Finis Chaldea

Reason would not take hold of him so late in a long, long journey. He could not be dissuaded. If he was not to be given passage, he would find his own way through hell and high water, and even worse yet. Indeed, for what would be the point of risking anything less than everything, when he had nothing left? What would be the point of risking any less than everything, when he had everything to gain? He would throw life and limb behind, all that remained bar the skin of beasts he'd eaten, all to chance perpetuating the one thing that remained: life. "Though the place and passage are difficult and the waters of death are deep, I will go. When I come to the waters of death, I will strike at death itself with these weary hands, and I will fend against it with my last breath until my journey is complete. Young woman, maker of wine, I wish to cross with the ferryman," he said. His body was battered. What remained of him was clutching onto life by mere desperation, and it would continue to do so until his life was ended, or until new life was breathed into him. There was no second thought placed into trusting this woman. If he did not trust her, he could do nothing in this realm, this garden she presided over. If he learned that even she could not be trusted, then perhaps he would be crossing those waters to see Enkidu on the other side in the end. To do that, would not his journey be completed in another way?

Gilgamesh remained clutching onto life. He claimed that he would take the trip, and he would do so no matter the cost. Siduri was left to look at the man in amazement. Was this really his mettle? Was this a true showing of himself, to trust a woman he found in the middle of the darkest place. One who lived quietly to herself and could lead him to his doom. Perhaps he was merely depressed or perhaps what was to be found at the end was indeed exactly what he wished to seek. Regardless the confirmation was there and everything she needed to know was now present before her very eyes. Her mind processed his words and she took a deep breath herself. "Come with me," she said softly. Maybe in just a few moments of time, she'd come to appreciate this man's character. Or maybe, this was the only way this tale could ever go? Irrespective of the truth there was only this moment...

"Urshanabi," the name of the ferryman spoken at the edge of this water. Her hands were contorted strangely before her, and she seemed to be peeking through the tips of her fingers. She looked out over the horizon as she aimed to connect one side to the other. A bridge formed over this ocean. Connecting one end to another. Siduri was a simple wise woman, at first sight, just an individual making her own way in this secluded part of the world. Right at the moment, the ferryman she aimed to connect this man with, was simply a magic meant to connect two places. A simple step forward and another and another, upon this bridge would move them over the vastness of this ocean until he reached the shore he sought on the other side. And thus Siduri became Gilgamesh's escort to that which he sought.

There was no ferryman, but instead a spell of sorts to allow transport. The wine-maker herself was to be his escort across the vastness of the death sea, and by way of a simple path to tread upon. One foot in front of the other, he stepped. It felt so similar to his previous path leading into the gods' garden, yet oh so different. At the opposite end lay Utnapishtim, he who entered the assembly of the gods. The elderly, yet capable-looking male brandished a long beard of white, eyes drawn to narrow slits as he looked out into the distance. What was this, encroaching upon this side of the sea? The closer Siduri came with this man in tow, the more disturbed Utnapishtim seemed to be. "Why does Urshanabi stretch here without ceremony? That man who comes is none of mine, surely," he mused. Meanwhile, Gilgamesh's trek continued alongside the wine-maker. Determination leaked through his very pores as they walked over the sea of death, his eyes never straying from the horizon ahead. He could almost sense it─ Utnapishtim was in the distance with the answers he sought.

Of course, the coming of Urshanabi was unexpected. Of course it would be met with something less than happiness, that being said, Siduri would make sure the man known as Gilgamesh got to this portion of his destination, because it was the least she could do for a man who'd already put his all into getting here. "This man is King Gilgamesh of Uruk," she said with her same disposition. "He is why Urshanabi has come unexpectedly," she mentioned. There were many things to say, so much to communicate and Siduri thought if only a little she owed it to the King of Uruk to give him this... just a bit of ease on a long journey. "He's been through a lot, had done many great things... he wants immortality," she said succinctly. "If you don't mind... it's been a long and ardrous journey for him, and not one entirely of his own making..." she added softly. Why did she feel the need to go this far? Well, it was strange, but somewhere deep within Siduri thought she owed this man something...

