Once upon a time there was a woman who was gifted in the crafts of weaving, sewing and writing. No one could tell a story as she could; she would tell her stories in the form of weaves, embroidery, quilting and written word.
As her society dictated, she needed to marry. Many men came calling for her hand but she refused them all. When approached by The Council about why she would not marry, she answered "any man can provide for a good family and look good, but these traits only last a few years at best. Find me a man who can tell a story as well as I, and I shall marry him."
The Council was aghast at her arrogance. All of their sons had been refused. So they devised a plan to punish her and teach her a lesson.
The Council collaborated for weeks crafting the finest story they could think of. When they were done, they gave it to Amleth and told him to tell it to The Storyteller and she would marry him. Amleth had never been able to get a wife for he was mean, cruel and used his fists more often than his words. Excited at the prospect of being allowed to marry, he rushed to The Storyteller's home and proceeded to tell the tale, accompanied by The Council.
"What a story Amleth," she exclaimed when he finished. "But you did not write it and you have no others. Therefore I will not marry you."
"That was never the agreement," The Council retorted. "You only asked for a man who could tell a single story. There was never a requirement that it be his own or that there be more than one."
The Storyteller had been caught in her own trap. She reluctantly agreed to marry Amleth and he was eager to have a wife to do his bidding. Years passed and Amleth became meaner and meaner, especially when their union produced no children. Amleth blamed The Storyteller for not being able to carry a child to term and beat her continuously for it.
In desperation she sought the aid of The Healer. She begged him for the means to carry a child to term, using her storytelling art, she conveyed to The Healer the pain she suffered and the importance of having a child. He was moved by her words and gave her a potion, but warned her to only drink one drop each time she wanted a child. The Storyteller thanked him and ran home.
When she got there, she was so desperate for a child that she drank the entire potion right away. That night she conceived and soon her belly swelled with pregnancy. Amleth was pleased and let her be for a time. Soon, however, she felt that there was something unusual about her pregnancy. She sought the advice of The Midwife who told her that she was in such pain because she was carrying more than one child. How many, she couldn't say, but she knew The Storyteller's womb to be full of life.
Finally The Storyteller gave birth to four children, three boys and one girl. Amleth was please with three sons and let her be, but so did everyone else. The Storyteller had no one to help her care for these four children while still fulfilling her duties as a wife and partaking in her crafts. She grew frustrated and realized she would need more arms than what she had.
Using all of her weaving skills, she wove for herself two sets of arms and attached them to her sides. They were strong enough to hold each of her children, even as the children grew older.
At the age of one, each child was finally given a name. To his sons, Amleth gave the names Gahiji, Andrej and Hariraja. To her daughter, The Storyteller gave the name Ebru, in the hopes that she would take after her mother's talent. The Storyteller was not disappointed.
As the children grew, Amleth's fuse shortened. He demanded more his children and his wife, expecting them to show how great he was by their being perfect. The boys began training with weapons and hunting when they were taking their first steps. They were ripped from their mother's arms and trained to be men before they were boys. Amleth demanded more children from The Storyteller and beat her soundly when she failed to produce more. Ebru he did not acknowledge.
The children developed a hatred for their father that mirrored The Storyteller's. She weaved stories to encourage this hate. It built and built until it was time for Ebru to marry.
Ebru had inherited her mother's talents which made her highly desirable as a bride. The Council brought their male descendants to forward as prospects and gave Amleth bribes to win over his favor. But Ebru's desire was for Tomomi, the son of The Healer. Tomomi had proposed, but Amleth had chased him away and starting breaking his daughter's will so she would marry a child of The Council. The Storyteller refused to have her daughter follow in her path and wove poisonous threads into her arms and legs. Amleth died on contact that night when he tried to lay with her.
The Storyteller was brought before The Council and given one chance to defend her actions. The Council had been against her for years so she would be doomed if she did not tell the greatest story of her life.
She started softly, calling upon all of her skills and began weaving her tail of woe, frustration and anger. She called upon Calliope, Clio and Melpomene. Soon her daughter joined her story, adding Terpsakhore and Euterpes' touch. The Council began to weep at the beauty and tragedy that these women were able to weave.
When their story was finished, The Storyteller and Ebru were silent and awaited The Council's judgement. The Council decreed Amleth to have been a poor man, not worth the talent that he married into. Therefore, The Storyteller would have to be the one whose approval was sought after regarding the hand of her daughter. However, murder could not go unpunished. The Storyteller was condemned to weave extra arms for all of her female descendants that whoever sought to marry into the family would know that she and hers were dangerous.
After Ebru and Tomomi were married, The Storyteller saw the effects of the potion The Healer had given her as her daughter gave birth to several children, many four at a time. Using her extra arms, she was able to help Ebru take care of them, earning herself the nickname Grandmother Spider.
