[Flashback] What We Once Were

[Hirem]

Hirem smiled, downing the second olive in a large gulp and picking up another one, using his other hand to hold out a finger. "Aren't the duties that are difficult the ones truly worthwhile?" Hirem snapped off a bit of the olive and chewed it quickly, eager to get back into conversation. He was rather enjoying this talk, mosty because he faced years of journeying alone, and he wanted to take any chance of companionship, no matter how small. No one could spend a long time isolated without being damaged some way pyschologically.

Hirem nodded at her last comment, rolling the olive between two finger unconciously. "It has been difficult, yes. It was lucky that you and your uncle were so hospitable to me, but then Benshirans must look after one another, yes? If I met other groups of people, I would help them do labour in return for supplies to continue on in my journey. Still..." He glanced at his arm, taking note of a small, faded scar running from his elbow to his shoulder. "There has been danger. You must be prepared for harm to come your way in this land."

He popped the olive into his mouth, savouring it for a moment before swallowing it quickly.. He turned his gaze back to Nahali, and observed her stance, one that almost leaned into him, listening very intently to every word he said. He found another smile, and let his gaze roam the tent as he talked. "I have no doubt about finding what Yahal means for me, though I do not think it is wandering aimlessly. I am simly trying to find what Yahal means for my purpose in life."

Hirem didn't grab another olive, instead crossing his legs and setting his elbows upon his knees, supporting his head with his folded hands. "Though I may have to embellish a bit of the tale to entertain the Masha. Nobody wants to hear a grounded and boring tale on a fine summer's night such as this."

[Nahali]

Nahali couldn't help but grin in response to Hirem's last statement. "Indeed, you might have to tell quite a story at Masha tonight," she agreed boldly. "My cousins will be doing a beautiful traditional dance this evening; they'll be using scarves and little drums and everything. You'd better have a story of how you fought off a whole pack of wolves by yourself, or even a pack of tsanas, if you hope to top that!"

At that moment, the bell that signaled the evening mealtime rang at the middle of the camp. Carried by a gust of wind that sent sand swirling around people's feet, the sound could be heard even by those who lived in tents farthest from the center, even if they hadn't caught the savory aromas of stew and lamb floating through the air. Nahali immediately opened the tent flap and gestured for Hirem to follow her. He rose to his feet with alacrity, looking somewhat better and more alert than before. Nahali knew how the promise of a good meal, especially after a long day of walking, could enliven even the most stolid of men.

Outside, the air was crisp and clear, and the temperature had sunk to a more comfortable level now that the sun had set. The stars were coming out, and Nahali gazed upward in wonder. As always, they shone brightly in the clear desert air, and she smiled at the sight of her old friends, the familiar constellations. Then she returned to leading Hirem to the center of the camp, where the food was already being ladled out and served.

"You're welcome to come and eat with my family once the food is served," she told him. "I'm sure they will be able to find some work for you as well, if you want to help us while you stay with our Tent. I will tell them of how well you know herding and tending animals and that you must surely be as strong as your name would suggest."

Before he could reply, Nahali added, "I liked what you said before, too, about how the most difficult thigns to do are the most worthwhile. I think so too." She smiled at him.

They joined her family's cook-fire, took up plates and heaped them high with food from the brimming pots. As they ate, Nahali did as she had promised and told her father about Hirem's way with animals and knowledge of shepherding. The elders agreed to discuss what sort of work they could find for him and asked him courteous and curious questions about his venture into the desert. They talked and ate, until finally the stew pots ran empty and their bellies groaned with food.

"Oooh," Nahali murmured, pointing toward the center of the encampment. A space was being cleared, and a group of young women were rising to their feet. Draped in colorful scarves adorned with shining metallic disks, they made a lovely sight in the flickering firelight. Each was holding a small drum, which they gently tapped to create a lively rhythm. A musician sat down near the edge of the space and began to play a sweet, beguiling melody on a guitar. "They're going to start the dancing now," she whispered. "Everyone, hush and watch!"