With the arrival of Siduri and this man of the mortal world, Utnapishtim received all necessary information from the wine-maker. She'd gone against the way of this garden, bringing one who had not undergone suitable trials to be tested for joining the assembly of the gods. In a way, this was an act of sacrilege. Nevertheless, one could not simply say no once the ferryman successfully brought someone over the sea of death. Utnapishtim reached this plane much the same way, yet the one called Gilgamesh had not obtained the gods' favor before this journey. No, in fact, King Gilgamesh had just the opposite. The gods did not wish to see him further empowered; the goal at present was still to keep mankind and those who walked their world underfoot. Whatever Utnapishtim thought, Gilgamesh stepped forth with a speech. "I see you now, Utnapishtim, and your appearance is no different from mine. There is nothing strange in your features. I thought I should find you like a hero prepared for battle, but you lie here taking your ease on your back. Tell me truly, how was it that you came to enter the company of the gods, and to possess everlasting life?" he asked.

Utnapishtim gazed upon the tattered king. His appearance was no different? Had that boy not seen his own visage? The amount of divinity he possessed was clear in his very eyes, in the ethereal glow that enshrouded him during moments such as the present, in even the way he carried himself. Speaking of how he carried himself, though... there was no way he could actually acquire immortality by the garden's trial. "I will reveal to you a mystery. I will tell you a secret of the gods. As for you, Gilgamesh, who will assemble the gods for your sake, so that you may find that life for which you are searching? But if you wish, come and put it to the test. Only prevail against sleep for six days and seven nights," Utnapishtim explained, inviting Gilgamesh into his own home within this realm. It was he who watched over the test for those who would become like him, but Gilgamesh would not leave in such a way. Merely remaining on this side of the death sea for the aforementioned timeframe, without feeling the slightest kiss of death via sleep, was enough of a test. Ah, but the journey to reach this place was arduous enough, and Gilgamesh's journey was longer still. As the king rested on his haunches, sleep laid claim to him quickly. Utnapishtim left the clearly drowsy king's side and addressed Siduri. "Look at him now, the strong man who would have everlasting life. Even now, the mists of sleep are drifting over him."

A conversation between Gilgamesh and Utnapishtim was to ensue, and Siduri sat aside and listened. She wondered what would be said and the words shared between these two great men were about what she expected. Ah, but even the man who'd already claimed immortality for himself came with a certain test. Trials were the way of places like this, so the King of Uruk was given one. And what a mighty one it was, to stay awake for a mere week after the length of his journey should have been no real challenge. And perhaps if it had been the start of this journey this could have been a test easily passed. But here and now, after decades of toil and grief. The king sat down and fell asleep, almost instantly. What would have been easy became an impossible task just by virtue of the journey. Ah, but of course, that sort of thing was about the expectation here. Siduri looked at Utnapishtim and gave a soft smile. "I can see that. Just tap his shoulder, and wake him gently. Send him back to his life the way he came..." she offered. She didn't know this situation would end like this, but she had no ill-will towards King Gilgamesh. Moreover, somewhere deep within her building she wanted him to be alright, which was not a thought she was sure she understood the start of.

Tap his shoulder, she said. Send him back the way he came, she continued. That would not be enough. If he was merely sent back to Uruk, that moronic king would somehow find his way back to this plane of existence. Utnapishtim did not wish to see this blonde again for the rest of time, entering his domain clad in the skin of wild beasts and smelling of their dung. "All men are deceivers. Even you, he will attempt to deceive. Bake loaves of bread, each day one loaf, and put it beside his head. Make a mark on the wall to number the days he has slept," Utnapishtim insisted. He would not allow the king to pretend sleep had not taken him, nor would he let him pretend he was prepared to pass this trial. Whatever the reason for failure, it remained just that: failure. That was what it was, and that was what Utnapishtim would let it be, regardless of Gilgamesh's claims when he woke.

According to the Faraway the King of Uruk would attempt to deceive Siduri when he woke. To what end? Likely to try and keep going his challenge. Instead of letting this happen as naturally intended Utnapishtim explained that she should bake a loaf of bread and mark the wall each day the man slept. This would act as proof of his unconscious state. "If that is what you wish... I will go along with this," said Siduri. And she went to work baking her first loaf of bread and marking the wall. She'd leave that loaf beside Gilgamesh and not bake another until the next day. This pattern would continue, until the count of baked loaves was six with a seven on the embers. Those six before had been there long enough to begin to decay. Ah, but the number was strangely aligned as well, the number of fully baked loaves was currently equal to the number of gods in Celestia. How fitting. While Siduri worked on her next loaf she thought over the sleeping king, he did deserve his rest, it wasn't really something she'd interfere with. Yes, he'd failed his trial but... he was a hero, and a hero's life was supposed to be about the journey.

