Flashback The Song Within [Finished]

[Ymir]

31, Winter, 508

"Listen to the drums. Feel the rhythm touch your heart and guide your feet."

The music flowed around him, weaving in and about his twisting arms and pounding feet. It pulled at soul, moving him like a puppet. It filled him, a living, breathing entity that guided each movement, giving meaning to the smallest twitch of his fingers to the large arching movements of his arms as he spun. His breathing was heavy, but it matched the rise and fall of the song. He had become the music, and it had become he. There was no separation, no distance between him and waterfall of notes. The feeling of oneness was calming; it cleared his mind, allowing for a profound sense of peace.

As the song came to an end, his breathing slowed, and his heart regained its own beat. The musicians lowered their instruments, smiling at one another and the dancer with knowing grins. He nodded at them, sweat dripping from his brow and gleaning in the fire light. His bright blue eyes flicked between the three faces of those who had brought the music to life, and he bowed for them. They in turn lowered their heads in a respectful nod before beginning to chatter among themselves.

Ymir made his way over to the tent directly behind him where an older Benshiban woman sat with a contemplative frown. Her robes lay upon her like layers of sand upon a dune, falling in delicate folds about her frame. Her dark hair hung over her shoulder and down the front of her body in a thick, loose braid. As Ymir neared her, her thoughtful visage changed to that of a grandmother greeting her favorite grandchild. She raised up her arms to him, the folds of her robes moving in accordance, and delicately wrapped her fingers around the back of the young man's head.

"As always, Ymir, your dance is as beautiful as the moonlight."

Her voice was soft, gentle, but her grip was strong and able. She drew him in, kissing him on the head as he kneeled before her.

"It is good you have chosen to walk this path."

She now released him, placing her hands once more into her lap as her peaceful smile allowing tinges of uncertainty to show in her wrinkled features. He relaxed into a sitting position, leaning back onto his hands as he let the cooler night winds begin to dry his tired body. His loose fitting pants stuck to his thighs and the gossamer-like scarf was plastered to the defined curves of his muscles. He let out a quiet sigh as his blue eyes moved from the starry sky to the face of the old woman. She had something she wished to say, and he had no reason not to hear it.

"Is something bothering you, Grandmother?"

It was less of a question and more of an invitation. Yehava had never been a woman to express her concerns unless she believed others would hear what she had to say. She was strange like that, explaining it was because a word that fell upon deaf ears was a word wasted. Ymir could understand her wish to refrain from waste, but he often found her eccentricities to be a bit excessive. It did not detract from his respect for her in any way, however.

"I fear..."

The hesitation was coupled with a thoughtful pause as her wise blue eyes met with the young lights of Ymir.

"I fear I may have nothing left to teach you, child."

Ymir's eyes widened with surprise and a complimentary grunt escaped his lips as he started forward.

"You jest, surely."

His voice cracked slightly as he said this, but his face remained serious. Yehava had been his teacher since he was young. In his eyes, there was nothing she did not know or could not teach. The very idea of her no longer being able to instruct him in the art of dance was... Well, impossible to grasp.

The old woman laughed as her face revealed her relief.

"No, child, I do not. You have grown much in our time together, and there is little left for you to learn from me."

She placed a gentle hand on his as she continued.

"Now you must learn from yourself. From your song."

[Ymir]

12, Spring, 509

His own song.

Ymir had spent all his free time mulling over the woman's words. Yehava had told him when he had first begun his studies as her student that everything within Tanroa's river had a song. What she said had not made sense to Ymir then, and he had done little to demystify the woman's words until recently. Despite his efforts, the answers still eluded him. At first he had believed the song to be an actual collection of notes, but if all things had a song, the rocks and sand who produced no noise could not possibly give rise to a melody on their own. So it had to be a more abstract idea like a soul or spirit, yet Yimir could not decide if the song was more or less ethereal than the concept of the unseen.

He sat by the goats of flock, absentmindedly stroking one of the younger kids who had taken a liking to Ymir's gentle touch and quiet, soothing songs. "What could she mean?" His eyes were affixed to the gentle blue of the sky above, it's color brilliant reflected in the contemplative circles that beheld it. The little goat replied with a content bleet, choosing to nibble on a piece of Ymir's pants than to give him the answer he sought. A little smile played at his lips as he pushed the creature away with a gentle shove. "Cease your foolery, beast." The goat's dopey gaze contentedly met with Ymir's own grin and the two butted heads a few times before the animal knelt down once more to resign himself to the affection of this biped guardian.

Once more, Ymir's gaze returned to the vast expanse that was the sky, his grin slowly falling into the slight frown of thought. The majority of his free time, such as now, had been consumed with the concept of his "own song". He had asked Yehava about it on many different occasions but had always received the same answer: "I cannot teach you what I do not know." Letting out an exasperated sigh, Ymir let his focus fall from the blue expanse above him to the various blots of goat that spread before him in the sandy desert. "If Yehava does not know something, how can I hope to discover it?" The goat sneezed, sending a little cloud of dust into the air. Ymir scratched the beast behind his left ear where he seemed to prefer most. "Perhaps she does know, but cannot for whatever reason explain it to me." He bit his lower lip, wiping some of the sweat from his brow. "Or perhaps it is something that can neither be learned, nor taught... Only understood."

