)!Tehemne mythology (meet the áhash!)
Re: Tehemne mythology (meet the áhash!)
I really like this story (and I would love to see a glossed conlang version of it )!
)!Blog: audmanh.wordpress.com
Conlangs: Ronc Tyu • Buruya Nzaysa • Doayâu • Tmaśareʔ
Conlangs: Ronc Tyu • Buruya Nzaysa • Doayâu • Tmaśareʔ
Re: Tehemne mythology (meet the áhash!)
Yeah, right, like my thoughts exactly. But if I remember, it's huge. I struggle to translate into conlangs or natural languages texts of even a minor size. So I focus on interesting words of vocabulary and keep it simple. My conlangs are usually not that complex, either.
Re: Tehemne mythology (meet the áhash!)
Reviving this very, very dead topic with a new áhash story. This one is typologically unusual among áhash stories, as it features Remehind; usually these two strands of Tehemne mythology (Ausheninh/the Halxeida and the áhash) stay relatively distinct. This one has been banging around my brain for a while and I finally wrote it down. Note that I have changed the place name Súrya to Sumárant. The village where this is set, Nuatem, is the hometown of the protagonist of the novel I am working on.
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Remehind and the Shahigmi
During the time that Remehind lived in Sumárant, he traveled around to all the places where the Tehemne live, and several times he came even here, to this village of Nuatem.
One of the times he came here, a strange thing happened.
When the people were gathered around him to worship him and to request his assistance with various matters, an old woman approached. She did not live within the town, but in an old house up the hill, near the waterfall pool. She approached and stretched out her hand to touch his robes, but as she did so, stones rose up out of the earth and piled themselves up around her ankles and legs, so that she could not move.
“Áhash,” he addressed her. “Why do you approach me?”
“I am no áhash,” it said. “I am merely an old woman who wishes to worship you.” But her voice gave it away. The people all around could hear that she was áhash, for her voice now pained them, and they fled and covered their ears.
“Áhash,” repeated Remehind. “What do you want with me?”
“I am the Shahigmi, the suffering transferrer. You have caused this poor old woman many great sufferings. And she has paid me, in years of her remaining lifespan, to give her sufferings to you, as you are their rightful owner.”
“What could I have done to cause her pain? I have only helped the people of Nuatem. I called in rain when there was a drought, so that the crops might grow and they would not all starve. I rerouted a stream to bring clean, fresh water closer to the village. I built a road so that people and goods may freely come and go.”
“The rain you called in caused part of her roof to collapse, injuring her. The stream you rerouted now runs far from her house, and she must now toil every day to fetch the water she needs to live. And her children traveled away by the road you built and settled down in faraway places. In these ways you have caused her pain, fatigue, and grief.”
“If I have, I am sorry for it. But if you must touch me to transfer them, I do not have to accept these pains. I can keep you trapped here and simply carry on.”
“Then you keep her trapped as well. A poor old woman upon whom you have already inflicted terrible suffering. Would you harm her more than you already have?”
Remehind felt great pity for her then. “Then I will accept them, under one condition. If I make amends and right all the wrongs I have done her, then I will be freed of these sufferings.”
“This is a reasonable condition. But know that they will not be relieved one by one. Only once you have healed all the sufferings you have caused her will you be set free of this curse.”
“So be it. I accept these terms.” The stones around her feet then clambered away, and he approached her, taking her hand in his. As they made contact, he doubled over, his eyes welling up with tears, and collapsed with exhaustion. The face of the old lady lit up, and she skipped nimbly back up to her little house as if she were a child again.
The people gave Remehind a bed and doted on him as he sobbed. How pitiful he was now. He struggled to even walk any distance, and when he did walk he did so very slowly, with a limp. Sorrow seemed to wrap around him like a shroud. But it was in this state that he had to set out to work.
First, he made his way up the hill to find the house of the old woman. He found her there, in a half-collapsed house. He could see that she was, indeed, clearly injured, but it did not seem to hold her back at all. With every step she took, his leg pained him more. He took her leg in his hands and carefully healed her, and painstakingly rebuilt her broken roof to be stronger than it had ever been before. But the curse held, and his leg still hurt.
Next, he climbed high up the hill, to where a fresh, clear spring flowed out of the stones. He diverted its path and prepared a bed for it, so that it would flow right past the door of the old woman's house. But the curse held, and he was still greatly fatigued.
Last, he sent messengers to run to the towns where the old woman’s children now dwelt with their families, and had the villagers build them a great new house where they all might live close to their mother. But the curse still held, and he remained sorrowful.
In these ways he repaired all the wrongs he had caused her. But the curse held, and he still suffered greatly for many long days. He once again limped his way up the road to her house.
“What other harms have I caused you, old woman? I have done so much to make amends, and yet I remain overwhelmed by suffering.”
“I don't know,” said the old woman. “That is your problem to solve, and not mine.”
“What a nasty and compassionless creature you are,” said Remehind, “to not carry any regret within you about what suffering you have chosen to inflict on me.”
“When you decided to allow me to give you my pain, even at great cost to yourself, oh, for those moments how I regretted giving such a burden to such a noble and compassionate creature as you! But now that I am free of it, I rejoice in my freedom and regret no such thing.”
At last, Remehind understood.
“By healing your body, I have relieved the pain that I caused you.
“By bringing the stream back to its original course, I have relieved the fatigue that I caused you.
