Friday, May 14, 2010

Two Rivers


Once there were two kingdoms at war: Mninga in the East and Mnanga in the West. At the top of the tallest mountain in the East lived the Queen of Mninga, and 1000 of her daughters and 1000 of her sons. Likewise, at the top of the tallest mountain in the West lived the Queen of Mnanga, and 1000 of her daughters and 1000 of her sons.

Each palace was physically protected from the brutalities of war due to its altitude, but the two Queens could see clearly down into the valley to behold all manner of atrocities and the greatest of suffering as her sons died violently on the battlefield.

Each day, as the Queens spun spider silk into armor, they gazed out of their windows and into the valley of war below. Each watched helpless as she witnessed the fate of her doomed brood. Every sword to strike a fatal blow moved the mother of the fallen knight to weep 1000 tears. Each tear ran woefully down the castle walls, eventually forming a gushing river below.

The two rivers wound down the mountains, through the valley, and into the rival kingdom where the water was used to turn mills, cool turbines, and irrigate crops. The mills turned to supply power to tanks and air ships. The turbines roared as the workers forged swords and shields and the farmers grew super foods to strengthen the will of the soldiers. The scientists and Generals contrived to improve their yields. The economy thrived and unemployment was at a record low.

One day the Minister of War reported to the Queen of Mninga. His deep voice echoed from his immensity, “Your Majesty, we have lost too many brave knights to the Minangan savages. We must again supplement our troops lest the war effort falter.” The Queen stared gravely at the Minister and then leaned her head back on her throne. Her eyes rolled back and her mouth opened wide. Her breast heaved as she grasped the arms of the golden, bejeweled chair. From each of her forearms grew blisters and lumps, swelling and pulsating as she writhed in pain. Veins and arteries slithered and clotted forming organs and members. Her legs shot out stiff from her petticoats as her calves grew the same protrusions.

From each calf, she bore two male infants, which she nursed presently to adulthood and clad in the spider-silk mail. From her forearms were delivered two female infants, which she nurtured on regurgitated royal jelly. The Queen was weary and wet as she dismissed the Minister with a glance. He diffidently corralled his two new recruits and their two nurses toward the door bowing and saying, “As you wish, my liege,” adding under his breath, “This shall do ‘til the morrow.”

As she recovered, the Queen looked out the window to the East. There lay the Wild Forest, thick and dark. On this day, there was a movement that caught her eye–a small animal, perhaps wounded. She dispatched a guard to recover the thing and determine its allegiance. It turned out to be a young maiden, not more than fourteen. She was naked and savage.

The Queen took it upon herself to domesticate the child as she was in need of a cleaning lady. She dressed her in peasant rags and named her Dnira, which meant “ignorant.” Dnira cleaned up nicely and soon learned to keep the Queen’s chambers in order, blissfully swabbing the tears, mopping the afterbirth, and dusting for spider dross. She often hummed while she worked, sometimes whistling like a bird. She was not bothered at all by the weight of the world.

This made the Queen’s melancholy that much more apparent. She could not understand why she felt so sad. Everyone had jobs and everyone had food, and clothing, and shelter. Her kingdom thrived, yet she still cried. And more than ever the tears flowed out the window and down the wall, taking small bits of sand as they ate away at the mortar, wearing the jagged rocks smooth and spilling into the river below. Finally in desperation, the Queen cried out to the firmament, "Why must I be so unsatisfied?"

Suddenly, a small bird landed on the window sill, startling the Queen to silence. It tilted its head to one side, then the other, and began to sing a simple song as it hopped about. Temporarily forgetting her troubles, the Queen became amused by the blithe performance. At length, she smiled and clapped, but this frightened the bird and it hopped toward the edge of the sill. Looking back at the Queen, it pooped out a black and white mixture before flying away.

Disgusted, the Queen turned and summoned Dnira, “Remove this filth from my view!” The cleaning peasant noticed a seed in the midst of the excrement and unashamed, she picked it out, examining it. She recognized its scalloped edges and dropped it lovingly out of the window and onto the tear-moistened rocks below.

The seed took root and over the years grew to be as tall as the palace. Its branches stretched up to the Queen’s window, obscuring her view. Wild animals made their home in its branches and the little bird raised a family in a nest made of the Queen’s hair and royal threads. The Queen rejoiced in watching the young animals grow and play. She smiled and clapped. The little bird would sing and dance just out of reach of the Queen every morning.

The Minister of War was not pleased. He pleaded with the Queen, “A drought is threatening to dry the entire valley. There will be no water for crops and the economy will collapse!” He tried to show the Queen the dire situation in the valley below, but the foliage of the tree obstructed his aim. He called for the royal secateurs and began lobbing off branches. The Queen protested, but the Minister was possessed. He climbed out the window, his obese bulk teetering on the ledge. The little bird cowered in its nest with its clutch. The Minister reached to sever the remaining branch. The bird pecked at his hand. The Minister recoiled, slipped and lost his footing. He fell screaming to the rocks below.

The Minister’s carcass floated down the dwindling river, plugging up the main outlet into the valley. The Mnangan turbines ground to a halt, seizing from the heat. Great clouds of steam rolled into the heavens as the workers removed their hats and wiped their soiled brows.

The two Queens met in an attempt to revive their war economies, but fell in love instead. The royal matrimony joined the two kingdoms and spread love throughout the valley bringing affection and tenderness to the sons and daughters for the first time in their lives. And they lived happily forever after…

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