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    The quest of Iranon

    Μοιραστείτε

    The Margrave
    Χωρικός
    Χωρικός

    Αριθμός μηνυμάτων : 85
    Ημερομηνία εγγραφής : 20/05/2012
    Ηλικία : 24
    Τόπος : Αθήνα

    Armory
    : 4

    The quest of Iranon

    Δημοσίευση από The Margrave Την / Το Σαβ Ιουν 02, 2012 2:59 am

    Χαίρετε.
    Πρόσφατα διάβασα ένα μικρό διήγημα του Lovecraft, το οποίο αν και όχι ιδιαίτερα αντιπροσωπευτικό του μου έκανε μεγάλη εντύπωση και σα γ*** τα παιδιά που είμαι αποφάσισα να το μοιραστώ μαζί σας.






    The quest of Iranon

    Into the granite city of Teloth wandered the youth, vine-crowned, his yellow hair glistening
    with myrrh and his purple robe torn with briers of the mountain Sidrak that lies across the
    antique bridge of stone. The men of Teloth are dark and stern, and dwell in square houses, and
    with frowns they asked the stranger whence he had come and what were his name and fortune. So
    the youth answered:

    “I am Iranon, and come from Aira, a far city that I recall only dimly
    but seek to find again. I am a singer of songs that I learned in the far city, and my calling
    is to make beauty with the things remembered of childhood. My wealth is in little memories and
    dreams, and in hopes that I sing in gardens when the moon is tender and the west wind stirs
    the lotos-buds.”

    When the men of Teloth heard these things they whispered to one another; for
    though in the granite city there is no laughter or song, the stern men sometimes look to the
    Karthian hills in the spring and think of the lutes of distant Oonai whereof travellers have
    told. And thinking thus, they bade the stranger stay and sing in the square before the Tower
    of Mlin, though they liked not the colour of his tattered robe, nor the myrrh in his hair, nor
    his chaplet of vine-leaves, nor the youth in his golden voice. At evening Iranon sang, and while
    he sang an old man prayed and a blind man said he saw a nimbus over the singer’s head.
    But most of the men of Teloth yawned, and some laughed and some went away to sleep; for Iranon
    told nothing useful, singing only his memories, his dreams, and his hopes.

    “I remember the twilight, the moon, and soft songs, and the window where
    I was rocked to sleep. And through the window was the street where the golden lights came, and
    where the shadows danced on houses of marble. I remember the square of moonlight on the floor,
    that was not like any other light, and the visions that danced in the moonbeams when my mother
    sang to me. And too, I remember the sun of morning bright above the many-coloured hills in summer,
    and the sweetness of flowers borne on the south wind that made the trees sing.

    “O Aira, city of marble and beryl, how many are thy beauties! How loved
    I the warm and fragrant groves across the hyaline Nithra, and the falls of the tiny Kra that
    flowed through the verdant valley! In those groves and in that vale the children wove wreaths
    for one another, and at dusk I dreamed strange dreams under the yath-trees on the mountain as
    I saw below me the lights of the city, and the curving Nithra reflecting a ribbon of stars.

    “And in the city were palaces of veined and tinted marble, with golden
    domes and painted walls, and green gardens with cerulean pools and crystal fountains. Often
    I played in the gardens and waded in the pools, and lay and dreamed among the pale flowers under
    the trees. And sometimes at sunset I would climb the long hilly street to the citadel and the
    open place, and look down upon Aira, the magic city of marble and beryl, splendid in a robe
    of golden flame.

    “Long have I missed thee, Aira, for I was but young when we went into
    exile; but my father was thy King and I shall come again to thee, for it is so decreed of Fate.
    All through seven lands have I sought thee, and some day shall I reign over thy groves and gardens,
    thy streets and palaces, and sing to men who shall know whereof I sing, and laugh not nor turn
    away. For I am Iranon, who was a Prince in Aira.”

    That night the men of Teloth lodged the stranger in a stable, and in the morning
    an archon came to him and told him to go to the shop of Athok the cobbler, and be apprenticed
    to him.