[Hirem]

Hirem dunked his spoon one last time into the stew when the dancers arose, his nostrils thick with the aroma of warm, delicious food. His mouth had previously been watering when he saw the amount of food gathered before him; now he was accepting the fact and helped himself to a modest share. Still, he had noticed that he had eaten a larger share than most of the others, which made him feel slightly guilty. But the tantalizing taste of the food had seduced him easily, driving him to eat voraciously. He shook his head of these thoughts, focusing his attention on the dancers.

Dressed as they were in scarves in the glow of the orange fire, it was a mesmerizing sight, with the bright light reflecting off the metal disks on their scarves. Combined with the slow, relaxing music played on the guitar, he felt his eyelids droop with sudden drowsiness, but he forced them open, intent on stopping any rude behavior he could display to his guests. Instead, he forced himself to straighten his back, legs crossed with his hands on his knees. It was a proper sitting position, one that invited no rest or relaxing.

The dancers began to swirl about, letting their scarves sway about in the air, catching the eye of all who watched. Up, down, left and right the scarves would dance, becoming a cavalcade of color that intrigued and mesmerized the viewer. Indeed, the dancers were not humans no more, but ethereal creatures that were all grace and delicacy. Their metal disks would occasionally shine through to a certain audience member, interrupting their spell with a bright flash of light. Hirem smiled as the dance continued, keeping his stiff position up. Everyone else was starting to relax, spreading out their tired limbs with content looks on their face. He had seen plenty of dances in his youth, as had all of the other audience members. Still, once you got caught up in the dance, you forgot all about other similar displays and concentrated on this one.

[Nahali]

Having seen her cousins performing this dance many times before, Nahali knew it almost as well as they did. For all that she had never entered the dance floor herself, still she knew the steps and the rhythm by heart. Like many Benshiran women, her cousins felt that dancing was the form of prayer that spoke most to their hearts. Every gesture, every footfall, every turn of the head and twist of the arm formed a single word of their beautiful unspoken homage to Yahal's purity and goodness. Round and round the dancers went in a circle, symbolizing their unending faith in Yahal. As they danced, they lifted their arms and raised their shining scarves above their heads to signify how they would give all they had for him. Finally, in the most difficult maneuver, the women began to spin and dip, while still moving around in a circle together. This represented both the unity and freedom of the Benshira, who lived ungoverned by an earthly ruler and yet worked together so that their people would survive.

In the warm firelight, their colorful scarves fluttered and shimmered like flames themselves, and their faces were blissful with the sheer pleasure of their dance. Nahali smiled wistfully as she watched them. Her cousins had offered to teach her their dances once, but she could only jerk and stagger through the movements that they performed so fluidly and effortlessly. Whatever purpose Yahal had shaped her for, it seemingly did not include being entrancing and graceful.

Finally, the music fell silent and the dance came to an end. The musician was first to bow his head; then the dancers followed suit, as did the rest of the Tent. "Amen," he murmured, his deep voice carrying in the hush. "Amen," the Tent echoed.

Then there was applause and whistling and cheers for the dance, and ordinary everyday chatter arose among the separate cook-fires at the center of the encampment. Some of their extended family came over Nahali's family's cook-fire to talk and share stories, including several of the dancers who had been showing off their art. They glanced curiously at Hirem, clearly wondering who the newcomer was.

"This is Hirem, from the tents of Alachi, of the sons of Rapa," Nahali said, introducing him. "Uncle Labran and I met him in the desert today, while we were leading our goats back, and we offered him hospitality. He will be staying with us for a short spell, I expect."

Looking sidelong at Hirem, she grinned impishly and added, "Hirem, you told me how you have been traveling alone in the desert, like Biyram when he left his father's lands. The desert is a very dangerous place, especially in the heat of summer when many springs run dry. Surely, you must have some thrilling tales of your travels that you could share with us?"

