Is it a good warming story? Old men almost always deserve a good ending story because their old age and what they went through before...
which usually is war, because young men like it a lot...
Not long ago, there was a war somewhere between East and West. Rarely the war springs from the North, too cold to leave the protective womb of the house and the fire. But sometimes it happens. So, whilst somewhere between East and West a war was raging, from a region of the North some tribe decided it would have been fun to wage war themselves.
Springtime was when they finally left the coast of their land and crossed the deep blue waters of the Ocean. They called those perilous waters Dolonga. It took them four weeks to cross the Ocean, facing storms and high winds. The sea was unnaturally calm when finally they reached the coast of a land they never seen before.
They said grateful words when they finally arrived and feasted and built a camp with fires and tents above the beach and by a wood they discovered.
Back in their Homeland the women were left by themselves, free to rule the Country as they wanted. They set only Four Laws, the First was that War was forbidden, the Second recited that All Creatures were Sacred to Mother Earth and Mother Hecate, The Triple Goddess, the Third was that eating living creatures was unlawful and finally they ruled the Fourth Law, forbidding anyone to kill any other creature for its own pleasure or for punishment.
The Country was prosperous and peaceful but the women knew that without men there was no space for the future. They nurtured and taught the young children left with them, leading them by the example and reminding them of how important was even the littlest life. This way they hoped to grow a different generation.
They talked a lot about the husbands and the brothers and the fathers who left to wage war somewhere, for the sake of greed and bloodthirsty.
Meanwhile those very same men walked the unknown land leaving behind them only destruction and pain, other women left to cry other dead men who filled the halls of Valhalla and feasted with the ancient gods.
They went, killing and looting until that land was nothing more than an endless war camp, with burning pyres filling the sky with their smokes and corpses on the ground. Not even at the moment, the men were close to satisfaction. They wanted more gold, where there was no left, they thought that the claim of those who were killed weren't enough in their god of war's eyes.
They walked their way back, killing those who they found still alive and back they were to their camp but still their thirst for blood claimed for more and so they went into the woods and hunt down every moving creature they laid their eyes on until none was left.
Laughing and boasting at their own hunting abilities, they traced back their steps to the camp and proceed to sacrifice some of the killings to their god of war, some of them were cooked and preserved to be brought back to their Homeland.
And finally their Chief spoke and invited them to pack their camp and sail back home, to rejoin their tribe and their families.
It was a clear dawn of another Spring when the ships left the land and those who survived the months of war and the cold winter sailed to cross once more the waters of Dolonga to go back to the place they called home.
The frenzy that took over many months before was gone from their mind and their eyes, leaving feelings of guilty in their guts, between the ribs where the heart beats the rhythm of life and seasons.
The ships were now heavier with the result of their greed, gold and clothes and precious treasure but all stained of the innocent blood of those they called enemy, without knowing their names or their lives.
They travelled back home with a new sense of shame in their eyes and over their shoulders. Still they were greeted by their women, at the shores of their little village. They saw young men and women in those they left as children and older parents in those who still looked young and strong when they left, but stayed behind because they knew what war can do in a man's soul.
There was banquets and time for stories, as that was tradition but then the Lady Chief took the word and spoke her wisdom.
"We welcome you back in the name of the Old Tradition as our beloved husbands, brothers, fathers but now that you are back, you welcome our New Tradition as your own, following our Four Laws as you did before with yours.
There is no space for death in our village, unless it is brought naturally by the Law of us being human.
We learnt that killing doesn't bring anything good, only more killing. Of all of you who left this shore, many didn't return to their families' love but have been left on burning pyres in an unknown land, without the comfort of their beloved words and the protection of Mother Hecate.
We decided to rebuke this and live in peace with all the creatures, so this is the Law now".
There she sat, laying her grave sight over every breathing human in the hall, leaving her words setting. She knew some of the men wouldn't agree and possibly pack their properties and leave, but she had also seen in many of those men's eyes and hearts and she had known they were ready to accept the new life she was offering.
A new chapter in their history was just about to begin, the chapter of peace.