    “But I am Iranon, a singer of songs,” he said, “and have
    no heart for the cobbler’s trade.”

    “All in Teloth must toil,” replied the archon, “for that
    is the law.” Then said Iranon,

    “Wherefore do ye toil; is it not that ye may live and be happy? And if
    ye toil only that ye may toil more, when shall happiness find you? Ye toil to live, but is not
    life made of beauty and song? And if ye suffer no singers among you, where shall be the fruits
    of your toil? Toil without song is like a weary journey without an end. Were not death more
    pleasing?” But the archon was sullen and did not understand, and rebuked the stranger.

    “Thou art a strange youth, and I like not thy face nor thy voice. The
    words thou speakest are blasphemy, for the gods of Teloth have said that toil is good. Our gods
    have promised us a haven of light beyond death, where there shall be rest without end, and crystal
    coldness amidst which none shall vex his mind with thought or his eyes with beauty. Go thou
    then to Athok the cobbler or be gone out of the city by sunset. All here must serve, and song
    is folly.”

    So Iranon went out of the stable and walked over the narrow stone streets between
    the gloomy square houses of granite, seeking something green in the air of spring. But in Teloth
    was nothing green, for all was of stone. On the faces of men were frowns, but by the stone embankment
    along the sluggish river Zuro sate a young boy with sad eyes gazing into the waters to spy green
    budding branches washed down from the hills by the freshets. And the boy said to him:

    “Art thou not indeed he of whom the archons tell, who seekest a far city
    in a fair land? I am Romnod, and born of the blood of Teloth, but am not old in the ways of
    the granite city, and yearn daily for the warm groves and the distant lands of beauty and song.
    Beyond the Karthian hills lieth Oonai, the city of lutes and dancing, which men whisper of and
    say is both lovely and terrible. Thither would I go were I old enough to find the way, and thither
    shouldst thou go an thou wouldst sing and have men listen to thee. Let us leave the city Teloth
    and fare together among the hills of spring. Thou shalt shew me the ways of travel and I will
    attend thy songs at evening when the stars one by one bring dreams to the minds of dreamers.
    And peradventure it may be that Oonai the city of lutes and dancing is even the fair Aira thou
    seekest, for it is told that thou hast not known Aira since old days, and a name often changeth.
    Let us go to Oonai, O Iranon of the golden head, where men shall know our longings and welcome
    us as brothers, nor ever laugh or frown at what we say.” And Iranon answered:

    “Be it so, small one; if any in this stone place yearn for beauty he
    must seek the mountains and beyond, and I would not leave thee to pine by the sluggish Zuro.
    But think not that delight and understanding dwell just across the Karthian hills, or in any
    spot thou canst find in a day’s, or a year’s, or a lustrum’s journey. Behold,
    when I was small like thee I dwelt in the valley of Narthos by the frigid Xari, where none would
    listen to my dreams; and I told myself that when older I would go to Sinara on the southern
    slope, and sing to smiling dromedary-men in the market-place. But when I went to Sinara I found
    the dromedary-men all drunken and ribald, and saw that their songs were not as mine, so I travelled
    in a barge down the Xari to onyx-walled Jaren. And the soldiers at Jaren laughed at me and drave
    me out, so that I wandered to many other cities. I have seen Stethelos that is below the great
    cataract, and have gazed on the marsh where Sarnath once stood. I have been to Thraa, Ilarnek,
    and Kadatheron on the winding river Ai, and have dwelt long in Olathoë in the land of Lomar.
    But though I have had listeners sometimes, they have ever been few, and I know that welcome
    shall await me only in Aira, the city of marble and beryl where my father once ruled as King.
    So for Aira shall we seek, though it were well to visit distant and lute-blessed Oonai across
    the Karthian hills, which may indeed be Aira, though I think not. Aira’s beauty is past
    imagining, and none can tell of it without rapture, whilst of Oonai the camel-drivers whisper
    leeringly.”