[Hirem]

Hirem stared at all the curious faces examining his own, and he tried to avert his gaze once he caught eyes with them, nervously shifting his gaze to the ground. The soft golden sand seemed to catch his attention more than anyone else, or at leas that was the impression he made on people. He didn't exactly like being put in a position where people would chatter on about him and he couldn't do anything to stop them from doing so. Right now, all he could was watch as curious relatives and family members glanced over at him, turn to their neighbours, and speak in hushed tones about this strange new man.

When Nahali introduced him to her Tent and all eyes were focused on him, Hirem forced himself to meet their gazes. There were looks of curiousity, judgement and indifference, and all of them made him lust for something to happen, something that would distract these people and leave him be. But he was left alone to speak once Nahali finished, unfortunately. He took a deep breath, putting his hands on his knees. Silence reigned over the camp, and only sound was the light breeze of the sands. He finally forced himself to start speaking.

"I... thought long and hard about what I would say to you all. What daring tales, what powerful adventures I could speak to you about. But, finding myself here..." He took a glance at all of them, from the uncle Labran that was raising an eyebrow at this curious opening, to the young Nahali, awaiting her exciting tales. He cleared his throat, trying to focus his thoughts. "All I can say is the truth. It isn't particularly amazing, it isn't a rousing tale of success. All it is is the truth of my travels."

With that, he launched into his story, beginning with his studies of the Benshiran history in Yahal. People would nod once he acknowledged important events in their history, and with every such acceptance, his confidence was bolstered and he would speak more clearly and dramatically. His words faltered when he described the vision he had recieved in Yahebah, but he managed to convey the basic idea of his religious experience.

He stumbled occasionally in his speech, and other times he paused while searching for the right expressions and descriptions to use, but without having to worry about embellishment, he was able to accurately draw from his recent past, from collapsing onto the sand in exhaustion from a particularly horrid day, to meeting traders and wanderers and the experiences that came with them, to his last minute luck at stumbling upon a desert stream and practically falling down into the river in pure relief.

By the end of the story, he had rarely stopped in the retelling and had come up with some clever analogies and descriptions of the Burning Lands, and the audience was getting much more involved in the story though. Hirem found himself enjoying the feel of having his words come out clear as a bell and experiencing the thrill of an attentive audience listening dutifully to his tale. The story did end abruptly when he told the day's earlier events and meeting Labran and Nahali. Once he finished, he bowed his head and waited for a response to his earnest storytelling.

[Nahali]

After Hirem was finished, Uncle Labran was first to applaud his story of his travels and Nahali was far from the last. Everyone looked impressed by Hirem's bravery in setting out alone into the desert and overcoming so many hardships because of his faith in his vision. He really had told the story well, Nahali thought to herself with approval. When she first saw his discomfort at speaking before so many people at once, Nahali had felt a pang of guilt for putting him on the spot and asking him to describe his travels without any warning. Perhaps she should have thought before she spoke, but she couldn't help feeling curious about his adventures and she could tell most of her family members were too.

Once Hirem had started talking, though, he grew increasingly animated as he regaled his listeners with vivid accounts of the obstacles, marvels and curiosities he had encountered during his journey. Many of the younger Tent members had never been to Yahebah, so they listened with wide-eyed attentiveness to his descriptions of the holy city. When Hirem reached the desert portion of his story, most audience members started nodding in recognition and understanding as he spoke of the beauty and danger of the desert. Even the youngest of them had crossed the Burning Lands several times in their lives, and they identified all too well with his travails. They had known the thirst, the exhaustion, the euphoric joy of discovering a fresh stream or desert spring. As his story came to a stop, Hirem found himself surrounded by rapt, sympathetic and admiring faces.

Almost immediately after he concluded his tales of travel, his audience broke into applause. The startled expression on Hirem's face when he heard the clapping start made it plain that he hadn't expected such a positive reaction to his story. Before he could do more than smile in thanks, questions from inquisitive listeners sprang up on either side of him.

