-Yorda-
By Julie Danskin
Chapter 3 - Small Things -
Yorda awoke, shivering. The nightmare had lasted the entire night, the same scene echoing round her head again, again, again. She was very tired and worn out, she had to gasp for air for a couple of minutes before she was engulfed in reality and truly awoke. She looked over to Ico. He was still asleep, he had been deep in sleep for a long time, and it was no wonder, it had been over a week since he had been in the castle. The pair had not had easy slumber while imprisoned in the huge building. Turning her head away from his head, where his stumps where his horns had been covered with dried blood, she walked towards the shore. The two had found shelter under a small edge from the huge cliff that hung above the sandy beach.
The sun was rising, and the tide was coming in. The cool morning water brushed against Yorda's bare feet, and she bent down on her knees, glad to have the usage of her legs once more. She felt more strength in her than she could ever remember herself owning, yet she still felt weak and vulnerable. Perhaps that was her troubled mind, full of sadness and misery. She couldn't forget her mother, how she had taken Ico, betraying what she wanted so badly - his death. Yet Ico was her friend, and looking towards him from the edge of the shore, she could not find any regret. The only way to redeem her mother would to kill him, and she could never do that. She wasn't even sure why she felt so obliged to avenge the half-woman half- spirit that had planned since her birth to be used as a puppet for her later use. Memories flooded her, and she closed her eyes painfully, tilting her head over her right shoulder. A tear ran down her cheek. Before it reached her jaw-line and fell onto the sand, a rough finger caught it, and followed the trail of the salty water back up to her eye. She opened them, and Ico stood beside her. She looked ahead again, and they stood together, looking out to sea.
The dust had ceased to billow out in clouds, but Yorda and her companion could clearly see the outline of what had once been her magnificent home - and prison. "I loved it, Ico," she told him mournfully, "Even though it held me prisoner, I would never have wished for its destruction." He reached up and put a hand on her shoulder. "I know you loved it," he replied tenderly, looking her in the eye, "Because you always had that look in your eye. It said that no matter how much you wanted out of it, it would always be your home." She nodded, and stretched her neck, this time looking towards the blue sky. "Funny," she said, still looking upwards, "The air is fresher out here." "That's because her shadow wasn't stalking you. Neither are those horrible demons. They will have been destroyed, Yorda?" Ico asked anxiously. "Hmm? Oh, yes, Ico. Don't worry. They're gone." 'What about those masked riders that took me away? And there were guards with horns as well. They're the ones that captured me," "How did you get out of that thing anyway?" "You're not answering my question." "Neither are you," Ico grinned at her. She was clever, and she was gaining whatever intelligence she had, plus of course the information she should have gathered during her years growing up. God knew if Yorda knew every crack, every brick in her tower. "I was locked in it, as were all those other.tormented spirits. I destroyed them all," he said regretfully, and he saw Yorda flinch. 'You destroyed your own kind?" "For you," "Oh, Ico. Tell me your story."
He could remember it so vividly. It was his twelfth birthday. He had gotten presents, his few friends had brought him fruit and sweets, his parents had given him the strange garment he wore over his red tunic, and he had received a one-way ticket to a castle. He had been lifted up on the horse awkwardly, not quite sure whether to be screaming and crying or acting sensibly. His mother stood solemnly, his father with his arm round her shoulder. His three-year-old sister Marri had waved excitedly, not sure what was happening. He would have waved back, yet his hands were bound in thick, secure handcuffs.
He had crossed a river with these strange masked men in a thin boat, the same one that he had landed on the beach in. He had been shown the magical sword that opened the Idol Doors Yorda could also open with her powers, and taken in to the chamber.that was supposed to be his last. Locked in a small sacrificial tomb, fortunately balanced on an unsteady rock, Ico had managed to break free of his prison, at the cost of his consciousness.
He had dreamt he was climbing a huge staircase, and had reached the top, and there was a cage suspended by a chain in the centre of the huge tower. He had seen droplets of jet-black liquid drip onto the floor below, then had moulded itself into a small female figure. Then he had been engulfed into the wall through a well-known black hole, and had woken.
