优先遵循ANK汉化
种子
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2022-11-15更新
最新编辑:Lu_23333
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更新日期：2022-11-15
最新编辑：Lu_23333
种子
洛利克是一个安详的锻莫小村庄，坐落在德亚赛特单调的、灰色和黄色的沙丘和砾石中。这个地方没有活的植被，只有已经发黑的残木稀落地散落在整个村庄。卡姆迪达坐着篷车，绝望地看了看她的新家。她习惯住在丛林里，那里有父亲的繁荣家族。然而，这里没有树荫，又缺水，抬头只能看到空空的天。这个地方就像一座死城，表亲戚接待了她和她的弟弟奈维斯，并对他们关照尤佳，但她在这个陌生的村庄里感到孤独。最后，她结识了一位亚龙老太太，赛格斯。她在水厂工作。她告诉卡姆迪达她的家族早在锻莫人来之前就住在洛利克了，那时这里是一片美丽的森林。
“为什么树都死了？”卡姆迪达问道。
“只有我们亚龙人在这里时，我们从不砍树作燃料和你们所需的建筑材料。当锻莫人到来后，我们允许他们砍树，但不准碰希思特树（黑木集团用的），希思特树对我们和这片土地来说是神圣的。于是很长一段时间，我们和平相处，没有冲突”
“后来呢？”
“你们的一些研究者发现，经过蒸馏、定型、烘干某种树汁，可以做成一种富有弹性的树脂护甲”赛格斯说道，“这里大多的树树干里都有很黏稠的汁液，但不是希思特汁。这种树有了汁液而富有光泽，同时也使锻莫商人蠢蠢欲动。他们雇佣了伐木工朱里尼，砍圣树卖掉”
亚龙老太太看了看沙化的土地，叹了口气：“当然，我们亚龙人强烈反对。我们的家园，还有我们的希思特，他们一旦失去了，就不复返了。商人们三思了，但朱里尼我行我素。有一天，他用熟练的斧术开始血腥的杀戮。任何反对他的亚龙人都被劈成碎片，连小孩也没幸免于难。洛利克的锻莫人对这样的谋杀事件却放任不管”
“太可怕了！！”卡姆迪达倒抽一口气。
“简直难以理解”赛格斯说，“但我们族人的死亡仍不及圣树的死亡可怕。你应该明白，希思特树是我们亚龙人的摇篮和归宿。杀死我们不算什么，但摧毁我们的圣树就是将我们彻底族灭。当朱里尼挥舞他的手斧砍希思特树时，他摧毁了这片土地。这里的水消失了，动物死了，依靠圣树哺育的所有生物衰败了，化为乌有”
“但你？”卡姆迪达问道，“你为什么不离开这里？”
“我们被困在这里了。我是垂危家族里仅存的人之一。我们当中几乎不可能有足够的力量脱离我们祖先的丛林活下去。即使现在，有时还可以闻到洛利克空气中丛林的气味，使我们得以存活。但不久，我们就将死去了”
卡姆迪达眼里噙着泪。“那么，我就将孤独地生活在这里，没有树，没有朋友”
“亚龙人有句老话”赛格斯苦笑着握着卡姆迪达的手，“育种的沃土就在你心中”
卡姆迪达发现手掌里有一粒黑黑的东西，是赛格斯给她的，一粒种子。“看起来已经死了”
“在整个洛利克只有一个地方可以把它种下”老亚龙人说道，“村外小山上的一间小屋外。我不能亲自去，那里的主人一旦看到我就会杀死我，像对待所有我们的族人一样，我太虚弱了，不能保护自己。但你可以去种下这颗种子”
“那会怎么样？”卡姆迪达问道，“希思特树会重现吗？”
“不。只是它的一部分力量会”
当晚，卡姆迪达溜出家门爬上小山。她也曾听说赛格斯提到的小屋，姨妈和叔叔都警告她永远不要靠近那里。她一走近，小屋的门开了，出来一个强壮的老头，扛着一把大手斧。
“做什么的，小孩？”他审问道，“三更半夜的，差点把你当成亚龙人”
“天黑迷路了”她急忙应道，“我赶路回洛利克”
“那就快走”
“求您给根蜡烛吧”她可怜巴巴地说，“我已经在黑暗中兜了好几个圈子了，恐怕回不去了”
老头嘟哝着走回房间。卡姆迪达迅速地在干燥的土地上挖了一个坑，尽可能深地埋下种子。就在这时，老头拿着点着的蜡烛回来了。
“别再回来了”他咆哮着说，“否则我把你砍成两半”
然后他回去休息了。第二天，他推开门，发现小屋完全被大树遮蔽了。他抄起手斧猛砍，但他失败了。他尝试横劈，但树自我愈合了。他又尝试上劈下劈，仍砍不断。
过了许久，有人发现年迈的朱里尼累得躺在家门口，手里仍握着已经钝了的手斧。这件事成为一个谜，但传奇已经在洛利克开始重演，因为手斧上沾上了希思特汁。
不久以后，荒漠小花遍布在小镇的干土地上。新种下的树木和其他植被开始成长，虽不茂盛。希思特树没有重现，但卡姆迪达和洛利克镇上的人们看到，在黄昏时分，曾一度消失的大树那成片拉长的影子投在街道和小山上。
The Seed
Ancient Tales of the Dwemer, Part II: The Seed
The hamlet village of Lorikh was a quiet, peaceful Dwemer community nestled in the monochrome grey and tan dunes and boulders of the Dejasyte. No vegetation of any kind grew in Lorikh, though there were blackened vestiges of long dead trees scattered throughout the town. Kamdida arriving by caravan looked at her new home with despair. She was used to the forestland of the north where her father's family had haled. Here there was no shade, little water, and a great open sky. It looked like a dead land.
