Matriarch, Healer, Lover
Posted on Tue Apr 23rd, 2019 @ 1:29pm by Bomoor Thort & Thane & Amare
2,500 words; about a 13 minute read
Chapter:
Chapter V: Unbound
Location: Grassland a few miles inland from the Great Cove of Üssina, Öetrago
Timeline: The morning after "Waves of Uncertainty"
OLD
The Ongree moved slightly closer to Bruta, but then hesitated, seeming to think twice about it. After a short moment, however, he placed a reassuring hand on the Ithorian's arm and smiled once again. "You'll find him, Mister Bruta, and no doubt Matriarch Mozo will feel just the same."
Bruta smiled. He had felt rather isolated on his journey thus far: the political world was so full and loud and yet, when it came to personal bonds, it was hard to build strong attachments. His own assistant, while present in spirit, failed to grasp the deeply personal nature of his trip to the continent. But here, on this calm ocean voyage, he found an unlikely companion who seemed to truly listen and consider his story without prejudice or judgement. Bruta had started to wonder whether such people existed in the galaxy.
“Thank you,” the long-serving diplomat spoke, his echoing words in Galactic Basic were soft and true, like the lapping waves, “You have my trust to get me to her safely.”
He reached out an arm and gave a short, encouraging pat on Yllib’s shoulder, “Come on, let us check on Llim below deck. You can tell us both about some of your own tales on the high seas. If my assistant refuses to feel the ocean breeze, he can at least hear about it!”
NEW
The sun was steadily reaching its full height and the heat was sending the native Öetragan bugs into a frenzied chorus of buzzing in the tall grass around the pathway the three travellers traversed. The larger Ithorian Bruta, conversing with their Ongree navigator, Yllib, at the front, with the younger Ithorian, Llim, bringing up the rear.
Every so often, a Finjik bug would dart out from the safety of the thick greenery and Bruta would demonstrate a seemingly-uncharacteristic agility in nabbing the bug in the air and crunching it into his mouth whole. Catching a healthy-looking specimen, he offered one to his assistant.
“You should try a fresh one, Llim,” he held his arm back and waved the bug about slightly, “Ithorians travelled the stars to get their hands on these little bugs but you can’t eat one unless it comes out of a packet?”
Llim's big knobby eyes blinked skeptically at the Finjik bug Bruta held in his grasp. He tried to mimic Bruta's nimbleness and technique, but Llim was as clumsy as he was sluggish. His long fingers were like chopsticks snapping with futile effort at flies in the air. Several embarrassing failures later, he let out a rumbling sigh and nodded his wordless reply. All he could think about was getting to back to his safe comfort zone surrounded by four walls, air conditioning, and technology.
Bruta shrugged and tossed his catch down his oesophagus once again. He could tell his companion was becoming irritable from the journey. Having spent much of the sea voyage below decks, he had hoped that his oddly nature-adverse companion would enjoy a pleasant ramble, but it seemed he was just as keen on this as everything else that had greeted him since leaving Mooko City. He wondered whether it was really nature he disliked or whether it was just the unknown.
Walking on a bit further, Bruta called for a short break and they sat down on a natural bench formed by a thick felled tree. They were now bordering some light woodland and, a short way through the trees they could see a lake glistening and they could feel the breeze of the wind as it crossed the calm water and gently moved the trees about them.
“A nice spot,” Bruta proclaimed, “Didn’t you say the Herd was currently situated by a lake, Yllib?”
"They are!" Yllib-Senob responded brightly, even as he inexpertly swatted a swarm of blood-lusting insects away from his face with his tatty tricorn hat. With his failure, he perched it once more atop his chinned head, looking back to his companions as he gave his face a vigorous, mindless scratch. "They've been there for some cycles now," he went on with an almost child-like enthusiasm, "got some semi-permanent structures cropping up. It's getting quite common for a few static satellite settlements to crop up around some of the larger herds when they set up shop for any long duration, especially if there are offworlders - Ithorian and non-Ithorian - congregating with 'em. The Elenca got themselves a few Conflict vets that never left, but they do what they can, I think."
