Gilgamesh
"The City walls gleam like fine bright copper in the desert sun, making it shine as a jewel burns with inner fire. The City is Uruk and there is no stronger or wild city in this Age.
The plans were laid by the Seven Sages themselves, their Gardens, filled with lotus and orchid and palm are rivaled by none and their Holy Temples smell of incense and spices. Hooded figures make offerings to Ishtar in her temple of Eanna, sacrificial goats blood stains the dusty altars and well worn stone steps. Dark eyed hawkers crowd the markets, the noise of changing silver, musicians, cut throats and thieves, Priestesses and Lords all creating a cacophony of peregrine life. And reigning over all in his great tyranny and strength is the young King Gilgamesh of Legend."
At this the storyteller lifted his dented silver goblet with an ingratiating grin and took a long drink. Wiping his mouth on the back of his sun stained hand, he regarded his listeners with a long gaze before continuing.
"King Gilgamesh, it is said, is the Son of a God and a half Goddess, Lugulbanda and Ninsun. Now if you can put two and two together that would make him," He counted on his fingers, "Two parts out of three a God. That's hear-say, if you know what I mean, but the tales I've heard of him have to count for something." Leaning back melodramatically on the rough wooden bench he took another swig of the dark red wine.
The patrons of the Empty Wineskin looked unimpressed. But then, Hirtar thought, they had never been to Uruk, what did these goat loving country folk know about the great City? He had sparked at least some interest, from a shadowy corner one man called out for him to continue. After the man filled his cup he was only too happy to oblige him.
"Gilgamesh, Mighty Lord of the Haven Uruk, is as tall as two men and as strong as a bull. It was he who ordered the building of the Wall. We are proud of him in the City, but among ourselves there is much talk of his tyranny." He carried on in a low voice, "Gilgamesh takes for himself every man's bride on the night of the wedding,"
The men chuckled until he added, "You can laugh until it is your wife he has!" Furrowed brows and frowns, "He is arrogant, no one can best him in combat, he recruits every young boy and takes every young girl for himself. The Temples are full to bursting with people praying to the Gods to do something." He waved his hand dismissively, "They pray and they fast and make sacrifices. One of the Priestesses claims she saw the Goddess Aruru in her dreams, crafting a man out of clay, a man equal in strength to King Gilgamesh, to deliver the people from his opression" He snorted and spit to show what he thought of that.
As the traveller was about to continue the splintered door burst open, letting a stream of dusty light into the hovel. A young man darted in quickly and slammed the door shut behind him with a wild look in his eyes. A few men made as if to get up. Muttering to himself, he patted his fur covered chest as if to make sure he was still intact, then turned to face the crowd almost fiercely.
"Did you see that!" His high pitched voice was muffled in the darkened room, "A man-beast ten feet high, as shaggy and wild as an aurochs, at the watering hole." He walked deeper into the tavern and the men crowded around behind him, waiting for more. "I thought I saw it last night when I was checking my traps, not a single catch, and then at the last trap as I got closer, I saw the man-beast releasing my catch, I mistook him for an oxen, and I thought, 'that oxen set all my game free from the traps!' It must have been him."
Murmurs spread through the listening folk, a bent man wrapped in linen put his hand on the lads shoulder and said quietly,
"Mokab, your father is wise, is he not? He was a trapper before you were born. Take him to the man-beast, let him see it and he will tell you what to do."
The shaken young man groaned, "If I tell my father he will know I haven't caught anything, I still have stripes from when I gave sheep skin away to that woman for free." A bemused grin crept across his face.
The old man cackled and said, "Well the more you delay the less you'll catch and then you'll have a new set of scars to tend," After which he promptly whacked Mokab with his staff to set him running home.
The plans were laid by the Seven Sages themselves, their Gardens, filled with lotus and orchid and palm are rivaled by none and their Holy Temples smell of incense and spices. Hooded figures make offerings to Ishtar in her temple of Eanna, sacrificial goats blood stains the dusty altars and well worn stone steps. Dark eyed hawkers crowd the markets, the noise of changing silver, musicians, cut throats and thieves, Priestesses and Lords all creating a cacophony of peregrine life. And reigning over all in his great tyranny and strength is the young King Gilgamesh of Legend."
At this the storyteller lifted his dented silver goblet with an ingratiating grin and took a long drink. Wiping his mouth on the back of his sun stained hand, he regarded his listeners with a long gaze before continuing.
"King Gilgamesh, it is said, is the Son of a God and a half Goddess, Lugulbanda and Ninsun. Now if you can put two and two together that would make him," He counted on his fingers, "Two parts out of three a God. That's hear-say, if you know what I mean, but the tales I've heard of him have to count for something." Leaning back melodramatically on the rough wooden bench he took another swig of the dark red wine.
The patrons of the Empty Wineskin looked unimpressed. But then, Hirtar thought, they had never been to Uruk, what did these goat loving country folk know about the great City? He had sparked at least some interest, from a shadowy corner one man called out for him to continue. After the man filled his cup he was only too happy to oblige him.
"Gilgamesh, Mighty Lord of the Haven Uruk, is as tall as two men and as strong as a bull. It was he who ordered the building of the Wall. We are proud of him in the City, but among ourselves there is much talk of his tyranny." He carried on in a low voice, "Gilgamesh takes for himself every man's bride on the night of the wedding,"
The men chuckled until he added, "You can laugh until it is your wife he has!" Furrowed brows and frowns, "He is arrogant, no one can best him in combat, he recruits every young boy and takes every young girl for himself. The Temples are full to bursting with people praying to the Gods to do something." He waved his hand dismissively, "They pray and they fast and make sacrifices. One of the Priestesses claims she saw the Goddess Aruru in her dreams, crafting a man out of clay, a man equal in strength to King Gilgamesh, to deliver the people from his opression" He snorted and spit to show what he thought of that.
As the traveller was about to continue the splintered door burst open, letting a stream of dusty light into the hovel. A young man darted in quickly and slammed the door shut behind him with a wild look in his eyes. A few men made as if to get up. Muttering to himself, he patted his fur covered chest as if to make sure he was still intact, then turned to face the crowd almost fiercely.
"Did you see that!" His high pitched voice was muffled in the darkened room, "A man-beast ten feet high, as shaggy and wild as an aurochs, at the watering hole." He walked deeper into the tavern and the men crowded around behind him, waiting for more. "I thought I saw it last night when I was checking my traps, not a single catch, and then at the last trap as I got closer, I saw the man-beast releasing my catch, I mistook him for an oxen, and I thought, 'that oxen set all my game free from the traps!' It must have been him."
Murmurs spread through the listening folk, a bent man wrapped in linen put his hand on the lads shoulder and said quietly,
"Mokab, your father is wise, is he not? He was a trapper before you were born. Take him to the man-beast, let him see it and he will tell you what to do."
The shaken young man groaned, "If I tell my father he will know I haven't caught anything, I still have stripes from when I gave sheep skin away to that woman for free." A bemused grin crept across his face.
The old man cackled and said, "Well the more you delay the less you'll catch and then you'll have a new set of scars to tend," After which he promptly whacked Mokab with his staff to set him running home.