"Winter's Road.

“Vanda Hrívëo.


"Once upon a time, there were four creatures that lived together in a wood. There was Summer, she had a laugh like morning and a smile like afternoon, and her hair was like sunlight on sand. Then there was Spring, with his earth-stained hands and solid strong legs. Autumn had golden-brown skin, and she shook the leaves off trees to watch them dance on the wind.

 

“Yáressë, tanomë ëaner canta ëalar ya omarner tauressë. Eänë Lairë, haryarë lalaterya ve arin ar hendu ve sinyë, ar findesserya né ve árë or litsë. Ar ëanë Tuilë, as cemenvárë máryat ar tulca, tulunca telquiryat. Yávië haryanë laurëa-varna helma, ar rinceneryë lassi aldallor tirien le lilta súrinen.

"Lastly, there was Winter. He was as smooth and cold as new snow, and wore a glittering icicle around his neck on a silver chain.


”Métimavë, ëa Hrívë. Eänero pasta ar ringa ve vinya lossë, ar collë rilya helcenasta os yaterya or tyelpë angaino.


"They lived, these four, in a fork in the road that ran through the wood. It had been a hard road to follow, and so afraid were they of losing each other again that they tied their toes together with silvery yarn from Autumn's sewing box. Every connection had a different hue to it, even though they'd all come from the same skein.

 

“Marnentë, cantar sine, peryalessë vandassë ya lendë ter i taurë. Enies nauca vanda hilië, ar sinavë rucinentë atahehtië yúyo ya nuntentë tálentar sindë lianin Yáviévar. Ilya lia harya véra quilë, ananta utulientë ilyë mine nómello.

"Spring and Winter were tied with a deep blue, for loyalty and devotion. Autumn and Spring had red, the colour of heart's blood, for romance and passion. Autumn and Winter's bond was yellow as daisies, for they'd both been adventurous dreamers until they'd discovered that excitement didn't agree with them as well as sunny afternoons did.

“Tuilë ar Hrívë nér nutinë as luinë, voronden ar vorimen. Yávië ar Tuilë haryaner carnë, ve sercë hónello, melmen ar íren. Nútë Yáviéva ar Hrívéva né malina ve nénur, an yúyo nér huorië olóri sintentë tenna úmintë melë fëafelmë ve árinqua andúni.”


"Little Summer was tied to Spring with the brilliant green of fatherly love, and her bow from Autumn was the blush peach of motherhood. Lastly, Summer was tied to Winter with a knot of brightest purple, the colour of the berries he'd feed her when her mother and father didn't seem to notice, spoiling her like the loving uncle he was.

 

“Lairellë né nútina Lairenna as i wenya atarmelmë, ar núterya Yáviello né culuina amilmelmë. Metimavë né nútina Hrívenna as nútë helina, i quilë piuccor mataro senen irë amilerya ar atarelya úmer seyanë cenë, mella se ve nilda toronatar néro.

 

"Everyone who saw the four of them living in the fork in the road was sure their threads were going to tangle, that it would all end in a mess. But the four knew better, and never so much as got twisted around.

 

“Ilquë i tirnë i cantë marila peryalessë vandassë né tanca liantar fastuvar, ya ilya neuva natsë. Nan i canta sinter ammára, ar ú oio rícië.


"But there was a weight in Winter's mind, because he knew that some day they'd have to keep walking down the road. There were two paths to take, the righthand one, that was sunny and lively and led to a lovely land, and the lefthand, which was misty, and difficult to see down. Winter knew that Summer, Spring and Autumn belonged on the sunny road, and hated to see them waiting at the fork without their happy ending.

 

“Nan tanomë ná lungalë órë Hrivëo, an sintero ya ilaurë nauvantë nautë vantëa vanda. Tanomë nér atta tier mápien, i forya tië, ya né árinqua ar cuilëa ar tulya vanima nórenna, ar i hyarya tië, ya né hísëa ar úcénima. Hrivë sintë ya Lairë, Tuilë ar Yávië nér árinqua tien, ar tenvë marentë peryalessë ú alassëa mettanta.

 

"As well as the purple and blue and yellow threads, though, Winter had another string tied to him. It was as black as midnight, and stretched from far back down the difficult road they'd already walked. It led down the lefthand road, into the shadows, and was wrapped around Winter's neck so tight he knew he'd never be free.

 

“Ve i helina ar luina ar malina liar, Hrívë harya cantëa lia nútina son. Nés morna ve lómë, ar rahtanë haira nan i nauca vandallo avantientë. Tulyanes hyarya vandanna, huinellor, ar né vaitana os yat Hríveo tunga sina sintero neuvaro ú oio mirima.

"Now, Summer was just a baby, and Spring had done his best to protect Winter from the black thread for so long that Winter just didn't have the heart to tell him it was still there. So Autumn knew it was up to her to do something.

 

“Sí, Lairë né lapse, ar Tuilë acárië rimbë sina andavë sina varien Hrívë morna liallo ya Hrívë úmë huorë nyaren son nés er tanomë. Tanen Yávië sintë nés sen cárien nat.

"She had a little pair of silver scissors, from her sewing box. Winter stole them sometimes, and tried to cut the purple and the yellow and the blue cords, so that Summer and Spring and Autumn could skip away down their bright path and not worry about Winter anymore. The threads would never sever, though, they were too strong.

 

“Haryanerë tyelpë sicil. Hrívë mampes merien hocírië helina ar luina liar, ar Lairë ar Tuilë ar Yávië poluvar nornoro calima tienna ar ú sananë Hríves. Nan liar ú oio racuvar, néntë acca tulca.

"Autumn set about working away at the black thread, wearing it down day by day. Sometimes it was terribly hard work, for the black thread was at least as strong as the colourful ones, and wrapped so tightly around Winter's neck. Sometimes it made Autumn so tired she couldn't make her leaves dance, but still she kept at it, cutting away.

 

“Yávië yestanë ristala morna lia, yeryaneres aurë apaurë. Nés nauca mótalë, an i morna lia né tulca ve linquilië liar, ar vaitima tunga sina os yat Hrívëo. Carnes Yávië suhtaina sina úmirë pole lasseryar liltië, nan hemperë cares, risties.

"Because one day, she knew, the black thread would break, and Winter would be free, and the four of them could walk the bright road together."

 

“An minë aurë, sinterë, morna lia terhantuva, ar Hrívë nauva mirima, ar i cantë poler ovantië calima vanda.”

~

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