"It seems so long ago, Yorda," he expressed to her. "I feel like I have known you forever." "You have." she replied, and smiled mysteriously at him, a smile which told him not to ask now, that he would learn one day. He was, despite it all, only twelve years old. "What happened next?" she asked him, "After you woke up?" It obviously mattered to her, the small details. The small things mattered to her, every detail, every rock placement, every taste of every food, every texture of every blade of grass. She fascinated him. "I.looked around the huge room I was in," he told her, "Then found a lever. I pulled it, and a door opened. I went through it, and climbed up a couple of ledges. There were some pots, but I left them, there was no food or drink in them, and climbed up on a windowsill. I jumped through it, and landed-" 'In the tower," she interrupted, "I heard you. I thought it was a Shadow with food and drink for me. I didn't get it very often, you know. Once a day at maximum." Ico didn't know what to say to this cruelty, so he continued.
"I climbed up the staircase, it was exactly like my dream, the whole room, and I reached the top after a bit of working out where everything was, then spoke to you. You were all bent over and seemed unaware of my presence. I called to you. I told you that I was going to get you out of there." He looked away, a small piece of the tower still stuck out amongst the pile of brick and dust. "Then I went outside, and jumped back in through a different ledge. It was very awkward. I found a lever, and pulled it. The cage started to lower and you stood up. I ran back down, but the cage was still a little above the ground, too high for me to jump. So I climbed up another ladder, and jumped from a ledge onto the cage. The chain broke, it must have been old, I hate to think how long you'd been up there. Then I fell off, so did the stick, which was burning. You whispered something in your language, then walked over to me."
Yorda smiled slightly. "I remember what I said," she told him quietly, "Who are you? How did you get in here?" "I always wondered." replied Ico, returning the smile, but looked towards the ancient castle now ruined forever, and wondered now what she was thinking. Her mouse brown hair blew in the seashore wind aggressively, but she stood, small and elegant, glad yet confused to have attained the pride she had once owned as a Princess. They stood quietly for a long time, they didn't speak much, it spoiled the subtlety of their relationship before words. Yet it was useful, Ico could ask Yorda about who she had been before the cruelty and deceit of her mother, but not yet. It was not yet time for her to tell him, as she was still after all these years still coming to terms with it herself. She had come so far to come out of darkness and corruption, yet she had left her soul behind in the castle. "Faradasa naro kara," Yorda whispered suddenly in her language.
Ico looked at her, not understanding. He gave her a glance which asked her what that meant, but she simply smiled that faint, indefinite smile he had recently known. He pushed her arm gently. She looked at him, mildly surprised at his childish attempt to gain her attention. She had forgotten she was the adult, and Ico was the boy. "What does that mean?" he asked her. Yorda looked down, moving her feet so the sand would tickle her bare feet. Small things mattered so much to her, things people took for granted. She had done so as a child, careless and free. Now she was a young woman, she would have to learn that she had missed her childhood and would have to grow. She wasn't sure she was ready, or that she even wanted to. "You were there." She told him, still looking at the island her grand castle had once stood on, magnificent and beautiful. "When?" the boy asked her, puzzled by her riddles. "You were there." she repeated simply, and began to sing;
"The island bathes in the sun's bright rays Distant hills wear a shroud of grey A lonely breeze whispers in the trees Sole witness to history
Fleeting memories rise From the shadows of my mind Sing "nonomori" - endless corridors Say "nonomori" - hopeless warriors You were there You were there
Am I forever dreaming How to define the way I'm feeling
You were there Countless visions they haunt me in my sleep You were there Though forgotten all promises we keep
Slaves to our destiny I recall a melody Sing "nonomori" - seasons lit with gold Say "nonomori" - legends yet untold You were there You were there
Happiness follows sorrow Only believing in tomorrow
You were there Countless visions they haunt me in my sleep You were there Though forgotten all promises we keep
The island bathes in the sun's bright rays Distant hills wear a shroud of grey A lonely breeze whispers in the trees Sole key to this mystery"
At the end of her song, she smiled her delicate flick of the right side of her mouth, and glanced once more at the rippling water, cascading out until it reached the island blocking its path. Tears filled her eyes, and she turned away, walking over to the food Ico had brought her the night before, bending down and picking up a peach silently. Ico, however, stood stunned. Allowing the wind to force back his messy black hair, he felt his own eyes well up with tears. Uncontrollable misery rose in him, and he felt a gasp in the back of his throat, controlling his emotions. He had never cried in the time he had been in the castle, why should he cry now? It was because Yorda was free, and she was suffering with guilt and remorse of the past. Perhaps she had left her soul in the castle, but he, Ico, would help her re- attain her forgotten love for life. "Yorda," he whispered.
