RIMBOMBO-The Legend of Boom Tiddle/Lightning Born

RIMBOMBO

The Legend of Boom Tiddle

Lightning Born

(46000 Words)

rimbombo - /rim’bombo/

(a loud booming roar)

Welcome, my Friend.

What follows is a grand adventure as true as the earth is old.

A green and black marbled egg wobbles in a woven twig nest high in the branches of a buckeye tree in SorroWood. A young raven pecks and flaps his way to freedom. In another part of the forest, in the rotted wood of a creekside log, a baby firefly wriggles to life as it morphs from a nymph into a young beetle. High in the atmosphere above the CraggyCliffs and the peaks of CloudMountain, a wisp of a cloud breathes itself to life during the FirstNight Tempest. And in the Vale of all Beginnings, following the storm, an unlikely hero for the ages is born in the land of RimBomBo.

The Vale of all Beginnings

One plea before I begin, my Friend: As I cannot vouch for the veracity of other StoryTellers, do not judge me too harshly, for as I’m sure you are aware, sometimes, we make up the true stories we tell.

Once upon another time and in another place‒a few minutes before midnight‒a GuardianWitch waited. Besom[1] in hand, she shifted from one foot to the other and back to the other and back to the other again. Taking a deep breath, she gave the bristles an impatient tap on the ground.

“Hey, watch it, Razz!”

RazzMaTazz huddled beneath her birthing canopy.

“Sorry, Sweeps,” the GuardianWitch said. She had magicked the sheltering canopy at the edge of the Vale of all Beginnings. The FirstNight Tempest would begin shortly in the land of RimBomBo. Her auburn hair hung long around and across her shoulders. A thick braid encircled her head from back to front.

“Apology accepted,” the BroomCat replied, preening and straightening his bristles. The tip of his handle was a living Calico cat’s head. It perched above two Calico front legs. All GuardianWitches rode BroomCats. He licked a paw, washed his ears, and rubbed his nose against his mistress’ cheek. “You think tonight’s the night, don’t you, Razz?”

Sweeps floated inches above the ground. She tickled his ears.

“Maybe,” she said. “This is the first year the first boulder that falls is our responsibility.”

“Giant duty,” Sweeps muttered. “Yuck. I suppose it’s better than having to look after one of those stinky, Troll brats.”

“You forget, you goofy BroomCat,” RazzMaTazz said. “The MirrorStone prophecy says the Uniter will be Lightning born.” She paused. “And I’m pretty sure that doesn’t mean a Dragon.”

“Yeah, well, the Uniter hasn’t shown up yet, you know.” He paused. “What makes you think this one will be the one?”

“I don’t know–just got a feeling,” she said, shaking her head.

“Wishful thinking,” he said. “I know you think the prophecy’s talking about a giant. But so far there hasn’t been a single other sign from any first boulder Giant baby‒ever.”

RazzMaTazz turned and stared at her BroomCat.

“Things have been happening lately.”

“Oh, yeah,” Sweeps said. “You mean like…”

She interrupted him.

“Like more BlackHeart witch sightings,” she said. “I think they might be gathering. You know, meeting together to plan their Gloom. And I’m sure AzzMa is behind it.” She paused. “She’s the most powerful of all of them.” She hesitated and turned her attention back to the meadow. “And if they are on the move, it just feels like the fulfillment of the prophecy has begun.”

Sweeps rolled his eyes.

“Whatever,” he said, yawning.

RazzMaTazz scrunched up her nose. She closed her eyes. The words of the prophecy were etched years ago onto the MirrorStone. As keeper of the tablet, she kept it safely hidden in her home high in an Oh-Ak tree.

The words appeared in her mind’s eye.

The BlackHearts shall once again rise,

Led by a Divider wielding evil and lies.

Gloom will be the misery they sow,

Seeking rule over the land of RimBomBo.

From first boulder struck shall a Uniter be born

To free the land from hatred and scorn.

Yet, seek not what has come before,

The boulder struck will yield less, not more.

