Chapter Text
A nervous young man introduces himself as Tia, in need of shelter and uncertain of the customs kept by the dark-furred woman whose homestead he has stumbled upon. A new deckhand whose eyes gleam in the darkness is introduced to a weathered, windswept mate whose own eyes narrow to slits in the noonday sun. They stumble here and there as they introduce themselves, and as they appraise each other, and they wonder at times how someone who seems so similar to themselves can be so different.
There was a time, a very long time ago, when there were no Keepers or Seekers, nor were there villages or homesteads or tribes. Back then, Miqo’te were all one clan, and the clan had one chief, and she watched over her people wisely and well.
As the years passed, however, the chief grew old and weary, and she worried over the future of the clan without her. She had two daughters, you see, each of them well-loved by the clansfolk, but they each had their own ideas of how the clan should be led, and they came often to disagreements. Of course, it is not uncommon for sisters to have their quarrels, but the chief feared that if they did not come to some accord, the clan would tear itself apart at their behest.
She considered naming one of them her successor, but threw the idea away; she could not find it in her to place one of her daughters above the other when each was equally capable. Instead, she decided that she would test her daughters, and and have them compete fairly for leadership of the clan. That way, she reasoned, there would be no cause for resentment between them.
Both the daughters were equally capable, it was true, but they were as day and night in their talents. The elder was strong and brave; she could run under the midday sun until long after her huntmates succumbed to exhaustion, and feared no beast or enemy she could face down with her spear. The younger was clever and keen of eye and ear; she could track any quarry over even the hardest rock, or through the swiftest waters, and none in the clan had yet found a riddle that could give her pause. The chief thought long on how best to test them, that neither daughter be favored by the challenge itself, and, in time, she thought of a solution that satisfied her, and set to her preparations.
One evening, when all was ready, she called her daughters to her, and told them of the task she would set before them. Two medallions she had hidden, in places well-suited to each daughter’s talents. The daughters would leave at dawn on the morrow, find them, and bring them back to her. The first one to do so would be named the next chief of the tribe. They could have with them their weapons, and their hunting animals, and whatever tools they wished to carry with them, but no other member of the clan could assist them.
Both daughters eagerly accepted the terms of the competition, and they each went to their chambers to prepare. Not knowing what challenges awaited them, they prepared their weapons and ensured their hunting animals were hale and healthy - the elder kept with her a hawk, and the younger a hound. Lastly, before they fell to slumber, they each beseeched the gods for succor. And, as sometimes happens, or, at least, as happened long ago, the gods responded.
Azeyma admired the elder’s boldness and determination, and answered her plea. To her Azeyma gifted the strength to hurl her spear as far as she might need, or to draw back the mightiest of bows, and the keen eyesight to track a hawk across the sky, no matter how high it flew or how bright the sun. She cautioned her, though, that strength meant little without the wisdom to know how and when to wield it, and left the elder sister to ponder her advice while she awaited the dawn.
The younger, meanwhile, was answered by Menphina, who thought well of her quick mind. To her Menphina granted a cloak woven from the night sky itself, that she could stalk unseen past any prey or pursuer, and the ability to see clearly even in the deepest gloom. Menphina, too, had words of advice to give: she told the younger sister to remember that her prowess at the hunt was not for glory, but for the well-being of her home. The younger sister considered this as she drifted to sleep.
The next morning they left for the wilds and wished each other well, and each set off in search of her medallion. The eldest sent her hawk to find hers, and the youngest did likewise with her hound, and presently the beasts returned and led them in opposite directions, promising they had found the treasures.
The hawk led the elder sister to the mouth of a cave, and warned her that within lay a great network of tunnels, and that the medallion she sought was in the deepest depths of the caverns. The eldest was no great lover of depths, but she steeled herself and pressed onward into the darkness, lighting a torch so that she could see, and taking out a pot of paint so that she could mark her way.
More than one time she became lost, even with these aids, and she almost began to despair, but in time she came to a steep descent, at the bottom of which was the den of a great beast. She attempted to get a closer look, and as she raised her torch she saw the telltale glint of metal in the cavern behind it. As she did so, however, the light from the torch fell on the beast’s face, and it raised its head with a mighty growl, swinging its head toward the intruding light.
