The story of Cadmium Nevern
A normal day of slicing and gutting in the tumbledown building the fishermens’ wives barely occupied as they delivered fish to an unknown table. One lonely young woman, Kellojan had lobored hard and alone for many year since her husbands death out in the great curved yonder of the oceans. With only the collective guilt of the community’s stoney heart as solace she hung onto her life in a mossy cabin between a cottage and the burial mound of an ancient Queen long forgotten. Working all shifts she could muster she survived in that manless void. Privately she was glad though, not that her husband was difficult when he had lived. For she heard all the niggles and moans the other wives brought to the gutting tables. and so in some way she felt freer than ever before. For without the boon of husbandry she knew life better she felt.
And so this day a wayward piece of dead magic slammed onto the tables in front of them. A dead sea goat stared mightily into Kellowan’s eyes. she stood transfixed by its goaty fishiness. But as they all knew – never turn away the open mouth of magic. Pulling in as much breath as she could she sliced the magic down the length of its chest lest she be accused of half measures. All looked on in anticipation for the community’s fortune to change. Girding herself Kellojan drew the knife along its course as gently as she might for a dead lover in case she ruined that which occupied its skin.
And rightly she did so for after some moments of fluidic and guttural display a babe of silver and scaled colouration slithered from the primordial mass. It had fingers and toes and limbs alike to humanity. And last they saw a head with eyes and mouth – all accoutrements humans roundly expect in their copy. The wives all stood in mutely sway around her, even the oldest amongst them was without opinion. This had never been heard of upon the vine of human hearths. The babe broke the silence by a tiny mewling cry. Without thought Kelojan held the child to herself, wiping the mucous of scale and mush away from his skin. Yes, a him, she realised.
Kellojan regarded the eyes of the women. Whether she could see criticism, fear or joy in their eyes was indeterminable at this juncture.
‘I take the magic as mine to bring up as my own child. I do this for the community, not myself.’she said, surprising herself by her sagacity. Tension evaporated from them but as one they all ensured who else might have been present during the event. Certain no creeping eye might alter the story later on they returned to their friends the fish of the seas.
And so time proceeded from its own habit. Kellojan’s winter however remained littered with the heads of dead fish, as was the nature of her work. The community gradually and eventually offered her small tokens for her responsibility of the youngster. Whether by the return of the more timeless fishermen from the high seas brokered a smattering of responsibility for Kellojan through her dead husbands memory, she knew not. However little things shifted as the sands in the dunes at the shore’s edge. And then one darkening day when all the women kicked their heels for fish to gut the religious man of the village approached them in his battered clothes of office. The majority of the women scattered like reluctant seagulls from the attentions of some mad bovine leaving only Kellojan staring blankly out to sea, as was her general manner when the women gossiped. He stood in front of her waiting for her attention for it was with she he wished to commune.
‘Kellojan?’he said quietly into the wind. Slowly she responded to her name and turned her face up to his. ‘I feel that your boy should come into the church for his soul to be recognised by the Lord.’
‘Who asked you to say this?’
‘I say it.’he said, his voice quavering slightly at her recognition of village will.
‘But who would come?’
‘You and I and the Lord.’he said.
‘And my son.’
‘And your son, yes.’
She looked up into his eyes then to see what was there. He looked young for someone religious. She did not look away as was her general experience of humanity. She looked more into him and he her. She laughed.
‘I don’t see what harm could come of him in your ceremony. I might gut fish for the rest of my life but I think I can see where my path wishes me to go.’
‘I think you are sensible in this.’he said.
‘When do you suggest we might conduct this thing?’
‘Perhaps next week?’he said. Her brow furrowed and her lips whistled as breath drew in upon them and returned to their expected position. Once more she looked out to the sea in consultation and, finally happy, her gaze wandered back to the priest’s whipping black dress.
‘Mmm, I think two weeks this Monday might suit him better.’she said loosely.
‘Agreed. I shall make the arrangements and let the village know of its occurrence.’he said walking off. And so the event somehow landed precisely upon the winter solstice. Whether the priest knew or not could not be perceived by the villagers, but they presumed so. That they knew cannot be denied for they had been chiselled from old blood. The church within the village had chunks of the old inside its walls. Great spires of rock dotted along the curving walls of the church’s squat functionality.
Kellojan knew the villagers acceptance of the ceremony for they left her a some swaddle of clothing for the boy to celebrate this action. Other items like flowers and peat for the fire lay against her dilapidated doorway to her home.
