorous or intimate with one another. Conversing of such things was also generally discouraged, and it’s taken you some getting used to the comparative openness of this society. “But enough of such thoughts. You came here with a purpose and a story, I can tell, and I’m eager to hear either of them.”
“Thank you for that. I am actually here to give thanks to Zrajil” you stated simply, your hands clasped together on your knee.
“Oh?” He was amusedly surprised “and what does a Moonless child have to be thankful to a God for?”
“Well, for music, of course.” It seemed a strange, self evident question. With additional information, you tried to answer the question you thought he was really asking. “I wasn’t allowed music until I came to the surface world, when I had to run away from home. Since arriving here here in Paude, I’ve had the opportunity to see, hear, and do things I never thought possible. I’ve learned how to sing and play instruments, and it’s the most wondrous thing. I never thought my voice could do what it does, and I just feel the need to share it, and be thankful for what I was blessed with.”
“Oh, if I were a younger man” Jokim responded, in a crude way of displaying his adoration. Regardless of intent, it felt offensive to you, but you held your comments inside “It is extremely rare to find one so thankful. Even among the faithful here, they take the fact that we can do these things for granted. That you of all people should come into my doors and express such genuine gratitude warms this old soul. Forgive me for breaking social decorum Margot, but I’m afraid I must ask, how old are you?”
“I’ve just turned One Hundred and Ten”
“And already living on your own, I take it? Why, you’re barely an adult by elf years, from what I’ve been told.”

“Yes sir, though again, not entirely by choice. I had to flee my home.”
“And why is that again?”
Your face tightened in discomfort. Saying it out loud was somehow more painful than just accepting it inside “I couldn’t be what I was told to be. Back home, I was only allowed one thing. To train, to fight, to kill, eventually. To see Elves and the rest of the surface world as my enemy, and I just…couldn’t.” Your eyes shifted downwards in a moment of guilt and shame “I was called weak, and than I was called a coward, and than I was called a traitor.”
“I’ll spare you the need to spell out what those consequences would have been.” The old Mastro said, sullenly and quiet in his tone “Such details are not for a holy place, and I don’t know that my old heart can bear to know it. But, I know this.” His face beamed in earnestness and gratitude “I will count myself blessed for having met you, and hearing your story, Margot Mallekin. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone like you before, and I doubt I ever will again. If I may be so bold as to comment, the idea that you are a coward could not be further from the truth. Standing up for who you are, refusing to change who you are in when it’s easy and more beneficial to just conform, that’s one of the bravest things you can do. As for a traitor? Let me tell you something.” He chuckled a moment. “The nation you’re standing in was built by traitors. Did you know that?”
“I’ve read somethings about Comchavet’s history nearby in the Bard’s College, but not to a great extent.”
He smiled and chuckled louder “Oh, I should have known, you’re just the type. Anyway, the Admiralty of Comchavet were originally defectors from Linthalia. They believed the Maiden Queen was corrupt and uncaring about them and their needs. They took their fleet of ships, crews and all, sailed north, and held a rebellion against their Monarch. They eventually made peace, and it was a rude awakening. Their Royal Family has, remarkably, been above board ever since, if you can believe it.”

Jokim grabbed his legs tightly, regaining his thoughts “my apologies, I’ve been known to ramble. My point is this, the world needs it’s traitors sometimes. Now might be one of those times, which means we need more people like you, and now” He pointed his finger out and gently prodded your arm with it.

“Thank you Mastro.” You clasped your hands together, bending your head slightly forward in thanks. It was heartwarming for this old man to speak so highly of you, despite having just met. Though there have been plenty of decent enough people here in the city, none have been so outwardly supportive of you. “If I may, I would still like to return to the matter of giving thanks. It may seem a trivial or unnecessary, but it matters to me. I have something that I love, and I wish to give a gesture to the one who made it to know how much I love it.”
“That which is necessary is never trivial.” Jokim rose to his feet, struggling up. Though you rose with him, holding your hand out for support, he kindly dismissed it away.

“What you have, what all of us have, is a gift. Zrajil asks no for no offerings, no sacrifices, nothing in her honor. You are under no obligation to repay her for anything.” You were about to protest, and he rose his hand to prevent you from speaking. “And I also understand that you wish to grant the Goddess of Song and the Goddess of Birds a gift in return. Like her, you expect nothing in return and are acting solely in a manner of love. That being the case, I may know of something you could do, if you’re ready for some Bardic adventures and danger.”
You hadn’t anticipated that possibility. Without thinking it through much further, you nod without question “Yes, of course, without question.”
“There’s a musical piece, written early in the Second Age, so I’m told. It was meant to accompany a dance routine. Very long, very elaborate. According to legend, Zrajil absolutely loved it, saying it was one of her favorite pieces that any mortal alive had ever written. It’s gone missing for a long time now. If you could find that, bring it about so that it can be played again, that would not only be a great gift to the Goddess, but to us all.”
“That sounds like quite the mission, and like something that’s been tried before” You had a slight smirk “Maybe something you had looked into yourself?”
“Guilt as charged, my dear” He agreed with another big smile and laugh “I wanted to find it when I was younger man, searching for clues in libraries and the like. I thought I had something, but I had to give up the hunt. My body began to betray me early, and I would have been no help galivanting around, masquerading as some heroic knight, getting into who knows how much trouble along the way.”
“Well, maybe you can answer one other question. If Zrajil loves it so much, how did it get lost in the first place?”
“A wonderful question, my young Bard To Be. Two things happened in short order that doomed the play. The first is that while the Goddess loved it, it was so unconventional and outside what people were ready to accept, it had caused a riot within the theatre. The play gained a notoriety and the music was shared among the daring and those interested in controversy, but was scarcely played after.”
“And, the second?” You asked
“The great destroyer of everything, I’m afraid. Glokrei’s domain. War happened. Like so many, it was brutally destructive on both sides. When people run for their lives, they don’t tend to worry about instruments or manuscripts or anything else that might slow them down. I imagine you have a sense of what that was like,” You nodded quietly in agreement. “The Collectors of Skolm though, they’re an interesting bunch. They make a habit of going into places of danger like that to try and preserve things before they’re destroyed. They would have been my first stop.”

“Are there any of these Collectors here in Paude?”
“No, and if there were, I’d have surely already raided their library looking for, come Ten Hells if I had to.” There was a shared smile between the both of you. “The closest ones are to the west, near the border. If any of them would be likely to have it, it would be the Collectors in Inzandyn, where the Civil War took place. I couldn’t say for sure which would be more likely to have it.”
“That’s a pretty far journey from here,” You remarked in casual observation.
“True, this would be no means be easy. If it were, some poor old sod would have found it first. Probably me,” There was another shared chuckle “I have some old notes I can share with you, if you’re really ready to take this on.”
“I think so, yes” You smiled gently. This was by no means the type of thing you anticipated this day would bring, but you were excited at the prospect.

“Wonderful, I’ll pray for your good luck and safe travels. I’m sure you’ll have quite the story to tell when you get back.”
“I can’t wait to share it.” You smile

Jokim extended his arms forward, one holding your arm and the other reaching forward to your shoulder. “You’ll be a great hero one day, young lady, I guarantee it. But you best get a rush on it, cause I still wanna be alive to see it.”