The Holydayunicornstory
It was evening. The dawn came nearer, slowly the day was vanishing into darkness. The end of the day was crowned by a glorious sunset, high above the heads of all mortal and immortal beings, an echo of all of the colours and nuances of the fading autumn-leaves that were gone now.
It was winter. Ice-like coldness followed the day into the darkness, and the deeper it was in winter, the longer it endured, the colder it was.
It was winter : The animals of the woods and forests didn’t find anymore as much food as they were used to in the sommer - or even in the autumn. That was the way of nature, but it also meant a fight for survival - every year anew.
The bears were lying in their caves, hamsters were lying next to their supply caverns, and squirrels were also sleeping - winter was the time of quietness, of tranquility. Winter was the time of silence.
The wolves were howling. Only a few now, but still a threat for the careless ones. Even wolves have hunger, and try to find something to eat for themselves. The winter is hard, but fair : Anyone has to cope with an empty stomach.
The female deer was slowly stumbling through the wood. It had just barely escaped an attack by a lonely wolf : The wolf had slipped out on a few leaves on the ground (the last ones that had remained for this year), and bumped into a tree. Howling, the wolf had disappeared.
The female deer had escaped, but not without wounds. On one leg there was a big wound, and the skin had been cut by various branches as it had fled through the wood. It limped onwards.
The Unicorn could sense the pain physically. It asked itself where this pain might come from, and went into the direction where it assumed the source of it.
The Unicorn lived in this wood - in these forests - like a soft, gently, fairly-like spirit. No-one knew where it had come from, and no-one knew why it stayed.
The Unicorn had only recently rescued a horse with her power - a power only a Unicorn had at its disposal. Unicorn were magical through and through. The horse had been maltread not long ago, and had been in a state only a hair’s witdh away from death. The Unicorn had felt pity for the horse, because it hadn’t been the horse’s fault to be treated in such a malicious way, and decided to help it.
The horse followed the Unicorn now. It had decided to repay a life-debt by accompanying the Unicorn, because it owned the Unicorn its life, and the Unicorn itself had respected this decision, mainly because it had been impressed by the sense of deep honour within the horse. Such horses were rare nowadays.
The horse had been in an absolutely horrible state. Several bones had been broken, tendons and tissues been torn and irreparably damaged, muscles also, the skin lying in pieces. A demon in rougly men-like shape had done this, and the creature didn’t care whether it rode a horse or a skeleton. The demon’s priority had been speed above all, in order to get ahead of a group of adventurers. The demon had failed, but left the horse alone with its body in ruins.
What the demon didn’t know, was, that the Unicorn had been constantly following them. It couldn’t let a horse - a living creature in general - be so maltread. The Unicorn had learned to hide itself from the senses of a demon - it was easy, if you knew how. It had to do with their limited way of thought and sensing.
And now it stood over the destroyed body of the horse, moved by a deep feeling of pity for the horse, listening to the last breaths of the animal. Then it brought its magic to bear.
There is nothing in this world that is so powerful and mighty as Unicornmagic. Only the magic woven by the Gods themselves or by Dragons is more powerful than that. Demons don’t count, because their “magic” is - at least from the Unicorn’s point of view - in reality corrupted magic.
The white, soft, elvenlike creature gently invaded the horse’s mind and sent a message to it. “I’ll resue you now. I will heal you now. Because it must be done.” And that was exactly what the Unicorn was thinking now. And so it transmitted its thoughts into the mind of the horse. The horse itself nderstood. It tried to answer, but couldn’t.
If someone had watched them, he or she could’ve noticed a blueish, transparent shining surroundong both. How the Unicorn did it, was its on secret. Even Unicorns have their secrets.
The next day the horse could only lay there and sleep - being guarded by the soft, fairylike creature.