The peach tasted good, better than anything had ever tasted before. All she had been brought in the castle was a slice of bread, a ceramic jar of water and a carrot. Her mother had said the carrot would help her see in the dark as it was night-time almost eternally in her tower. Her tower. That God- forsaken prison she had been condemned to until she was needed to fulfil her duty as her mother's vessel. She knew she shouldn't mourn her mother. Yet she did. She mourned her more than she mourned for the loss of her castle, or even that of her father. Her mother had been cruel, evil and malicious to her only daughter. Why didn't she thank her boy, the one who had risked his life to save hers? The one who had stopped the cruelty, stopped the sacrifices? But again, it was the small things.
The small things, like when her mother used to call up from the foot of the tower, "Do not defy me!" and Yorda would reply, "Let me down, Mummy, please!" She would scream and yell until her mother went away, and the shadows would guard her cell. She would plead with them to let her out, that her mother had told them to, but they would just flash their blue eyes at her menacingly, and she thought they laughed at her. She convinced herself once they were playing with her, and would laugh too. But she soon learned all they wanted was her misery and loneliness. They had achieved their goal.
Ico approached her slowly, coughing gently. She looked up from her half- eaten peach. She presumed her face was tear-stained, as the boy bent down and wiped her face. "Yorda," he whispered sorrowfully. "Do not be sad, Ico. I will be alright." She assured him. The boy nodded. He looked at the girl. "Yorda, will you tell me your story some day?" "Yes." "Good. Because I can help, you know." "You have helped enough, Ico." They spoke no more, yet they interacted with each other. They smiled with gratitude, handed each other food, and stared into each others eyes continuously. They were content.
They were happy.
Chapter 3 - Small Things -
Yorda awoke, shivering. The nightmare had lasted the entire night, the same scene echoing round her head again, again, again. She was very tired and worn out, she had to gasp for air for a couple of minutes before she was engulfed in reality and truly awoke. She looked over to Ico. He was still asleep, he had been deep in sleep for a long time, and it was no wonder, it had been over a week since he had been in the castle. The pair had not had easy slumber while imprisoned in the huge building. Turning her head away from his head, where his stumps where his horns had been covered with dried blood, she walked towards the shore. The two had found shelter under a small edge from the huge cliff that hung above the sandy beach.
The sun was rising, and the tide was coming in. The cool morning water brushed against Yorda's bare feet, and she bent down on her knees, glad to have the usage of her legs once more. She felt more strength in her than she could ever remember herself owning, yet she still felt weak and vulnerable. Perhaps that was her troubled mind, full of sadness and misery. She couldn't forget her mother, how she had taken Ico, betraying what she wanted so badly - his death. Yet Ico was her friend, and looking towards him from the edge of the shore, she could not find any regret. The only way to redeem her mother would to kill him, and she could never do that. She wasn't even sure why she felt so obliged to avenge the half-woman half- spirit that had planned since her birth to be used as a puppet for her later use. Memories flooded her, and she closed her eyes painfully, tilting her head over her right shoulder. A tear ran down her cheek. Before it reached her jaw-line and fell onto the sand, a rough finger caught it, and followed the trail of the salty water back up to her eye. She opened them, and Ico stood beside her. She looked ahead again, and they stood together, looking out to sea.
