Life Anew [Attn: Seth]

[Percy]

Asan

Evening was quickly approaching and darkness threatened to fall over a small camp. Houses on wheels appeared to gather what little sunlight left in colors that remained vibrant and displayed jarring combinations of colors to the common set of eyes. The rhythmic tap of boots and the growing sound of clapping hands could be heard for what could be miles around, as the Tuatha'an men, women and children, dressed nearly to match their wagons began to gather and build fires for the night. The camp was set in a matter of moments- fires were started, the smells of cooking wafted through the camp just as the first voice rose in song. There could be no feast without the Song. There could be no Song without the People, and there could be no People without the Leaf.

Asan emerged from the forest- a bushel of berries, mintleaf, honeysuckle, and mushroom stalks in his arms as he walked with his Elder brother Jhali who brought a bustling of firewood. Asan was a lanky boy, though it was past time for him to be called something other than boy according to his Father, and his body had not quite caught up with his level of coordination. He moved awkwardly into camp, laughing with his brother as he went. The voice of his mother was light and airy as the notes began to fill the sky.. the chorus before words- a flexing of human instrument.. like tuning a harp. Seeing her two boys, she spoke to them happily.

"Asan! Jhani! Come, come. Our fires are warm, and a Song is about to begin. You have not found the Song among the trees?"

It was more formality than anything that spawned the question, but they answered in unison formal tones through smiling lips. "No. We still search." A pause for the ceremony and Rhelia, their mother, smiled broadly.

"A treat for you both. A gleeman is said to travel this way. Perhaps he will tell tales... or perhaps he will know the song. Your father said he saw the man on the road and invited him. Perhaps the man will take us up." She fell silent for a moment, and they did as well. It was silence for an outsider- it was mourning for one who had not yet found the Way. Asan hoped he could see the patchwork cloak, hear the music and dance through and through. The night promised to be a memorable one, even if the Gleeman did not show- a night spent with family was one he could celebrate regardless.

[Cheiron]

The air was fresh, far from the smoke stacks of Hama Valon and the Grey Tower. Soon after bidding farewell to his position as Keeper of the Archives, Seth packed a small bag of supplies and set out on an adventure. Wearing simple clothing, his broad, black hat, and his trademark patchwork cloak - to which he had added a small yellow fang on the left side near his hand. For one who had seen over thirty summers, his face and curiosity were still ones of a youth. The travelling weave was a boon, as it allowed him to pick anywhere he knew and start from there. Picking a spot he remembered at random, he opened the gateway to the small rise near the creek and stepped through. How long he would be away from the Tower, he didn't know. What he did know was that as soon as the gateway shut behind him, he let out a massive sigh, and for the first time in a very long time, felt free.

Spinning a little, Seth set out in a random direction, unsure of what awaited him out in the vast expanse beyond the clearing he had picked. He almost wanted to walk as slowly as possible to let the feeling of walking in an area he hadn't been to for nearly three decades, but his feet wouldn't allow it, itching to get to the first town or village he could find and start performing like he used to. He had never stopped playing music and performing, as soon as he could leave the Tower without impunity he had been playing the taverns of Hama Valon, but now that he was on the road, he wouldn't just be playing for coin, but food and lodging. It was an interesting difference between being a stationary Gleeman and a travelling one. Just a few minutes into his newest adventure and he already knew he preferred to be on the road.

It had been great being the Keeper of the Archives. He had been privy to almost everything that happened in the Tower, and for someone who liked to sate his curiosity on a daily basis, all of the intrigues had been satisfying, if at times the job had been a bit stuffy. If he wasn't trawling through papers that he wished he could just throw into the fire, he was writing on papers, keeping logs of the day to day of the Tower. It had all been too much. He had hundreds of years ahead of him, and he didn't want to spend the rest of them staring at sheets of paper. His Brothers and Sisters all agreed that his time spent in such positions of authority had tempered him and that despite his wily smile and insatiable curiosity, even as a travelling Gleeman he would be an excellent example of an Asha'man and representative of the Grey Tower.

Eventually finding a road, Seth looked each direction, the road stretching for leagues either way. Casting off in the general direction of the majority of the footprints that were still etched into the dirt, his journey continued. A day later he arrived at a little village with an inn, after a farmer had been travelling behind Seth and upon seeing his cloak offered a ride. Not being one to refuse such kindnesses, Seth gratefully accepted, his feet relishing the relief, and his mind at ease that he was still travelling in the same direction, even though it mattered not where he ended up.

After playing many songs, and a very warm welcome, he left the next morning, much to the lament of the village, but he said as he left, "I am a travelling man, giving the gift of music to everyone. If I were to stay too long, I wouldn't be able to spread the joy as far."

Everyone laughed, and agreed, and sent him on his way with fresh food and water. He left with the promise that if he ever came through the area again he would play for them again.