Afterwards, the horsde had to learn to run anew. The body had been destroyed so much that it had to be replaced in parts; through magic. Such a thing could only the mightiest magical creatures do, and Unicorns. The body was now like new, and in parts magical. The horse had to learn how to live with this new body, how to feel it, how to control it, how to move it, how to run with it. It felt like a foal now, because it was like a rebirth for it.
Since then, it followed the Unicorn.
Now the animal wandered deep into the forest, following the trail of the wounded female deer, which was still looking for a place to rest during the night.
This night would most likely be bad, thought the deer, because it was still wounded, and couldn’t escape any wolf or lynx if one had caught up her trail. It couldn’t escape, not in this state it was in.
The moment the female deer and the Unicorn met it was already dark. The moon shone above the forest, sending gleaming, glowing rays of light through the leafless branches. A howling of wolves came nearer. The hunters were already on the trail. One look, and both understood. Now swiftness was needed.
But the Unicorn had other plans. Why use magic when there were also healers available ? Through telepathy the three creatures exchanged several directions. Then they moved on. The horse led them.
The wolves came nearer. Even now a few of them hadreached the small group. The Unicorn fell behind, so that the deer came into the middle of the line of the group. A wolf never attacked a Unicorn, and ne who tried it, didn’t survive it. No-one attacked ever a Unicorn.
Some of the younger, inexperienced ones tried it nevertheless. The story-tellers of their pack hadn’t told them the stories and legends yet, which had been woven within their wolf-culture about unicorns . The white, horse-like creature used its hind legs and was close to hit a few of the younger wolves. Howling they ran away, being followed by the looks of some older, experienced ones.
The horse was irritated now by the attack of these wolves. But nevertheless it knew it’s responsibility : Both the deer and the Unicorn relied on its pathfinding skills.
It wasn’t far away anymore - still a bit to go, but not far away anymore. The horse was still a bit irritated, but at least they were save : A Unicorn was with them.
The older and more experienced wolves didn’t dare to attack the small group. Their food was slowly drawing away, standing under such a powerful protection. This would become one more legend in their treasure of legends, they thought.
The forest opened suddenly, and they arrived at a clearing. On the clearing - or rather at it’s edge - there was hut lying in the yellow-golden light of the moon. Before the hut there was a fire, with four figures sitting around it.
The horse galloped the last branch-lengths towards the fire. The figures looked up. The deer and the Unicorn followed slowly, behind them the disappointed and frustrated pack.
One of the figures stood up and went into the hut, he was dressed in a huge green-brown-grey-coloured hood which told nothing about its owner. This one was the owner of the hut, he and his hut had been the destination of the horse. The other figures were his wife, a pipe-smoking Shaman and a female Wood-Elf.
The owner of the hut reappeared, as the small group reached the fore-court of the great fire. The Shaman noticed the group, and behind it the still following wolf-pack. The female deer carefully laid itself down, holding enough space between itself and the fire and the wolf-pack; fires were dangerous, you could never fully trust a fire, everybody knew that. And wolves also. The owner of the hut, a ranger, stepped towards the deer.
Meanwhile the Shaman bound the pack. He didn’t believe that it was pure chance that the pack had come to this place, towards thze fire, which had always been a danger for everyone. He lifted his arms, and shouted words of a strange language into the clear starfilled moonlit sky. Then he took some glittering dust out of one of his numerous pockets he had in his coat, and scattered it over everyone. Then he walked around the hut and scattered the dust around it like a off-warding circle. As he re-entered the fore-court, a Dwarf with a hand-cart entered the scene, and was quickly sprinkled with dust as well, before he could defend himself. Then he walked back to his place and continued smoking.
Now it glittered a little bit in the area around the hut, like pebbles in the moonlight, on the people around the fire and everywhere the wind had blown the dust to. Everyone had sat down or laid down, and the Unicorn even close to the fire.
Meanwhile the ranger had put a leaf of a healing herb onto the female deer’s wound. For fastening, he had used some plant-fibres, which would fall off when the herb was used. After a while the deer could carefully stand up again. She walked towards the fire, and laid down close the the horse and the Unicorn.
