The Fire Within

[danielmn]

"The past, a glowing ember."

You are not your past.

"My past has led to what I am"

You are here, now. There is no past. To learn, you must first unlearn.

"Does not the past matter?"

The past matters only in the minds of those who refuse the present.

"And all that I know?"

Seen through eyes that were open. You must learn to close your eyes. Blind eyes see much.

Blind eyes can not see.....

This, you will learn, is false, like much that you think.


The words of his teacher rang in his ears. A slow grin reached his lips as he exhaled slowly. The night was young, a cool breeze foretelling rain. His eyes remained closed as he sat on the bench, listening to the world around him. Another day gone, and another new to begin. Repitition, calm. He had mastered his feeling. It had taken years, but serenity now followed his steps. A fire within, a peaceful connection with all. Even as his fist had crushed the throat of the thief two weeks before, nothing but calm. The heart at one. He slowly opened his eyes, and rose. Placing his hands in the cuffs of his robes, he strode, as he did every evening, to the trees. As he steadied his breathing, once again he began. Heart tamed, now for the body. His repeated blows echoed through the night, fist on wood...a hollow thunk.

[Misty]

yay!

[danielmn]

Tell me, young Telem, why have you left your home?

I left because all that is my home is wrong.

Tell me, what was wrong in this place?

There are slaves....with no will, no choice.

Is this truely what you beleive?

How can it be otherwise?

What is slavery? What is freedom?

It is the control of one's own life....

Is it?

*Telem furrowed his brow in thought, looking to Master Theon*

Your eyes see men that are slaves...because their bodies are held in bondage. But what of their minds, their soul, their dreams? This *Master Theon grabs Telem's arm* is not freedom.

Freedom is here. *quickly moves the hand from Telem's arm to place his finger on Telem's forehead*

*************************************************************

Telem eyed the house a moment, then slowly traveled onward down the road. His thoughts strayed to Krunch... Freedom.

Some who's own bodies withered before their eyes, but their minds as sharp as ever. Another who's massive arms could easily lift two men, possibly even heavily armoured...with a mind as simple as a childs.

Freedom...is balance. His feet plodded onward down the road, searching for nothing, and everything, in the moment of the infinite.

[Brimsar the Wanderer]

/me applauds.

[Inwintersshadow]

Very nice:)

[danielmn]

Master Krawl grinned grimly as Telem laid his fists into the bare trunk. Again and again, the solid thunk of fist on wood rang through the small courtyard...almost a drumbeat in a steady rythem, so lonely as if awaiting a flute or a harp for company.

Control your breath!

Telem grimaced, as he slowed his breathing. Master Krawl lived up to his name, as the skin around his spine began to tingle uncomfortably. Of all the Masters, he was the hardest. Yet, the most fair as well.

Watch your stance!

Telem shifted his weight a moment, planting his feet in the stance that had been drilled into his head by Master Krawls staff. The many blows he had recieved from that staff had left a painful memory in Telem's head, but he saw the need. To suffer pain is to learn. And down the road, may be the difference between living and dying.

Focus!

His hands wet with the red of his own blood, he continued to strike the stump. Often, he imagined the stump to be Krawl himself...though he knew within his heart that that was anger misplaced. His anger was truely with himself....most other students his age well surpassing his own abilities. He just did no

*Wham* came the staff directly between his legs. The shock of extreme pain haulted him short, almost doubling over before the staff levered him into the air, sweeping his legs from under him. A breif glimpse of the sky, before his body landed in a total whirlwind of pain and agony...his lungs screeming for air but finding none.

His vision clearing, he gazed upon the face of Master Krawl...old, wrinkled...long white strands of hair falling below his shoulders, teeth missing as he grinned slightly through the permanent scowl he always wore.

When your mind is clear from the thoughts that occupy you from practicing as you should be, return. Until then, you are waisting my time!

Telem, in extreme pain, rose quickly and scuttled from the yard. It was not wise to anger any Master, Krawl least of all.

____________________________________________________________


He eyed the fire a moment, peeking over the ancient tome of teachings within his hands. He was eager to read the whole tome, but had learned anything important must be read peicemeal. One lesson at a time, slowly, in total concentration, to completely digest what was being conveyed.