So some weeks later the ceremony arrived by nature’s turn and Kellojan dutifully appeared at the tiny church, babe in arm, after work when the sun had already dipped into the underworld again. Pushing the heavy short door aside she peered into a darkness deeper than the outside she then stood. Stepping into the church she shut the door upon the hysteria of the elements. The quiet allowed her moments to become accustomed to the interior as it now lay. And her eyes began to perceive some guttering light across the pews near the altar. There she sighted the priest waiting patiently for her as though the Lord expected him to wait forever. He probably would have done too, thought Kellojan lingering at the threshold. No other inhabited the four walls than them.
Her feet carried her momentarily to the altar. Saying nothing with polite manners or words of mundane recognition she entered into the priests bubble of spiritual sanctity, just as he did hers. The old and the new came together in simple commune. The baying elements could now be discerned battering at the rocky face of the church as though baying for participation. The boy chirruped in her arms in some feral expression of the divine.
‘Come closer.’he said. As she reached the altar so she noticed a wooden bowl of water in the depths of the candle’s shadow. The priest held out his arms to her. She gazed at him in heart.
‘I offer this boy to you my Lord and Lady.’she said. The priest accepted the boy from her without chastisement for adhering to the old ways. Taking him in his arms the Priest gently dabbed the water upon his brow and said those words which his license gave him. And she in her own turn pulled some small package from the folds of her dress. Some stick of bundle from the land she lit from the candle of the Lord and strew the smoke about him supplicating the deities of Old. Nor did he judge or cast rationalisms upon her reality. In a way he felt honoured she saw his kindness was visible and open to hers. He smiled in thanks to her.
‘What is the name you wish to be his?’asked the Priest.
‘Cadmium.’she said directly.
‘Lord…’
‘And Lady.’
‘I… we name this child Cadmium.’he said.
‘And ask the sea for its blessing upon him.’she responded. ‘For it is she who delivered him to me.’she said by way of explanation. The priest looked at her. Struck by something of her. A knowing of things or an understanding within her he had not noticed. She also looked and saw.
For being a man was no crime as a Priest. Although recently dispatched from Seminary he had seen of the world but none had he seen like this woman. He was dumbstruck by her majesty he realised now. And she in turn was observing his maintenance of innocence which struck her as rare or odd perhaps.
Here they both lingered at the altar with the child from the sea. After some long time of guttering candle and brushing of wind upon granite they came to one another in consciousness. She came round the altar and took the boy from his arms and placed him tidily in a corner next to the biggest megalith. She held out her hand to him in waiting. He looked at her in her honesty and then examined himself to discover whether he had feeling this way. Knowing that guided him to lead her to a small chamber behind the altar by the hand.
In that chamber they lay with one another where the elements may speak and the moon and the stars roam freely in the sea and the no thought is left unturned. And finally they looked into one anothers eyes as they had so simply and easily at the altar. That night they became a family.
And in the morning as the light grew from the slitted windows the Priest and Kellojan waited for the Verger to arrive. Cadmium still lay with the megalith quietly disposed. For they must be married now otherwise the village would chatter without rest. This was the only option the Priest saw since Kellojan felt a change in her body she knew meant greater change.
So, that morning they were married at the altar of the sea child’s naming by the Verger. She chortled at the news, as though she knew; or in fact that the whole village knew before they had met that this eventuality was plain to see.
‘Would you like any help moving your belongings to the Priests house?’said the Verger, with her smile abeam.
‘I haven’t very much to move.’said Kellojan.
‘I will help you then. It is not so far is it?’
‘Thank you Verger. I must tend to the cows of Gelente this morning.’
‘When will you be home?’
‘By nightfall, I never know how long my day will take. Excuse me now for it is the dawn and best when cows respond to the harkening of the spirit.’he said, leaving with a quiet hug. The Verger waited until the Priest had left until she spoke of mundane things.
‘I am glad you two have understood each other.’she said. ‘Did you not think why nobody came to your son’s naming?’
‘No. I had not seen the Priest until those weeks ago and still I do not know whether he has a name other than Priest.’
‘Perhaps he will tell you tonight. Your mother would be happy for you too.’
‘I think she would. But why do you think so?’
‘Because he is so much connected to the substance of things. You know that, as does everyone else.’