    At the sunset Iranon and small Romnod went forth from Teloth, and for long
    wandered amidst the green hills and cool forests. The way was rough and obscure, and never did
    they seem nearer to Oonai the city of lutes and dancing; but in the dusk as the stars came out
    Iranon would sing of Aira and its beauties and Romnod would listen, so that they were both happy
    after a fashion. They ate plentifully of fruit and red berries, and marked not the passing of
    time, but many years must have slipped away. Small Romnod was now not so small, and spoke deeply
    instead of shrilly, though Iranon was always the same, and decked his golden hair with vines
    and fragrant resins found in the woods. So it came to pass one day that Romnod seemed older
    than Iranon, though he had been very small when Iranon had found him watching for green budding
    branches in Teloth beside the sluggish stone-banked Zuro.

    Then one night when the moon was full the travellers came to a mountain crest
    and looked down upon the myriad lights of Oonai. Peasants had told them they were near, and
    Iranon knew that this was not his native city of Aira. The lights of Oonai were not like those
    of Aira; for they were harsh and glaring, while the lights of Aira shine as softly and magically
    as shone the moonlight on the floor by the window where Iranon’s mother once rocked him
    to sleep with song. But Oonai was a city of lutes and dancing, so Iranon and Romnod went down
    the steep slope that they might find men to whom songs and dreams would bring pleasure. And
    when they were come into the town they found rose-wreathed revellers bound from house to house
    and leaning from windows and balconies, who listened to the songs of Iranon and tossed him flowers
    and applauded when he was done. Then for a moment did Iranon believe he had found those who
    thought and felt even as he, though the town was not an hundredth as fair as Aira.

    When dawn came Iranon looked about with dismay, for the domes of Oonai were
    not golden in the sun, but grey and dismal. And the men of Oonai were pale with revelling and
    dull with wine, and unlike the radiant men of Aira. But because the people had thrown him blossoms
    and acclaimed his songs Iranon stayed on, and with him Romnod, who liked the revelry of the
    town and wore in his dark hair roses and myrtle. Often at night Iranon sang to the revellers,
    but he was always as before, crowned only with the vine of the mountains and remembering the
    marble streets of Aira and the hyaline Nithra. In the frescoed halls of the Monarch did he sing,
    upon a crystal dais raised over a floor that was a mirror, and as he sang he brought pictures
    to his hearers till the floor seemed to reflect old, beautiful, and half-remembered things instead
    of the wine-reddened feasters who pelted him with roses. And the King bade him put away his
    tattered purple, and clothed him in satin and cloth-of-gold, with rings of green jade and bracelets
    of tinted ivory, and lodged him in a gilded and tapestried chamber on a bed of sweet carven
    wood with canopies and coverlets of flower-embroidered silk. Thus dwelt Iranon in Oonai, the
    city of lutes and dancing.

    It is not known how long Iranon tarried in Oonai, but one day the King brought
    to the palace some wild whirling dancers from the Liranian desert, and dusky flute-players from
    Drinen in the East, and after that the revellers threw their roses not so much at Iranon as
    at the dancers and the flute-players. And day by day that Romnod who had been a small boy in
    granite Teloth grew coarser and redder with wine, till he dreamed less and less, and listened
    with less delight to the songs of Iranon. But though Iranon was sad he ceased not to sing, and
    at evening told again his dreams of Aira, the city of marble and beryl. Then one night the red
    and fattened Romnod snorted heavily amidst the poppied silks of his banquet-couch and died writhing,
    whilst Iranon, pale and slender, sang to himself in a far corner. And when Iranon had wept over
    the grave of Romnod and strown it with green budding branches, such as Romnod used to love,
    he put aside his silks and gauds and went forgotten out of Oonai the city of lutes and dancing
    clad only in the ragged purple in which he had come, and garlanded with fresh vines from the
    mountains.

    Into the sunset wandered Iranon, seeking still for his native land and for
    men who would understand and cherish his songs and dreams. In all the cities of Cydathria and
    in the lands beyond the Bnazic desert gay-faced children laughed at his olden songs and tattered
    robe of purple; but Iranon stayed ever young, and wore wreaths upon his golden head whilst he
    sang of Aira, delight of the past and hope of the future.