The wolf-pack still laid in a good range away from the fire, peacefuilly, like young whelps which were tired from running and playing.
Exactly on the opposite side there was the horse, which had felt a strange, deep and welcome feeling of peace within itself and therefore decided to lay down near to the assembled range of guests. After a while the female deer laid herself down there, too.
Now the Dwarf began giving away several packets which had been on his hand-cart, small ones and bigger ones. As he distributed them, he adressed everyone with “here, please” or “for you”, and “you, too”, “one more” and a final “and one for me, too !” The others nodded partly surprised, partly less surprised (at least this was a Dwarf !) and partly impressed. Rare, to get present from a Dwarf ! But on the other hand - Dwarves were known for their deep sense of honour. Then he sat down to them.
On a nodding from him the people began un-packing their presents.
The female Wood-Elf got a fine, almost fragile, carefully carved ring made of wood which she could put on her finger. Apart from that, she got a similar shaped necklace.
“You won’t believe it how difficult it is to find a Drawf who is able to do such fine wood-work !” commented the Dwarf both pieces of jewellery, “you can finds hundreds and thousands of Dwarves being able to make the most precious things out of stone, but almost none who is able to do the same with wood !” He paused and tickled his beard. “Not one who understands wood ... But finally I had found one. He was old... so old that he even could remember the Old Time, a mystical time for us, a time when of Dwarves and Elves were working together ... He could understand the wood.” The Wood-Elf looked to him and nodded. “These are wonderful pieces ! Please send my regards to him” she said.
The Shaman got a precious stone, gem of green colour. “In iot there is carved a tree - made by a famous artist who is known for carving such pictures into gems.” commented the Dwarf the present. The Shaman nodded. He could see the green colour of the leaves through the stone ... as he held it into the moonlight, it seemed to him as if he was holding a green leaf in his hand, through which the sunlight was shining. Indeed the stone had the shape of a rather narrow leaf. “Thank you” said the Shaman, “you have fulfilled a great wish for me. This is exactly what I need now.” He didn’t say for what he needed it, though.
The owner of the hut, a ranger, got a wooden wander-stick. It was made of wood, but strengthened through metal inlays made of silver and gold, which looked like tendrils which had entwined themselves around the stick. They were shimmering in the moonlight.
“This is no ordinary stick ! the Dwarf said with a totally convinced voice, “this stick lifts your weight a bit while you put it down on to the earth, and put the pressure of your own weight on it.” “How that ?” asked the ranger. “Through magic.” answered the Dwarf, snickering. Magic ... that was insofar astonishing, since Dwarves normally never used Magic for anything. Some of them were even especially mistrustful towards it. So that a dwarvish art-work had been made using magic was indeed something special. “If you’re in trouble, you can use it as a weapon as well. Look at the top of the staff : It contains a special weight to make it heavier at that end. Metal that is heavier than other sorts of metal. Additionally,” - with these words the Dwarf too the staff and did something with it - “it is hollow on the inside. You can put some things in it.” Again, the Dwarf smiled : This was indeed good work : A very practical thing indeed ! The ranger nodded impressed. This stick would be good use for his long journeys, even if he couldn’t imagine what could actually fit into the staff.
The female ranger, his wife, got a similar stick, but also a necklace.
“This necklace captures the warmth of the slightest sun-ray, so you’ll never be cold” explained the Dwarf. “But what if it gets too hot?” she asked. “It never gets too hot. We already had had this in mind, and found a solution for this : We put magic into it so that it’ll always be connected to your body’s temperature.” “Then I could also youse it as a warming device for my hands ?” she asked again. “Well ... yes...” answered the Dwarf, “not by intention, but, yes ... well, you just installed an idea in me...”. With these words the Dwarf became silent, pondering about his new idea.
Suddenly he became alive again. “For myself,” he began, ”I made a present, too : ring of obsidian. I think you won’t imagine how difficult and lenghty the work was, especially the polishing ! ... Well, if one day my fire-tools might be gone (or fail), then I might try it with this ring !” he laughed.
