All acts of
kindness however minuscule do not escape the notice of Heaven, even though they
may go unnoticed here on Earth.
Once upon a time in a far-off land there was a magnificent spiritual temple set
on a hilltop. Though the mortal beings that inhabited this region (all the
myriad beings) worshipped many different gods, they still respected each others
religion and at times even actively participated in the other’s celebrations.
Christmas time being one such.
This spiritual
temple in particular, its congregation called it the White Church, for the
outside stone was exactly that, was magnificent. The tall stained-glass
windows, placed specifically to catch best angles of the sun’s rays, depicted angels
and brilliantly executed religious scenes praising God Almighty’s power and
extolling the virtues of the Christian saints. Pious carpenters had
painstakingly carved magnificent wooden reliefs above and to the sides of the
main entrance. The Church’s most prominent feature however was the white stone
tower with ivy growing over it as far up as the eye can see. In the steeple an
array of Christmas chimes was housed.
Every Christmas Eve many inhabitants of the city, re-enacting an old tradition,
flocked to this church bringing with them many offerings to their savior, the Christ
Child. Legends told of a time when, after the greatest and best offering was
laid on the altar, there arose above the voices of the choir a beautiful sound,
emanating from the top of the tower the most divine music of the Christmas
Chimes.
Some claimed it had to be the wind that rang them, while other more pious ones
believed in their heart of hearts, and exclaimed loudly so, that it had to be
the angels that set the bells swinging to produce that heavenly sound.
Then came a time when, however great the offerings were, the chimes never again
created blissful melody. As a result, the pious group belonging to this church
were saddened, feeling there must be something amiss. Yet many Christmases came
and went, and no chimes (no heavenly music) were ever heard.
It so happened that there was a disillusioned, recluse warrior called Erland, his
name meaning, aptly, an outsider or foreigner. He was of about thirty-five
years old, height over six feet tall, burly physique (muscular, strong, robust
body) with long blond hair that cascaded down his shoulders. Erland had never been married, he lived a
solitary life, by choice, with his dog Longze as his sole companion, in a
ramshackle hut at the edge of a dense forest, not far from the notable church.
This once a mighty
warrior had a deep scar, from his eyebrow to chin, on his left cheek, which in
part spoiled his very handsome features (face). He had many more scars under
his tunic and on the rest of his body that told of many fought battles won or
lost. At the end of one such fierce
battle, when the crimson ground was strewn (spotted) with dead and dying warriors,
Erland searching for his fallen friend, had instead found Longze, a tiny little
whelp no more than three months old, curled up beside a bloody corpse of a
warrior; the puppy was cold and frightened, but refused to leave his master.
Such resolute loyalty had tugged at Erland’s heartstrings, and he’d reached to
pick him up. The puppy, despite its size was fierce and fought him, even bit
his hand, which had made Erland love him all the more. In time Longze, the name that had come to him
in a premonitory dream shortly thereafter, and upon waking he’d called him by
that name and the little puppy had responded to his call. Gradually Longze had
accepted him as his new master and the two had since then had become basically
(essentially,) inseparable.
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| 03 PUPPY LONGZE 2 |
Erland, sometimes
visited the local tavern to have a pint or two, always seated in a dark corner,
rarely accepting company, with Longze always by his side. Once or twice, Erland had acquiesced however, needing
contact with another human soul and it had happened to be at around winter
solstice and Christmas. On that particular night, feeling unusually sentimental,
and thinking he had the other’s ear (that he was being heard), Erland, had reminisced
(recalled) a time when his mother had spoken to him of hearing the chimes when
she was but a little girl. In her waning years, always a devout Christian, she had
mourned the fact that lately people had become more selfish and grown less
generous in their hearts with their donations for the needy. That the last five
years love and compassion for a fellow being had gradually diminished, in some
cases had been entirely nonexistent; pomp and ceremony, hand in hand with greed
and ambition taking root instead. As a result, when an offering was made
without the purest heart and intentions and it had become only a show, it did
not move the angels and justly did not merit the music of the chimes.
