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Queen of the Sea

Fairest thing you’ve ever seen
Witch or goddess? In-between!
Lowly maiden like a Queen
Naime with green eyes

Lived along the sea alone
In a cottage made of stones
Where the wind would twist and moan
Under stormy skies

Naime, Naime! Lift your head!
Lift your voice and raise the dead
Sing sea to shore and hearts from stone
Sing the last lost soldier home
Sing to Heaven high above
Sing for pain and sing for love
Sing for me and me alone
Naime, on your throne

While the earliest known song* relating the legend of Naime dates to Hasafel’s time, there have been multiple versions of the tale set to music. One of the most popular (no doubt due to its rollicking, sea-cadence melody) is Queen of the Sea. While easily three hundred years old or more, it can still be heard nightly in the streets of Saint’s Walk in the Undercity.

Though the story of Naime is quite well-known, arguments persist about her origins. The main thread of the tale is rarely questioned: her being chosen as a sacrifice to the sea-god either to avert or in response to disaster, her singing in the hour of her death, the sea-god Hasal falling in love with her and raising the city of Hasafel from the sea for her.

However, the question of Naime’s slavery is hotly argued. Primarily, whether she was originally a slave, or if that detail of her history is due to a misunderstanding about the broken chains which lay at her feet in even the earliest representations of her. While some say the chains represent her bondage, other scholars insist that they are only the chains with which the villagers bound her to the rocks as a sacrifice for the sea-god, and do not indicate formal slavery.

There is some evidence that the slavery angle came to prominence in the years before Valnon’s founding, when St. Alveron and his people were in servitude to the warlord Antigus. There is no concrete evidence of her slavery even as little as a century before. However, the idea of Naime the slave becoming the queen of Hasafel is now so firmly meshed with her legend that there is no separating it. Once St. Alveron made his sister Lavras the Queen of Valnon, she was considered to be Naime reborn, and even now the most through arguments against Naime’s slavery find very little traction.

Hasafel’s earliest history has been nearly lost, with only fragments of oral history remaining. The Temple has tried to track down the pure strain of the legend, but it is so mixed with embellishments and time that the task is quite impossible. Naime will likely always be shrouded in mystery, and it is perhaps her elusive nature that makes her so appealing, and explains why Hasal and Naime persist in the modern Vallish consciousness when so many of the other old gods and goddesses have been all but forgotten.

*Naime’s Lament or Naime te M'hi (lit. The Tears of Naime). The 2nd century translation is the most commonly heard when it is not sung in the original Hasafeli.

Aftermath: A Sasil Ficlet

Author’s Note: I was quite pissed we only got two ‘snippets’ of Hasil and Sally-Ann on this week’s Outsiders. Although watching Hasil give a beat down to protect his woman made it all worth it :D. Anyway I decided to write my own little scene of the aftermath of that moment. I’m sure next week we’ll see the real deal, but until then I hope you enjoy. I tried to get their dialect, being a Southern gal myself I figured it would be easy, just try to write how I talk :D


“Sally-Ann!” Hasil’s voice reached out to her even closer now than it had been before when she had rushed from the violent scene at her house, but she didn’t stall her quickened pace. She kept heading through the path leading from her house out into town, though she had no set destination. “Sally-Ann,” Hasil called out again this time more softly as his hand gripped her shoulder stopping her movements and turning her to face him all at once. When she looked up at him with her face wet from her tears and her large eyes wide and wild as she stared back at his, Hasil had to swallow back the anger and shame that suddenly crept upon him. Shame and anger because he knew his actions had frightened Sally-Ann, even worse made her afraid of him. “Are you hurt?” He asked with his brows furrowed in concerned, as he cupped her face in both of his hands while his eyes inspected her from head to toe searching for any injuries.

“Did…did j’you…” She stuttered out not yet able to form the words. He watched her intensely with a tilted head as he silently regarded her, and gave her as much time as she might need to speak her peace. “Did j’you kill my brother?” She asked shivering slightly as fresh tears filled her eyes.

“No,” He denied with his words and a shake of his head. “No I ain’t kill him.” Sally-Ann released a relieved breath as her eyes rolled closed and freed the tears that had been hold onto the rims of her eyes. “But if’n he ever lay his hands on you again I will kill him,” Hasil declared as he pressed his forehead against hers, and she opened her sad eyes and gazed at him. He could still see some fear dwelling there but it was overshadowed by her obvious gratitude and appreciation for his words. “I swear ‘fo God I will.”

“I told j’you ta stay away, why didn’t ya just stay away?” She said as she raised her head breaking the connection, and she shoved at his chest but with no earnest intent to push him away. Her soft tone made the words less venomous as they had been when she had spoken them earlier to him. He smiled briefly as he leaned his head a bit and tracked her every movement holding her gaze with his own.

