[Fic] "Connections" -- original, Ekanu
Jan. 25th, 2004 10:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
edenfallingSo I thought I ought to write something, went to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
15minuteficlets, and got inspired to finally do something useful with a character and song that have been kicking around in my head since I was... gosh, twelve? A long time, anyway.
What you need to know: Ekanu comes from a semi-nomadic people who live way up north, sort of like the Inuit. She went south and ended up studying music and languages, for reasons much too complicated to explain here. Denifar is a fellow student, though he's a mechanist (engineer) rather than a musician.
Really, this took longer than 15 minutes, but we'll keep that a secret, all right? :-)
---------------------------------------------
Connections
---------------------------------------------
"Kayeyalo yamkua
Kunimshal solit, gapud, geme
Re kufoch; yelim gapad fimal
Ral solit, geme, vav."
Ekanu lowered the guitar and stared pensively at the stone floor. It was her favorite song, always her favorite song as long as she could remember. One of her earliest memories, in fact, was listening to her mother sing her to sleep with the song.
And she couldn't translate it.
"It's pretty," Denifar said from where he lounged in the doorway of her small room. "Where's it from?"
Ekanu frowned. How did he keep opening her door without her notice? Still, she was getting nowhere. "From my people," she said, laying the guitar beside her on the narrow bed. "I want to translate it for Master Sintarris, but the words don't fit. I miss something always."
Denifar tilted his hand back and forth, an equivocating gesture. "Master Sintarris'll go easy on you -- it's not as if he knows what you're translating from, after all. Nobody here speaks Snowtalk but you."
"Not Snowtalk--"
"Arhadikim," Denifar finished with her, grinning. "I know, I know, the True Speech of the People, you're not a barbarian, and all Estarians are full of ourselves. We've danced that dance." He pushed himself off the doorframe and perched on the corner of her writing table, carelessly shoving the ink and blotter aside. "So what's the song about? Not all the deep stuff, and please don't go on about melodic traditions. Just tell me the story."
Ekanu sighed and ran her hands through her unbound hair, raking the strands from her face. "The story is short. A woman catches a piece of snow to give her lover, but it melts. They marry, they birth children, one day they see daughter of them catch snow-piece for her lover. A soft song, quiet life. My people sing of spirits, hunts, death, history. Not this. This song is... is yasvemakopoas, family song, for children, for lovers. Song speaks of patterns."
Denifar quirked an eyebrow. "Your Common slips when you think about home," he said dryly. "You should watch that."
"Yaaaah! I think of my people, I think with Arhadikim, not Common. I can't say the song in Common. It slips through my fingers, like the snow-pieces." Ekanu thumped the bed in frustration, startling soft twangs from the guitar. She glowered at the instrument. "I need a flute, not this misshapen whale. The song needs a flute, needs bone and sinew, not wood and metal."
Denifar ambled over and picked up the guitar, plucking a few idle chords. "Don't use strings up north, do you? Makes sense -- they'd hate the weather. And I think the word you want is snowflake, not snow-piece."
"Flake?"
"Yes. It means a small piece of something, thin -- like a chip, but generally flatter."
"Snowflake." Ekanu turned the word in her mouth, tasting it. It didn't sound as nice as snow-piece -- didn't have the nice resonance with peace and therefore harmony and therefore patterns, or peace and belonging -- but if it was the proper word, that would help with Master Sintarris.
"Give me," she said, holding out her hands for the guitar. Denifar laid the instrument in her arms and returned to the doorway, waiting.
"I think... snowflakes... your people make pictures, snow patterns, yes?"
"What, in the snow, or of the snow?" Denifar asked.
"Of, I think. Not with or in."
"Yes. Snowflakes have six sides, you know, sacred six." Denifar tilted his hand again, considering. "There's a cathedral to Nesta in her aspect of Rain, somewhere in Rhence, that's supposed to have a snowflake chapel. You could ask Mistress Irruan -- she's been on pilgrimage all over Estaria, collecting her bloody sacred songs -- she might have seen it."
Ekanu shook her head. "Your gods are not for me. I enjoy to find pieces of my people among yours, that's all. Six is sacred. Things connect, as the song tells." She smiled at Denifar. "Now I have hope again that I will translate it."
"Sacred six? Is this a holy song?"
"Is life holy?" Ekanu countered.
Denifar tilted his hand. "Depends on who you ask, and what parts of life you mean."
