Blue Bird of Hope

[wrecking_yard]

I had returned home to visit, and after all the expected fussing, had managed to assure everyone I was alright enough to retreat to the hammock by the Hedgetree; there were a couple new beds of the pixie flowers on either side. It was good to finally get a peaceful nap.

I started to wake up to the voices of the children of the fledgling hamlet, all gathered and whispering.

"Never seen one like that..."

"So pretty-"

"Ssshhhh you'll scare it!"

No sooner had I started to wake up than there was a small rush of wings near my head, and a chorus of disappointed noises from the children before one chimed in, "It's still here - there, up in the branches!"

And of course, half hidden in the leaves, there were two long tattletale blue feathers trailing.

"Isaudorel there was a bird sleeping in the hammock with you!" It quickly turns into a chorus of everyone talking at once about the strange blue bird; there's the few children I remember that were adopted, a couple of Garlean refugee children, a couple of kids that are probably Ala Mhigan, and a fledgling Ixal.

I sat up in the hammock, raising a hand, and they all hushed while I settled on the ground in the small clear space with them. "She is a very special bird - she's just skittish and shy."

I have all of their attention now, waiting for the story; Meteion hasn't moved from her hiding place in the Hedgetree.

"You see, a very long time ago, before any of the eras we know, the world was very different, and men had the power to create nigh on anything they imagined - from simple trinkets to great beasts. They had chosen to try to steward the world, carefully debating what was made and how it would impact all else. Among these was a brilliant and kind man named Hermes, who particularly loved flying things but carried a great sadness; some of his peers took their living creations lightly, as they could be unmade with a whim. Beyond that, he was very soft-hearted, and sorrowed for every creature that was unmade - he wept for even the most vicious and terrible beasts, caring for them as living souls."

One small hand went up. "Even Morbols?"

He stared off, into the middle distance beyond the trees somewhere. "Yes, including the great and terrible forebears of the Morbols, who were not among the creatures deemed of no value, as they would serve to protect wild places, as they do now. Anyway."

I sighed. "Hermes wondered what would come of their quest for perfection of the world, and oft questioned the meaning of even his own life and authority. He looked up to the stars and thought - there had to be others beyond the sky, other worlds and minds who would have ideas and perspectives far different from the ones he lived among. His people were basically happy, and he thought other worlds also had to be so; and he wondered at what the others thought and felt. So, he bent all his wit and will toward studying the ephemeral power carried by emotions, and created a flock of beautiful birds who could commune via those subtler means, sharing the emotions and memories of others. They were young and innocent, and as his children; moreover, they could all reach out to one another, able to act as one mind - so that what one saw and knew, the others would know."

There was a moment as several of the children looked up into the tree, and while there was a small rustle shifting in the branches, Meteion stayed put.

"Afraid of what would come if he debated it with his peers, he sent all but one of them into the stars, to seek out whatever other souls they may find; that one stayed with him, waved off as a 'personal project' to any questions about her existence. She stayed with him as if she were his own daughter, and loved him in return, ever wanting to see him happy, and he gently guided her on how to speak to others, as her sisters scattered to the heavens, each separate on their own quest; and he promised her that he would make beautiful flowers for her when their journey was over."

One boy started to put a hand up and had it nudged down by the girl next to him.

"He did not know what they would find - that there were dead and dying worlds, worlds that had warred with one another until all involved were husks, empty worlds with nothing left to show who had lived there or what had become of them; the birds who spread to the stars reached out to whatever they found, be it survivors or shades and memories, and did as they were bade, taking all the memories and emotion into themselves - but it was an awful, terrible burden. As they communed with each other, they found themselves sharing in the sorrows and suffering of a hundred dead and dying worlds, and did not know what to do; all the lives lost and hurt became a flood they were drowning in, until they could see nothing but despair, and called back to their lone sister that they had an answer to what lay beyond.”

“She heard them, shared their flood of pain, and grew terrified. At first she fled from Hermes, not wanting to burden his gentle soul with all the horrors they had seen. It did not last, and she was drawn in with her sisters, who had concluded that the only mercy in the face of so much suffering was an end. Hermes sorrowed for them, but could not bring himself to stop them, and did not know what to do; he erased his memory and let them go."

I took just enough of a pause to check that Meteion had not moved - if anything, she had shrunk herself in among the branches.

"They flew to a place at the edge of the stars, and there began to sing of oblivion - of all the despair they had seen, all the pain, and the inevitable end all things face eventually. The song grew and grew, until it was strong enough to draw others in, and spread from one to another, making the fears and doubts and pain into reality, beasts and forces of destruction. The last ancients used their power to forestall the destruction, not knowing how or why it was happening, and the world changed to what we know now. Of course, so long as the song continued, it would only put it off; sooner or later, the song would grow strong enough to get through."

