Society of Jelbic History, Literature, and Cultural Studies

[Zanz]

The Society of Jelbic History, Literature, and Cultural Studies (Jelbék: Jelb'koékaiék Thotrmojad trzy Kaimrjogadé Szijoirojogad trzy Jelbijék Kakríjogad Jezvraljogad) is a scholarly organization based in Baofluz, Jelbe, focused on the study of the history and culture of the Jelbic peoples.

Index of JHLCS Articles

• Jezhrjebrnfi grzy Jezhrje'konak'aerz - The Love of Horses, an ancient Jelbek short story

[Zanz]

Jezhrjebrnfi grzy Jezhrje'konak'aerz - The Love of Horses, an ancient Jelbek short story

The horse, or Jezhrjebrnfi (literally translated as "most important brother") has been and remains the central figure in Jelbic culture, nowhere more so than on the vast Jelbék steppe. Here, in the wastes of Baniray and the Great Perimor Steppe, a man's horse and a tribe's herd are quite literally vital, even today, to survival. Abroad, the attachment between a Jelbic man and his horse is often ridiculed, but it is born of necessity. At 12, male Jelbéks raised in the Jeztaghé tradition are sent onto the steppe alone to find, approach, and break their first horse, a spiritual rite of passage that marks the boy's transition into Jelbék manhood. Jezhrjebrnfi grzy Jezhrje'konak'aerz, an ancient folk tale originating in the southern reaches of the Great Perimor Steppe, tells the tale of a Jelbék boy on this quest, and the love engendered for his horse upon first site.

For two weeks, Rymd Jms'rmko had walked, his face to the eastward wind, chapped by the dusts of Perimor and burned raw by the sun above, with the occasion of a cloud's shade a celebrated rarity. Night after night, day after day, Rymd Jms'rmko followed the faint corridors in the endless steppe grass, passages through the chest high sea of green, yellow and white left by Jezhrjebrnfi.

As he awoke in a valley on the fifteenth day, with the sun not yet risen above the hills, Rymd Jms'rmko spoke to Tahnri. He spoke of his future, of his Jezhrjebrnfi, and beseeched the Lord of Horses to shine upon his face.

OOC: Mood music

At that moment, as the sun cast its first rays in the east, rising over the hills and onto the bedewed grass, bent heavy by its moisture, upon the summit of the hill, erect and splendid, a Jezhrjebrnfi was cast into silhoutte. Its nostrils flared and breath steaming, the horse whinnied, full of of the lust of the morning. Within him, Rymd Jms'rmko felt an unfamiliar rise in heat, his body tingling and his lungs emptying with excitement at the prospect of his first breaking.

As he stood, lithely placing his feet in the dewy grass so as not to startle the creature, Rymd Jms'rkmo praised the Hawk for his generosity, and reached for the thick coil of flaxen rope at his belt. As if in anticipation of his approach, the Jezhrjebrnfi pawed at the earth, his eyes locked on Rymd Jms'rmko in a gaze that threatened to melt the boy's resolve, and began to advance down the hill at a trot.

It was a stallion, a prince of the steppe, of an ilk uncommon even for the Perimor's fabled wild herds. As it descended, it seemed the sun continued to rise in time with it, firmly moving upward behind the noble creature so that it remained always in aching silhouette. Even so, the muscles of the horse's haunches were visible to Rymd Jms'rmko, rippling and casting glinting light off the sweat of its effort. The stallion approached, in all its power.

Rymd Jms'rmko fought his natural desire to recoil, to submit himself to the domination of the wild and sacred creature. Every fiber of his being told him to do so. And yet, within him, within his soul, he felt echos of Timur H'an, and knew his place was astride the horse, not beneath it. Steeling himself, he set his feet in the cool earth, uncoiled his rope, standing to face his destiny.

When it was a mere ten feet from Rymd Jms'rmko, the horse reared, raising itself far above his head, so that he was level with its heaving chest. From above, he felt the warmth and moisture of the creature's breath on his face and neck. Its braying snort sent a cascade of spittle onto his face, mingling water with the feeling of the sun and the wind to ground Rymd Jms'rmko squarely, completely, in the steppe. The horse stood on its hind legs for what felt like an age, and finally returned, snickering, to the ground, hooves set deep and sides dropping in and expanding out with great force.

Rymd Jms'rkmo, whose spirit was born in the sky, as is the spirit of all Jelbéks, advanced upon the wild creature, his eyes sharp as the Jeztri's. Though it brayed and bared its teeth, the horse did not rear again, instead shaking its magnificent mane in an intimidating show of strength, hot sweat flinging onto the pale chilled flesh of Jms Jms'rmko's outstretched forearm. Still, he stepped forward, rope in his right hand and left hand inches from the horse's rippling, heaving neck.

As his fingers lightly brushed horseflesh, a jolt, as if of electricity, burned through Rymd Jms'rmko, beginning in his fingertips as a tingle and ending deep within him, at his navel, as a tremulous quiver. Tenkol, he heard in his mind, a name emerging from nothingness with a clap like thunder across the plain. Tenkol, his teeth still bared, shook his mane again, covering Rmyd Jms'rmko's arm in auburn hair, and filling his nostrils with the set of damp earth and sweat.

Whispering nothings, and neglecting the rope in his right hand, Rmyd Jms'rmko gripped the hair in his hand, firmly but without pulling, and in a motion of practiced grace swung his leg over the horse's back, so that he rode astride, legs separated by the horse's great central mass, atop his Jezhrjebrnfi. Leaning forward so that his face was buried in Tenkol's thick mane, he did not feel the horse resist, and knew that he had become a Jelbék man.