"My cousin Arahim, he's a harness-maker in Yahebah, did you meet him while you were there?" "Who was your teacher of history in the city?" "Did you really go all that way on foot?" "Weren't you scared that you were going to die?" "How many other Tents did you stay with along the way?" "Is it true there are bands of terrible robbers in the desert?"

"Hush, everyone," Nahali's father called loudly, raising his hands to gain everyone's attention. "Our guest has had a long day. I'm sure he would rather be resting than trying to answer a thousand-and-one questions. Nahali, please show him a place where he can pitch his tent and get a good night's sleep."

Looking up at the sound of her name, the girl obediently rose to her feet and beckoned to Hirem. She was already thinking of open areas in the camp where he could set up his own tent without being near the noisier or higher-traffic sections. Before Hirem could follow her, however, Nahali's father spoke up again.

"Hirem," he said directly to the tall Benshiran, "my daughter has vouched for you as willing to help us while you stay with our Tent. If that is the case, I place the flock that we graze in the southwest into the charge of you and Nahali and…let me see…"

He rubbed his chin in thought for a moment, before rattling off the names of two other shepherd boys. Nahali repressed a groan when she heard their names. She knew the boys and had always found them hopelessly careless and irritating, always clowning around together and lagging rather than devoting themselves to the work at hand. She didn't need to be a Prophet to foresee that she would be spending most of her time handling the flock with Hirem the next day.

"For as long as you choose to stay with us, that will be your duty," Nahali's father concluded, unmindful of his daughter's discontent. "I trust that this will be acceptable to you."

[Hirem]

The relief from the audience's acceptance of his tale and the confidence that arose from their approval sent Hirem into a giddy daze, almost collapsing from happy exhaustion. Still, he was to walk a bit more before he could rest, and he would walk it joyfully. The Tent's words were still ringing in his ears, and he had a tired, blank smile on his face that announced his desire clearly.

Labran's suggestion wasn't unexpected, but it still took Hirem by suprise. He hadn't intended to stay for a long time, certainly not long enough to help Nahali and her friends with shepherding. But when he was about to announce Yahal's wish for him to move, he saw the happy look on Nahali's face, and the accepting look on Labran's. They were pleasant enough reactions that were a relief to see after a few weeks in the desert. He thought about the issue for a moment, and then finally broke into a glad smile. "I would be honoured to assist your Tent, and stay for a bit."

[Nahali]

Looking back and forth between her father and Hirem, Nahali decided to take matters into her own hands at last. Their poor visitor looked quite overwhelmed with everything that had happened today, and it was clear that getting some sleep now was much more important to him than the prospect of shepherding tomorrow. His eyes kept turning blindly from face to face, almost as if he were having problems distinguishing one person from another and keeping them straight, and his smile transparently revealed his tiredness.

She stepped forward and beckoned Hirem to follow her to where he could pitch his tent for the night. The weary man stood quickly to accompany her, his robes flapping in the dust-stirring breeze, while behind them the hum of ordinary, everyday conversation resumed around the dying cook-fire. Threading her way through the thoroughfares created by the orderly lines of tents, Nahali finally led him to a vacant spot, reserved for guests, with room for a family to pitch a tent and certainly with enough space for a single man with a small, private tent.

"You can set up your tent here," she said, making her voice gentle. "If you have not brought your own, I will find you one from our stores, so that you can sleep easy tonight. It is all that we can offer, as we do not usually buy the large tents with multiple sleeping spaces. They are too difficult to pick up and stow when we need to move our flocks, sadly."

She hesitated, then added in a more confidential tone, "I apologize if my father was too forward in requesting your help with the goats tomorrow. The truth is that one of our shepherds fell ill just yesterday. He was supposed to be helping me this week. I think my father was just so relieved to see a new man who could help with the goats that he hoped you would be able to stay longer."