Erland stopping at
this point, had quaffed (guzzled) a swig (mouthful) of the barely tolerable
brew, for he’d imbibed better spirits in his heyday, then nodded morosely and
then asked, not really expecting an answer, “As testament of these demoralizing
times, when was the last time anyone had heard of the chimes?”
Even though wars
had ended and on the surface, subsequent six or seven years, all seemed peaceful,
there was a hidden coercion (undercurrent censorship) in that realm; and certainly,
no one wanted to hear the truth; and so, the person seated across from Erland had
typically fidgeted, blinking first with fright , then furtively casting his stone gaze about him, to ascertain that no
one had heard Erland’s rebellious tirade (rant). But Erland had kept his voice
low, he was simply letting off steam, not a shout certainly that could be
overheard amidst this drunken cacophony (discord, noise) of patrons (regulars)
of the tavern. His burly companion, seeing he was safe, exhaled in relief as he,
same time lowered his head and said nothing.
“Why did he
bother?” Erland inwardly scoffed;
angry that he was a wolf still living among sheep.
Swallowing his irritation
however, Erland simply (bolted) rose to his feet, and with trusted companion
dog Longze, wagging his tale, happy to be at last leaving this loud, stinky
environment, trailing him, left the tavern.
Subsequent winter
had been particularly harsh for those living on the fringe (peripheral, the
outlying areas). Snow and ice had permanently for months, covered the entire
region. When the warrior Erland, having stayed out in the woods longer than he
should, hunting for game, and later still chopped some wood, hence, was beset
with fever, burning up in his bed, his exasperated dog Longze had finally on
the third day left his side to go fetch him some help. But owing to the frantic,
festive time, help was not that easy to get. Still, Erland’s faithful companion
Longze, had unrelentingly tried and tried, seeking help, trying to fetch anyone,
without avail, for his master.
~
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| 04- TAZA AND KALEN'S PARENTS |
In a remote
country village, several miles from the capital city Mortak, meanwhile, there
lived a boy named Taza and his little brother Kalen. Their parents had once
belonged to an indigenous group that had been systematically hunted to near extinction,
because they had refused to forsake their heritage and conform to the rigid
rules of this present regime. Taza and
Kalen’s highly educated parents who had chosen to live on the fringe, had always
fostered tolerance of all spiritual beliefs and traditions; however, they had same
time maintained their heritage (birthright) ideologies and different sort of
religious beliefs... One embracing warship of Sun, Moon, Sky and the nature
spirits.
Meanwhile, as the
information about varied different religions were readily available at
libraries and schools, Taza and Kalen had been drawn, especially at Christmas, to
the religious practices of Christianity.
There were many beautiful aspects in that religious teachings
(doctrines), and profuse (abundant) lessons and stories that had captivated
their young imagination; hence, at Christmas time, they were as excited in
their hearts and were eager to participate in copious (plentiful) religion’s traditions
and festivities.
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| 05- TAZA (22) JP |
This winter marked
the time, which their parents had been dead for over three years; fever had claimed
them both, and Taza now at sixteen years old, as the sole provider, had done
his best to in all that time, provide for his little brother Kalen. This was no
small feat, for Kalen with his boundless exuberance, was a handful.
As education was
widely available and was free (state funded) to all citizens, Taza and Kalen
had continued with their schooling, and with their eager mind and insatiable appetites
for acquiring new knowledge having never waned (diminished), each day they had borne
(endured, weathered) the difficult terrain (topography) and at times harsh conditions
of climate (weather, temperatures), and walked quite ways to attend school. It
was during an ordinary school day that Kalen had overheard a group of kids that
were eagerly discussing all the elaborate preparations their families (more
than that, the whole congregation) had accomplished (fulfilled) for the upcoming
Christmas celebrations.
