Besu T'sa-veh
By Crystalswolf
Rating: PG-13
Genres: drama, family
Keywords:
This story is number 2 in the series "A Day in the Life"
A/N: Thank you Honeybee for cracking the Vulcan whip. 
Disclaimer: Of course, Star Trek characters do not belong to me
The first sun had long since cleared the horizon and poured its warming light through the full length windows. Outside, Arrath could hear their family pet sehlat pacing and the soft thunk of her ceramic feeding bowl placed on the ground.
Just outside of the window, A'Vun urged Jynen to eat and his young voice cracked with concern for the animal. Arrath considered reminding his son how events such as these were opportunities to hone one's emotional control. The boy was, after all, of an age where more control was expected of him.
Ultimately, Arrath determined that this was not the time. The animal's loss of appetite was another sign that their family's aging pet rapidly approached the end of her life cycle. It had been days since she'd eaten a full meal.
Although he and his wife warned their son of the inevitable, and the boy accepted their warning outwardly, Arrath did not think A'Vun accepted the information completely.
The child would speak of the small improvements in Jynen's health, unaware of his parents' concealed glances to one another. Although there were the occasional indications of improvement, there was far more evidence of decline and both Arrath and his wife were certain their child had come to the same logical conclusion. However, unlike him and his wife, their son did not have the benefit of so many years of learning to face the unyielding truth of logic in all aspects of life.
From his bed, Arrath stepped closer to the full strength of the sunlit windows just enough to feel the warmth on his skin from his forehead down to his bare toes. The clay tiles, heated from v'hrallar of baking under the morning sun, warmed his feet from underneath. He watched Jynen pacing, her path worn in the sandy soil as her full bowl lay near her, ignored.
In the central area of the house, his wife washed the vegetables, newly picked from their garden, as she did every morning. He preferred these crops during their warmer seasons whereas the fruits and vegetables produced during colder seasons tended to be sweeter and less palatable.
He watched his wife's shoulder length hair sway as she scrubbed the remaining dirt from the surface of the produce. Slipping her gloves, specifically made for handling their food, she continued her morning ritual by storing harvest in the stasis chamber.
Not expecting her husband awake before the second sunrise, T'Istren's eyes widened momentarily before she removed the gloves and extended her index and middle fingers. Extending his two fingers in response, he pressed them to hers. It was not long after they'd separated when they heard Jynen's sehlat cry.
Arrath walked to the garden entrance and watched his son refresh their pet's bedding between two sizeable bushes. Inside the house, he heard the water of their kitchen faucet stop and then the sound of his wife's sandaled feet pat their way behind him.
A weaker screech than he'd ever heard from Jynen, Arrath breathed deeply, "Her time approaches quickly."
Behind him, he turned to see T'Istren walk back to the sink and finish cleaning the area around it. Her hair continued to sway as she worked, her eyes focused on her task as they always were, and her face as unreadable as expected.
Outside, A'Vun stroked the thick fur of the animal. Although his little fingers were dwarfed by the size of a fully grown sehlat, they proved to be enough to calm her into standing still to scratch a particularly itchy spot on her back.
When the creature grew weary of A'Vun's attention, she continued her endless march from one wall of the garden to the opposite side.
The rest of the day's responsibilities awaited, and A'Vun finished layering the fresh bedding. He then raked the old bedding and waste into the pile to compost where he tossed a handful of a mineral pre-blended that would kill any undesirable organisms as well as control the odor. Before heading back to the house, A'Vun turned to check Jynen's food bowl one last time.
"Father," A'Vun stopped before fully entering the house. "It is most agreeable to see you before we leave." The boy looked up at his father with a perfectly emotionless face as he stared in deep respect and admiration with eyes he inherited from his mother. Arrath found it agreeable that his child inherited his mother's eyes. The color of rich brown flecked with delicate red sparkling much like jewels scattered along fertile soil.
Arrath nodded in agreement. In his line of work, he rarely saw his family in the early morning before their daily routines began.
Collecting his supplies for pre-primary instruction, A'Vun turned one last time, "Jynen will not eat her food at the moment. Can you remove her bowl in the afternoon, Father?"
