Acolyte, Eblow and Anvil go to Avalon.
The temple was massively built in a style that would eventually be called ‘Romanesque’ but was designed by the gods. One of the rare periods where they played together and laughed and built their homes and created favourite places to have fun.
The question that bothered them towards the end of its construction was its dedication. All the gods in the town (factually it was the entire town that was inhabited entirely by gods) had agreed at the planning stage that the building would just be a centre-place for them all to enjoy. It had taken some time for the design to be agreed in order for all to have their own secure space within ere the confines of the building in addition to the wide open aspect for community gatherings such as singing, magical music, feasting and fornication.
Admittedly the furnishings were basic slabs of granite and sandstone scooped into armchairs and bar stools arranged around the enormous rectangular marble tables that were placed at irregular angles on three sides of the enormous hall. Splendid pillars sat on all edges of the building, each topped with a giant as if waiting for release. Similarly the multicoloured marbled slabs of table-top were supported by humans. Some standing, arms akimbo and supporting the table like an army surrendering, while others had humans kneeling, crouching or lying in various positions upon another to support the sheets of marble on their backs. Luckily they were spelled to remain still and dumb or they would have created a degree of chaos with their moaning and wailing that would have severely taxed the gods. Dragons laboured in the kitchens, aprons twitching under wings and waiters waited; ever waiting, waiting, waiting.
So, the giants looked down and the humans looked up to all the different gods that partied or argued over who possessed whom throughout the inauguration of the most exotic and profligate building ever. Finally, after the wildest partying and hilarious tricks played on lesser gods by the higher they had to decide on the naming of the Hall. Many of the serving nymphs, imps, nyaed, and even cherubs had been spelled into unnatural phenomenon like trees, brooks, flowers, maybe statues or even animals and worst of all, humans.
For generations the gods tussled and argued, tricked and joked with each other. They failed time after time. Eventually they decided that as they were themselves the fiction of man’s imagination and need that they required the naïveté of a human to choose a name for the building. But there they came unstuck. Humans were entailed to so many different gods that jealousy became rampant both in their table-hugging ranks and within the gods that needed humans’ belief in them.
Eventually, tired from the continual wrangling, body-transforming interludes and the boredom of tricking each other they each wrote a suggestion of name on a stone and cast them into a finger-bowl they called the Adriatic. The first name called out would be the one.
They called upon Anvil, the youngest in their midst to stir and mix the stones at random. She put one finger in the water, circled it once and the waters streamed and stirred and sank as a spinning vortex. The stones span and clashed together. Rubbing side against flat, slate against marble, gneiss against schist until the waters slowly rose again, receding from the lip of the bowl to settle like the ebb tide.
They asked Eblow, next in age, to plunge his hand into the bowl and retrieve a stone, which he did, testing the texture with his rasping fingers. Then passed, as instructed, to Acolyte, next in line to read the random chosen name
Acolyte took the stone, guarded against the light by Eblow’s hands so none of the gods could catch a glimpse or read the chosen word. Acolyte held the rounded stone, worn smooth now by Anvil’s whirlpool spin and searched the letters to read the word aloud. He tried. He held the stone at angles, up to the light and in the shade. The writing, hieroglyphs or Arabic or some other godly form he couldn’t tell.
The silence around him was palpable. A word he never used but this once. All eyes upon him, he felt the frustration of decision weighing heavily on his neck. Unable to read the word clearly, correctly sensing a thunderbolt about to fall he collapsed and decided to ask for help. He passed the stone to the nearest god and asked:
“Avagander!” Came the response. The whisper slid from ear to mouth and like the ripple of lava from a volcano the word repeated and repeated. Volume and excitement spread around the mountain hall of the gods until the eruption of a myriad vocal chords exclaimed “Avagander! Avagander! Avagander!”
And so was set the name of the most famous site in the mysterious world of the gods.
No-one took the stone, no-one claimed the laurel of that written name to last as long as humans cared, so Acolyte kept it in his pocket. Sometimes in the night when he thought about it, of the time he asked for help in the reading of the stone, he wondered if he should tell. For later, when alone, he looked again at that writing on the stone and made the letters out to read, ‘Avalon’.
a myth-mix also the Frinks