The Oldest Story Ever Told – III

Angered by the insult meted out to his beloved Curiosity, Intelligence walked to the centre of the hall and blessed the young boy and the girl in a language so ambivalent that the Waterman’s Son couldn’t at once discern if it was really a blessing or something worse.

‘Sharp of eyes and ears,
I bless them with acumen more than their craniums can fit
Your generous deeds only and none others will ever overcome them
Soon enough their questions will range beyond your own wit’

Deciding that there was no trick concealed in Intelligence’s words, the Waterman’s Son gladly accepted his blessing. He didn’t seem to mind that neither Wisdom nor Patience came forward with their blessings. He was too busy eagerly looking forward to Purpose’s blessings. And right on cue, Purpose came forward to say exactly the words the Waterman’s Son wanted to hear.

‘Never hence shall walk on earth a pair so dedicated
to the whims and wishes of their creator, their father
I bless them with a vision
that never lets them astray
Their existence shall begin and end with their mission,
that is the only way’

With hollow eyes, the boy and the girl stared back at their guests with no hint of pleasure or perception passing over their wax figure like soulless countenance. However, the emotions that were inconspicuous on their little faces were over emancipated on that of their father’s, who made no attempt to hide his satisfaction over Purpose’s blessings, as he turned his expectant gaze towards Strength. Robust in her gait, Strength made her way to the boy and the girl. A stunned gathering watched as she seated them both on her lap, tickling their little feet, playing with their dark hair; softly she cooed her blessings directly to the children. The Waterman’s son strained to hear and could only catch her phrases.

‘Two together were in birth, if one is sky one is earth –
Children of no mother, you have no strength but each other

And then for the benefit of the Waterman’s Son, she continued out loud –

‘Carry my advice to your shroud; beware of attachments with the crowd.
Girl, I name you Kru; Boy, I name you Timir
Together you shall go down, in the histories of Gladrifir’


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