Her mother's family took Kamdida and her younger brother Nevith in, and was very kind to the orphans, but she felt lonely in the alien village. It was not until she met an old Argonian woman who worked at the water factory that Kamdida found a friend. Her name was Sigerthe, and she said that her family had lived in Lorikh centuries before the Dwemer arrived, when it was a great and beauteous forest.
"Why did the trees die?" asked Kamdida.
"When there were Argonians only in this land, we never cut trees for we had no need for fuel or wooden structures such as you use. When the Dwemer came, we allowed them to use the plants as they needed them, provided they never touched the Hist, which are sacred to us and to the land. For many years, we lived peaceably. No one wanted for anything."
"What happened?"
"Some of your scientists discovered that distilling a certain tree sap, molding it and drying it, they could create a resilient kind of armor called resin," said Sigerthe. "Most of the trees that grew here had very thin ichor in their branches, but not the Hist. Many of them fairly glistened with sap, which made the Dwemer merchants greedy. They hired a woodsman named Juhnin to start clearing the sacred arbors for profit."
The old Argonian woman looked to the dusty ground and sighed, "Of course, we Argonians cried out against it. It was our home, and the Hist, once gone, would never return. The merchants reconsidered, but Juhnin took it on his own to break our spirit. He proved one terrible, bloody day that his prodigious skill with the axe could be used against people as well as trees. Any Argonian who stood in his way was hewn asunder, children as well. The Dwemer people of Lorikh closed their doors and their ears to the cries of murder."
"Horrible," gasped Kamdida.
"It is difficult to explain," said Sigerthe. "But the deaths of our living ones was not nearly as horrible to us as the death of our trees. You must understand that to my people, the Hist are where we come from and where we are going. To destroy our bodies is nothing; to destroy our trees is to annihilate us utterly. When Juhnin then turned his axe on the Hist, he killed the land. The water disappeared, the animals died, and all the other life that the trees nourished crumbled and dried to dust."
"But you are still here?" asked Kamdida. "Why didn't you leave?"
"For us, we are trapped. I am one of the last of a dying people. Few of us are strong enough to live away from our ancestral groves, and sometimes, even now, there is a perfume in the air of Lorikh that gives us life. It will not be long until we are all gone."
Kamdida felt tears welling up in her eyes. "Then I will be alone in this horrible place with no trees and no friends."
'We Argonians have an expression," said Sigerthe with a sad smile, taking Kamdida's hand. "That the best soil for a seed is found in your heart."
Kamdida looked into the palm of her hand and saw that Sigerthe had given her a small black pellet. It was a seed. "It looks dead."
"It can only grow in one place in all Lorikh," said the old Argonian. "Outside an old cottage in the hills outside town. I cannot go there, for the owner would kill me on sight and like all my people, I am too frail to defend myself now. But you can go there and plant the seed."
"What will happen?" asked Kamdida. "Will the Hist return?"
"No. But some part of their power will."
That night, Kamdida stole from her house and into the hills. She knew the cottage Sigerthe had spoken of. Her aunt and uncle had told her never to go there. As she approached it, the door opened and an old but powerfully built man appeared, a mighty axe slung over his shoulder.
"What are you doing here, child?" he demanded. "In the dark, I almost took you to be a lizard man."
"I've lost my way in the dark," she said quickly. "I'm trying to get back to my home in Lorikh."
"Be on your way then."
"Do you have a candle I might have?" she asked piteously. "I've been walking in circles and I'm afraid I'll only return back here without any light."
The old man grumbled and walked into his house. Quickly, Kamdida dug a hole in the dry dirt and buried the seed as deeply as she could. He returned with a lit candle.
"See to it you don't come back here," he growled. "Or I'll chop you in half."
He returned to his house and fire. The next morning when he awoke and opened the door, he found that his cottage was entirely sealed within an enormous tree. He picked up his axe and delivered blow and after blow to the wood, but he could never break through. He tried side chops, but the wood healed itself. He tried an upper chop followed by an under chop to form a wedge, but the wood sealed.
Much time went by before someone discovered old Juhnin's emaciated body lying in front of his open door, still holding his blunted, broken axe. It was a mystery to all what he had been chopping with it, but the legend began circulating through Lorikh that Hist sap was found on the blade.
Shortly thereafter, small desert flowers began pushing through the dry dirt in the town. Trees and plants newly sown began to live tolerably well, if not luxuriantly. The Hist did not return, but Kamdida and the people of Lorikh noticed that at a certain time around twilight, long, wide shadows of great, bygone trees would fill the streets and hills.
Publisher's Note
"The Seed" is one of Marobar Sul's tales whose origins are well known. This tale originated from the Argonian slaves of southern Morrowind. "Marobar Sul" merely replaced the Dunmer with Dwemer and claimed he found it in a Dwemer ruin. Furthermore, he later claimed that the Argonian version of the tale was merely a retelling of his "original!"
Lorikh, while clearly not a Dwemer name, simply does not exist, and in fact "Lorikh" was a name commonly used, incorrectly, for Dunmer men in Gor Felim's plays. The Argonian versions of the story usually take place on Vvardenfell, usually in the Telvanni city of Sadrith Mora. Of course the so-called "scholars" of Temple Zero will probably claim this story has something to do with "Lorkhan" simply because the town starts with the letter L.
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