Three signs will the Uniter portray.

Lightning Born first to light the way.

Next a LifeSong sung shall set them free.

A DestinyMap, third, to help them see.

The Uniter shall emerge a warrior great

Yet not for waging war on hate.

To know whether hope or malignity will reign

Two quests beyond the ForEverSea will remain.

For touching the RainBowMother portends

An end to the beginning or the beginning of the end.

RazzMaTazz opened her eyes. Looking up, she saw the Watchers–the great ElderClouds–bubbling up over CloudMountain. They were preparing the FirstNight Tempest for the RainBowMother.

The storms built themselves into a frenzy. They boiled and rumbled. Soon, they would burst open and spill their rain. Thunderous voices and lightning slashes would fill the valley. The air before the storm was always a bit chilly and damp. All GuardianWitches, waiting at the edge of the meadow, had needed to magick canopy Comfort Spells.

The FirstNight Tempest happened precisely at midnight. Once a year during the storm, the RainBowMother rained her BeginningsSpell onto the magic that lived in Singer: the River of Life. Singer passed through the meadow in the valley on her way to the ForEverSea. The two enchantments jargogled[2] together. It was this mixing of magic which molded mammoth mud-mounds along the river into youngling Trolls. River stones converted into youngling Dwarves. Tiny lavender Fairy Slipper flowers changed into youngling Fairies. Hurricane blasts of wind sent dragonfly eggs twirling into tiny tornadoes that transmogrified into youngling Dragon eggs. Meadow mushrooms metamorphosed into youngling Elves. Boulders, struck by lightning, tumbled from the CraggyCliffs and transformed into youngling Giants.

Singer flowed throughout RimBomBo. Miraculously, Her waters coursed throughout RimBomBo in BOTH directions. Like opposing traffic lanes on a highway, half streamed one way; the other half in the reverse. She crossed herself in the center of the Vale of all Beginnings. This created a great intersection that divided the isle of RimBomBo into the four quadrants of the great realms. This created a great intersection that divided the isle of RimBomBo into the four quadrants of the great realms: AutumnRealm, WinterRealm, SpringRealm, and SummerRealm. Separated only by Singer, each realm’s climate ended on the banks at the water’s edge.

GuardianWitches, descendants of the GoodHeart witches, delivered these magical race newborns to their chosen families throughout RimBomBo. Although GuardianWitches were immortal witches, they weren’t haggish and hideous like the BlackHeart witches.

If you happen to see a GuardianWitch and a BlackHeart witch standing side by side, it won’t take but a split second to determine which is which witch. RazzMaTazz, herself, is nearly 100 years old, but she doesn’t look a day over thirteen.

At midnight, right on time, the Watchers sent a lightning bolt across the sky. The light lit up the darkness, and RazzMaTazz saw the target: a huge boulder high on the cliffs. The bolt struck like a Dwarf’s hammer on hot steel. The entire valley shuddered a shiver from the blow of the first strike. A tingle ran up her back.

A boulder that breaks off from a strike like this one could produce a mighty Giant, she thought.

She waited to hear the rumble and crack as the great stone broke loose. In the split second of light that flared when the lightning struck, RazzMaTazz saw...

The boulder…It…it didn’t break loose. But something fell.

As suddenly as the light flashed, all was darkness again. She strained to see. To make sure her eyes had not played a trick on her.

“Sweeps‒did you see that?” RazzMaTazz asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“See what?” He said. BroomCats were notorious for being extremely unobservant.

“Never mind,” she said.

This can’t be happening. A pebble has never fallen instead of a boulder before. Did I imagine it? It WAS dark. She smiled and shook her head. It was the first strike. A huge boulder fell–I’m sure of it.

Telling yourself what you might have seen is not always the same as seeing it for real, my Friend.

RazzMaTazz glanced up into the dark skies again. The hard rain made it impossible to see anything through the darkness, except for the lightning strikes. But, she wasn’t interested in any more lightning strikes. It was that first one she was worried about.