Intrigued by all
that he’d heard, Kalen, who was six years in age, later that day, had pleaded
and pleaded with his elder brother Taza to take him to that particular spiritual
white temple, the White Church. His curious nature demanded that he experienced
it firsthand, for only then he would understand what all the fuss was about. It was a perfect time to do this, as the
school would be closed for ten days to also accommodate the winter solstice revelling,
and other such, with groups rejoicing, with their own brand of festivities all
over the region. Kalen had looked up at his brother with those wanting, puppy
eyes, that always tugged at Taza’s heart’s strings. How could Taze say no?
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| 06- KALEN (14) JP |
This was also a
particularly somber time for Taza and Kalen, as they watched joyful family interactions
(exchanges), knowing they were all alone in the world; nevertheless, they did
their best to celebrate, finding solace in the fact that they still had each
other. They also carried the unwavering hope that Heaven would provide them
with whatever they needed.
After a long
consideration, Taza had answered yes, to Kalen, and watched him do a joyful
dance, as he with his open palms reaching up to the sky, twirled about, elated,
anticipating the thrilling adventure they were about to embark on.
Always the responsible
youth, Taza woke up at first daylight the following morning and bundled some
dry rations, mainly two hard boiled eggs, half a loaf of bread, a clump of hard
cheese, strips of dried meat and some seasonal berries, in a cloth and tied its
ends. Leaving it on the side table, Taza then gently woke Kalen from his deep
slumber; they had a quick breakfast, then Taza picking up the already prepared
bundle, slung it over his shoulder and both exited their humble abode.
The days preceding
(prior to) Christmas were always bitterly cold with frigid temperatures
plunging below zero and made worse by thrashing winds that whipped and punished
any wayward souls who dared venture outside. Knowing this, they had set forth on their adventure
with skins of water that hung at their waists and, both already dressed in
several layers to escape the bitter, bone chilling hoarfrost (rime frost and
ice).
For untold hours the boys trudged to cover the great distance to the place
where the White Temple stood. Huddled together, they walked hand in hand
bending their backs to brace themselves against the strong winds. The icy
drizzle still however, mercilessly chilled them to the very marrow of their
bones. By dusk they were tired, famished and exhausted, almost unable to take
another step, yet the lights of the big structure now visible, perched on a
hilltop, just ahead, egged them to soldier on.
At dusk, panting, they at long last approached the gates of the Temple ground; their
eyes assessed the long gravely, icy path, configuring the steps they would
still have to take before reaching the Temple’s doors. From the look of things, the afternoon prayers
had already been concluded; however, there was the evening prayers and activities
yet to transpire, so the gates had remained wide open for the anticipated
congregation (worshipers, flock, churchgoers, parishioners).
Taza and Kelon,
though extremely tired, without stopping passed through the iron gates and
began walking the long path; just then however, Taza spotted off to the side something
dark on the snow and he veered off to take a closer look. It was a poor dog who
had obviously suffered a mishap, some trauma and fallen into the shallow ditch.
Stranded, he lay there practically half-dead, too sick and shivering with cold,
to rise up and seek help. Rushing over, Taza knelt beside the poor thing, and
carefully examined his injuries, paying particular attention to the incapacitated
leg. Thankfully the bone was not broken but there was a deep slash (tear, cut) into
the muscle, though not too serious and the wound was fresh. It had happened
recently, for the blood was congealed, frozen but not black, the laceration not
angry, therefore, no infection had set in.
Taza heaved a deep sigh of relief and before starting anything, checked the
dog’s name tag, to find out his name. Longze was his name. Just then Longze had
opened his eyelids and looked at Taza, his eyes searching, wanting something;
next he then with some difficulty lifted his head, whimpering, nudging his nose
on Taza’s hand and same time, strove to get up.