He grinned at the thought of Master Krawl. He has loved all of his Masters, but Master Krawl had a special place. His lessons had been the hardest.....by the same token, his lessons were the most difficult to forget.

His grinned widened as he resumed his reading, in total concentration.

[danielmn]

The moon was far overhead. Yet Telem stood with those of his abilities, holding a quarterstaff in front of him. Not for fighting this night...on each end of the staff was a bucket, filled with water. He strained every fiber of his being, his arms long since screeming from their torture. Every effort, every thought, concentrated on holding those two buckets steady, so they would not fall off. In front of him seated on the Great Stone, was Master Talimos. His posture rigid, yet relaxed, as only Master Talimos could do. Then again, Master Talimos had mastered much in the way of opposites. Silent, yet Loud. Calm, yet Feirce.

Master Talimos slowly opened his eyes as the sweat from Telem's brow etched red circles of salted pain in his eyes. Slowly, with his long drawl, Telimos spoke.

What is it you are thinking, Telem?

Telem replied through gritted teeth. My thought is only of my effort.

Talimos rose slowly, and strode toward Telem. Removing the ladel from his sleeve, he tipped first one bucket, filling the ladel and then drinking, then tipped the other, allowing Telem to drink from it, albeit labourously.

You are not strong, Telem. Your mind is slow. You are the weakest of your class.

Telems arms began to shake for a moment, but he returned his concentration to his task. His heart, however, ached and hurt....because his Masters words were true.

Telem, turn and look at your peers.

Telem turned slowly, with great effort, trying to keep from spilling the water in the buckets. His arms shook for a moment at what he beheld...
Twenty-eight quarterstaffs, sitting atop buckets, all lying on the ground.

You have been here Three Bells longer than the last who left. All of your classmates either gave in...or dropped their buckets. You are weak, you are slow...and yet you stand here now. Why do you think this is?

Telem replied in slight astonishment. I do not know, Master.

Slowly Master Talimos removed both buckets from the staff, turning each to dump the water within...but no water came.

When you know the answer, you will know your true strength.

Telem slowly set the quarterstaff down, a look of profound puzzlement on his face.

__________________________________________________________

The small hin glared down at him, her enormous hammer strapped to her side. She smirked a toothy grin, and rambled on about Tallies and Right Sizes and sticks...her posture an obvious "I will do as I please, I'll walk right over you right now." Telem shuddered, the threat looming. Then the heavily armoured dwarf came, and she all but kissed his boots. Inside, Telem laughed....as his greatest of all strengths shown through. Calmly, he took the abuse, with only one sentence of reproach at her departing....

Master Theon was right....Those who have the least to say, often talk the most.

She murmered something he could not understand, and went about her business.

The Power of Will. Now, to balance the rest to the level of that which was his greatest strength.

[danielmn]

Telems eyes strayed from the fire, the heavy grinding of the city's gate closing breaking the stillness of the early evening. Birds took wing at the sound, as did his thoughts on the subject of wether it was better to let others learn for themselves, or to teach others to learn. His eyes watched as the collosal gates finally clanked shut, the men and women in purple changing their guard.

An interesting place, full of sounds, sights and....pigs. Telem grinned slowly, remembering that he who walks softly catches what he seeks, while he who desperately runs after what he seeks often ends up with mud on his face. The sound of the city was foreign to him, and although it had an air of jovillity, Telem felt...disturbed..by the sight of the great walls. Something in his mind made his head want to turn to the nearest trees, yet he forced himself to look on.

The night grew long, as he finally turned his head back to the fire. He thought on Thrar a moment, then sent a prayer to the fire in front of him for Thrar's well being. He grinned slightly, in the knowledge that the old woodwalker had many friends, and would be tended to. A passing regret that Telem could not have done more...but he was a simple man of simple means.

He stared at the flickering white center of the flame, then silently pulled out the tome of teachings.

[danielmn]

With brow furrowed, Telem slowly strode down the hill, away from the boys. His mind twisted and turned through the maze of thoughts within...

What was kindness? Telem knew that this abstract notion depended upon the observer...still....

He did not consider what he had done kindness. It is the duty of any of age to help children, for they can not help themselves. Telem simply did what the brother would have done, had he been older..stronger... it was not kindness. It just was. Had it been a man...or woman...