It was always T'Istren that collected the food bowl from Jynen in the afternoon. As though she anticipated his confusion, T'Istren added, "There are some supplies we require within the city limits. I will not return until it is time to bring A'Vun home.
Arrath nodded and watched his family leave before he walked into his practice room. Freeing his eestram from its stand, he placed his old companion on the floor securely between his legs. With a gentle motion back, his hand slid the bow out of its storage sling and gracefully his arm moved forward connecting bow to the strings of the eestram. Together they began to practice for their night performance.
Just as the first time he'd placed an eestram against his thigh, his companion extracted the all that was lock within him sending it out into the air much like the scent of a temple candle when lit.
He'd chosen most of the songs for the night's program already, but the final piece eluded him. Always more difficult to decide upon, he allowed several other songs to play through him and his companion, hoping they could find some inspiration.
The light of the twin suns spread across the floor and when it gently kissed the bottom of his eestram, it reminded Arrath that he had agreed to remove Jynen's food bowl much earlier in the day.
Time had passed quickly, as it often did when he and his companion were together, but so much time had gone by that soon his wife and son would be home. Arrath gently returned his companion to its stand and the bow in the cloth case beside it.
Strangely quiet for this time of day in the courtyard, he walked passed the gated vegetable garden and into the shaded corner between two bushes where Jynen slept. The bowl was where A'Vun had left it, still filled with food. Looking closely, he noticed no movement from the sehlat and then a labored, raspy breath.
"Father, did Jynen eat her food?" his son asked from somewhere near the courtyard entrance of the house. Arrath would rather have had the opportunity to examine the creature before his family returned but obviously it was too late. He breathed deeply and felt the steady beating of his heart, the sound that helped to focus his mind on logic rather than emotion.
He turned to see his son behind him now and his wife standing in the doorway. The two pairs of eyes focused on the barely moving being tucked between two bushes.
Although their eyes were identical in shape and color, they were not in what they conveyed. T'Istren's eyes were matched only by her impeccably stolid expression whereas A'Vun's displayed the very war he fought against the logic of inevitability.
"A'Vun, it is what must be."
Before Arrath could finish his sentence, A'Vun walked passed him and across the garden. His face remained impassive but his eyes proved that surrender to the logic of the situation was just as inevitable as Jynen's end-of-cycle. Crawling between the bushes, A'Vun curled beside his pet as he'd done as a toddler against his parents' wishes.
In the doorway, T'Istren's stared at her son as her lips pressed together before turning into the house.
Only moments later Arrath heard his son whispering for their pet to awaken and knew it was time to remove the boy from what were now remains. Plucking his son from the bushes, Arrath reminded him that there was no logic in fighting death, "All is as it should be."
A'Vun didn't argue and he didn't make a sound as Arrath carried him to his room, the boy's face buried deeply in his father's chest. After gently placing him on the bed, A'Vun curled away from his father and covered his face with a loosely balled fist.
Before leaving his room, Arrath heard a soft sniffle from the bed. Children his age were allowed to display some emotion under certain circumstances. Giving him privacy, Arrath closed the door and walked outside into the courtyard.
T'Istren stood by the bushes with a blanket of burlap material draped across her arms and stared at what was once her childhood pet.
Taking the blanket from T'Istren, Arrath collected Jynen's remains that he wrapped in the blanket. He placed it on the platform for the furnace of their family's crematorium before returning outside to stand beside his wife. Holding out his hand to her with two fingers extended, she accepted it reluctantly while never looking directly at him.
When they'd separated, T'Istren walked away.
He'd found her in their bedroom sitting on the floor, facing the window. Eyes closed and breathing controlled, she entered the initial stage of meditation. Without a word, Arrath took a small, misshapen temple candle from their meditation chest and lit it in front of them.
The candle was a reminder of a time when he was a young boy visiting an uncle in the local temple. The man was a candlesmith and for a time Arrath considered that path, but after his first eestram lesson, there was no doubt what he would become.
The candle was all that was left of that other path, of the road not taken, and the two watched as it burned down to nothing more than a pool of oily wax.
By nightfall they would have to say their last goodbye to Jynen, T'Istren and A'Vun's childhood friend. When the last sun set, they would light the furnace and scatter their friend's ashes in the wind but for now they sat quietly and watched the pool of oily wax disappear into nothingness.