The dust had ceased to billow out in clouds, but Yorda and her companion could clearly see the outline of what had once been her magnificent home - and prison. "I loved it, Ico," she told him mournfully, "Even though it held me prisoner, I would never have wished for its destruction." He reached up and put a hand on her shoulder. "I know you loved it," he replied tenderly, looking her in the eye, "Because you always had that look in your eye. It said that no matter how much you wanted out of it, it would always be your home." She nodded, and stretched her neck, this time looking towards the blue sky. "Funny," she said, still looking upwards, "The air is fresher out here." "That's because her shadow wasn't stalking you. Neither are those horrible demons. They will have been destroyed, Yorda?" Ico asked anxiously. "Hmm? Oh, yes, Ico. Don't worry. They're gone." 'What about those masked riders that took me away? And there were guards with horns as well. They're the ones that captured me," "How did you get out of that thing anyway?" "You're not answering my question." "Neither are you," Ico grinned at her. She was clever, and she was gaining whatever intelligence she had, plus of course the information she should have gathered during her years growing up. God knew if Yorda knew every crack, every brick in her tower. "I was locked in it, as were all those other.tormented spirits. I destroyed them all," he said regretfully, and he saw Yorda flinch. 'You destroyed your own kind?" "For you," "Oh, Ico. Tell me your story."
He could remember it so vividly. It was his twelfth birthday. He had gotten presents, his few friends had brought him fruit and sweets, his parents had given him the strange garment he wore over his red tunic, and he had received a one-way ticket to a castle. He had been lifted up on the horse awkwardly, not quite sure whether to be screaming and crying or acting sensibly. His mother stood solemnly, his father with his arm round her shoulder. His three-year-old sister Marri had waved excitedly, not sure what was happening. He would have waved back, yet his hands were bound in thick, secure handcuffs.
He had crossed a river with these strange masked men in a thin boat, the same one that he had landed on the beach in. He had been shown the magical sword that opened the Idol Doors Yorda could also open with her powers, and taken in to the chamber.that was supposed to be his last. Locked in a small sacrificial tomb, fortunately balanced on an unsteady rock, Ico had managed to break free of his prison, at the cost of his consciousness.
He had dreamt he was climbing a huge staircase, and had reached the top, and there was a cage suspended by a chain in the centre of the huge tower. He had seen droplets of jet-black liquid drip onto the floor below, then had moulded itself into a small female figure. Then he had been engulfed into the wall through a well-known black hole, and had woken.
"It seems so long ago, Yorda," he expressed to her. "I feel like I have known you forever." "You have." she replied, and smiled mysteriously at him, a smile which told him not to ask now, that he would learn one day. He was, despite it all, only twelve years old. "What happened next?" she asked him, "After you woke up?" It obviously mattered to her, the small details. The small things mattered to her, every detail, every rock placement, every taste of every food, every texture of every blade of grass. She fascinated him. "I.looked around the huge room I was in," he told her, "Then found a lever. I pulled it, and a door opened. I went through it, and climbed up a couple of ledges. There were some pots, but I left them, there was no food or drink in them, and climbed up on a windowsill. I jumped through it, and landed-" 'In the tower," she interrupted, "I heard you. I thought it was a Shadow with food and drink for me. I didn't get it very often, you know. Once a day at maximum." Ico didn't know what to say to this cruelty, so he continued.
"I climbed up the staircase, it was exactly like my dream, the whole room, and I reached the top after a bit of working out where everything was, then spoke to you. You were all bent over and seemed unaware of my presence. I called to you. I told you that I was going to get you out of there." He looked away, a small piece of the tower still stuck out amongst the pile of brick and dust. "Then I went outside, and jumped back in through a different ledge. It was very awkward. I found a lever, and pulled it. The cage started to lower and you stood up. I ran back down, but the cage was still a little above the ground, too high for me to jump. So I climbed up another ladder, and jumped from a ledge onto the cage. The chain broke, it must have been old, I hate to think how long you'd been up there. Then I fell off, so did the stick, which was burning. You whispered something in your language, then walked over to me."
Yorda smiled slightly. "I remember what I said," she told him quietly, "Who are you? How did you get in here?" "I always wondered." replied Ico, returning the smile, but looked towards the ancient castle now ruined forever, and wondered now what she was thinking. Her mouse brown hair blew in the seashore wind aggressively, but she stood, small and elegant, glad yet confused to have attained the pride she had once owned as a Princess. They stood quietly for a long time, they didn't speak much, it spoiled the subtlety of their relationship before words. Yet it was useful, Ico could ask Yorda about who she had been before the cruelty and deceit of her mother, but not yet. It was not yet time for her to tell him, as she was still after all these years still coming to terms with it herself. She had come so far to come out of darkness and corruption, yet she had left her soul behind in the castle. "Faradasa naro kara," Yorda whispered suddenly in her language.