She fidgeted again. The first light to peek over the mountain peaks couldn’t come soon enough. No one‒not even the GuardianWitches, could step foot into the meadow while the enchantment worked its miracles. There’s no telling what might happen to anyone who accidentally entered the meadow too soon. They might suddenly transform back into a baby or worse, get jargogled into something strange indeed. When one of the RainBowMother’s children arched over the valley, then, and only then, could the GuardianWitches search for the newborns. They would point their softly glowing wands around the meadow. When they got close to their assigned youngling, their wands would shine. So would the youngling.

“It’s as dark as a BlackHeart witch’s hunker[3] out there,” Sweeps said, interrupting RazzMaTazz’s thoughts. “And speaking of those creepy mackabroins[4], you don’t suppose AzzMa’s close by, do you?” He paused. “They know about the prophecy too, you know.

RazzMaTazz took a deep breath.

“She’s been getting pretty bumptious[5], lately,” she said.

“I wouldn’t put it past her to show up in the morning,” Sweeps said.

“She’d never dare to show her face in the meadow,” RazzMaTazz said.

“I can’t figure why the RainBowMother allows those black-hearted nithings[6] to live in RimBomBo anyway,” said Sweeps. “Can’t she and her daughters magic them away or something?”

“You know they don’t work that way,” RazzMaTazz said.

“Yeah, yeah,” Sweeps said, interrupting. “I know the rules. Fate, her eldest, determines the circumstances…

“…into which all are born,” RazzMaTazz added.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Sweeps said. “Destiny, the youngest, sets out a path…

“…but, we can make choices about how we follow our path and live our lives,” RazzMaTazz continued.

“I know, I know,” Sweeps replied. “In spite of …”

“…in spite of the circumstances into which we are born.” RazzMaTazz interrupted, “We all have the right to choose how we shall live.” She paused. “Even those who are despicable, like the BlackHearts.”

“You’d think…”

RazzMaTazz interrupted.

“A balance has to exist, Sweeps. There can’t be light, if there isn’t any dark.” She paused and gazed at all the other birthing canopies scattered around the edge of the meadow. “It’s difficult to understand, that’s all.”

“But with AzzMa lurking around again, she pretty much spits on any kind of balance,” Sweeps said.

“I’m afraid you’re right about that,” RazzMaTazz said.

“And she’s getting away with it,” Sweeps added.

“It’ll be the Uniter’s destiny to stop her,” RazzMaTazz said, her face resolute, her voice grim.

“What if the first two signs are there and…,” Sweeps paused. His whiskers twitched. “…the Uniter chooses not to bond with the DestinyMap?”

RazzMaTazz turned and stared at her BroomCat.

“RimBomBo and all it has been, is and could be,” she said, in a whisper, “will be no more.”

“If you’re trying to make me feel better, you botched it,” Sweeps said.

“The Uniter won’t let us down,” RazzMaTazz said. “I’m sure of it.”

“Yeah, okay. If you say so.” Sweeps licked his lips and flicked his ears. “Better get some shut-eye. Still got a bunch of night left.”

“Don’t remind me,” RazzMaTazz said.

“Flying around with a humongous Giant is gonna be hard work, you know,” Sweeps said, yawning.

“Yeah, tough guy,” she said. “Better get your beauty sleep.”

“Meow to you too,” he said.

RazzMaTazz watched Sweeps float to a corner of the canopy. The wood in his handle suddenly softened, and he curled up. As soon as he rested his head on his twig bristles, the twigs began to vibrate. All BroomCats were notorious for sleep-purring like old boars. Pulling her alabaster wand from beneath her cloak, she clutched it in her hand and curled up on a soft, floating palette. She couldn’t get AzzMa out of her mind. Her wand’s soft glow did little to dispel the uneasy feeling that settled on her like a fog over a bog.

[1] A witch’s broom

[2] Mix things up

[3] Butt

[4] Old, wandering, spinster, hag

[5] Brash, bold or cocky

[6] Despicable person