    So came he one night to the squalid cot of an antique shepherd, bent and dirty,
    who kept lean flocks on a stony slope above a quicksand marsh. To this man Iranon spoke, as
    to so many others:

    “Canst thou tell me where I may find Aira, the city of marble and beryl,
    where flows the hyaline Nithra and where the falls of the tiny Kra sing to verdant valleys and
    hills forested with yath trees?” And the shepherd, hearing, looked long and strangely
    at Iranon, as if recalling something very far away in time, and noted each line of the stranger’s
    face, and his golden hair, and his crown of vine-leaves. But he was old, and shook his head
    as he replied:

    “O stranger, I have indeed heard the name of Aira, and the other names
    thou hast spoken, but they come to me from afar down the waste of long years. I heard them in
    my youth from the lips of a playmate, a beggar’s boy given to strange dreams, who would
    weave long tales about the moon and the flowers and the west wind. We used to laugh at him,
    for we knew him from his birth though he thought himself a King’s son. He was comely,
    even as thou, but full of folly and strangeness; and he ran away when small to find those who
    would listen gladly to his songs and dreams. How often hath he sung to me of lands that never
    were, and things that never can be! Of Aira did he speak much; of Aira and the river Nithra,
    and the falls of the tiny Kra. There would he ever say he once dwelt as a Prince, though here
    we knew him from his birth. Nor was there ever a marble city of Aira, nor those who could delight
    in strange songs, save in the dreams of mine old playmate Iranon who is gone.”

    And in the twilight, as the stars came out one by one and the moon cast on
    the marsh a radiance like that which a child sees quivering on the floor as he is rocked to
    sleep at evening, there walked into the lethal quicksands a very old man in tattered purple,
    crowned with withered vine-leaves and gazing ahead as if upon the golden domes of a fair city
    where dreams are understood. That night something of youth and beauty died in the elder world.


    http://www.hplovecraft.com/writings/texts/fiction/qi.asp


      ____________
    One is driven to exclaim, oh God, that bread should be so dear, and human flesh so cheap.



    Lady Melisandre
    Φύλακας του Νότου
    Φύλακας του Νότου

    Αριθμός μηνυμάτων : 1221
    Ημερομηνία εγγραφής : 04/05/2012
    Ηλικία : 28
    Τόπος : Asshai

    Armory
    : Lannister Lannister

    Απ: The quest of Iranon

    Δημοσίευση από Lady Melisandre Την / Το Σαβ Ιουν 02, 2012 1:27 pm

    Θεοί Shocked
    Όντως δεν έμοιαζε πολύ με Λάβκραφτ αλλά ήταν πολύ, πολύ καλό! Ανατρίχιασα στο τέλος Neutral
    (Κι αυτοί οι κάτοικοι της Τέλοθ, πόσο προτεστάντες ρε φίλε give up )


      ____________

    The Margrave
    Χωρικός
    Χωρικός

    Αριθμός μηνυμάτων : 85
    Ημερομηνία εγγραφής : 20/05/2012
    Ηλικία : 24
    Τόπος : Αθήνα

    Armory
    : 4

    Απ: The quest of Iranon

    Δημοσίευση από The Margrave Την / Το Σαβ Ιουν 02, 2012 1:33 pm

    Είναι πράγματι λίγο δύσκολο να μην ανατριχιάσεις στο τέλος.


      ____________
    One is driven to exclaim, oh God, that bread should be so dear, and human flesh so cheap.



    Arianne Martell
    Κόκκινη Ιέρεια
    Κόκκινη Ιέρεια

    Αριθμός μηνυμάτων : 625
    Ημερομηνία εγγραφής : 04/05/2012
    Ηλικία : 24
    Τόπος : Sunspear

    Armory
    : Baratheon Baratheon

    Απ: The quest of Iranon

    Δημοσίευση από Arianne Martell Την / Το Κυρ Ιουν 03, 2012 3:18 pm

    Πραγματικά είναι πολύ καλό!


      ____________
    Stars,hide your fires;
    Let not light see my black and deep desires.

      Η τρέχουσα ημερομηνία/ώρα είναι Δευ Δεκ 05, 2016 10:38 pm