“By calling your children home, I have relieved the grief that I caused you.
“But even though I have relieved you in such ways, there remains one more point of suffering. And it is in this way that I relieve the final grief.
“Having now carried the burdens you carried, I understand desperation to be free of them. I do not resent you for this most desperate act of passing them to me, because I too would do anything to feel relief. I willingly accept that you have given them to me, and so release you, and myself from your regret.”
This is how Remehind alleviated the final suffering and was released from the Shahigmi's curse.
---
Remehind and the Shahigmi
During the time that Remehind lived in Sumárant, he traveled around to all the places where the Tehemne live, and several times he came even here, to this village of Nuatem.
One of the times he came here, a strange thing happened.
When the people were gathered around him to worship him and to request his assistance with various matters, an old woman approached. She did not live within the town, but in an old house up the hill, near the waterfall pool. She approached and stretched out her hand to touch his robes, but as she did so, stones rose up out of the earth and piled themselves up around her ankles and legs, so that she could not move.
“Áhash,” he addressed her. “Why do you approach me?”
“I am no áhash,” it said. “I am merely an old woman who wishes to worship you.” But her voice gave it away. The people all around could hear that she was áhash, for her voice now pained them, and they fled and covered their ears.
“Áhash,” repeated Remehind. “What do you want with me?”
“I am the Shahigmi, the suffering transferrer. You have caused this poor old woman many great sufferings. And she has paid me, in years of her remaining lifespan, to give her sufferings to you, as you are their rightful owner.”
“What could I have done to cause her pain? I have only helped the people of Nuatem. I called in rain when there was a drought, so that the crops might grow and they would not all starve. I rerouted a stream to bring clean, fresh water closer to the village. I built a road so that people and goods may freely come and go.”
“The rain you called in caused part of her roof to collapse, injuring her. The stream you rerouted now runs far from her house, and she must now toil every day to fetch the water she needs to live. And her children traveled away by the road you built and settled down in faraway places. In these ways you have caused her pain, fatigue, and grief.”
“If I have, I am sorry for it. But if you must touch me to transfer them, I do not have to accept these pains. I can keep you trapped here and simply carry on.”
“Then you keep her trapped as well. A poor old woman upon whom you have already inflicted terrible suffering. Would you harm her more than you already have?”
Remehind felt great pity for her then. “Then I will accept them, under one condition. If I make amends and right all the wrongs I have done her, then I will be freed of these sufferings.”
“This is a reasonable condition. But know that they will not be relieved one by one. Only once you have healed all the sufferings you have caused her will you be set free of this curse.”
“So be it. I accept these terms.” The stones around her feet then clambered away, and he approached her, taking her hand in his. As they made contact, he doubled over, his eyes welling up with tears, and collapsed with exhaustion. The face of the old lady lit up, and she skipped nimbly back up to her little house as if she were a child again.
The people gave Remehind a bed and doted on him as he sobbed. How pitiful he was now. He struggled to even walk any distance, and when he did walk he did so very slowly, with a limp. Sorrow seemed to wrap around him like a shroud. But it was in this state that he had to set out to work.
First, he made his way up the hill to find the house of the old woman. He found her there, in a half-collapsed house. He could see that she was, indeed, clearly injured, but it did not seem to hold her back at all. With every step she took, his leg pained him more. He took her leg in his hands and carefully healed her, and painstakingly rebuilt her broken roof to be stronger than it had ever been before. But the curse held, and his leg still hurt.
Next, he climbed high up the hill, to where a fresh, clear spring flowed out of the stones. He diverted its path and prepared a bed for it, so that it would flow right past the door of the old woman's house. But the curse held, and he was still greatly fatigued.
Last, he sent messengers to run to the towns where the old woman’s children now dwelt with their families, and had the villagers build them a great new house where they all might live close to their mother. But the curse still held, and he remained sorrowful.
In these ways he repaired all the wrongs he had caused her. But the curse held, and he still suffered greatly for many long days. He once again limped his way up the road to her house.
“What other harms have I caused you, old woman? I have done so much to make amends, and yet I remain overwhelmed by suffering.”
“I don't know,” said the old woman. “That is your problem to solve, and not mine.”
“What a nasty and compassionless creature you are,” said Remehind, “to not carry any regret within you about what suffering you have chosen to inflict on me.”
“When you decided to allow me to give you my pain, even at great cost to yourself, oh, for those moments how I regretted giving such a burden to such a noble and compassionate creature as you! But now that I am free of it, I rejoice in my freedom and regret no such thing.”
At last, Remehind understood.
“By healing your body, I have relieved the pain that I caused you.
“By bringing the stream back to its original course, I have relieved the fatigue that I caused you.
“By calling your children home, I have relieved the grief that I caused you.
“But even though I have relieved you in such ways, there remains one more point of suffering. And it is in this way that I relieve the final grief.
“Having now carried the burdens you carried, I understand desperation to be free of them. I do not resent you for this most desperate act of passing them to me, because I too would do anything to feel relief. I willingly accept that you have given them to me, and so release you, and myself from your regret.”
This is how Remehind alleviated the final suffering and was released from the Shahigmi's curse.
Re: Tehemne mythology (meet the áhash!)
A traditional folk tale illustrating the principle of unintended consequences! Great.
Re: Tehemne mythology (meet the áhash!)
Most intriguing. I like the concept of the "suffering transferrer".
mais grand il tour, mais rapid e fort e spes caze la merda