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The Spirit of Giving

Myst image (c) Cyan Worlds, Inc. All rights reserved.
Christmas-fying by Salar :)
written Dec 2002 by Salar ~ Susan M
This one is dedicated to Gildor & Frodo & Elf mage & similar minded folk :)
Pondering the joys of cross-cultural (mis:)communications
"The Lord loveth a cheerful giver"
( & since "a thankful heart is a happy heart," He must love cheerful receivers as well )
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The warm rays of an early winter afternoon light played over the small valley, lighting dusky-rose-colored walls of small stone cottages encircling the lake at the end. The sheer rock caught and held the light for a time, the perfect arch seeming to pen in the golden stuff, willing it to remain and save extras heat for the creatures huddled a small distance from its base.
As the last light escaped into the fir trees above the rise, intricate oil lamps lit ornate panes and illuminated hand-carved shutters. A good sized fire blazed on the earnest faces seated around the natural stone amptitheater that had been carved by a glacier moving past the village's location long, long ago. Atrus felt chilled, frustrated, and weary but he braced himself to yet another patient, friendly speech to bring the negotiations (hopefully) to a successful conclusion. The locals had not said “no” but they hadnt said “yes”
It had been a long day already. The local villagers seemed amenable to Atrus' requests for a study space on the wide ledge of a cliff wall near the village but gaining formal acceptance proved difficult. In fact, communication remained a problem generally.. Their language expressed many abstract and complex ideas in terms of ancestral traits and "spirits." As a result, all detailed/technical discussions sounded like the work-up to an exorcism. Yet it was important to Atrus that they understand exactly what he was doing before he began next spring, and what his limits were. (The last tribe had been very angry when he insisted on going home only a month after being declared an honorary member...) And every explanation seemed to start the process all over.
For their part, the Ciricans had never met someone who had such a constant need of the story of every ancestor, angel, and myst-ical being ever known just to express himself. Atrus ran out of regular words every other sentence! Could he not do that which was simple? 
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