Ekanu grinned. "Things connect, things do not connect. How can life have pieces? Snow has pieces, a life has no pieces. But each life is a piece. You see?"
"Maybe," Denifar said, shrugging. "A person's all one thing, but a group of people together make something else, is that what you mean? Hey, like a group of snowflakes make a storm! Is that what your song is about?"
"Yes. The song says, 'Kayeyalo yamkua kunimshal solit, gapud, geme. Re kufoch; yelim gapad fimal. Ral solit, geme, vav.' It means dry snow-pieces -- snowflakes -- dance in... dance with? On? I think in. They dance in the wind and make patterns. When one falls, another makes a new pattern. And we also dance, make patterns. So pieces change, but the pattern remains." Ekanu absently picked out the melody on the guitar as she spoke, not yet able to fit the words to the notes. "You see?"
Denifar nodded. "Master Sintarris should like it when you're finished -- it sounds pretty and it's philosophical. What do you call it, anyway?"
"Oh, Solutyamikach, 'Winter Dance.'" Ekanu smiled. "But I think in Common, 'Snowflakes.'"
---------------------------------------------
Inspired by the January 2515minuteficlets word: flaky
And yes, for those who may be curious, I actually have written out the entire song in English and am slowly translating it into Arhadikim, which is a language I have been inventing off and on for nearly five years now. It's the only one of my imaginary languages that I'm at all serious about; the others just get a couple grammatical rules and about ten words if they're lucky. This one actually has a writing system, extensive grammatical structure (particularly irritating as it's not always compatible with Indo-European patterns), and long word lists. Someday I may even be able to write a dictionary...
Classes start tomorrow. I'm going to go panic quietly in the corner now.
15minuteficlets, and got inspired to finally do something useful with a character and song that have been kicking around in my head since I was... gosh, twelve? A long time, anyway.What you need to know: Ekanu comes from a semi-nomadic people who live way up north, sort of like the Inuit. She went south and ended up studying music and languages, for reasons much too complicated to explain here. Denifar is a fellow student, though he's a mechanist (engineer) rather than a musician.
Really, this took longer than 15 minutes, but we'll keep that a secret, all right? :-)
---------------------------------------------
Connections
---------------------------------------------
"Kayeyalo yamkua
Kunimshal solit, gapud, geme
Re kufoch; yelim gapad fimal
Ral solit, geme, vav."
Ekanu lowered the guitar and stared pensively at the stone floor. It was her favorite song, always her favorite song as long as she could remember. One of her earliest memories, in fact, was listening to her mother sing her to sleep with the song.
And she couldn't translate it.
"It's pretty," Denifar said from where he lounged in the doorway of her small room. "Where's it from?"
Ekanu frowned. How did he keep opening her door without her notice? Still, she was getting nowhere. "From my people," she said, laying the guitar beside her on the narrow bed. "I want to translate it for Master Sintarris, but the words don't fit. I miss something always."
Denifar tilted his hand back and forth, an equivocating gesture. "Master Sintarris'll go easy on you -- it's not as if he knows what you're translating from, after all. Nobody here speaks Snowtalk but you."
"Not Snowtalk--"
"Arhadikim," Denifar finished with her, grinning. "I know, I know, the True Speech of the People, you're not a barbarian, and all Estarians are full of ourselves. We've danced that dance." He pushed himself off the doorframe and perched on the corner of her writing table, carelessly shoving the ink and blotter aside. "So what's the song about? Not all the deep stuff, and please don't go on about melodic traditions. Just tell me the story."
Ekanu sighed and ran her hands through her unbound hair, raking the strands from her face. "The story is short. A woman catches a piece of snow to give her lover, but it melts. They marry, they birth children, one day they see daughter of them catch snow-piece for her lover. A soft song, quiet life. My people sing of spirits, hunts, death, history. Not this. This song is... is yasvemakopoas, family song, for children, for lovers. Song speaks of patterns."
Denifar quirked an eyebrow. "Your Common slips when you think about home," he said dryly. "You should watch that."
"Yaaaah! I think of my people, I think with Arhadikim, not Common. I can't say the song in Common. It slips through my fingers, like the snow-pieces." Ekanu thumped the bed in frustration, startling soft twangs from the guitar. She glowered at the instrument. "I need a flute, not this misshapen whale. The song needs a flute, needs bone and sinew, not wood and metal."