This pattern continued for several weeks. It was the longest time Seth had ever been away from the Tower for so many years. He still avoided travelling toward Amadicia. He wanted to see his parents one more time, but he figured he would do it at a later time when he was ready. Travelling along the road, Seth came across a gentleman in garishly clashing colours at a fork of the road. By comparison to Seth's actual age, the man looked not much older than Seth himself, however, due to Seth's youthful features, the man shouted out, "Hello, young man. How are you this fine day."

"I am well, sir. How are you?" Seth replied, not betraying the fact that he was likely not much younger than the man he was now standing before.

"As good as a man can be. Say, you look like you're a Gleeman. You must have only left your home in the last few years, you can't be more than twenty summers old, and I haven't seen you around before."

"If you say so," Seth stated, hoping that the Oaths didn't interrupt his response.

"My family is stopped just ahead for a moment, I came back to check for stragglers, would you care to join us?"

Seth thought for a moment, and politely declined, choosing instead to head in the other direction to the way the man was pointing.

"The offer still stands. You will be welcome by our fires."

With that, the other man set off after his caravan, and Seth went the other way.

As Evening approached, Seth moved into the woods on the side of the road. With the light fading, Seth wove a light ball so that he didn't get lost as he moved through. Eventually, he heard the music and knew he had found the Tuatha'an Caravan he had been behind. When he was within sight of the campfires, Seth dissolved his weave and moved into the camp. He was sure no one had seen the seemingly sourceless white ball of light, but he couldn't be certain.

Standing there with his cloak fluttering in the breeze, a few heads turned to face the newcomer. The Mahdi approached Seth, placed his hands on his heart, bowed and started the formal greeting.

"You are welcome to our fires. Do you know the song?"

"Your welcome warms my spirit, Mahdi, as your fires warm the flesh, but I do not know the song," Seth responded, providing a little bit of a solemn tone to the last part.

"Then we seek still. As it was, so shall it be, if we but remember, seek, and find."

[Percy]

The evening was quite a beautiful sight to behold. Dying light transformed the surrounding greenery into ominous shapes, shadows growing and shrinking as a chilled wind whipped through the brush. As night raced to cover the land, singing and light, airy music seemed to come from a small clearing. The encroaching darkness was battled back by a few camp fires, and as the man wandered so he discovered the humble camp to which an invitation was given.

Coming upon a Tuatha'an camp was a sight to behold. Merriment and joviality sung from the jarring colors on the small, house-shaped wagons, wrapped itself around the bodies of those Tuatha'an that were in plain sight. The fires of the camp gave dancing light to the odd combination of colors- making them leap to life with each movement. Prior to coming into view, it would be a simple thing to hear the merriment going on- it was a party to sweep troubles from the mind, a relentless drinking of life, carefree to the point of wanton. Shadows danced in time along to slapping feet and what sounded like masterful flute playing. All inviting- all carefree. A few hulking shadows in the night shifted as he came close- the only real guard the "Tinkers" allowed- tamed wolf-hounds made their gruff voices heard in the presence of the stranger. Barking signaled danger to a people whose lives depended upon vigilance, and all noise cut off as if with a knife.

Anxious looks were shared between Traveling people as the Gleeman came into full view. The man beheld a sparse and modest camp, certainly nothing to tell tales of, but what it lacked in population it made up for in boisterous song. What a clamor to have been made by such a small grouping of people. A decent blend of young and old, this place looked but a shadow of a former glory- it had the trapping of a much larger gathering.. and yet the number of people seemed mundane. Such was the Way of the Leaf: leaving behind pains of lost family and adopting new as time wove patterns across the surface of the Weave. These people were true stoics, what would be- simply would be, and like the willow they would to the winds of Change no matter how many of their branches were snapped. They would bend, and even in bending to break they would sing and dance, and that would be enough.

A keen pair of eyes could not help but note a few around the fires bore scars, some ancient in their healing, some new- red and angry shouting clues to their tortured past through the silence that lay heavy in the air. Even the Mahdi was not without wear- a slight slide to his step suggested a limp he'd gotten used to ages ago. It would be difficult not to take note of the various injuries time inflicted upon these people. And still, the Way persevered. And still, they danced. Once the customs were met and the exchange was complete, the merriment picked up once more, and the Traveling people's ever-present anxiety seemed to lessen.

The tune was lively, hands clapped and feat drummed the floor in time as men, women and children danced as if they'd not contemplated flight or death moments before. The deft flute player was probably the youngest man with that level of skill on this side of the River Ernin. He was a strangely large eyed boy with sun-touched skin, his eyes washed over the Gleeman as if he were a dream walking in the flesh. Playing now with a ferocity that was artful in it's improvisation, the boy closed his eyes and went to work. Faster and clearer the notes rang, music to calm the spirit and cleanse the soul. Music that floated upon the breeze, that spoke of summer mornings and bitter cold- music that worshiped the natural order while silently, carefully stepping outside of it. The longer he played, the more people danced.. some voices rose in song, and in doing so, created a tapestry of sound that could be named in no greater fashion. Behind it was that flute- behind the flute, the boy.. slight in build, lost in a mire of music so deep the bottom couldn't be seen at all.