Arrath walked on the small stage and sat on the solitary chair in front of his audience. His companion at his side, he lifted it from its stand as well as the bow and began to play the first song.
Separately they were nothing, but together, each note represented words combined to tell stories that he could not speak. But his companion could sing.
His eestram whistled with higher notes telling of Arrath's time in the temple as a child. It sang of the bubbling mixtures of oil and wax and dried herbs. How the fragrantly spicy herbs were dutifully molded into the oily wax until all became one and how soothing it was as fingers worked the near hot material into form. The story continued of how it took years to master the fine art of temple candle-making, a task he achieved his first try.
Short, rough notes reminisced of his first lessons with the eestram and his companion told of how Arrath had become enthralled by the sounds it produced. With those first notes, the instrument pulled a part of him to the surface from deep within. The respectable vocation of candlemaking was left by the wayside so that a Vulcan and an eestram could merge with one voice.
The song ended. A couple of humans, obviously unfamiliar with Vulcan etiquette at such events, began to clap a couple of times before they noticed the disapproving expressions of others around them.
Arrath waited until there was absolute silence once more. The next song began with strong thrusts of his bow and his companion hummed a tune communicating to their audience the connection between Arrath and his wife when they were young and betrothed. The instrument described Arrath's wife on their wedding day, pon-farr only beginning to stir in him, and each note crying with joy of their union. The emotion of the memory pouring from the instrument contrasted with his rigidly stoical countenance.
When Arrath remembered the first time they shared their bed as husband and wife, it shamelessly purred mid and low tones of arousal and passion describing how perfectly their minds merged as wholly as their bodies. Ending the song, the notes quickened until the strings of his companion quivered in short high notes to Arrath's memory.
As his companion filled the room with emotion, Arrath outwardly expressed no connection to them. He and his companion were the two sides of one coin. Arrath was the precision of logic and his companion was the chaos of emotion. He was mind and it was soul and together they produced something that touched both and perhaps something more.
This time the humans allowed him a quiet interlude between songs to concentrate for the next.
His companion's high and mid tones whistled of A'Vun's birth. It was not an easy delivery. The lives of both mother and child were in danger and his companion's notes tightened with Arrath's fear of losing everything. And the whistling returned, celebrating an exhausted but healthy mother and their strong newborn son in her arms.
Arrath allowed the song to end with a long, high note that slowly faded in the air until all went silent again. He took a breath and began his next song, the first of two he'd chosen just before the concert.
His companion moaned deeply as it mourned the loss of Jynen. Not for Arrath but for T'Istren and A'vun. T'Istren spent most of her life with the pet and Arrath's companion cried deep, bellowing sobs for her. His son had known the creature for his entire life and the instrument wept short, mid to low tones for him. A high pitch followed closely by a low groan from his companion described the pain he sensed from them as they lit the furnace to say goodbye one last time to the lost member of their family.
Humming a single tone, his companion sang of his family continuing with their lives. T'Istren would miss the presence that had been a part of her life for so long and suddenly no longer there. Her daily routine disrupted, a comfort of life removed, logic would become her support and he would be her strength.
A'Vun would be allowed to mourn openly for their pet for no more than another day and then, as T'Istren, he must find solace in logic. Arrath's companion sang long deep notes and in between them were short, high bursts. This was his Vulcan heart. This was the song of every Vulcan's heart.
When the song ended, Arrath bowed his head deeply toward his audience. Satisfied that his audience would appreciate his performance, if not completely understand it as he had, Arrath returned his companion to the stand with its bow.
In the center of the audience were the humans he'd seen earlier. Their sounds of fervent applause, complete with undignified whistles, filled the room disregarding disapproving glances from the Vulcans around them.
He watched as one human woman wiped a tear from her almond shaped eye and smiled, "He made me feel... he made me feel..." but she could not seem to find the words to finish her sentence until finally, "He made me feel."
One of her companions stood clapping. The tall Human man commented loudly toward another man Arrath guessed as a Denobulan, "That was spectacular!"
