TITLE:  And The Moral Is...

AUTHOR:  Tiv'ester

E-MAIL:  tivester@lycos.com





SUMMARY:  Shambda's reflections on the newest member of the village

AUTHOR'S NOTES:  Big thanks to Jmas and Seanchaidh for betaing this little tidbit.

DISCLAIMER:  I do not own Stargate SG-1.  Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions.  I have written this story for entertainment purposes only.  No money has exchanged hands.  No copyright infringement is intended.  This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author. 



A strange event occurred yestermorn. As Hasaam, his brother and I attended to our duty of retrieving water from the stream, we passed through the field outside the forest. A great light blinded our eyes for a moment. When it disappeared, we found a man lying within the circle of stones in the field. As we approached the stranger, his eyes opened. He was naked, vulnerable and scared. Hasaam asked him his name, and he did not know. I covered him with my cloak as we helped him stand and led him into the village. He was wary, lost with no memory of who he was. In our history, there are other stories of people who came to our ancestors in a flash of light, those who came with no memory and no past. These individuals became one with our people, named by those who cared for them. I was given the task of naming this stranger. I called him Arrom which means “naked one.” He was welcomed into our village as any traveler would be. He was given clothes and food. I allowed him use of my tent as a means of shelter. He seemed somewhat disoriented, but I assured him all would be well on the morrow.

After a night’s rest, Arrom awoke early and asked how he could repay our kindness. I explained to him that it was our way to help those in need without thought of remuneration. What we have, we are glad to share. He thanked me but I could see in his eyes he felt indebted to us. Yet he did not wish to go against our customs. I believe he is a good man, but who would treat a good man in such a way? Why leave him defenseless and lost?

Shambda put down his stylus and looked outside the tent at his charge. Arrom was helping another villager build a cookfire outside in the village square. They were talking, the villager pointing out places, things and people; Arrom listening intently to every word he was told. Since Arrom had no idea of who he was or where he came from, his entire history began and ended with the small village and the people who dwelled there.

Shambda had spent most of the night reading over the old stories. There were several where strangers had come to the planet in a bright light, not through the chappa’ai. He was relatively certain that Arrom was not a Goa’uld and absolutely positive he was not a Jaffa. Yet who was he? It was believed that those who came to the planet the way Arrom did had traveled a great journey. Those who traveled great journeys were few and were the source of great legends. With legends come stories and with stories come lessons.

What lesson could Arrom be building?

Shambda continued to watch Arrom, saw how he would take interest in his surroundings, nod and speak politely to whomever spoke to him. He seemed to find the carvings on the ruins of particular interest but didn’t understand why.

Who was Arrom? Why was he there? What had happened to him on his journey to be sent so defenseless among strangers?

Shambda looked down at his writings. This was a story in the making with a lesson yet to be discovered. As a storyteller, Shambda knew that this was a unique experience, rare even among his own kind. To see a story with an uncertain ending unfolding before his very eyes…

He glanced at Arrom once more, then turned back to his journal.

This story has no meaning yet because it is still early in the telling. I do not know what lesson is to be learned nor do I understand the purpose of his being here. I believe that the moral of this story is for Arrom alone. It may be far greater than any adventure our stories have ever recorded.


The End



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