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[ineffable-angel.livejournal.com]

Date: May, 2000
Setting: Manor Grounds
Status: Public
Summary: A General Announcement and a meeting.



There had been a sign Aziraphale had sellotaped to the edge of his desk a few days ago, since his conversation with Hermes. It was simple, and drew a few questions, but Aziraphale rather liked it. It read:


Mr. Fell's Storytime. Come one, come all!
Saturday after tea.


It made him feel like one of the readers from that show, Jackanory. Except Aziraphale was rather grateful he didn't resemble Prince Charles or the like.

It was now three o'clock and he was sitting in the library, a large, weathered book open in his lap. He had his glasses on, sliding as they were, and a glass of water sat on a coaster within arm's reach. There were pillows strewed about in the small space in front of him, and the bookshelves stretched back. Aziraphale stroked his chin, deep in thought, as he mouthed the words of the next passage.

"Never was the dawn so beautiful," he said to himself, tapping the page. He was so wrapped up in the text and the elaborate illustrations he hadn't noticed the newcomer.

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[ineffable-angel.livejournal.com]

The storyteller noticed nothing, not the newcomer or anyone, really. He began again, low but clear, his very British voice enunciating his words brilliantly. He sounded like one of those grandfather storyteller figures.

It was extraordinarily contrasting to his appearance (if not his clothing).

"When the sky thus fell on Earth, the gods opened up four roads beneath the land, where they created four giants and some sturdy trees. And then together - the gods, the trees, the giants - all tried to lift the Earth from under the vales of tears. They heaved and pushed until the land rose upwards and all the water fell away. At last they managed to fasten the land securely to the sky.

"But the Earth was still plunged in utter gloom; it had no dawn, no dusk, no sunlit days. The vales of tears were salty, there was thus no fresh water, for no Sun appeared to draw the tears back up to heaven and change them into rain.

"It was then that the gods resolved to give the world a fifth and final Sun. They argued loud and long, but eventually it was decreed: There had to be a Sun.

"And there must be moonlight while the Sun is at rest.

"But who would do the job?

"After all, the first four Suns had died away. The gods ordained a sacrifice: whoever volunteered would not live to see themselves as Sun or Moon, but would have to change their form so that the Sun and Moon could last forever.

"Only one god came forward," and here Aziraphale looked up, apologetic as he attempted the next word. The language of the Aztecs were not quite his specialty, and while he had approved of cocoa he rather disliked the sacrificing to the gods aspect. "Tecuciztecatl, God of Snails and Worms. He was rich and strong and vain. He thought by sacrificing himself he would gain immortal glory. He wished therefore to be the Sun.

"No one else was willing. Uneasily, the gods looked around them; there had to be a second sacrifice to make the Sun and the Moon. Their gaze fell at last upon a humble goddess in their midst: Little Nana, the unsightly one. If she agreed, the gods declared, they would transform her body.

"Poor Nana did not want to die. Yet she smiled gently when they told her she might light up and warm the Earth; for she might help little children not yet born.

"The gods began their preparations. Two tall stone altars were erected: one for the Sun, one for the Moon - though which was which had yet to be agreed. Both sacrifices were bathed and dressed in their own way.

"The God of Snails and Worms put on a fine plumage and brightly-coloured robes, earrings of tourquoise and jade, and a collar of shining gold.

"Little Nana had no such finery. So she daubed her red-raw body white and donned a thin, torn paper dress. That was all."

[diaktoros.livejournal.com]

Hermes itched to lean up and look at the word, and taste it, wrap his tongue around and through the exotic collection of sounds. He didn't want to spoil the enchantment, though, so he sat still and merely fidgeted with his hands a little to stave off a bit of the energy. So strange, how so many had myths involving a world-wide flood. And why would the god of snails and worms be rich and strong? And what was this obsession with the one ugly deity? (Hermes was still confused about that one, even though his own pantheon had Hephestus)

This is why Old Stories enthralled him--so many points of similarity, so much to discuss and wonder about!