Bet's Mourning
Long ago, there was an elven woman loved by everyone. All the love she recieved, she gave back, be it to people, animals, or even the Flows themselves. She was not the prettiest, but little did she care and even less did it matter. In her prime, she refused any advances, saying she still had much to do and see before settling down and pass it onto her children. Those who conveited her grew impatient, insistant. Ignoring them, she went on to see the world and learn all she could.
When she came back, two small children in her arms, she looked the happiest she had ever been. Everything and everyone celebrated her return, gathering every night to listen to her stories. The fire would quieten, the wind stop, storms would suddenly stop, even her babies would never cry or fuss during storytime. However, no matter how many stories she told, never did she explain where those children came from. They were her treasure, the greatest gifts she could ever be given, that was all she would say.
After a while, no one asked anymore, and the children grew up to be as lovely as their mother. With the same white hair and pointed ears, they were her spitting image, at the exception of their eyes of the color of sunbathed moss. They were even closer to Flows than their mother, and quickly they were akin to the children of Flows themselves. The sky would turn grey if they were sick or hurt, birds would chirp twice as loud whenever they played outside, and animals would willingly approach them to play.
When they became a little more mature, this connection started to change, however. Nature suddenly became less welcoming, more depressed and gloomy. The sun would only catch a glimpse of them at dusk and dawn. Nocturnal creatures became acquainted to their presence, but wouldn't approach them. Flowers would wither after only half a day in their room. When Bet, inquired of her children's well-being, the eldest left. The youngest, with tears in their eyes, started crying and confessed to being the victim of possessive hands. A hole was left inside their frail body, sucking all the joy that used to thrive. Soon, there wouldn't be anything left but an empty shell.
Desperate to save the one thing she loved most, Bet begged the Flows. Carrying the weakened body of the youngest, she searched for her other child and collapsed near a pond. In the water, the moon was quietly looking at the eldest laying on the edge. Never before had Bet felt so alone. No creature cried with her that night. No wind howled with her. For an entire moon, Bet kept weeping near this pond, craddling the bodies of her children.
"Fear not, my loves," she whispered, leaving a final kiss on their foreheads. She had lost all ability to give. All she could do now was take. So she took the power of the Flows to turn her youngest into an arachne-like creature, a Tawkkêyuĉh, while the eldest became a Mêyêkêyuĉh, an equide-like creature. Leaving a gentle kiss on her beloved children, Bet asked one last thing of the Flows; on the forehead of the culprits would now appear the Mark of Scorn. A sign to every child once violated that now, they could take back what was stolen from them. Now, and forever.
Bet, still devastated by her loss, laid down next to the pond that had witnessed her children abused, and slowly closed her eyes, her hand dipped into the cold, crimson water. Her final gift to this planet, would be to join the stars that surround the Moon, so she would always be able to watch her children find peace.
When she came back, two small children in her arms, she looked the happiest she had ever been. Everything and everyone celebrated her return, gathering every night to listen to her stories. The fire would quieten, the wind stop, storms would suddenly stop, even her babies would never cry or fuss during storytime. However, no matter how many stories she told, never did she explain where those children came from. They were her treasure, the greatest gifts she could ever be given, that was all she would say.
After a while, no one asked anymore, and the children grew up to be as lovely as their mother. With the same white hair and pointed ears, they were her spitting image, at the exception of their eyes of the color of sunbathed moss. They were even closer to Flows than their mother, and quickly they were akin to the children of Flows themselves. The sky would turn grey if they were sick or hurt, birds would chirp twice as loud whenever they played outside, and animals would willingly approach them to play.
When they became a little more mature, this connection started to change, however. Nature suddenly became less welcoming, more depressed and gloomy. The sun would only catch a glimpse of them at dusk and dawn. Nocturnal creatures became acquainted to their presence, but wouldn't approach them. Flowers would wither after only half a day in their room. When Bet, inquired of her children's well-being, the eldest left. The youngest, with tears in their eyes, started crying and confessed to being the victim of possessive hands. A hole was left inside their frail body, sucking all the joy that used to thrive. Soon, there wouldn't be anything left but an empty shell.
Desperate to save the one thing she loved most, Bet begged the Flows. Carrying the weakened body of the youngest, she searched for her other child and collapsed near a pond. In the water, the moon was quietly looking at the eldest laying on the edge. Never before had Bet felt so alone. No creature cried with her that night. No wind howled with her. For an entire moon, Bet kept weeping near this pond, craddling the bodies of her children.
"Fear not, my loves," she whispered, leaving a final kiss on their foreheads. She had lost all ability to give. All she could do now was take. So she took the power of the Flows to turn her youngest into an arachne-like creature, a Tawkkêyuĉh, while the eldest became a Mêyêkêyuĉh, an equide-like creature. Leaving a gentle kiss on her beloved children, Bet asked one last thing of the Flows; on the forehead of the culprits would now appear the Mark of Scorn. A sign to every child once violated that now, they could take back what was stolen from them. Now, and forever.
Bet, still devastated by her loss, laid down next to the pond that had witnessed her children abused, and slowly closed her eyes, her hand dipped into the cold, crimson water. Her final gift to this planet, would be to join the stars that surround the Moon, so she would always be able to watch her children find peace.
Related to the Myth of Bet's Mourning.