The cheerful Ongree checked the old-fashioned timepiece strapped to his wrist, giving it a few shakes before holding it alongside his unseen auditory organs. "What about the last time you were wiv' 'em?" He asked, shrugging as he appeared to fail to hear anything from the wrist-worn device.
“I remember those times, during the second conflict…” Bruta reminisced, “The Elenca were such a force for good: many herd members going into warzones to offer aid and the others here working tirelessly to treat wounded and offer sanctuary. Bomoor was born at that time and grew up, seeing the good work they did for those who suffered during that fight. But the very last time I saw them, it was… when I came to take Bomoor offworld, to go to the Jedi on Coruscant.”
Bruta rubbed his palm between two long fingers as though nursing an ache or pain, “I walked with Mumin alongside a lake, much like this one and she made me promise her that the Jedi would protect our boy and steer him towards good.”
Deep in the Ithorian father’s chest, there was a little constriction of panic. He had been so certain at the time that he was leading his son down the right path. What was more noble and just than the path of a Jedi? But now, with Hul’s revelations gnawing at him, he felt like he had lied all those years ago.
“They are a loving people, but also a strong herd,” he turned and nodded at his travelling companions, “Let us not delay long here. I must speak with Mumin as soon as I can.”
After a short amble around the pure, blue waters of the lake, the group began to walk among small structures: modest but efficient huts constructed from earthy brown soil on the exterior but with clean and modern interiors. While the Elenca stayed true to their organic roots for most aspects of life, their medical influence meant they did not ignore the good practice of clean and sterile living and working spaces.
As they walked towards some of the larger buildings, they began to see the odd person, busily tending to their livelihood or keeping their home. Most of the faces they saw were Ithorian, but they soon noticed a Twi’lek woman tinkering with a water pump at the lake’s edge. Her green skin was mottled and scarred on the left side of her face and part of her lekku had been severed on this side, with some kind of advanced prosthetic in its place.
The woman spotted the group and began wiping her hands with a cloth before hopping up from the bank and approaching them.
“Well I zertainly’ did not expect to zee’ your funny old face here today, Yllib!” she addressed their guide warmly, “Av’ you finally come back to me after sailing all ze’ oceans like you promised?”
"Oh," the Ongree began bumbling awkwardly, backing up slightly towards Bruta, in a show of appearing either panicked, or as though he had just been caught out doing something he should not. Either way, the end result was still his undersized tricorn tipping to the floor, with Yllib-Senob then scurrying about the dirt to squirrel it back onto his head-chin. "Jiljoo!" He continued, still on his hands and knees. "I, uhh, well... no- yes!" Yllib managed to bring himself back to full height, stumbling slightly to regain his balance as he offered Jiljoo a nervous upside-down smile. "But I, uhh... umm..."
The Twi’lek, known as Jiljoo to Yllib, looked to the younger Llib, who stood beside the Ongree looking equally confused and gave him a sly wink before addressing her old friend again in a friendly tone, “I am only pulling ‘ze leg, silly Yllib. But it is good to ‘zee you.”
She then peered around Senob at his other Ithorian companion, “Who are your friends? I feel like I know ziz’ one.”
Bruta answered for himself, stepping forward to get a better look at the woman himself, “I am Bruta and yes, I believe I have met you before. But you would have been much younger. You used to play with my son.”
“My goodness!” exclaimed Jiljoo, her flirty façade melted away immediately, replaced with something between shock and excitement, “You are Bomoor’s father? Mother Mumin… she…”
The woman composed herself somewhat and asked with slight suspicion, “What iz’ it you are here for?”
Bruta had wondered what his reception would be like with the herd, not knowing what conclusions had been drawn about his disappearance all those years ago after taking Bomoor away. He had often wondered if he had been cast as a villain of sorts. While he knew Mumin would never lie about him, she may not have gone out of her way to correct people’s assumptions.
The young Twi’lek woman had been an orphan of war, having been taken in by the Elencan healers who had been unable to save her father during the Second Outer Rim Conflict. Bruta had seen her many times when she was a child and would have liked greatly to speak to her again about those times, but his current uncertainty led him to keep his thoughts on his task.
“I am here to see Herd Leader Mozo,” he stated plainly, “Where might I find her?”