“Well ya might as well had told me ta stop breathin, or ta make my heart stop beatin, that’d probably be easier,” He stated around a crooked smile and Sally-Ann couldn’t help but to smile back in return at his sweet words. Words that were all the more endearing because she knew he wasn’t saying them trying to garner any kind of reaction from her, but because it simply was how he felt. “I told j’ya, I ain’t letting you go.” He added and his brows again creased as concern washed over his face. Concern she knew stemmed from his worry that she would continue to spurn him. She stared at this man, part wild child, before her letting her eyes roam over his face, branding every crevice to memory. She then reached up and mimicked his hands, cupping his face into her hands, rose up a bit onto her toes as she fused her forehead to his once again, and rubbed her nose against his for a second before capturing his welcoming mouth with her own. The kissing quickly deepened and Hasil moved his hands from Sally-Ann’s face to wrap around her body, as he held her closer. They didn’t care that they virtually stood in the middle of a busy street, couldn’t care less about the neighbors who were most likely peeping stunned eyes out at them from their windows and doorways. It had only been the need for air that had pulled them apart. “C’mon,” He spoke kindly as he gently grasped her left hand with his right one, entwined their fingers, and tugged her along with him as he began to walk away.

“Wait, where are we going?” She asked as she stopped and tried to pull free of his hold, but it only tightened. “Hasil ah can’t go up the mountain wit you. ‘Sides yer family will probably have tha same reaction ta me as my brother did wit j’you.”

“We ain’t goin up tha mountain, not taday at least.” He mumbled out that last part not wanting to frighten her off by the idea. “We going to ‘our’ place,” He announced and his words brought a warm blush to Sally-Ann’s face and a smile to her lips. She remembered how they had christened the house that had been her refuge, and made it their sanctuary. She allowed him to lead them onward, falling into step beside him. They walked on in silence for a few moments before Hasil spoke again. “But someday…not taday, but someday…ah want you ta come meet my people, and ya don’t need ta worry about nothing happen’n. They aint gone do noth’ ta you, and if they tried I’d kill’m, all o’vim.” Again his words made her paused in her steps. Hasil turned and cast her a look of wonderment at why she had stopped again. As she looked at him she could see and almost feel the true conviction of his words that he would without hesitation choose her over his own blood if it ever came down to it.

“Hasil Farrell, what am ah gonna do wit j’you?” Sally-Ann spoke out not needing nor expecting any reply, and she could tell by the cute confused look on his face that he really hadn’t understand her meaning.

“Well dat’s easy, just love me like I love you Sally-Ann,” He stated as he dipped his head and then turned it to the side coyly, purposely avoiding her gaze.

“Ah already do.” She replied and her confession made Hasil snap his head back to her, his mouth ajar and eyes full of awe. “And so long as ah love you and you love me, we’ll be able ta get through anything tagether.” Hasil smiled wider than Sally-Ann could ever recall seeing.

“Tagether,” He repeated as he raised her hand which he still held and brushed a kissed across her knuckles before they continued on their way.

kilép az ember a fürdőszobából,

és azt látja, hogy a lány anyaszült meztelenül hasal az ágyon, a szép nagy kerek fenekét az égbe tolva, feltárva mindent, amit fel lehet tárni, azonnal megindul minden, aminek ilyenkor meg kell indulnia, főhősünk lüktető fejjel és fasszal megindul a feltáruló csábítás irányába, a teljesen kiszáradt torkán még annyi tör fel, hogy

“rám vársz ezzel a csodás látvánnyal?”

“ja nem, csak így könnyebben tudok fingani, épp kieresztem a gázokat"

sírás, függöny le

Parti Nagy Lajos: Rímként a nyár

Micsoda már a délután, micsoda már,
a redőny leffedt legyező,
ha akarom, félig feltekert madár,
a strandon most csavarnám, épp most
csavarnám ki fürdőruhám,
kikerülném, de konokul csapódik ide
rímként a nyár,
micsoda már a délután, micsoda már,
ülhetnék pilledten földszintes
eszpresszók teraszán
s podravka pivóval olthatnám szomjam talán,
micsoda már ez a délután, micsoda már,
válthatnék rímet, mint inget
egy átizzadt fabulon-naptej és rexona
illatú füredi mozi után,
micsoda még a délután, micsoda még,
no lám, no lám,
mondhatni, fölöttébb izzik a nap,
s mint egy benzinkút ég,
s mondhatni, fű közül szemlélve
kiváltképp mondhatni,
selejtes tűzoltólétraként hasal a vízen a stég,
afelé haladtam lassacskán, s lám,
nem válik sehogysem teljessé metaforám,
micsoda még a délután s micsoda már,
ha lassan kiürülő strand lenne e vers, mi tagadás,
talaján Tandori lábteniszezne és Cseh Tamás,
és piszok lassan hűvösödne, és plédem alatt
óvatos csomókba húzódna össze a gyep,
s egy tévedésből útrakelt lángospapír
zsírozná össze füzetemet,
szóval egészen enyhén estébe hajlana már,
micsoda még ez a délután s micsoda már,
napolaj-maradék, alig innen
a bőrbe-szívódás pillanatán,
vagyis estébe hajlana, s égne a hátbőröm,
karbőröm, ahogy az alkonyat ég,
s hullnának vízcseppek, dalcseppek,
haját ha fésülné száz táncház, száz discoték,
no de ennyit a strandról,
amely mint vershelyzet eleve kitalált,
s ahonnan úgyis csak fáradtan ballagnék ki,
akár e szövegből,
tollait szorosan illesztve
nyugszik a redőnymadár,
túl a bőrbe szívódás pillanatán
mi lehet még ez a nyár, s micsoda már