There is reason behind all. A reason that spiders have venom. A reason that some are called to heal. A reason to play games....a reason to die. Telem had learned long ago that death should be faced, embraced...but a child, he would not watch die. Those that have not had time to learn should be allowed such.

He strode into the inn, quickly heading to the fire.

[danielmn]

Master, what is the meaning of life?

Master Talimos slowly gazed out over the river as the two walked along at an easy pace. Of all his Masters, Telem respected the words of Talimos the most, though Master Talimos often spoke in riddles.

Do you think there is meaning, young Telem?

Telem kept his gaze to the ground, emulating the quite strides of Talimos, carefully avoiding large patches of leaves or stepping on twigs.

I think that there is meaning.

Talimos nodded as he stared out across the river. He pointed to the Fisherman out on his skiff, throwing his nets into the water.

Do you think there is meaning there?

Telem pondered while watching the fisherman at work.

I think there is meaning there.

Master Talimos slowly looked to Telem.

Do you think the meaning of his life is the same for all?

Telem furrowed his brow in thought as he continued to mimic the steps of Talimos.

I do not think so....

Master Talimos nodded slightly, again gazing out at the river. He pointed at a turtle who had its head above water.

And is there meaning there?

Telem nodded.

There is meaning there as well, Master Talimos.

Then the answer to your question is yes....and no. There is meaning to life...but it differs for every spirit, yes?

Telem nodded in agreement.

Master, what is the meaning of your life?

Talimos looked to Telem for a moment, then laughed. His azure eyes wrinkled in mirth, then he looked back to the river.

I have been to many places, young Telem. I have met many friends, and I have made a few enemies as well. I have seen and done many things. I have seen nations war, I have seen a mother nurse. I have seen the honor of love, and have seen the lust of greed.

Master Talimos walked in silent thought for a few minutes. Telem pondered on his words.

But you are not what you have seen...

Talimos nodded.

You are correct.

Telem pondered more.

So your meaning is to find you?

Talimos grinned faintly.

It was, at one time.

Telem tilted his head slightly, eyeing Master Talimos's expression.
Talimos slowly turned his head to Telem.

My purpose is everything and nothing. The void within. To show the way without showing the way.

Telem nodded slowly.

To teach us to learn so that we may find our own selves in our own way.

Talimos nodded slowly.

Yes...I beleive I like the way you put that.

They both grinned, as they walked a little further on, Talimos in the lead, young Telem following behind in the light of evening.

[danielmn]

The lone figure sits in the lowest boughs of the oak, watching the clouds gather. A storm approaching from the south, rain would come soon. The sun slowly hides itself from veiw, pulling the blanket of clouds tight around itself. The smell was in the air...

The wind causes the chimes on the porch of the nearby inn to rattle. The sign swings to and fro, the tankard picture engraved on it bobbing as if on the sea itself. The lone figure huddles tighter, draws his worn and tattered cloak about him, his Blood red robes underneath flare at the occasional gusts...

A farmer passes quickly by, giving him only a cursory glance before quickly entering the inn. The figure tucks his legs under him, and leans to and fro with the wind, always managing to keep balance on the bough. His eyes never leave the clouds, as they quickly approached. Lightning in the distance brings a slight smile to his lips. For sometimes with lightning, comes something more.

The place feels better to the lone man, much better than the sight of the enormous walls of the city called Arabel. Why his feet had brought him here...he could not say. Perhaps to see that the fiddler made it without harm...perhaps to be enshrined in the trees...perhaps...there was no reason at all. He grins as the thought passes through his mind.

Two children pass as lightning strikes near....for a moment, the lone figure is silohetted by a bright flash...his eyes slowly rests on the two, and for a breif instance the children cringe at the sight of him...His jawline hard, his eyes narrow, searching beyond, his head shaven except for a topknot. They start, and they bolt...and one has to wonder if it is because of the storm they flee, or something more...

The figure lithly swings from the bough and lands surefooted on the ground...his stare following the small trail of dust the two leave in their wake. He blinks once, expressionless, then makes his way to the side of the inn. He looks about for a moment, then quietly settles on the grass.

Sleep comes as the rain starts....dreams of lightning...of flame...deep within...

[danielmn]

That's all folks...