Knowing What to Say, Part III
When Nourd had first gone to the Temple of Words, he hadn’t cared for it. He had thought books were barbaric monstrosities, destroying so many trees and berries to create something humans scribbled on. But the more he’d gone, the more he’d realized their significance. In the forest, stories were passed down by telling them. If there wasn’t enough time to tell all of them, then they were lost. But humans had so many stories, and they wanted to preserve them. And there was poetry. A way for humans to imagine what others imagined, to feel what others felt. That was what Nourd wanted today. He wanted Oshal to feel some sort of joy or happiness, anything other than the horrible misery and fear he’d felt the day before.
“Welcome back to the Temple of Words, Grand Master Gorkle, Apprentice Nourd,” Master Rindumna greeted them at the door. “May Yvgrengher share His infinite knowledge and wisdom with you.”
Nourd didn’t know why Master Rindumna always said that. He’d asked Master Gorkle about it before, but zie had said it was something called a formality. As far as Nourd understood, it was related to manners.
“I would like to write a poem to make my friend happy again,” Nourd said. “I do not think I can do it alone.”
“Well, if it’s poetry you want, you have come to the right place,” Master Rindumna said. “And I know just who can help you.”
Before he saw her, Nourd smelled Apprentice Anej. She looked older, smelled a little different, but was still much the same as she’d been almost a year ago when he’d seen her last. She hadn’t been at the temple for a while, though, and he didn’t know why.
“Apprentice Anej just returned from her fifth-year assignment,” Master Rindumna said as Apprentice Anej bowed. “I’m sure she would be happy to help.”
“I’m always thrilled to help another with their quest for art,” Apprentice Anej said.
“I’ll leave you to it, then.” Master Rindumna bowed to them, then walked away.
“They,” Anej mumbled.
“What?” Nourd said.
“I… um… prefer ‘they’ and ‘them’,” Anej said, a little louder. “I… I learned a lot about myself when I was away.”
“Congratulations,” Master Gorkle said. “It feels freeing to understand yourself better, doesn’t it?”
Anej nodded, while still avoiding eye contact.
“I do not understand,” Nourd said.
“Apprentice Anej is like me,” Master Gorkle said. “They don’t identify as either male or female.”
“Oh. Why do they use different words than you do?”
“That’s their choice,” Master Gorkle said. “I chose ‘zie’ and ‘hir’ because I thought ‘they’ and ‘them’ were confusing at first. I didn’t know anyone else like me at the time, but I found reference to those words as gender-neutral pronouns, so I chose them.” Zie smiled at Apprentice Anej. “After you settle into it, you’ll get better at speaking up about it. Don’t worry.”
“Thank you, Grand Master. Now, Apprentice Nourd, with what do you require assistance?” They glanced around. “Is Apprentice Oshal here?”
“That’s the problem,” Master Gorkle said. “Apprentice Oshal is having some family trouble, and it’s making him upset. Apprentice Nourd wants to write a poem to help him feel better.”
“May I ask what sort of family trouble?”
“I’m afraid I can’t give specifics. I can only say that a member of his family is sick, and it’s upsetting him.”
Apprentice Anej led them through the temple to a smaller room. This one had a table with paper and pens, which, despite their appearance, Nourd had learned were not a type of weapon. If you dipped one in a pool of crushed up plants soaked in water, then spread it over paper, you made words.
“Have you been writing poetry since I’ve been gone?” Apprentice Anej asked.
“Not a lot,” Nourd said. “Human words are complicated.”
“Well, let’s start with the basics, then. How do you want him to feel?”
That was easy. Nourd wanted Oshal to stop being sad, to smile again. He knew the word for that.
“Happy.”
“That’s a good start.” Apprentice Anej started writing something down. Nourd was getting better at reading, but with Anej across from him, he couldn’t tell what they were writing. “Can you describe it a little more? What does happiness mean to you?”
For a long time, happiness had been being in the forest. Nourd had been allowed on the outskirts in the past few years, but hadn’t been allowed to venture back inside yet. Before, happiness had been running with the wolves, or swinging through the trees with the monkeys. But now, happiness was different. Happiness was being with Oshal.
“It means being with Oshal. Smiling and laughing together. I do not know how to make him laugh, but he does when we’re together. And he makes me laugh, but I do not know why. I always want to be with him, to always smile and laugh together. And eat chocolate. I like chocolate.”
Anej stared at him for a moment. He could smell confusion and uncertainty from them. They avoided eye contact, then started mumbling something that even Nourd’s keen ears couldn’t pick up.
“Did you say something?” Nourd asked.
“I said… do you… like Apprentice Oshal?”
“Of course. He is my friend. He is my best friend.”
“Um… no, I mean… I don’t know how to say this so you’ll understand.”
“Say what?”
Nourd didn’t like this. Usually, he could understand Apprentice Anej, unlike most of the other priests at the Temple of Words. He liked it there, but they all used words he’d never heard before, and it confused him.
“I believe what Apprentice Anej is trying to ask is if you want to be Apprentice Oshal’s mate,” Master Gorkle said.
“Yes, that. That’s what I meant.”
Nourd frowned. He hadn’t thought about it before. All he knew was that he liked spending time with Oshal more than anyone else. Oshal said that was what being best friends was like. But Nourd always wanted to spend time with Oshal.
“I do not know.”
“That’s fine,” Master Gorkle said. “You two work on your poem for now. We can talk about that later.”
That was fine with Nourd. He wasn’t sure about it. Was he even allowed to have a male as a mate? He had some recollection of Roshil wanting a female mate, but he hadn’t given it any thought.
As Anej helped him write a poem for Oshal, that same thought danced around his head. He wasn’t sure, but he liked the idea. He would have to ask another time.