[Ymir]

15, Spring, 509

Leth's light shone down upon the sands, bathing the rolling dunes in the the milky ivory light of the night. Zintila's daughters sparkled in the dark of Akajia's embrace, while the gentle whispers flew unintelligible on Zulrav's breeze. There, in the pale light of the night, stood Yimir surrounded by the emptiness of the desert clad only in a cloth wrapped around his waist that billowed out behind and around him at the gentle whim of the night winds. His body seemed to glow against the relative darkness, his tanned skin seeming to soak in and radiate Leth's peaceful rays like a dulled mirror. In the shadows of his body could be seen the defined shapes of his muscles as the tensed and released with the slow movements of his body.

Each minute twitch of his frame was done with painstakingly detailed precision. The glow that could be seen from afar sprang from the cool sweat that glistened over his bare skin like a thin veil of ice, small trickles ran from the corners of his face and down his neck, tickling as they passed. His eyes remained closed, and his face, despite the obvious effort of his actions, remained calm, only slight folds of concentration could be seen on his forehead and around his mouth. The distant sounds of music and laughter lazed by on the ankles of a shifting breeze. Rarely would Ymir have been found so far out from the Tent when there was a celebration, but exactly for that reason had he left to be on his own that night.

Alone with nothing but the elements of the gods, Ymir had begun his dance, his song. It had hit him shortly after his lazy day with the goats like a splash of cool water after a drought. He had been consumed with the need to know the answer to question to such a point he had failed to understand the most basic principle of a true song. He had forgotten that music was, at its base, a feeling. His mind had been preoccupied with what his song might be, rather than what it already was. Now, in the semi-darkness, he let himself be taken by music that sprang from his heart, filling his mind and body slowly at first but gaining momentum as time passed.

It was a sensation unlike anything he had felt before. Ymir could feel his arms shift and sway, his legs bend and stretch, and his breath come and go under the direction of a force deep within him he had overlooked for so long. It whispered to him, his entire being. There was no voice, no words, but Ymir could feel the intention and understand as if he were chatting with Yehava once more. Now a gentle arc of his body towards the Tent, now a slow, weaving gyration of his arms and hips, now stop, now go, now flow, now recede. There was no thought involved, only action and reaction. Not once did his feet stumble, nor his mind waver as to what to do next.

As the dance continued, it became more and more wild. His arms lashed out in many different directions as his feet pounded the loose sand with ever increasing fervency. His tempo once calm and reserved now spiraled into a zealous whirlwind of twists, spins, and leaps. The smooth sand found itself begin kicked and spread, tossed into the air and dispersed upon the breeze. His breathing was heavy now and the beads of sweat sprang away from his body like the drops of water that fell from the swollen clouds of a grey sky. Faster, faster, faster. His heart beat its fists against his chest, each time he felt the blood coursing through his veins threaten to burst through their containment and be set free into night air. He could not stop, nor did he wish to.

As his dance came to its peak, Ymir felt as though his body were going to be torn apart like a solitary olive tree caught in a sandstorm. The pain was nothing compared to the ecstasy he felt at that very moment. When he felt his body could no longer handle the furious movements of his soul any longer, he felt himself slow. His heart-beat raced still, but he felt a release as his arms gently drooped to his side as he sank his knees into the sand beneath him. Panting, Ymir placed his hands in front of him, burying them in the sand to feel the cool lower layer contrast with the warm that wrapped itself around his knees and wrists.

He watched the sweat fall from his nose and lashes to the ground below, leaving little craters in their wake. His entire body shook with each inhale, relaxing slightly with each released breath. A tired smile spread across his face as he slowly regained the strength he had just expended. He had felt it, danced it, embraced it. His song, unlike any other that had been or would be, had finally been discovered. He now understood why Yehava had been so adamant on the fact that she could not teach it to him nor how to find it.

Ymir shook his head slightly, sending several drops of his sweat to the ground with a gentle patter of water onto dry earth. He could still feel it, tugging at his muscles, pressuring his heart. His song, the song of his soul, had been let free. How, Ymir was still not entirely sure. He had hoped to explore his inner self through meditation, but what he had received was the epiphany he had been waiting for. When he could speak, he whispered out a long praise to Yahal for granting him the patience and another to Rhaus for his gift of music to the world and himself.

With a slight grunt, Ymir rolled himself onto his back, allowing the sand beneath him to adhere to every bit of his body. He stretched himself out, once more closing his eyes as he let the cool breeze run over his exhausted body. His fingers lazily dug in the sand as he flexed and unflexed his weary feet. When he let his eyes slowly raise their lids, he was met with the splendor of the night sky and all who resided with in it. He could feel it now, the songs Yehava had spoken of.

There was the gentle but strong beat of the earth beneath him. It's timbre deep and eternal, had pulled his feet along with it in its endless rhythm. The moon had lent him it's own gentle melody, carefully and deliberately pushing and pulling Ymir's body with the rise and fall of his song. Then had come the night with her wild jumps and dives, spinning him ever faster into her arms. Now, their songs continued in a strange harmony that Ymir could not help but smile at. As he had shared himself with them, they in turn returned the gift.

It was already late, and the music had long since died down to give way to the well needed slumber of the late night. Slowly pushing himself up off the ground, he gingerly brushed off the majority of the sand that clung to him as he rose. He wiped off the fabric that once more blew out into the wind at the behest of the breeze. Slowly, he made his way back to the Tent, but not without allowing his body to moved on the journey.