With the trusting friendliness for which she was known, Nahali reached up and patted Hirem on the arm. It was perhaps not the most proper gesture for a young girl to perform, but she hoped he would find it charmingly childlike rather than objectionable. "Really, you do not have to stay with us if you don't want to," she promised him. "You repaid our shelter and food with a fine tale tonight. Even Yahal himself would judge you free of any obligation to us."

[Hirem]

Whether Hirem found the girl patting his arm objectionable or not, he did not say. He simply fixed a strange stare on her until she let his arm free, and then nodded and smiled lightly. "Yahal,judge me indeed." He chuckled as he dropped to a knee, and pulled out his small, handmade tent. It was very portable, easy to set up on the fly and pulled down just as quickly, and it was his home. He began to set the poles and lay the cloth atop them, ignoring her as he worked. It was perhaps rude of him to act this way, but he was tired and weary, so it could be excused.

Once he was finished setting up the tent, he quickly stepped inside and lay out his bedroll, almost collapsing upon it once it was ready. Today had been quite an exciting day, he thought as he drifted off into sleep in a haze of exhaustion. Would tomorrow be as exciting? He doubted it, but after stumbling upon his incredibly kind group of people, anything could be possible.

OOC: So, should the thread end here, or should we continue on? I think the characters are still open to further exploration and development, but it has gone on for long enough to end.

[Nahali]

OOCI definitely think the characters have a lot more they can do before the thread ends. I'm sorry that I haven't been the quickest or most exciting fellow writer. If you want to end it, I understand.

The next day dawned bright and sunny, and Nahali rose groggily to greet the morning with a simple, traditional prayer to Yahal. She knelt beside the low-slung cot where she slept and folded her hands together in prayer, bowing her head and whispering the words she had known since early childhood. "Darkness is flown and light fills my heart," she recited, losing herself in the familiar rhythm of the old prayer. "I offer thanks to You, Lord. You have cared for me while I slept and returned within me my soul. How great is Your faithfulness and compassion. Into Your hand I entrust my soul forever."

A beatific smile illuminated her face as she opened her eyes and rose to her feet. Moving quietly, she lifted a hanging and joined the rest of her family in the main section of their large family tent, where the others were already breaking their fast with bread, goat cheese, dates and hot tea. She ate quickly and engaged in lively chatter with her parents and younger siblings, laughing when the latter rolled their eyes at her for playing the "bossy big sister." Her laughter faded, though, as sunlight slanted through the edges of the tent flap, reminding her that she needed to tend the goats.

As Nahali headed outside, she glanced toward the spot where Hirem had so wearily set up his tent the night before. She wondered if he would take his leave of their Tent today and continue his mysterious journey or stay as her father had asked. She rather hoped it was the latter. Of course, if Yahal's will was that he be elsewhere, Nahali knew the wishes of a simple shepherd girl wouldn't signify much.

Ahead of her, she could hear the goats bleating. Nahali hurried toward the pen where they were being kept. Her hands moved automatically to unlatch the gate and lead her group of goats outside. Of course, the other two boys assigned to keep watch of them with her weren't even there yet. Biting down on her irritation, Nahali decided to enjoy the silence and reflect on the events of the day before.

From what she had heard of Hirem's tales of his travels, perhaps complimenting his bravery would not have been out of place after all. She recalled his descriptions of meeting other wanderers and traders, of running out of water and food, and of misfortunes and lucky accidents along the way. The fact that he was clearly no storyteller had somehow made his telling more powerful. His awkward, terse narration had made the events he described seem more real, rather than a storyteller's artfully embellished yarn.

The bravery of his journey lies in not just setting out into the desert, she thought, but also in…in…I suppose in just continuing? I should ask him what he thinks. Is it hard for him to keep faith in his vision? How would I feel if I received such a vision from Yahal?

As Nahali meandered along, thinking these thoughts, the sound of someone calling her name made her look up. She shaded her eyes from the sun and saw a man who looked like Hirem walking toward her. Again, she hoped that he wasn't coming over just to say goodbye. But in this case, it was not her will, but Hirem's and Yahal's, that mattered.