New Eyes of the Ninth Snow

New Eyes of the Ninth Snow


It was getting colder now. He could feel it coming to get him. Tom glared silently at the bright fires and the feasting and celebration. They were celebrating. They were having a good time. They were happy. Even from a safe distance, he could smell the strong wine; hear the laughs and the music, the dancing.

The dancing.

He could hear the screeching of the roaring bonfires; taste the curling smoke, carried by the wind. The only thing he couldn’t feel was the heat from those fires.

The warmth.

Tom just sat there, in a quiet torrent. His eyes were paralyzed; fixed on the joyous figures, fixed with resentment and anger. He sat there long, feeling the cold saunter slowly closer to his shivering body.
Soon, the fires lessened and the voices were softer. When they would all go home to sleep in sweet dreams and fulfillment, it would come. The Winter would, in a horrible realization and expectancy, arrive. And Tom had to watch it happen.

Realizing that he couldn’t bear to watch anymore, he got up from his dark corner in the empty streets before him, and stayed as far away from the People as possible. They would try to invite him over, to share their happiness, but he would not have it. None of his fellow persons would.

He staggered down the dead streets, to a dead end where there was an opening. A hill displayed itself from this opening, its long grasses sliver in the sodden moonlight. Tom studied them for a minute, mesmerized by their dance as the soft breeze continued to breathe upon their waving masses. Soon they would be gone. It was their last dance. Tonight would be their last dance underneath the pale moon. When the moon would shine tomorrow night, it would not cast silver; it would be casting white on white, white on freezing snow.

Tom cried then, bowing his head, knowing that Celebrations by the Faired-Haired always brought the Death to the warm sun, the living things. He thought no one was there to see him cry, but from the corner of his watery eye he caught a glimpse of movement at the top of the hill. Looking up, he saw there was a shadow there; absorbing the moon’s light, taking the silver away from the grass….

“How did you get up there?” he whispered to himself, for there was not a soul around the last time he viewed the hill. Wiping away his tears, he advanced the hill. “Who are you?” he asked, his voice wavering. The figure just sat there, without sound.

Tom was frightened. But then the shadow sung:

Sweet cold, why do you
Take away to leave so few?
When you are here
You take no fear
In causing joy but many’s tears…

It was a girl who chanted, sweet but ominous, chilling Tom more than the frosty wind. He stood there, trying to make sense from the bitter words, that didn’t make any sense at all. But then she moved into his view, and the moon cascaded its White Light Cloak around her, illuminating her young fair skin and almost white hair.

Tom gasped. It was one of Them. One of The Faired- Haired. She was young; not more than eight or nine, almost his age. “Why are you here?” he demanded, feeling that they had violated his space, the last thing he could value after they had taken over.



She answered in a tiny voice, “I am here because I wish it, and so I am.”

Tom was once again silenced for a moment but then asked another:

“Why are you not celebrating with the others?”

“Because I don’t want to.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t like it.”

Tom stopped there. Obviously she wasn’t going to explain much further. So he asked about the song.

“I sing it because it is sung by the Snow Lords and Snow Ladies,” she answered, “It brings the snow faster. But I wasn’t singing it because I wanted snow; I was singing it because it was sad.”

“Are you sad?”

“Yes.”

“Why? The Faired-Haired won the war, and now you get to rule for five years and everybody knows that when you rule there is Winter for five years. And everybody knows that you love cold and,” he squinted in disgust, “snow... So what’s the problem?”

She just sat there and looked at him. It seemed like forever. Tom wasn’t surprised. She was one of them and they didn’t talk to Dark- Haired, the Syradils. He was surprised he even carried a conversation so long with her. Disgusted in himself, he turned to walk away, seeing she wasn’t going to answer.

“Wait” she cried, “Follow me.”

She started to walk towards the great Silver Field of grass over the hill. Tom knew he shouldn’t go, but the Girl haunted him, and she would not leave his mind until he quenched his curiosity. He watched the retreating figure slowly waltz down the hill and vanish from his view, and decided to follow her.

She strode gracefully, with Tom not far behind her. The moon cast soft pastel shadows upon them on the silver field of grass. He watched her golden hair blow in the breeze, silky and long. She seemed to not be even touching the cold ground, but even so she quickly went on with her bare feet stroking the pallid green grass. It was so quiet, the air, amid the silent puffs of wind, and not even the girl herself made a sound. The keen scent of mint was tickling the boy’s nose, sweet and sugary, lightening up his taste buds. The girl led him over a cluster of massive rocks, after they had crossed the vast plain. As he stumbled after her poised climb over, he started to hear a hymn in the wind’s voice. It was calling to him…a sweet, but ominous tune…

Once reaching the other side of the boulders, on the top of them facing the moon, he witnessed another plain, but it had a great waterfall, tumbling from the rocks down into the shallow valley without a single sound. The rocks he had climbed formed an enormous circle, with another plain in the heart of it. Amid the glassy waterfall, little glowing lights pranced about, enlightening the pool around them. It was the most beautiful sight Tom had ever seen.