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| 07- LONGZE INJURED AND IN DITCH |
“Take it easy boy;
I mean you no harm. Be still Longze… stay put, I’ll do my best to help you.” Taza
talked to the dog soothingly as he, same time stroked the side of Longze’s keck. He was good with animals that way. The poor
thing was shivering, he was certainly freezing; without another thought, Taza
took off his outer layer and wrapped it around the dog, to allow him some
warmth. Understanding that he was also dehydrated, Taza fetched his waterskin;
intelligent animal that Lonze was, he opened his mouth and allowed Taza to
trickle some water down his throat.
Taza next began tending
the injured leg carefully as if he had all the time in the world. Fortunately,
Taza had also packed some salve (lotion, ointment, balm), a healing liniment,
which he carried in his pocket for just in case they got scraped or injured.
First, by rubbing
some snow on the area, Taza carefully cleaned the laceration (slash) on the
leg, then applied the salve on it. Next, he cut long strips off his tunic and
used it to bandage the wound.
While he’d done
all that, Kelan had stood by patiently, watching him intently, though he registered
deep concern and impatience in his eyes, for they were in a snowy field, some
ways off the path. Kalen feared that when
darkness descended on them, no one would know they are there. The sky laden
with clouds and this, coupled with the diminishing light of the setting sun, would
soon shroud (blanket) them in pitch darkness and invisible.
Just then, as if
reading his mind, Taza suddenly looked up and addressed his little brother,
“It’s no use, Kalen; I can’t leave Longze in this condition. You go on ahead to
the church, without me.”
“Alone?” cried Kalen in a fearful voice. “No, I can’t. I can’t let you ... miss
the Christmas Festival.”
“You are brave, just go on by yourself. I’ll be fine and, I’ll be right here
when you come back. I must tend to his other needs; there is still more to be
done. I know he’s starving.”
Taza then
questioned the canine: “How long has it been boy, since you’ve eaten?” He asked the poor thing, not expecting any
answer. He looked at those soulful eyes of Longze, who lacked (human speech) vernacular
ability to communicate something that was obviously vital(critical)… That of
which wasn’t about him…. It was something imperative, something else.
“How horrible it
must be, to be without the faculty of human speech?” Taza pensively nodded his head and then turned
to look at Kalen, who remained reluctant to leave, and pleaded.
“Go on Kalen; please don’t make things any harder, I can’t leave him in this
state!”
Kalen knitted his
brows and pouted; then, with certain resignation, turned to go.
“Oh, wait…” Taza suddenly urgently cried out, remembering
something. He then quickly reached deep
into to his inner pocket and withdrew a treasured object for his little brother
to take.
“I’d done some
preliminary reading on this religion; offerings could also be made at this
particular time for the souls of the departed; it will bring them apt solace in
afterlife. If you get a chance, little brother, to slip up to the altar without
getting in anyone's way, please take this little wooden angel (which I’ve
carved) and (the copper coin) the two
pence, and place them all down, as our offering, before the icon (image) of
their deity, for our parents’ sake, when no one is looking. That way it will be
the same as me going there. "
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| 08 -KALEN HOLDING ANGEL AND TWO COINS (15) JP 2 |
“You can do this;
you are no coward!” Thereafter, sticking his chin out, he hastened his steps,
to reach the procession of the people, that had alighted (descended) from their
posh (grand) carriages and were presently ascending (climbing), the stairs of
the Temple.
The decked-out interior
of the great church was truly a magnificent place that night. The decorations,
lights and glitter, all the displays, riches he’d never seen the like of before
simply took his little breath away. A small urchin like himself was virtually
invisible amidst the procession as they took their gifts for the Christ Child
to the altar.
Some worshipers laid down wonderful jewels; some gave baskets with massive
amounts of gold so heavy they could scarcely carry them down the aisle. A famed
author laid down his prized work, a book he had, after many years, just
completed.
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| 09- FAMOUS AUTHOR OFFERS A BOOK |
Then the King and Queen appeared in all their majesty, hoping, like the least
petitioner, to win for themselves the music of the Christmas chimes. A great
murmur rippled through the church as the people witnessed the King, additionally,
taking his priceless golden crown, set with diamonds and rare precious gems,
from his head and laying it to gleam on the alter as his offering to the Christ
Child.