A normal day of slicing and gutting in the tumbledown building the fishermens’ wives barely occupied as they delivered fish to an unknown table. One lonely young woman, Kellojan had lobored hard and alone for many year since her husbands death out in the great curved yonder of the oceans. With only the collective guilt of the community’s stoney heart as solace she hung onto her life in a mossy cabin between a cottage and the burial mound of an ancient Queen long forgotten. Working all shifts she could muster she survived in that manless void. Privately she was glad though, not that her husband was difficult when he had lived. For she heard all the niggles and moans the other wives brought to the gutting tables. and so in some way she felt freer than ever before. For without the boon of husbandry she knew life better she felt.
And so this day a wayward piece of dead magic slammed onto the tables in front of them. A dead sea goat stared mightily into Kellowan’s eyes. she stood transfixed by its goaty fishiness. But as they all knew – never turn away the open mouth of magic. Pulling in as much breath as she could she sliced the magic down the length of its chest lest she be accused of half measures. All looked on in anticipation for the community’s fortune to change. Girding herself Kellojan drew the knife along its course as gently as she might for a dead lover in case she ruined that which occupied its skin.
And rightly she did so for after some moments of fluidic and guttural display a babe of silver and scaled colouration slithered from the primordial mass. It had fingers and toes and limbs alike to humanity. And last they saw a head with eyes and mouth – all accoutrements humans roundly expect in their copy. The wives all stood in mutely sway around her, even the oldest amongst them was without opinion. This had never been heard of upon the vine of human hearths. The babe broke the silence by a tiny mewling cry. Without thought Kelojan held the child to herself, wiping the mucous of scale and mush away from his skin. Yes, a him, she realised.
Kellojan regarded the eyes of the women. Whether she could see criticism, fear or joy in their eyes was indeterminable at this juncture.
‘I take the magic as mine to bring up as my own child. I do this for the community, not myself.’she said, surprising herself by her sagacity. Tension evaporated from them but as one they all ensured who else might have been present during the event. Certain no creeping eye might alter the story later on they returned to their friends the fish of the seas.
And so time proceeded from its own habit. Kellojan’s winter however remained littered with the heads of dead fish, as was the nature of her work. The community gradually and eventually offered her small tokens for her responsibility of the youngster. Whether by the return of the more timeless fishermen from the high seas brokered a smattering of responsibility for Kellojan through her dead husbands memory, she knew not. However little things shifted as the sands in the dunes at the shore’s edge. And then one darkening day when all the women kicked their heels for fish to gut the religious man of the village approached them in his battered clothes of office. The majority of the women scattered like reluctant seagulls from the attentions of some mad bovine leaving only Kellojan staring blankly out to sea, as was her general manner when the women gossiped. He stood in front of her waiting for her attention for it was with she he wished to commune.
‘Kellojan?’he said quietly into the wind. Slowly she responded to her name and turned her face up to his. ‘I feel that your boy should come into the church for his soul to be recognised by the Lord.’
‘Who asked you to say this?’
‘I say it.’he said, his voice quavering slightly at her recognition of village will.
‘But who would come?’
‘You and I and the Lord.’he said.
‘And my son.’
‘And your son, yes.’
She looked up into his eyes then to see what was there. He looked young for someone religious. She did not look away as was her general experience of humanity. She looked more into him and he her. She laughed.
‘I don’t see what harm could come of him in your ceremony. I might gut fish for the rest of my life but I think I can see where my path wishes me to go.’
‘I think you are sensible in this.’he said.
‘When do you suggest we might conduct this thing?’
‘Perhaps next week?’he said. Her brow furrowed and her lips whistled as breath drew in upon them and returned to their expected position. Once more she looked out to the sea in consultation and, finally happy, her gaze wandered back to the priest’s whipping black dress.
‘Mmm, I think two weeks this Monday might suit him better.’she said loosely.
‘Agreed. I shall make the arrangements and let the village know of its occurrence.’he said walking off. And so the event somehow landed precisely upon the winter solstice. Whether the priest knew or not could not be perceived by the villagers, but they presumed so. That they knew cannot be denied for they had been chiselled from old blood. The church within the village had chunks of the old inside its walls. Great spires of rock dotted along the curving walls of the church’s squat functionality.
Kellojan knew the villagers acceptance of the ceremony for they left her a some swaddle of clothing for the boy to celebrate this action. Other items like flowers and peat for the fire lay against her dilapidated doorway to her home.