“It’s like a dream,” he whispered to himself, astounded by the serene atmosphere the place had. The eerie tune he heard before was stronger now, and distinct voices could be heard singing. Then he noticed that the girl had vanished. “Girl, where are you?” he asked quietly.

He looked down below, and she was by the waterfall. She put a finger to her mouth, signifying him not to talk, and then she pointed to a space beside her. There, hidden by the cascading waterfall, danced circle of tall, slender figures. They waltzed about, in elegant movement.

“Their song,” he exclaimed, “It’s hers…”

“Dancers,” said the girl softly, “Of Snow Lords and Ladies.”

Tom nodded, but not in disgust. “The Snow Lords and Ladies’ song is so strange….I feel sleepy…”

His voice faded out, and a sudden weariness of tranquility came over him, and he almost fell into a trance.

Sweet cold, why do you
Take away to leave so few?
When you are here
You take no fear
In causing joy but many’s tears…

Sweet but sour
Are your snow-showers
Giving life to all
Who
Deserve
To
Have
It….

The tune carried on in frivolous nonsense Tom couldn’t understand. He was perplexed; but was content at the same time. The melodic hymn caused him to be in a state of wonder. Sitting down, he continued to fix his green straining eyes on the group of tall fairytale like creatures. Their hands slashed through the falling water, splattering droplets of clear water everywhere. Suddenly, the girl was sitting next to him on top of the rock mass.

Without turning from his view, he said, “They have blond hair like you. It is long and silky. They have white skin, with a hint of red in the cheeks, like you. Look, do you see how their bodies cut through the water like a knife?Do you see the lavender flowers the women wear in their hair? So interesting… How can they dance so long over and over when it is so cold? They wear almost nothing. No shoes. Why? ….”



She just sat there, nodding.
He didn’t even blink.

“Why do they do they sing that song?” he continued, mesmerized on the dancing figures. “It is so sad. I thought they were trying to bring sn-…”

The girl cut him off.

“They sing because they understand the cruelty of the world. Most people don’t know how the winter is brought. We won the war, yes, but it isn’t without consequences. They understand that, Snow Lords and Ladies, the Eternal Dancers. So they are the only ones that are capable of bringing snow to the side that has won. I am a part of the Circle. The Circle they dance in. My sister sings. Do you hear? She sings well.”

“But why do you sing so sad? Why must you bring winter when you win?” Tom replied, facing her now, surprised she had spoken so much.

“You silly Summer Boy. DO you not understand anything? They also summon Summer when you win. It is their duty, to end the death and bring happiness in a compromise that will never end. Soon, these wars won’t be so friendly; the Sides will fight with malice and deceit, bringing the World into an ultimate hole of suffering.”

Tom didn’t understand. He was astonished at the little girl’s amazing wisdom and maturity. He felt shamed in her presence.

“So why are you not Dancing?”

The girl moved her gaze from the Dancers to his puzzled face. He almost fell off the rocks. Her eyes were so very large and bright, penetrating his very soul. It was the first time he had looked at them. She had always had her head bowed. And now, her whole pale face was glowing with mixed emotions and a sadness, and her eyes reflected it. Tom was sorry he even asked.

“I cannot dance,” she uttered, bowing her head. “I am forbidden. I am not of pure Dancer Blood….And those who are not have told the Secret of Dancers to outsiders….”

Tom knew it was something that meant a lot to this Girl, and felt great Pity. “I am so sorry!” he cried, and without any sense of reality, suddenly thrust comforting arms around the heartbreaking figure.

Girl choked as he slowly pulled away. “What’s the matter?” he asked.

A tear slipped from her eye, plummeting down her youthful cheek.

“You care.”

Tom was mute. This poor little Girl. She had turned from a person 100 years past her time, to a little 8 year old girl, right before his eyes.

He said nothing, she spoke none. And they both turned to watch the figures Dance.

And the voices singing got louder, and the purple sky breathed, exhaled a mighty wind, and white diamonds stumbled down from the Sky’s Mouth. The song was stopped; the Dancers seized their dance and looked up at the sky. It had begun.

Tom just sat. And a gentle snowflake licked his skin, but he did not flinch. He just watched. And the girl looked at him. “The snow,” she said, “It does not hurt anymore, does it?”

He just nodded.

“My name is Misty.”

Tom turned his gaze from the Heavens and looked at the girl, who was not so pale and sad as before.

“Tom.”

And they both continued to cast their New Eyes at the Ninth Snow of the decade, the Snow which would be glorified as one of the most important events of Their lifetime, Everyone’s.


*****************
I know it doesn't really make sense, but you kinda hafta make up you own explanation as best you can. I decided to make this even longer later as a full story!