And because it will doubtless come up, this is from Elemesnedene:"It is said among the Elohim, whose knowledge is wonderous, and difficult of contradiction" - Pitchwife conveyed a chortle of personal amusement - "that in the ancient eternal youth of the cosmos, long ere the Earth came to occupy its place, the stars were as thick as sand throughout all the heavens. Where now we see multitudes of bright beings were formerly multitudes of multitudes, so that the cosmos was an ocean of stars from shore to shore, and the great depth of their present solitude was unknown to them - a sorrow which they could not have comprehended. They were the living people of the heavens, as unlike to us as gods. Grand and warm in their bright loveliness, they danced to music of their own making and were content.
"But far away across the heavens lived a being of another kind. The Worm. For ages it slumbered in peace - but when it awakened, as it awakens at the dawn of each new eon, it was afflicted with a ravenous hunger. Every creation contains destruction, as life contains death, and the Worm was destruction. Driven by its immense lust, it began to devour stars.
"Perhaps this Worm was not large among the stars, but its emptiness was large beyond measure, and it roamed the heavens, consuming whole seas of brightness, cutting great swaths of loneliness across the firmament. Writhing along the ages, avid and insatiable, it fed on all that lay within its reach, until the heavens became as sparsely peopled as a desert."
As Linden listened, she tasted some of the reasons behind the Giants' love of stories. Pitchwife's soft narration wove a thread of meaning into the becalmed sky and the Sea. Such tales made the world comprehensible. The mood of his telling was sad; but its sadness did no harm.
"Yet the devoured stars were beings as unlike to us as gods, and no Worm or doom could consume their power without cost. Having fed hugely, the Worm became listless and gravid. Though it could not sleep, for the eon's end of its slumber had not come, it felt a whelming desire for rest. Therefore it curled its tail about itself and sank into quiescence.
"And while the Worm rested, the power of the stars wrought within it. From its skin grew excrescences of stone and soil, water and air, and these growths multiplied upon themselves and multiplied until the very Earth beneath our feet took form. Still the power of the stars wrought, but now it gave shape to the surface of the Earth, forging the seas and the land. And then was brought forth life upon the Earth. Thus were born all the peoples of the Earth, the beasts of the land, the creatures of the deep - all the forests and greenswards from pole to pole. And thus from destruction came forth creation, as death gives rise to life.
"Therefore, Chosen," said Pitchwife firmly, "we live, and strive, and seek to define the sense of our being. And it is good, for though we compose a scant blink across the eyes of eternity, yet while the blink lasts we choose what we will, create what we may, and share ourselves with each other as the stars did ere they were bereaved. But it must pass. The Worm does not slumber. It merely rests. And the time must come when it is roused, or rouses itself. Then it will slough off this skin of rock and water to pursue its hunger across the cosmos until eon's end and slumber. For that reason, it is named the Worm of the World's End."
And just for fun, here's my favorite Wurm's from Magic: the Gathering."What are you?" she inquired in a constrained voice. "The heart of the Earth. The center. The truth. What does all that mean?"
"Sun-Sage," replied Daphin, "we are the Würd of the Earth."
She spoke clearly, but her tone was confusing. Her Würd sounded like Wyrd or Word.
Wyrd? Linden thought. Destiny - doom? Or Word?
Or both.
Into the silence, Daphin placed her story. It was an account of the creation of the Earth; and Linden soon realized that it was the same tale Pitchwife had told her during the calling of the Nicor. Yet it contained one baffling difference. Daphin did not speak of a Worm. Rather, she used that blurred sound, Würd, which seemed to signify both Wyrd and Word.
This Würd had awakened at the dawning of the eon and begun to consume the stars as if it intended to devour the cosmos whole. After a time, it had grown satiated and had curled around itself to rest, thus forming the Earth. And thus the Earth would remain until the Würd roused to resume its feeding.
It was precisely the same story Pitchwife had told. Had the Giants who had first brought that tale out of Elemesnedene misheard it? Or had the Elohim pronounced it differently to other visitors?
As if in answer, Daphin concluded, "Sun-Sage, we are the Würd - the direct offspring of the creation of the Earth. From it we arose, and in it we have our being. Thus we are the heart, and the center, and the truth, and therefore we are what we are. We are all answers, just as we are every question. For that reason, you must not judge the reply which we will give to your need."
Linden hardly heard the Elohim. Her mind was awhirl with implications. Intuitions rang against the limits of her understanding like the clamor of bells. We are the Würd. Morninglight swirling with color like a portrait of the clachan in metaphor. A willow leaved in butterflies. Self-contemplation.
Power.
Dear God! She could hardly form words through the soundless adumbration of the chimes. The Elohim-! They're Earthpower. The heart of the Earth. Earthpower incarnate.
She could not think in sequence. Hopes and insights outraced each other. These people could do everything they wanted. They were everything they wanted. They could give any gift they chose, for any reason of whim or conviction...
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