Denifar ambled over and picked up the guitar, plucking a few idle chords. "Don't use strings up north, do you? Makes sense -- they'd hate the weather. And I think the word you want is snowflake, not snow-piece."
"Flake?"
"Yes. It means a small piece of something, thin -- like a chip, but generally flatter."
"Snowflake." Ekanu turned the word in her mouth, tasting it. It didn't sound as nice as snow-piece -- didn't have the nice resonance with peace and therefore harmony and therefore patterns, or peace and belonging -- but if it was the proper word, that would help with Master Sintarris.
"Give me," she said, holding out her hands for the guitar. Denifar laid the instrument in her arms and returned to the doorway, waiting.
"I think... snowflakes... your people make pictures, snow patterns, yes?"
"What, in the snow, or of the snow?" Denifar asked.
"Of, I think. Not with or in."
"Yes. Snowflakes have six sides, you know, sacred six." Denifar tilted his hand again, considering. "There's a cathedral to Nesta in her aspect of Rain, somewhere in Rhence, that's supposed to have a snowflake chapel. You could ask Mistress Irruan -- she's been on pilgrimage all over Estaria, collecting her bloody sacred songs -- she might have seen it."
Ekanu shook her head. "Your gods are not for me. I enjoy to find pieces of my people among yours, that's all. Six is sacred. Things connect, as the song tells." She smiled at Denifar. "Now I have hope again that I will translate it."
"Sacred six? Is this a holy song?"
"Is life holy?" Ekanu countered.
Denifar tilted his hand. "Depends on who you ask, and what parts of life you mean."
Ekanu grinned. "Things connect, things do not connect. How can life have pieces? Snow has pieces, a life has no pieces. But each life is a piece. You see?"
"Maybe," Denifar said, shrugging. "A person's all one thing, but a group of people together make something else, is that what you mean? Hey, like a group of snowflakes make a storm! Is that what your song is about?"
"Yes. The song says, 'Kayeyalo yamkua kunimshal solit, gapud, geme. Re kufoch; yelim gapad fimal. Ral solit, geme, vav.' It means dry snow-pieces -- snowflakes -- dance in... dance with? On? I think in. They dance in the wind and make patterns. When one falls, another makes a new pattern. And we also dance, make patterns. So pieces change, but the pattern remains." Ekanu absently picked out the melody on the guitar as she spoke, not yet able to fit the words to the notes. "You see?"
Denifar nodded. "Master Sintarris should like it when you're finished -- it sounds pretty and it's philosophical. What do you call it, anyway?"
"Oh, Solutyamikach, 'Winter Dance.'" Ekanu smiled. "But I think in Common, 'Snowflakes.'"
---------------------------------------------
Inspired by the January 25
15minuteficlets word: flakyAnd yes, for those who may be curious, I actually have written out the entire song in English and am slowly translating it into Arhadikim, which is a language I have been inventing off and on for nearly five years now. It's the only one of my imaginary languages that I'm at all serious about; the others just get a couple grammatical rules and about ten words if they're lucky. This one actually has a writing system, extensive grammatical structure (particularly irritating as it's not always compatible with Indo-European patterns), and long word lists. Someday I may even be able to write a dictionary...
Classes start tomorrow. I'm going to go panic quietly in the corner now.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2004-01-27 12:56 am (UTC)I liked this a lot. I really did. Your characters are believable and the interaction between them was great. One thing I particularly liked was the way Ekanu spoke- she sounded convincingly like she was speaking a second language, not like she occasionally leaves out pronouns because she feels like it (which seems to be the way many people deal with that situation). The few glimpses you gave of the world they live in were enough to get me interested, so I'll undoubtedly pop by again in the event of a sequel...
Original fiction is not given nearly enough recognition. n_n There is
(For the record, I love playing with imaginary languages too, grammatical structures and number systems and all- I started working out a dictionary for one once, but lost it in typical fashion. Gah.)
(no subject)
Date: 2004-01-27 03:08 am (UTC)No immediate plans for a sequel, but I do know more or less Ekanu's entire life story, so I may well write down more pieces of it.
(no subject)
Date: 2004-01-27 05:49 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-01-27 06:42 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-01-27 08:02 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-01-27 06:45 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-02-02 05:56 pm (UTC)Also wandered in from
We're all pretty much friendly people, and lack of action is KILLING us...
And definately write more, this is highly intriguing...as for the language, you might be another Tolkien!
Re:
Date: 2004-02-04 03:42 am (UTC)And me, Tolkien? I wish!