Ico looked at her, not understanding. He gave her a glance which asked her what that meant, but she simply smiled that faint, indefinite smile he had recently known. He pushed her arm gently. She looked at him, mildly surprised at his childish attempt to gain her attention. She had forgotten she was the adult, and Ico was the boy. "What does that mean?" he asked her. Yorda looked down, moving her feet so the sand would tickle her bare feet. Small things mattered so much to her, things people took for granted. She had done so as a child, careless and free. Now she was a young woman, she would have to learn that she had missed her childhood and would have to grow. She wasn't sure she was ready, or that she even wanted to. "You were there." She told him, still looking at the island her grand castle had once stood on, magnificent and beautiful. "When?" the boy asked her, puzzled by her riddles. "You were there." she repeated simply, and began to sing;
"The island bathes in the sun's bright rays Distant hills wear a shroud of grey A lonely breeze whispers in the trees Sole witness to history
Fleeting memories rise From the shadows of my mind Sing "nonomori" - endless corridors Say "nonomori" - hopeless warriors You were there You were there
Am I forever dreaming How to define the way I'm feeling
You were there Countless visions they haunt me in my sleep You were there Though forgotten all promises we keep
Slaves to our destiny I recall a melody Sing "nonomori" - seasons lit with gold Say "nonomori" - legends yet untold You were there You were there
Happiness follows sorrow Only believing in tomorrow
You were there Countless visions they haunt me in my sleep You were there Though forgotten all promises we keep
The island bathes in the sun's bright rays Distant hills wear a shroud of grey A lonely breeze whispers in the trees Sole key to this mystery"
At the end of her song, she smiled her delicate flick of the right side of her mouth, and glanced once more at the rippling water, cascading out until it reached the island blocking its path. Tears filled her eyes, and she turned away, walking over to the food Ico had brought her the night before, bending down and picking up a peach silently. Ico, however, stood stunned. Allowing the wind to force back his messy black hair, he felt his own eyes well up with tears. Uncontrollable misery rose in him, and he felt a gasp in the back of his throat, controlling his emotions. He had never cried in the time he had been in the castle, why should he cry now? It was because Yorda was free, and she was suffering with guilt and remorse of the past. Perhaps she had left her soul in the castle, but he, Ico, would help her re- attain her forgotten love for life. "Yorda," he whispered.
The peach tasted good, better than anything had ever tasted before. All she had been brought in the castle was a slice of bread, a ceramic jar of water and a carrot. Her mother had said the carrot would help her see in the dark as it was night-time almost eternally in her tower. Her tower. That God- forsaken prison she had been condemned to until she was needed to fulfil her duty as her mother's vessel. She knew she shouldn't mourn her mother. Yet she did. She mourned her more than she mourned for the loss of her castle, or even that of her father. Her mother had been cruel, evil and malicious to her only daughter. Why didn't she thank her boy, the one who had risked his life to save hers? The one who had stopped the cruelty, stopped the sacrifices? But again, it was the small things.
The small things, like when her mother used to call up from the foot of the tower, "Do not defy me!" and Yorda would reply, "Let me down, Mummy, please!" She would scream and yell until her mother went away, and the shadows would guard her cell. She would plead with them to let her out, that her mother had told them to, but they would just flash their blue eyes at her menacingly, and she thought they laughed at her. She convinced herself once they were playing with her, and would laugh too. But she soon learned all they wanted was her misery and loneliness. They had achieved their goal.
Ico approached her slowly, coughing gently. She looked up from her half- eaten peach. She presumed her face was tear-stained, as the boy bent down and wiped her face. "Yorda," he whispered sorrowfully. "Do not be sad, Ico. I will be alright." She assured him. The boy nodded. He looked at the girl. "Yorda, will you tell me your story some day?" "Yes." "Good. Because I can help, you know." "You have helped enough, Ico." They spoke no more, yet they interacted with each other. They smiled with gratitude, handed each other food, and stared into each others eyes continuously. They were content.
They were happy.