When the world was young and growing, what we now cal the green age although back then they didn't know it could ever be different, the rocks could move when and where they wanted. Most rocks were happy to stay where they were, nuzzled up against Ernalda's being, but with Maran's power still perfect, they could move when they wanted to. Of course that is how the mountains came to be, but that is another story.
Then the world got worse, as it always does. The forces of darkness and fire, water and wind all tried to take advantage of the earth. They ate it or stole it or confined it. They could never eat it all or steal it all or confine it all, of course, but the moving rocks were the most vulnerable. Most of the rocks gathered together for their own protection, and this is how the hills came to be, but that is another story. Still, some of the rocks were foolish and moved at the wrong times, and trolls would eat them or storms would blow them away or fires would put laws upon them or currents would sweep them away into the deep sea. Ernalda cried with each loss of one of her daughters, and Maran was moved by her tears, for back then Maran could still be moved in this way too.
Maran pulled her powers back to herself, so that none of the rocks could move except with Maran's blessing. Most of the rocks were entirely content with this. However, a few had loved to move, and cried to Maran to have this power back. But Maran could not give it back to only some and not all, and she would not give it back to all. She warned them of the dangers of moving on their own, but she said that rocks who wanted to be moved could allow themselves to be moved.
Some of the rocks were happy with this, but some weren't, so they cried to Ernalda. She warned them of the dangers of moving, but, showed them how to be round so they could roll and how to be flat so they could be skipped.
Some of the rocks were happy with this, but some still weren't, so they cried to Esrola. She gave them legs, great long legs that allowed them to leap to the tops of hills and run up mountains as fast as they could roll back down.
With this, the moving stones were happy. They ran and the jumped and reveled in being free to move again. But as the goddesses had said, moving was dangerous. Some were caught by the fire tribe's rules and frozen still. Their fine legs and flat tops made the first stools, although some had their legs snap off under heavy loads. Some were caught and blown about by winds and used in the storm tribe's endless wars. In the cold of the storms their legs snapped off, then they were whirled about and thrown far, becoming the first sling stones. Some were caught by the darkness tribe, and their delicate legs were snapped off and eaten, and the rest of the stones were stacked up for later snacks. Some were caught by currents, and swept will-ye-nil-ye through the water, and many had their legs broken off in the process, and they joined the flat stones found in every swift moving stream.
A few of the broken stools were thrown out, and some of the sling stones were never picked up, and some of the snacks were forgotten about, and some of the stones were left for a while on a beach. And they all found that there was a little bit of their legs left. Not enough to run and jump and climb anymore, but enough to push themselves along with, especially going down hill. The ones in the water could move most easily of all, and the rest mostly headed down hills, to eventually end up in water too.
Harmed once, they learned to be cautious. After that, whenever anyone came close to them, they would pretend to be normal rocks again. But when left alone, they keep moving, glad to be able to still move, even if it is slow compared to most other beings. Some were big, some were small, but we call all of them turtles. They all still remember Maran before she became a Gor, but what that resulted in is also another story.
Bryan
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