So some weeks later the ceremony arrived by nature’s turn and Kellojan dutifully appeared at the tiny church, babe in arm, after work when the sun had already dipped into the underworld again. Pushing the heavy short door aside she peered into a darkness deeper than the outside she then stood. Stepping into the church she shut the door upon the hysteria of the elements. The quiet allowed her moments to become accustomed to the interior as it now lay. And her eyes began to perceive some guttering light across the pews near the altar. There she sighted the priest waiting patiently for her as though the Lord expected him to wait forever. He probably would have done too, thought Kellojan lingering at the threshold. No other inhabited the four walls than them.
Her feet carried her momentarily to the altar. Saying nothing with polite manners or words of mundane recognition she entered into the priests bubble of spiritual sanctity, just as he did hers. The old and the new came together in simple commune. The baying elements could now be discerned battering at the rocky face of the church as though baying for participation. The boy chirruped in her arms in some feral expression of the divine.
‘Come closer.’he said. As she reached the altar so she noticed a wooden bowl of water in the depths of the candle’s shadow. The priest held out his arms to her. She gazed at him in heart.
‘I offer this boy to you my Lord and Lady.’she said. The priest accepted the boy from her without chastisement for adhering to the old ways. Taking him in his arms the Priest gently dabbed the water upon his brow and said those words which his license gave him. And she in her own turn pulled some small package from the folds of her dress. Some stick of bundle from the land she lit from the candle of the Lord and strew the smoke about him supplicating the deities of Old. Nor did he judge or cast rationalisms upon her reality. In a way he felt honoured she saw his kindness was visible and open to hers. He smiled in thanks to her.
‘What is the name you wish to be his?’asked the Priest.
‘Cadmium.’she said directly.
‘Lord…’
‘And Lady.’
‘I… we name this child Cadmium.’he said.
‘And ask the sea for its blessing upon him.’she responded. ‘For it is she who delivered him to me.’she said by way of explanation. The priest looked at her. Struck by something of her. A knowing of things or an understanding within her he had not noticed. She also looked and saw.
For being a man was no crime as a Priest. Although recently dispatched from Seminary he had seen of the world but none had he seen like this woman. He was dumbstruck by her majesty he realised now. And she in turn was observing his maintenance of innocence which struck her as rare or odd perhaps.
Here they both lingered at the altar with the child from the sea. After some long time of guttering candle and brushing of wind upon granite they came to one another in consciousness. She came round the altar and took the boy from his arms and placed him tidily in a corner next to the biggest megalith. She held out her hand to him in waiting. He looked at her in her honesty and then examined himself to discover whether he had feeling this way. Knowing that guided him to lead her to a small chamber behind the altar by the hand.
In that chamber they lay with one another where the elements may speak and the moon and the stars roam freely in the sea and the no thought is left unturned. And finally they looked into one anothers eyes as they had so simply and easily at the altar. That night they became a family.
And in the morning as the light grew from the slitted windows the Priest and Kellojan waited for the Verger to arrive. Cadmium still lay with the megalith quietly disposed. For they must be married now otherwise the village would chatter without rest. This was the only option the Priest saw since Kellojan felt a change in her body she knew meant greater change.
So, that morning they were married at the altar of the sea child’s naming by the Verger. She chortled at the news, as though she knew; or in fact that the whole village knew before they had met that this eventuality was plain to see.
‘Would you like any help moving your belongings to the Priests house?’said the Verger, with her smile abeam.
‘I haven’t very much to move.’said Kellojan.
‘I will help you then. It is not so far is it?’
‘Thank you Verger. I must tend to the cows of Gelente this morning.’
‘When will you be home?’
‘By nightfall, I never know how long my day will take. Excuse me now for it is the dawn and best when cows respond to the harkening of the spirit.’he said, leaving with a quiet hug. The Verger waited until the Priest had left until she spoke of mundane things.
‘I am glad you two have understood each other.’she said. ‘Did you not think why nobody came to your son’s naming?’
‘No. I had not seen the Priest until those weeks ago and still I do not know whether he has a name other than Priest.’
‘Perhaps he will tell you tonight. Your mother would be happy for you too.’
‘I think she would. But why do you think so?’
‘Because he is so much connected to the substance of things. You know that, as does everyone else.’
(NOOSPHERE:UPLOAD:DANU:A-PROHIBITED-PLACE-CADMIUM-NEVERN:REQUEST:FEEDBACK)