The sister reached for her lance, ready to fight her way to her prize, but as it stood and swing its tail around, the elder sister could see, in the cavern behind it, its small offspring, huddled together in a heap, and the sight gave her pause. She remembered the words of Azeyma, of the wisdom to know when to apply her strength. The beast made no motion to chase her, or to attack, only blocking the cavern entrance against her. She could not bring herself to believe her mother would have sent her to kill this creature, and its young, in their place of rest and safety. Not when they posed the clan no threat. There had to be another answer, she reasoned. With that, she made her way back to the surface, and traveled back toward her clan.
The younger sister, meanwhile, was led by her hound up a winding and treacherous mountain path. The going was difficult, with portions where she was forced to scale the sheer rock face, and the thinning air and harsh sun wore down her stamina. She pushed on, determined, and in time she came to a chasm too wide to leap across. On the other side a narrow bridge had been erected, held by ropes just so that it could fall into place across the gap if they were severed. Past the bridge she could see the medallion, glinting in the sunlight.
She took out her bow and set an arrow to the string, taking sight at the ropes. Try as she might, though, she could not hit them. The sun shone brightly above her; between the glare of its light and the sweat dripping down her face she could not see clearly to aim at her target. What was more, the exertion of the climb and the thinness of the air had left her struggling to draw back her bowstring. Determined, she loosed every arrow in her quiver at the rope, but to no avail, and she was forced to make her way back down the mountain, the bitter taste of failure in her mouth.
Each sister made her way back toward the clan’s home, and so before long they met on their way back. Each, sheepish, admitted their failure to the other, and when they found they had both been stymied by the test, they traded their tales of the day’s woes. With surprise, they realized, as one, that each of them thought the other’s challenge sounded simple, even trivial. Their hunting beasts looked on, silent, as they spoke, but exchanged a conspiratorial look with each other.
The gods love little more than to make mischief, as it turns out, and Azeyma and Menphina had decided to have a hand in the contest themselves. They had, before the sun’s rise, conspired with the hawk and the hound: the chief had previously told the beasts where both the medallions were, and instructed the hound to go to the cave and the hawk to the mountaintop, for she had hidden them there to test each sister’s strengths. The gods, however, had instructed them to do the opposite: to send the younger sister to the mountaintop and the elder to the cave’s depths, knowing they would fail, and wanting to know how they would respond.
The sisters did not know this, however, but still they agreed to a trade: each of them would set out again, but this time track down the other’s medallion, and whoever returned to the village first would be the victor, for this time they were confident they would retrieve the medallions.
The elder made her way up the mountain with renewed vigor, and in short order had found her way to the chasm. She took out her bow and drew back an arrow, her strength unflagging, and the sun’s light was no obstacle to her as she snapped the first rope. The second gave her more trouble, as her arrow lodged in the rope rather than breaking it, but she took out her spear and hurled it with all her might: her aim was true, and the bridge came crashing down, allowing her passage to the other side. She claimed the medallion there, and began to make her way back down.
Meanwhile, the younger went down into the caverns, and as she needed no torch to light her way, she did not wake the beast when she came to its lair. Carefully, she covered herself in her night-cloak, and crept into the lair, where she took the medallion from where it lay within the creature’s nest. Without so much as a sound, she made her way back out, up into the fresh air of the surface.
Again the two made their way back to the clan, and again they met when they were nearly there. Each imagined the other would rush toward their home, but they did not. Instead, they held out their hands to each other and returned together, knowing neither of them could have succeeded without the other’s aid.
In time they did come to lead the clan, both of them together, and they did so together for many long years. Their differences lead them apart eventually, and the clan split in two to follow them, but no great rift divided them in heart or spirit. Ever they remembered that their strengths were there to complement each other’s, not to drive them to conflict.
The mate, weary from a day’s labor, flashes a smile and a wave at the scout who clambers up the rigging to begin her watch - she’s learned quickly and well, and now is nearly as nimble at it as her mentor, and none on the ship is better suited to the night watch. Two brothers sit across from each other at a bar table, one dark like midnight and the other ruddy like a sunset, sharing stories over their drinks. Each is glad of the other’s presence, for while they have their differences, there is far more they understand of each other than that which they do not.