There were still questioning looks between him and the tree.

"Was that the rain of fire and the creatures that everyone was so afraid of? When we were going to go to the moon?"

There hadn't been very many Blasphemies in this area, and the residents of the orchard had used the fae gifts wisely to mostly avoid notice, but it was hard to miss the near end of the world.

"It was. Many people worked together to learn the truth - of the Song of Oblivion and where it came from, how to get there, and whether to confront it or flee; eventually Hydaelyn herself was consulted, and She lent her faith and power to bring hope to the end of the stars and the source of the Song."

There were several squints - I was condensing a huge amount, and only part of it was not wanting to go into all the details with the kids.

"And that's when you and the others went off in the big ship."

I slumped over. I'd been planning on trying to passive voice out of it and gloss over details of personal involvement until I was both more up to discussing it that openly and had a better idea of how to approach it with the children without traumatizing them or lying to them. "Yes, we went to Thule. It was a very hard journey, and after fighting to lend enough hope to change the echoes of dead worlds, I had come to a dead end, blocked by the same bird that had stayed with Hermes; the only way forward was to find a way to confront her despair and hopelessness. We called on the memory of the Ancients, to summon a field of shining flowers, blooms the Ancients had discovered that would change color to echo strong emotions. They shone in glimmering rainbows, proving that hope existed even there - and Meteion saw the flowers Hermes had promised her, so long ago... and she broke free of her sisters." I tipped my head, making sure they made the connection to the bird in the tree, whose temptation to try to disappear was almost tangible.

"She led us to them, through their memories of the awful things they had seen, and tried to treat with them - to stop the Song, to stop hurting others. So far as I know, at least most of the others could not break free, banished with the longing for the end they sought to spread; and when the Song of Oblivion was silenced, she sat weeping in the dark place, looked to me and said what Hermes had taught her to say to new people she met - 'My name is Meteion. May we please be friends?' - and held out her hand, to share in my memories."

Meteion was still hiding.

"I shared all of my hopes and joys, the times we had fallen and recovered, how many awful things we had saved others from, all the new life we had seen the face of desolation, and she sang one last Song for everyone - a song of hope and rebirth, of new life growing from the most terrible death and emptiness. Then, she made sure I made it back to the others; I did not know she had hidden on the ship and returned with us until I saw her soaring through the sky when we had all recovered."

There was a moment of silence, then about fifty questions overlapping each other from less than half that many children, as they had all realized I had left a great deal out; I let them chatter, finally waving a hand to shush them. "Yes, yes, there are many other stories in that one, but I'm tired and we would be here until the next Era were I to cover everything all at once."

"Not yet thirty and already a grouchy old man," my sister chimes in from where she's wandered in behind the children.

"You go to the end of the universe and slog through the last memories of dying worlds and see how long it takes you to dust off and have the energy to be all bright and chipper after."

"You were already a grumpy old man in a young man's body years ago."

There's an insistent little hand in the air, and I shoot her a look and focus my attention back on the children.

"So why's she hiding now?"

Skittish, shy, but no; it's more than that. "I think.... she feels awful because of how many people the Song of Oblivion hurt - and when you know you've hurt people it's hard to feel like you deserve to be around them; you grow afraid of people hating you for it, and maybe believe they should hate you for it. To be honest, though, were I snatched from the boughs of the Hedgetree as a child to face those horrors alone, I don't think I would've fared any better; and they were as children."

She still isn't coming down for me, but all of the gathered kids are looking up into the tree now, focused on the little flicker of blue.

"It's okay Meteion, we don't hate you!"

"Can you play with us?"

"Do pretty things help? there's pretty rocks in the brook! And flowers!"

"My name is Lisalee, may we please be friends?"

"Come down and say hi!"

The kids are at it for a minute, Meteion huddled in the branches in pure bewilderment - then Grandmother comes over with a tray. "Alright all of you, I have candied apples and honeycakes for everyone -" She pauses, fixing a steely gaze in the tree. "And I do mean everyone."

There's finally a little shuffle, and then a small blue bird fluttering down to hover in front of the little gathering; nobody defies Gran.

I lean toward her, just a little. "It's alright. You can shift - it'd be easier to eat with hands."

The little bird looks between me, and Gran tapping her foot expectantly, and all the kids, then shimmers and Meteion lands, the first time I've seen her in her humanoid form since Thule. She doesn't even manage to get the courage to speak before the kids are chattering again.

"So pretty!" "You're like us!" "She looks like Garuda!"

And then they're all hovering around her, one tugging her wrist toward the tray sitting on a little stone stool.