So remember this, those who tangle with Grandmother Spider's kin, do not treat them lightly, or ruin their works, for she has weaved them many arms of poison and power, and they will use them.
As her society dictated, she needed to marry. Many men came calling for her hand but she refused them all. When approached by The Council about why she would not marry, she answered "any man can provide for a good family and look good, but these traits only last a few years at best. Find me a man who can tell a story as well as I, and I shall marry him."
The Council was aghast at her arrogance. All of their sons had been refused. So they devised a plan to punish her and teach her a lesson.
The Council collaborated for weeks crafting the finest story they could think of. When they were done, they gave it to Amleth and told him to tell it to The Storyteller and she would marry him. Amleth had never been able to get a wife for he was mean, cruel and used his fists more often than his words. Excited at the prospect of being allowed to marry, he rushed to The Storyteller's home and proceeded to tell the tale, accompanied by The Council.
"What a story Amleth," she exclaimed when he finished. "But you did not write it and you have no others. Therefore I will not marry you."
"That was never the agreement," The Council retorted. "You only asked for a man who could tell a single story. There was never a requirement that it be his own or that there be more than one."
The Storyteller had been caught in her own trap. She reluctantly agreed to marry Amleth and he was eager to have a wife to do his bidding. Years passed and Amleth became meaner and meaner, especially when their union produced no children. Amleth blamed The Storyteller for not being able to carry a child to term and beat her continuously for it.
In desperation she sought the aid of The Healer. She begged him for the means to carry a child to term, using her storytelling art, she conveyed to The Healer the pain she suffered and the importance of having a child. He was moved by her words and gave her a potion, but warned her to only drink one drop each time she wanted a child. The Storyteller thanked him and ran home.
When she got there, she was so desperate for a child that she drank the entire potion right away. That night she conceived and soon her belly swelled with pregnancy. Amleth was pleased and let her be for a time. Soon, however, she felt that there was something unusual about her pregnancy. She sought the advice of The Midwife who told her that she was in such pain because she was carrying more than one child. How many, she couldn't say, but she knew The Storyteller's womb to be full of life.
Finally The Storyteller gave birth to four children, three boys and one girl. Amleth was please with three sons and let her be, but so did everyone else. The Storyteller had no one to help her care for these four children while still fulfilling her duties as a wife and partaking in her crafts. She grew frustrated and realized she would need more arms than what she had.
Using all of her weaving skills, she wove for herself two sets of arms and attached them to her sides. They were strong enough to hold each of her children, even as the children grew older.
At the age of one, each child was finally given a name. To his sons, Amleth gave the names Gahiji, Andrej and Hariraja. To her daughter, The Storyteller gave the name Ebru, in the hopes that she would take after her mother's talent. The Storyteller was not disappointed.
As the children grew, Amleth's fuse shortened. He demanded more his children and his wife, expecting them to show how great he was by their being perfect. The boys began training with weapons and hunting when they were taking their first steps. They were ripped from their mother's arms and trained to be men before they were boys. Amleth demanded more children from The Storyteller and beat her soundly when she failed to produce more. Ebru he did not acknowledge.
The children developed a hatred for their father that mirrored The Storyteller's. She weaved stories to encourage this hate. It built and built until it was time for Ebru to marry.
Ebru had inherited her mother's talents which made her highly desirable as a bride. The Council brought their male descendants to forward as prospects and gave Amleth bribes to win over his favor. But Ebru's desire was for Tomomi, the son of The Healer. Tomomi had proposed, but Amleth had chased him away and starting breaking his daughter's will so she would marry a child of The Council. The Storyteller refused to have her daughter follow in her path and wove poisonous threads into her arms and legs. Amleth died on contact that night when he tried to lay with her.
The Storyteller was brought before The Council and given one chance to defend her actions. The Council had been against her for years so she would be doomed if she did not tell the greatest story of her life.
She started softly, calling upon all of her skills and began weaving her tail of woe, frustration and anger. She called upon Calliope, Clio and Melpomene. Soon her daughter joined her story, adding Terpsakhore and Euterpes' touch. The Council began to weep at the beauty and tragedy that these women were able to weave.
When their story was finished, The Storyteller and Ebru were silent and awaited The Council's judgement. The Council decreed Amleth to have been a poor man, not worth the talent that he married into. Therefore, The Storyteller would have to be the one whose approval was sought after regarding the hand of her daughter. However, murder could not go unpunished. The Storyteller was condemned to weave extra arms for all of her female descendants that whoever sought to marry into the family would know that she and hers were dangerous.
After Ebru and Tomomi were married, The Storyteller saw the effects of the potion The Healer had given her as her daughter gave birth to several children, many four at a time. Using her extra arms, she was able to help Ebru take care of them, earning herself the nickname Grandmother Spider.
So remember this, those who tangle with Grandmother Spider's kin, do not treat them lightly, or ruin their works, for she has weaved them many arms of poison and power, and they will use them.
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