“Surely, “They
intoned in unison, “Surely we shall hear the bells now.” But the chimes did not
ring. Not even a whimper was heard.
When the gifts
were all on the altar, prayers uttered, long sermon ended and finally, the
choir began the closing hymn…. And still no chimes manifesting…. By degrees, the
disappointed crowd, murmuring under their breath, slowly but surely, began to
disperse.
Suddenly however,
the organist had abruptly ceased (stopped) his playing; and everyone shocked
(holding their breath), looked aghast at the old Priest, who was holding up his
hand for silence.
“What’s this?” A hushed murmur rippled through the air.
For unmistakably, when the people strained their ears and listened hard, there
came at first a manifest unearthly sound of akin harp; but then, resonating
through the air, softly but distinctly, ensued (materialized) the heavenly
music of the chimes in the tower!
The divine music seemed so far away and yet so clear. The notes were so much
sweeter than any sound they had ever heard. Melody rising and falling in the
sky was so entrancing that the people in the church held their breath and stood
perfectly still.
Then they all stood up together and stared at the altar, wanting to see what
great gift had awakened these long-silent chimes. But all the nearest of them
saw was the figure of Kalen, who had crept softly down the aisle, perfectly
unseen and placed Taza’s little wooden angel and the two pieces of copper on
the altar. He’d then quickly left, never realizing the miracle he’d gifted to
the people.
MERRY CHRISTMAS
EVERYONE!
The story could
well end here, but not just yet.
The two brothers,
Taza and Kalen, had followed the guidance of the Longze, part carrying him,
part following him, that night, to finally, after a long trek, they had reached
the wooden cabin at the edge of the forest.
Inside, they
discovered, the ailing Erland, still in the grip of fever but stubbornly
hanging onto life.
Longze, with renewed strength had rushed to
the side of his master, nuzzling Erland’s head and whimpering to him that help
was there, to hang on. The warrior Erland seemed to understand his dog’s urgent
pleas and forced open his eyes to take a good long look at Taza. He nodded his
head and closed his eyes, though temporarily.
Taza, despite his
young age, knew exactly what to do, for after his parent’s demise, he had
diligently studied and acquired the amassed knowledge of how to cure this
terrible fever which had taken so many lives.
He had been motivated
since that time, with strong determination not to have this sickness rob anyone
else of a loved one, not if he could help it. He’d poured into books absorbing,
learning every bit of knowledge that provided the cure and moreover, he had
sought the help of homeopathic healers nearby. And learned to identify the key plants
that was helpful in eliminating some of the symptoms. These accrued (combined) information
permanently committed to memory; he set to work at once to help cure this
ailing solitary warrior Erland.
As Taza tended to
the sick warrior Erland, little brave Kalen and Longze proved two useful
assistants in foraging (finding) the necessary herbs, which was essentially
easy feat, once one knew where to find it
Local physicians
could not have achieved what Taza did after a week; for he had put his heart
and his very soul into curing Erland. Taza
during that week, many a night loosing sleep, had worked (diligently) tireless,
long laborious hours, to diminish Erland’s fever and afford him comfort. Then
as his condition began to improve, Taza nursed him back to health by providing
him apt nourishment and allowing warrior’s own natural immune system to also
assist in speeding up his convalescence.
And yes, Erland finally
recovered; he was so filled with gratitude and loved these two boys, understanding
how very heroic, self-sacrificing, stoic, precious things they were, that he later,
formally (legally) adapted them as his children. And so, a loving family (of
four) was formed, including Longze of course. Longza lived to a ripe old age (dog’s years),
contended and never lacking for anything.
Erland was also,
for the first time ever, was at peace with his past; he spent the rest of his
life protecting, nurturing Taza and Kalen and bringing them up proper and later
still, passing on his warrior skills onto them.
The End
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