Suddenly he put his hands into one of his big pockets and fetched four small bags out of it. “This here,” he began distributing the small bags, “are works of dwarvish bakery. Tasty cookies ! They are made only one time in the year - for today’s feast. They are different than everything you otherwise know from dwarfish bakeries : They are sweet and tasty - even for outsiders !” The Dwarf winked with his eyes. Meanwhile everyone tasted from their cookies, he fetched his own small bag - a blue one with his name in yellow letters.
He put one of the star-shaped cookies into his mouth and chewed it. When he was ready, he looked arounmd him, only to find that everyone else was still eating. Then he began to talk.
“This is the night in which we commemorate the Dark Time, the beginning of the Renewed Light, the end of the Great Wars, and the Opening of the Light, the day, when we could finally enter the daylight again, after hundresds of years of forced stay in the tunnels and caverns beneath the earth.” the Dwarf explained. “It was the first time since hundreds of years, staying in our mountain towns, tunnels,caverns, catacombs, because before that everything outside was too unsafe. We defended our entrances heavily, and didn’t reveal any weak spot we had. It was a hard time, then, and most of our cooking recipes containing mushrooms originate in that time. And our discovery of glowing mushrooms.
As we were informed by an herald that we finally go back into the light again, our joy was great. Many weeks long we held our feasts, happy that we could reach the light again. We had a lot to do !
And we did our share ! The world was lying in ruins, but we were eager to re-build it again. We had participated only a little in the wars - apart from some great victories - “ he nodded towards the Wood-Elf “and so we had the feeling that we had a lot to catch up. We brought our power into the rebuilding of everything that had been destroyed. That is the reason for this festive day which is celebrated by any Dwarf of any colour.” He cleared his throat and added in a lower tone : “And this is the celebration day of the laying of the first stone - founding, in your language - of the first dwarfish house after the war outside the tunnels and caverns.”
Meanwhile the pause everyone nibbled on their dwarfish cookies.
“We are celebrating a day, too” began the soft female, almost voice of the Wood-Elf. During her speech she held a red mug made of clay containing some tea. Her blue “cookie-bag” was lying in front of her. “Our festival is similar to the one of the Dwarves. We celebrate the day of the rebirth of the Light, and the new planting of the World-Tree. It was about this time when the Great Wars ended, and we could dare to show ourselves openly, without being hunted by the ceartures of darkness anymore. The first time since a long hiatus we wandered through the woods and forests, and our strong healer tradition is based on that. We had to heal a lot, (there were) so many things, such great wounds, so many wounds in Mother Nature that there isn’t a word for it neither in human nor dwarvish in language. Only we have a word describing such a state in our language, and it is told that it escaped the mouth of the female Healer Yellowleaf Goldenmoon as she realized it all what had been done by the wars to Mother Nature. It is not translatable, and no-one likes to form it. Of you allow, I’d like not to use it neither.
Nevertheless we were successful, and we could plant a sapling of the World-Tree. This World-Tree is - according to our tales and myths - a successor of the First Tree, which entered the land. Where he came from we don’t know. Our legends and tales don’t tell us anything about it.
The First Tree - or one o its successors - as our legends tell us - taught us to listen to the voices of the trees. So we homour it as the “Great Voice-Creator”. The reason is that until then we didn’t know about the voices of the trees.”
Thus ending her speech, the Wood-Elf became rather silent and took a long drop from her mug that was filled with a wood-leaf tea.
Then the next one talked.
“We, the Shamans, celebrate this day a the “Opening of Doors” he began, meanwhile smoking his pipe. “We have our legends as well, and one of them says that this time was the time when the first God or Goddess spoke to us.” He paused for a short time, smoked his pipe, then went on, meanwhile everyone else was drinking from their mugs or nibbling on their cookies. Everything was focused on that round, even the female deer, the horse and the Unicorn seemed to listen.
