When the Naglani left Trigohaima


A very, very long time ago, the Naglani travelled to the North to find a home in a beautiful garden, surrounded by the sea. They lived peacefully here and build their villages, kept sheep and dogs, and worked the lands to harvest the rich variety of goods.
There was a shaman of the Naglani, who transformed almost daily in a big, red bird, and flew over Airtha to read the landscape that Alls had formed. In the landscape and its changes, the shaman could read what the future would bring. The coming of the seasons, the coming of rain and sunshine, the coming of the wolves and the deer could all be foreseen.

One day, the shaman had the urge to fly higher than ever. It was an urge bigger than fear, for the shaman knew the wings of the red bird could be burned by Fon if it was too close to Fon. But a feeling of fear got hold of the shaman, and that day, the red bird rose from Airtha and made its way to Fon.
The Naglani held their breath as they watched the bird flying to Fon, getting smaller and smaller until it was no more than a dark spot in the sky.
When the night came, the shaman returned to Airtha.
“I have seen things,” the shaman said, tired and shaking with fear. “I have seen things I could not believe but this is the truth. I have seen Riqiz, the darkness, the nothingness. But it was not empty. I saw something from Riqiz come to our lands. It will hit our land, and this land will be known as Trigohaima - the Home of Sorrow - for this thing will destroy these lands, and it will destroy us with it.”
The people surrounding the shaman held their breath, and heard their hearts pounding. Fear spread across the lands as the blanket of the night.
“What can we do?” the thyngfyrst asked. But the members of the thyng shook their heads and mourned. It was the shaman who answered the thyngfyrst.
“We have to leave these lands behind us, and travel to a place where we will be safe. We have to leave a lot behind, but we will meet our future when we leave. Get ready, prepare your family to leave, gather your sheep and the goods you need to travel. We have to be quick, it will be very soon that Riqiz spits at us.”

Many Naglani thought the shaman was playing a game, or had gone insane since the red bird had met Fon. So they did not believe the shaman, and kept on living. But others started to pack their things, and left the lands that had been good to them. They headed to the dawn, to the narrow land bridge that was the road to the already unknown realms from whence they once came.
“You have to come with us,” the shaman said to the ones that stayed behind. “You will be dead within a menoth when you stay here.”
“We have our wealth here, our lands, our houses. We will not go,” some one said. “What will those realms beyond the sea bring us?”
“A future,” the shaman answered.
“What kind of future? You never told us. And we haven’t seen anything coming from Riqiz yet. Alls will be with us, we don’t worry. You might have been mislead by the herbs and potions that you have in your home. Unless I see it with my own eyes, I will not believe Riqiz will give us a gift.”
“You will see it with your own eyes,” the shaman said, and left the place to follow the Naglani over the land bridge.

The family of the thyngfyrst and the family of the shaman had left what would be known as the Home of Sorrow, among with seven other families. They travelled east until they reached a shore. They set up camp here, and the families lived here for a few days together as in a village. The land was good to them, and flocks of deer lived in the woods nearby. The sea was full of fish and warm enough to swim in. Fresh water came from several wells, and the fruits in the trees was already ripe and tasted delicious.
“It was good to leave,” the thyngfyrst said, “Life is better here, and when we are all settled next Athns, our houses will be big and strong, we will work the land as we did before. We will be happy here.”
“Not so,” the shaman said. “There will be grieve and sorrow for us here, so we have to go away, again. I am so sorry, but we only have a future elsewhere.”
“When do we have to leave?” the thyngfyrst asked. The new village lay peacefully at their feet, small and fragile as an egg in a nest.
“I will fly again tonight,” the shaman said.

It was dark that night, for Lukarna had turned himself to Riqiz, and clouds had taken the opportunity to hide the gathering. In the firelight of the new village, the shaman turned into the big red bird, and flew up into the darkness.
It was cold that night, and the Naglani sat together at the fire, waiting for the shaman to return. Some of them turned into birds as well, and went looking for the shaman, but nobody dared to fly away from the light of the fire. It was so dark behind the light, and shapes and shadows blurred into nameless forms.

It was nearly dawn when the shaman returned, a face white from worries and eyes filled with fear.
“I am going to die,” the shaman said to the Naglani, “But you will live, you all will live. Just do as I tell you. Stay here, and then walk across the sea to where my body will be; when you follow the flame of my bird-body you will be safe.”
The shaman went away to go to sleep. The others still sat with long shadows around the fire and thought about the words of the shaman.
“How will we ever walk across the sea? That is impossible!” someone said and with those words, doubt crept into the hearts.
“Just trust the shaman,” some one else said. “We always trusted the shaman, and unless Alls tell us different, I will believe the words of the shaman. We will walk across the sea, and we will find the body of the shaman beyond, and we will live, and we will have a future.”
Doubt was like a snake bite, and some gathered their things to return to Trigohaima. The others stayed. The summer came, and the flowers smelled of bright and golden days. The families lived on the shore of the sea, and some nearly forgot why they were there.

“I have to go,” the shaman proclaimed one day. “I will not return here, but we will meet again.” A big red, sad bird flew up to the bright summer sky, and headed west, flew higher and higher, then disappeared in the distances...
The Naglani waited.
More Naglani waited, and watched the sky.
Some turned into birds and flew up, following the shaman.
And all saw how the sky turned dark in a sudden. A huge shadow ran over the land, and then Fon disappeared. Birds stopped singing, and the Naglani went silent as well. It was as if Airtha stopped to live, and then shook herself, screaming like thunder, and the shaking and quaking lasted forever. When it stopped, Fon was up in the sky again, burning red with anger. A small quick star headed to the southeast, and the Naglani lost trace of it when it went over the horizon.
Then they looked around in what was once their new village. It was a ruin. The houses were destroyed by the earthquake, the sheep were scared and the children cried. A fire burned in the woods, and the harvest lay around on the fields, dead and gone. Why had they come here? It was the home of sorrow now, and they only wanted to escape that.

That night, the Naglani who had gone back to the good lands from where they once came, returned in the new village. Some were hurt and some others nearly dead. Those who were alive cried.
“What has happened to you?” the thyngfyrst asked.
“We went home, we thought. But when we got beyond those mountains, we saw something come out of the sky, casting a huge shadow on Airtha. It hit our homelands in a big flash, and when we were able to see again, there was nothing but sea left. We can not go back, there is nothing to go back to...”
They went to sleep in the ruins of the new village, and woke up the next day to see the world had turned all white overnight. It was cold, and a thick layer of ice covered the sea. It was so cold the fires burned only with a small light and hardly any warmth.
“What are we going to do?” the surviving Naglani asked.
“We can walk across the sea now,” the thyngfyrst said. “Then we will have to find the body of our shaman, and then we will build a new village, a new society, a new live, a future. We have no choice, we can not go back.”

So they set off to walk across the sea, which took them a couple of days. It got a little warmer, but the ice did not melt. They reached the other shore, and walked into the snow towards the south. They went on, and reached the borderlands of Daleth. They still had not found the body of the shaman, and continued their walk.

When they reached high white mountains, they saw a valley without snow. It was as if something big and bird shaped had hit the valley and that the impact had melted the snow. Small green plants grew here, a cold brook twinkled through the young grasses, and this was the place the Naglani settled in Daleth.


This is what Trigohaima may have looked like


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