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Meanwhile in Bytopia


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#1 Guest_Lord E_*

Posted 16 January 2003 - 02:52 AM

The middle-aged, non-descript monk with kind, grey eyes walked in his vast garden. His feet were bare and he loved the feel of the lush grass under his feet. The herb garden was his personal favourite - the herbs were important to his disciples, a powerful ally in their mission of easing all suffering, however undeserving the recipient of their aid was. He inhaled deeply, savoring the scents - what a treasure trove this part of the garden was for medical, arcane and culinary purposes!

There was also the flowerbed garden, the place of sheer beauty. It always had seemed a bit frivolous to the monk, compared to the herbs. But flowers were a part of life, and respect and love for life was one of the most important tenents of the faith of the monk's followers. All things living, all life beginning, be it a bird cracking out of its egg, human child pulled out of its mother's womb or a sproot of a flower penetrating the soil and reaching for the light - they filled the monk's heart with love, and willingness to protect. It was a sad fact that some of that life was swallowed and twisted by evil, becoming part of it - but he would never give up on easing suffering, and he would always give a chance to those who sought to forsake evil.

He had reached the orchard by now. The sweet scent of the apple trees filled the air. The monk had half-expected to see his gardener gathering the apples, lovingly talking to the trees as he did. In spite of the unspeakable evil of his past, the elf was very attuned to the life humming in plants, the life that didn't make noise and that therefore didn't exist to many. The monk could not have hoped for a better gardener - he truly loved his plants as a nurse might love the children she takes care of.

But as he wasn't gathering the apples, then he might be caring for the vegetables, or in his cabin. The monk knocked the cabin door first, but there was no answer. It had happened a few times that the elf had been so concentrated on his studied that he had not heard the timid knock. It was no matter - if that was the case, the monk would come back another time. However, he walked to the vegetable garden and saw the person he was looking for. The elf was bent down to a zucchini bush, removing dead leaves nimbly and humming to the plant in elven.
- "Jon."
- "Lord Ilmater." He smiled that tilted, sad smile, his eyes blue, a wisp of moon pale hair escaping from below the brown hood.
- "How are you today?"
- "Fine, as fine as I am able," the elf answered. It broke Ilmater's heart how sad he always looked, how much pain there was in that melodious voice.

- "Would you mind a break? I would like your company."
- "I haven't had my lunch yet. Would you share a zucchini stew with me?"
- "I would be delighted, Jon." He meant it heartfeltly - Jon was an excellent cook.
The elf nodded and picked two ripe zucchinis into a wicker basket. He whispered his thanks and bowed his head slightly. Ilmater followed him to the cottage. Joneleth took off his cape. He had taken to dressing into the simple, brown robes and tunics of the Ilmateri, even though the god had told him it was not necessary. He had simply shrugged and said that such garments suited his mood more than excellently.

Ilmater sat and watched as Joneleth started to prepare the meal. The elf peeled two cloves of garlic and picked three stalks of spring onion and three ripe tomatoes. He put a kettle on and winced slightly as he reached for a knife.
- "It is just a knife, Jon," Ilmater said kindly.
- "Yes... yes, of course." But there was a tremor in his voice.
- "It gave you bad memories," Ilmater prompted.
- "I did... such things with a knife..." the tremor was worse.
- "They were evil horrible, things," Ilmater nodded. "Who did them?"
- "I did, of course. Why do you ask me such?" He had hidden his face in his hands now, forgotten about the cooking.

- "You did, Jon. Not the knife. It was a tool, you picked it up and chose to use it for torturing other sentient beings. And now, you are picking up the knife and using it for chopping onions and zucchini, cooking a meal for both of us. You have a choice."
The elf didn't answer, just shuddered.
- "Joneleth. Please, prepare the stew. I am getting hungry, and the water is already boiling. Time to put the rice in."
Joneleth picked the knife up, watching it with ancient pain in his blue eyes.
- "Yes. You have a choice. You have a soul, and you have capacity for compassion. You have conscience. Let them guide you. For now, just make some food for us." He was not sure how much the elf was taking in. But he believed that more and more of it was helping to strengthen his new, fragile soul.

Jon's hand didn't shake any more as he started to slice the vegetables.
- "I love you, Joneleth," Ilmater added, almost as if an aftertought.
- "How can you?" the elf asked.
- "I can, because I love every being in pain... and especially one who is learning compasson."




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