With a quizzical eye, trying to read the intentions in Bruta’s eyes, Jiljoo once again rubbed down her hands with the cloth and extended an arm behind her, “Come, I will take you to ze’ grove where she iz’ teaching.”
With an appreciative bow of his head, Bruta followed her, with the rest of the group alongside him.
Jiljoo led them away from the waters edge and further into the settlement. The place began to look more like a permanent residence with buildings with solid foundations and cobbled roads. But no natural structure had been displaced: the roads and houses bent around large rocks and trees so that their path was windy and irregular but eventually they found themselves at the heart of the settlement.
The town centre was a small grove of trees, around which hugged the cobbled street. Within the grove, the residents had cultivated beautifully bright beds of flowers and, hanging from the tree branches, there were small pear-shaped lanterns of varying sizes, which presumably lit up at night and illuminated the clearing. Surrounding a stone sculpture in the centre of the grove was a gathering of mostly-Ithorian children all listening to an Ithorian woman wearing a flowing purple robe and adorned with various bangles on her arms and an elaborate gold-coloured headpiece that hung between her eye-stalks.
As their Twi’lek guide brought them closer, Bruta knew without a doubt that the woman was Mumin. He came to a halt and just watched her for a moment. The others stopped and observed with him, quickly realising what had made him stop. Some of the Ithorian children there were little more than pupa but they were hanging on her words as she spoke and gestured about. He remembered the stories and lessons she used to give to Bomoor and his young friends, including Jiljoo: stories of the Mother Jungle, the lost homeworld of Ithor and the gift that was within every being to nurture the world around them and keep it healthy.
“Does she often teach the children?” Bruta asked of Jiljoo.
“Mother Mozo always az’ time for ze’ children” Jiljoo seemed keen to profess the herd leader’s kindness, “’Ze’ children are tomorrow’s caretakers of ze’ planet’ she always says, ‘If we do not take time for zem’, why should they take ze’ time for Mother Jungle.’”
“Of course,” Bruta replied, his eyes softening as he looked onward at the display. Without thinking, his heavy, tree trunk-like legs began were propelled forth and he slowly drifted into the clearing with his other party members in tow.
Jiljoo still seemed uneasy and sped ahead to get Mumin’s attention, “Mother Mozo!” the Twi’lek waved her hands hurriedly across the gathering of young humanoids, “I am sorry, but you should know zat’ you av’ a visitor. It is…”
Before she could finish, Mumin had spotted her visitor and she spoke his name softly in Ithorese, quiet but loud enough for Bruta to hear her familiar melodic resonance. She seemed almost to chuckle inwardly to herself, looking downwards and shaking her head.
“Choom loumruto!” she called out to the gathered children in the native tongue, Enough for now!
This was met with dismay with a number of the children whining their complaints.
She continued, I will see you here tomorrow. Now attend to your duties and be ever mindful of the blessings of your surroundings.
As the children dispersed, Mumin stepped down from the short platform she had been upon and wandered towards Jiljoo and the rest of the group.
“Siikia…” she began, before changing her mind and switching to basic, “My dear, you have brought Bruta back to me. You are very kind. Do you remember Mr Thort from when you were a child like these ones here?”
Mumin was clearly very aware of Bruta’s expectant gaze, but she seemed to find it important to address Jiljoo first, or perhaps she simply found it easier.
“Uh, yes, Mother Mozo,” the green-skinned young woman replied respectfully, “And little Bo. I mean, ‘Bomoor’.”
“You were good friends with my little boy,” Mumin chortled gently, remembering the little pet name, “He is a Jedi now; healing people among the stars.”
She paused, now looking to Bruta with suddenly sad eyes, “Yet, I feel that this visit has something to do with Bomoor. I have always felt him, even when he was so far away and yet he feels so, so far now; further than he has ever been.”
Bruta had wondered for so long what he might say, but he always knew that Mumin was sure to surprise him with her wise presence and keen insight. He sensed no hostility towards him, not even after the long silence between them.
This man who had tabled negotiations between worlds could not find his voice and, instead, simply stepped forward and embraced his old love. Falling deeply into her arms, passing an understanding between them that even the Force or the Mother Jungle could not surpass.
TBC
RSS Feed