Sonnets in Waves: Young Hoté (Prequel)

The first part of how young Hoté struggled and found hope

Hoté, now alone in the lands of Verden, for his lynage hath perished in a great battle on seas and land, roams the green meadows and hills; though in his eyes these had lost all their colours and the joy in beholding them is buried deep down under the sorrow for those he may never lay his eyes upon again.

So he roams the green lands with a grey veil upon them that sets on his troubled mind, until he comes to the edge of the coast, and looks beyond the horizons; and there he sees, on a sky of crimson and gold and silver; there he sees the steorran and the moon. And one glints just below the silver crescent, glints with the light of hope on a canvass that now changes its face to greener hues, the colour of the land of Hoté. Thus, Hoté roams ever on, glad in his heart for the sight he beheld near the sea, but his face belies his sorrow, and his eyes bedew the green lands with the memories of his sire lost to war. And he feels no hope; for he feels alone in this world; and neither song nor smile passes his lips at this time. And he walks and walks, for he loves the lands, and feels the connexion with the children of steorran and thëón – those that ever rise and reach for the skies. And soon on his errand long he cometh to the edge of the coast where he beholds a great rock, towering in the waters off the coast. And he sees the waves and the tide ever beating on its sides, and he wonders how it can withstand such force for so long.

So, he calls to the waters, to the waves:

“Whence hath thou such a strength, great rock of seas? I have lived but a smidge of your time, and I cannot muster any hope. My line hath perished, my house is forlorn and broken. My dignity and hope were washed away by the tides of evil. I come to the edge of the world, for this is the end – so tell me, how dost thou still stand?”

And yet the rock remained sullen, towering in its silence, breaking the waves one by one. And the salt water kept coming, and it filled the hollows in the rock left there after years and years of battles between the elements. And the rock stood there, silent, unmoving; and that’s when Hoté knew what he must do. The waves kept calling his name, though he did not love the sea, and he would much prefer to stay and roam the green lands of Verden. For his kin never loved the sea; they were no sea-faring men; but the calling was now so strong that he could not resist. And so he set out, and the sea was vast, and he felt lost in its enormous, deep embrace. But he was a child of the steorran, and these guided him on his way.

But they were also days, alas, of darkness; and he could not see nor find the way, and he would get waylaid and often lost.

He knew not the way, nor did he know its end; and the sun and moon kept alternating above his head until he knew not how many a time he’d seen them change guard. And the sea was vast, and he felt small under the sky; as winds from the east kept beating ever on. They cut to the bone, and he felt the salt water on his skin. And he did not love the sea, for it felt like it did not love him. He longed for the solid ground, green meadows and groves; mountains, in the stead of boundless darkness of these waters; and most of all, trees.

Days passed, and Hoté, the son of hope, kept holding on to life, ever striving to see what lies ahead. His eyes kept groping for a sign of land, through the dark of night and scorching sun of day. He felt his sinew weakening, strength waning, leaving his body and sinking down to the depths of the sea. The wide waters were ever at war with his mind and body, for he did not feel at ease, not for a moment. And so it came to pass that slumber took him, and his mind wandered on the edge of dream. His dreams were dark; bereft of hope and light; and at times he could not tell whether he had not already passed to the realms of his forefathers.

And yet there, on the precipice of what may have been his last breath, in a dream which he could not tell from reality anymore, came on the glinting waters a shape with hair darker than the deepest waters around him, than the darkest night; and with eyes glinting of deep green, and skin white and resplendent from the sun that broke on the foam of waves. The shape spake with a voice of a woman that thundered in the sky and reverberated through the waters, and Hoté could barely hold on to the side of his skiff, with the strength that was left in him.

“Hearken! Hoté son of hope. Hold ever on, for the bays are not far now, and thine struggle will not have been in vain; though the perilous sea might swallow thine strength: forget not that thou art the lynage of the steorran; the light that never perishes and shines ever on, even in darkness, upon the fields and glens of realms unknown. And these shall ever guide you on, wherever thine foot shall meet the thëón.”

Hoté opened his eyes for what felt like the last time and beheld the coast where a herd of antelope grazed on its pastures.

Sonnets in Waves Series