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The founding of the main Vingan temple in Sartar - the RQ writeup of it can be found over in my Vinga page.
As told at Continuum 2004. Yes, I am taking the P somewhat. And this is designed to be told/performed, not written down, so I've included (some of the) stage directions. I'm told that when I get going with this I do a lot more, but without a video recorder, this is as good as you're going to get.
There's a lot of stories around these days that take Vinga terribly seriously. If you believe them, she or one of her sub-cults is responsible for almost anything worth having in Orlanthi society - and I do mean responsible, too. She guards child-birth (really?), she's where Orlanth keeps his compassion (yeah, right!), she teaches youngsters their duty to the clan (hmm), you name it, she's responsible for it.
What we seem to have forgotten is that Vinga is Orlanth Adventurous, only with red hair, different anatomy, and more of a temper. Not Orlanth the Lawspeaker, or Orlanth the farmer, or Orlanth the responsible husband. This is Orlanth the teenage layabout who stays out late, sings far too loud, drinks too much, and refuses to tidy his room. That's what Vinga's the equivalent of. There's nothing "responsible" about it.
So, once upon a time, back in those irresponsible days, Vinga had had just about enough of her brothers, and decided that she wanted a place of her own. Somewhere where she could have a few friends round, have a beer or two, stay up as long as she wanted and not have to tidy the place afterwards. And where none of her brothers would ever be allowed in.
She was just thinking this, when a hill-fort flew past.
No, she hadn't been drinking. Well, no more than usual. It was shaped like a Movement Rune, it was flying. Vinga, being into deep mythical analysis and philosophy, and respectful of ownership, as we know, thought, "what a place for a party! I saw it, it's mine!"
Which of course was easier said than done. She tried flying after it. Couldn't keep up. That thing could shift. So, violence being always an option, she threw her javelin at it.
Yes, I know, javelin, hill-fort, slight problem of scale here. But Vinga might have been young and stupid, but she was also a goddess. When she hit something with a javelin, it stayed hit. And this was no exception. There was a whistle as her javelin flew through the air, a thump as it struck home, and a nasty creaking and groaning noise as one of the arms of the Movement Rune broke off from the rest of the hill fort and started to fall earth-wards. And a very big Thump! as it landed.
(Everyone all right in that corner? It missed, did it? Oh, good.)
The hill-fort, now a bit unbalanced, started to fly in spirals, and to sink towards the ground. Round and round it went, getting further and further away from Vinga for some reason, wobbling erratically, and sinking until it was out of sight below the tops of the hills. And then there was silence. Oops.
Now, we could draw all sorts of moral conclusions from this about not breaking things in the process of getting them. And any adult Orlanthi can tell you that if you make a mistake, you own up and you fix it. So what did Vinga do?
"So what if it is broken? I never wanted it to fly anyway, who ever heard of a flying hill fort, it's a stupid idea,
this is just what I wanted all the time. So there!"
"And it's still mine! I saw it first!"
Well, it was all very well to say that, but she didn't know where it had landed. Someone must have seen it, surely?
She tried asking her brothers.
"Anyone seen a hill-fort fly past?"
"Yeah, course we did, in formation with those pigs, right? What's she on, and can I have some?"
After a few arguments and some bruised knuckles, she went to see Elmal, where he was on watch. He was good at seeing things.
And he wouldn't laugh at her, because he didn't have a sense of humour in the first place.
And yes, after a lecture about the dangers of throwing javelins at unknown objects,
he could tell her exactly what direction she'd have to go to reach where it had landed.
As long as she went in a straight line, of course. He'd got a thing about straight lines.
So she went to see her dad, to ask permission to go and find her new toy.
He wasn't in a good mood with her in the first place, what with all the fights she'd been having with her brothers.
Not that it was her fault, of course, so this was most unfair of him.
It only ever turned into a fight when a brother hit her back. He told her to go and do something useful. Like tidying her room.
So she lost her temper.
Look, I know Vinga's supposed to be a good warrior, but picking a fight with her dad? No. Bad idea. We'll draw a veil over that part of the story, especially the bit where he took her sword off her and spanked her with it.
Unfair, unkind, and unjust.
So, what could Vinga do without his permission? She'd have to abandon her hill-fort, wouldn't she? But there's always another way. So she went and asked her mum instead, and promised she'd be back before midnight. Not that she said which midnight...
Parental permission gained, off she went, in as near a straight line as possible. Which is tricky, in hill country, when you can't fly in case your dad spots you, but she managed by throwing her javelin along the line Elmal had pointed out, and then running to where it had landed. And she ran exactly seven times seven times seven miles that day.
Just in case there's any cartographers in the audience trying to work something out from that,
let me explain a point of Orlanthi measurement to you.
"That's where my javelin landed, and I say it's a mile!" (stamps foot)
Anyway, there it was, crashed on top of a hill in what's now the Quivin Mountains. It looked a bit sad with part of it missing, but it still had steep ramparts and deep ditches. A proper hill-fort in all the ways that counted. But no party, as yet, just grass. And no beer. So, being in a fairly bad mood by now, she sat down for a good sulk.
Now, this was at the top of a fair size mountain. And Valind has this odd idea that mountain tops are his property, so he wasn't too keen on someone crashing a flying fort on top of one. He came over to have Words.
Vinga wasn't too keen on Valind at the best of times - and this was anything but the best of times. He obviously couldn't see that she just wanted some time to herself. Men! So she threw her javelin at him. She threw her own Defender winds at him. And, being in a foul mood, she picked up a nearby rock and threw that at him, too.
Now, I think I mentioned that this was in the Quivin Mountains. And Quivin is the son of someone perhaps best known as Lodril. He's into Heat, not Cold. When one of his rocks hit Valind's freezing winds, their snow and ice melted and turned into thick, cloaking mist. Valind, thinking this was just not worth the hassle, retreated.
And Vinga looked at those mists, and realised that with them there, no-one could find her.
No-one could tell her to do things, no-one could stop her staying up as late as she wanted.
"Right", she said. "That's staying. And there's no men getting in here. Not Valind, not Dad, not that snooty Elmal, and especially no stupid brothers. No-one. Ever. So there!"
As I say, she may have been young and foolish, but she was a goddess. Those mists are still there, and no man has ever found his way through them to the hill-fort of Tarthcaer, Fort of the Mists. It's still Vinga's centre of power in Sartar. And there are rumours that right in the centre, in the holy of holies, is a very untidy bedroom from which loud music comes at times. But I'm sure that's only a rumour.