Elenion
>My text entry for The City of Elendor (currently greayaxe lake) , Divitane, Baxteria, Blackheart
We open our eyes and find ourselves facing The Queen’s Crown: an area almost as big as the city where sharp rocks of different shapes and sizes sprout from the gravel-covered ground. Cactuses and bushes of Scorpion Weed, Blazing Stars and Wallflowers sprinkle the lifeless grays with their lively shades of greens, yellows and purples. Wildcats and Trollmouth Salamanders are often spotted there, hunting for bugs and reptiles that call it home.
We turn around and pass through the closed city gates. The riverside city is divided into three districts, each formed by concentric ring streets centered around a well. They are connected by straight roads that form a northwards-pointing triangle. The western district, home of the Neran, has access to the riverbank fields where they grow flax and cotton. In the East, closer to hill caves and quarries, is our Waerd community. The Market district, connected to the Fluvial Port of Elendor, is in the North.
This separation gives both tribes freedom to exercise their culture, allowing them to cooperate in harmony. We trade glasses for Nerans’ linens. They hire us during harvest and we hire them to work in the mines when they need work. We build their houses adjusting our architecture to their individualistic needs, they tend to our crops more efficiently than we could. There’s respect, there’s balance.
We walk westward and arrive to the Nerans’ district. We’ve always been curious about how they ask us to build their homes. They look like dozens of dwarfed versions of our large communal buildings. Inside, they have separate spaces used for cooking, eating and sleeping. It seems lonely and inefficient, but that’s their way and we respect it. We follow the outer ring street, passing through a weaving workshop, a school and a ‘taver’: a place for drinking, eating and where visitors, unwelcome to our side, can pay to spend the night. The place is normally full, but tonight it seems closed.
Heading Northeast, we get to the stone paved Market district. The many shops and wooden stalls are now empty. The only sounds are those of the docked boats rocking by the shore and faint conversation escaping from the inns, where traveling merchants spend the night. By morning, this silence will be replaced by the chattering of townspeople - Neran and The Waerd alike - and by the bargaining of merchants. The people come to trade fish, bread, game and farm products. The merchants navigate from across the sea and up and down the river between Sablewater and the Town of Blacksmiths trading exotic produce that can’t be found in Baxteria by Elendor's glasswork, metalwork, bricks, clothing, and excess raw minerals and textiles.
We walk southeast and arrive at the West District, where we make almost full circle around the outer ring street. Occupying them are large buildings that fit our communal lifestyle: sleeping quarters; the dining hall where we eat, hold public discussions and get the work assignments for the week; the children’s houses where we grow up and learn the ways of The Queen; public baths; the laundry; the theater where we gather to chant; stables; slaughterhouse; glass and masonry workshops. Each building fulfils its role without aspiring to be something else. Each crucial for the others, yet meaningless alone.
We follow the trail that heads uphill towards our final destination. The Orchard is a sacred cliff roughly the size of four farm plots. At its center, the Great Tree of the Two-Fold towers 50 meters above ground and spreads its gray, bonelike branches in a perfect circle that covers the whole area. Underneath, several impossible fruit trees - apples, oranges, peaches and pomegranates - grow in the rich, dark ground, unaware of the dryland that surrounds them. Stacks of hay spread between the trees mark where we laid the bodies of our dead citizens or disposed of animal remains that didn’t get fully used. We believe the Great Tree absorbs our material bodies and nourishes the earth touched by its roots. Being buried here is seen as the last contribution to the city and it’s said that the soul of those who are will be guided back to Elendor in their next incarnation.
We follow the faint silver thread towards the base of the tree, where most of the city surrounds our naked body. Fighting the urge to get back in it, we lay down and make a wish: “Please guide us back here one day, so that we can see what became of this great city.”
Elenion