Discreetly, another human man placed one hand atop of a Vulcan woman's hand that rested on her lap. With some effort, he managed to lift his other arm resting in a sling to wipe at his face. She, however, remained unmoved outwardly but Arrath could see something stir in her eyes. Regardless, the Human man's gesture went unnoticed by any other in the room.?
As Arrath stood to leave the stage, he considered how outwardly emotional these humans were and felt another song well inside him along with the urge to hold his companion once again. But he accepted that it would have to wait for another day as he breathed in deeply and continued off stage.
He returned home late, as he often did after a concert. A night-torch afire in the garden spilled warm, golden light from the windows and dimly lit the center of the house. In his study, he returned his friend to its stand with utmost care and walked toward A'Vun's room. Arrath opened the door slowly, taking care not to wake the child, and watched the steady rise and fall of the sleeping boy's chest for a long moment before finally exiting.
In his bedroom, T'Istren lay asleep. By the light of the torch in their from his bedroom window, he removed his robes and slipped into his night clothes. Arrath eased into bed trying not to wake his wife and closed his eyes. The woman turned in bed toward him and draped her arm across his chest while she slept. Arrath arranged notes in his mind forming a new song before sleep took hold of him.
Note: (Besu T'sa-veh) his companion, (v'hrallar) Vulcan hours
This was a beautiful story. I liked the pacing which seemed so calm, so Vulcan. When you think of the faster than human movements that Vulcans are physically capable of and the much greater depth of emotion than humans, the culture they have created in order to avoid self destruction is one of true grace and beauty that you make us deeply feel.
Wow, thanks Misplaced! I'm glad you liked it.
This has got to be one of the most beautiful works I have ever had the honor of reading. The story of Arrath, his wife and his song's loss and how it influenced his music... And your description of the performance, just breathtaking.
However, I will say what finally brought me to tears was the brief interaction Arrath witnessed between Trip and T'Pol at the end of his concert. I felt their grief over Elizabeth, their understanding of that grief in Arrath's song so acutely.
I am giving you a standing ovation: Well done!!
Thanks everyone. I originally could not decide whether I would do a musician or a scuptor but watching the video of Spock and his lute won me over. While writing the story (as though it was fate), Witches of Eastwich came on and I had to make it a bass-like instrument. I see it as a larger version of a Vulcan lute, 12 strings and all.
I love your imagination of Vulcan culture. How you blended the rational logic of the mind with the inherent turmoils of the heart and soul. Please accept my thanks for a thrilling read. The cameo was brilliant. I loved how you set it after Terra Prime with Trip's arm still hurt. You should be so very proud of the way you spin images and wonderful characters. Even the sick shelat was a brilliantly rich character, Bravo!
Beautiful. Reminds me of the novel '' Spock's World ''.
The sunlight shining, the things that are said, without saying. You painted a beautiful and rich Vulcan world. Really liked your person of this scene was a troubadour.
This made me so sad. I always have a hard time with children having to deal with the death of a beloved pet. It gave us much insight into what motivates a supposedly unemotional Vulcan musician.
You are very welcome, CW. This is really a great exploration of Vulcan culture and you should be proud. The more we understand Vulcans, the more we can understand T'Pol's character, after all.
Thanks everyone. I have to say that there was a HUGE mistake on my part. I forgot to credit Honeybee for cracking the Vulcan whip. Should be fixed soon but she kept me from veering off path!
It's difficult for me to fully appreciate something which doesn't involve COMPLETELY Trip and T'Pol, but the little glimpse you made of them pushed me to write these few words.
I admit: I am incapable of basking in the sight of your Vulcan scenes, and this is a great limit for me, but that little jewel you did about my loved couple moved me.
I feel as if I have been transported to Vulcan. You bring all the little details to life that make it feel real. I, too, enjoyed the special guest stars in the audience, and I like the fact that Arrath's song of mourning for a beloved family pet was also able to bring comfort to them following their recent loss of Elizabeth.
Nicely done.
Very well-done. The concert made me cry, despite the fact that I only imagined I could hear the music. Beautiful.
Loved the cameo appearance by our heroes! And I love to see two Vulcans in love with one another, although they'd probably just say they have affection for one another. Love how well-drawn your Vulcan world is.