“You know her as the “Goodess of the Woodlands”, and she was the one who spoke to us to the first time. We Shamans of the forest still hear her voice and talk every day with her. Of course she also has her Priests and Priestesses, but for practical purposes he has us.” He winked with his eyes, then moved on. “We are currently in her forest, so I wouldn’t be surprised if she visited us. But I can’t hear her now.” He drew from his pipe one, two times again. “We learned and learn everything from her what we can use in her realm. Our initiation rites are similar to those of the Priests and Priestesses : They consist of a personal talk with her. But we are Healers, not Priests or Warriors. We surely could use our rites in other areas, but here they are stronger, because she actively supports us. She informs us about fallen trees, avalanches made of mud or stone, storms. raids, and every important danger. She would inform us about wars, too, if there were any. But even without them we have a lot to do that we don’t need any wars, thank you.” With these wordsthe Shaman nodded and made a short pause, looked around him, and found the ears and eyes still focused on him. He drew his pipe one more time until he closed : “So we celebrate the first time she spoke to us.”
After another, longer pause the ranger began by exchanging looks with his wife. “Well, we also have a reason to celebrate this day” he began. “On this day we founded our house,” he continued, “and we were shown this place by the Goddess” completed his wife. “Well, nothing important, then, at least for you” added the smiling ranger, while he exchanged looks with his wife.
Now the Unicorn spoke. Her clear voice, clear like a soft, cold wind travelling through the winternight, carried by a breath of warmth that would give a mouse or a squirrel the feeling of cosyness and safety sounded through the night, only interrupted by the breath of the figures sitting around the fire and the rare sound of a peacefully lying wolf.
“We celebrate something, too” began the Unicorn with a voice that wasn’t unlike the Wood-Elves voice. “But what we celebrate is only for us of importance. Very few people really know unicorns.” She made a short pause. “Yes, I know, there are countless legends and myths about us, but only few know a little bit more. And we unicorns” she briefly nodded towards the Wood-Elf and the rangers, “don’t like giving too much away from us. Knowledge is power, some magicians say, and the less people get to know about us, the less weaknesses we have.” She made another pause to give the others time for drinking from their mugs and nibbling on their cookies. “So we hardly ever tell anything about us - as a pure self-protection. Even we unicorns have our secrets.
So we indeed celebrate something : the anniversary of the Appearing. In this night or this day “something” appeared in this world : The first unicorn. I am a younger unicorn, so I wasn’t there, and so I cannot tell how it was, then. But our tales say that the first unicorn simply appeared. Simply as that. And with good reason. It was suddenly there , here , in this world, and participated in this world.
We still don’t know where we come from. But we know that we are unique, like, for example, Dragons. We are of divine origin, but on the other hand we aren’t. Some of us say that we have dreamt us into this - our - world - and you Shamans could surely confirm that what you call “reality” is nothing but a dream” she nodded towards the Shaman who answered with a nod himself, “but it must have been a Deity which allowed us to dream ourselves, to dream ourselves into this reality, to add ourselves to this Creation. We are, and there is nothing more meaningful to say about it.”
With these words the round ends, and everyone becomes quiet. After a telepathic exchange the Shaman agrees and the Unicorn weaves a great net of threads made of magic, the energy of the wood, the energy of the life-flow, and of the energy of he Earth itself round this small hut, and its guests, so that no-one can disturb them. For the time of this night they will be set apart from this world.
Their looks go up into the tent made of stars.
They will be One for this night, won’t feel hunger or thirst, only be in a different world, but still there, where they had always been, because this was the place where their Being manifests itself, and this was the night where everyone commemorates.
This night was different.
Mysteries of Time
In the Mysteries of time ...
Glistening in the night ...
Shining like a star ...
We all know ...
We are one ...
Translation by Alrik Fassbauer. Original story by Alrik Fassbauer. (C) Alrik Fassbauer.
