There was a Tuchuk man who was very depressed, and feeling suicidal, so he sought the council of the Ubar-San of the Tuchuks, the Head of all the Clans, Tribes and Camps that put gold rings in the noses of their animals and women.
The Ubar-San at that time was named Ragnar. Ragnar was a wise old man, a grizzled and scarred Warrior who was born in the Torvaldslands in the far-north. He had been a mercenary who, war by war, fought his way southwards. He was hired first into the Tuchuk's Ubar's personal guard, then he commanded a hundred, and later a thousand, and eventually ten-thousand Warriors.
Then, in an argument over possession of a slave, he fought with the Ubar in a bloody battle, and won. When he turned to face the other commanders, who were shocked and horrified at what he had done, he had five words for them. “By this axe, I rule.”
So this Tuchuk-Outrider who was suffering depression, he went to seek help from the Great-Ragnar, and he said, “Ubar, I do not feel like living one more day. My life is wretched. My Companion, she won't listen to me, and she doesn't clean the wagon, or grease the axles. She neglects the children, and they won't sit still and be quiet, or do chores. Now my Companion's father has died, and her mother has moved into my wagon. They never stop chattering, gossiping, and criticizing me. What can I do?”
* Kimba~ tries to take on for a moment the fearsome countenance of Ragnar, pondering for a long moment, scratching his beard, and looking the man up and down, assessing him by his bearing and appearance. When I speak for Ragnar, my voice is gravely, with tones of concern:* “Do you own any vulos?”
The Outrider's face took on a puzzled look, and he answered that, yes, like most Tuchuks, he keeps vulos for their eggs.
In a tone of voice that made it clear that the discussion was ended, Ragnar said, “Good. I want you to bring the vulos into your wagon to live with you.”
* Kimba~ tilts my head to the side, my visage taking on a curious affect, as I continue: "Riding his kailla home, the man pondered, how was it that bringing vulos into his wagon was going to make his life any better?" *pauses to give listeners the chance to ponder the issue*
* Kimba~ returns to a more narrative tone of voice:* "The fact of the matter, was that bringing half-a-score of vulos into the wagon did not seem to improve the man's life at all. Rather, the contrary seemed to be true."
* Kimba~ tries to catch the kajira's eye, and then pantomimes drinking from a goblet, and points to a bottle of kalana, as I fill my lungs to declaim the next passage of the tale.*
So, the next week, the man went back to Ragnar and he said: “How was this supposed to help? Right away, my Companion and her mother started to nag me about why did I bring the vulos into the wagon. Then the kids are chasing the vulos, and the vulos are chasing the kids. They are feathers everywhere, and vulo poop and the vulos had lice on them, and nobody is getting any sleep with the squawking and itching.”
Ragnar nodded as he listened, then pondered for a long minute, before he looked the man and the eye and asked with sincerity and genuine curiosity, as if he did not know the answer, “Do you have any bosk?"
The depressed man was so aghast by this question that he was speechless for a long moment, before he stuttered out that of-course he owned bosk, that every Tuchuk man owns bosk.
"Well then," Ragnar announced, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, "You must bring a bosk into the wagon to live with you."
On the way home, the Outrider debated with himself about whether to do this or not. But, in the end, he decided to bring the bosk into the wagon.
When the bosk in his wagon did not fix his life, the man headed back to see Ragnar again the next week. He could barely hold back tears when he spoke:
* Kimba~ switches to a pleading, whiney, pitifully sad voice as I speak for the man:* “Great Ubar, I did as you said, and I brought a bosk into the wagon. The vulos scare the bosk, which makes the bosk fart, and the methane makes my lanterns and candles explode. The furniture is broken, the floor is covered with feathers and dung, and the women won't stop screaming at me. I'd rather be dead!”
Ragnar fixed the man with a steely-stare, and said, “Do you have a kailla?”
* Kimba~ stomps my foot in anger, portraying the outrider this time, and shouts: “No, I am not bringing a kailla into my wagon. Enough is enough. I am a Tuchuk and you are a Torvie: I should have known you would give me bad advice. You are not my Ubar, you can't make me bring a kailla into my wagon.”
* Kimba~ takes the drink from the girl, smiling brightly as she had timed it perfectly, and sips the wine, letting the suspense build towards how Ragnar is going to react....*
Ragnar smiled and nodded his head once. “I did not give you bad advice. Now that your balls have dropped, nobody is the Ubar in your wagon but you. Go home, take control of your women and your family, and remember: It could always be WORSE!”
* Kimba~ finishes the wine and sets the empty goblet on the table, in case anyone wants to drop a coin.*