Six days, and seven nights. The trail was a tremendous failure in the end. On the seventh day, the rising sun was followed by Utnapishtim tapping the King of Uruk to wake him. Just as he expected, just as he warned Siduri one week before, Gilgamesh rose and spewed lies immediately. "I hardly slept when you touched and roused me," he declared. Knowing this moment would come, Utnapishtim pointed to the king's side. "Count these loaves and learn how many days you slept, for your first is hard, your second like leather, your third is soggy, the crust of your fourth has mold, your fifth is mildewed, your sixth is fresh, and your seventh was still over the glowing embers when I touched and woke you."

Gilgamesh looked, and he realized the truth. The king thought he was merely resting his eyes. Staving off sleep was something he'd been doing for several decades now, but that thief in the night called sleep had taken hold of his limbs. In this realm, that was the worst fate one could know. The trial was over, and there was no victory for the pompous King Gilgamesh. What had it all been for? "What shall I do, Utnapishtim? Where shall I go? Wherever my foot rests, I find death. It inhabits my room, it awaits my every breath to make the next my last," he explained. To Gilgamesh, even sleep felt like the potential end as of late. Enkidu fell asleep some decades ago, and each time he woke over several days, he woke worse than ever before. What if he was next? What then would become of his journey?

Utnapishtim did have some solace for the King of Uruk. If nothing else, he'd seen Siduri dutifully baking bread to leave at Gilgamesh's bedside. He'd seen the tossing, the turning of a broken man in his homestead over six days and seven nights. Moreover, there was still the matter of Siduri breaking a most sacred rule of this realm. Perhaps he, too, had a kindness to offer while maintaining his position and the laws of this garden. "Woe to you, Urshanabi. Now and forever more, you have become hateful to this harborage. It is not for you, nor for you are the crossings of this sea. One, you have brought to me, and one, you will take from this place with nothing but wasted time. Go now, banished from the shore. But... this man before whom you walked, bringing him here, whose body is covered with foulness and the grace of whose limbs has been spoiled by wild skins... take him to the washing-place. There he shall wash his long hair clean as snow in the water. He shall throw off his skins and let the sea carry them away, and the beauty of his body shall be shown. The fillet on his forehead shall be renewed, and he shall be given clothes to cover his nakedness. Till he reaches his own city and his journey is accomplished, these clothes will show no sign of age; they will wear like a new garment."

That was not all Utnapishtim had to say. No, there was a much greater truth to share. Gilgamesh would receive no immortality, but his journey had been an arduous one. It was clear in the way he slept, wild as a beaten hound in its cage, as if fighting against reality from the dream state. "Gilgamesh, you came here a man wearied out. You have worn yourself out. What shall I give you to carry you back to your own country? Gilgamesh, I shall reveal a secret thing. It is a mystery of the gods I am telling you. There is a plant that grows under the water; it has a prickle like a thorn, like a rose. It will wound your hands, but if you succeed in taking it, then your hands will hold that which restores lost youth to a man."

And as the seventh loaf was baking Gilgamesh was roused from his sleep. Immediately this man began to protest, claiming he'd not been sleep very long at all. Siduri had been here this entire time. She'd baked the bread and watched and waited as she had in the garden before now. She new the truth of the passage of time, but still the reaction to being caught unawares made her giggle lightly behind her veil. Utnapishtim had been right, that was exactly the first reaction of the King of Uruk. Ah, but the truth of this tired man came to the forefront. He walked in death and was afraid of it, having failed his task there was no immortality for him, but Utnapishtim wasn't a cruel man. He saw the struggles of the King of Uruk and had for him a consolation prize. But what would Siduri get for all the trouble she'd gone through this great amount of time? Banishment and the task of seeing the young king she'd led here out. Ah, she supposed that was a fair enough thing to have happen. She'd violated the spirit of the rules of this place. She wasn't so obtuse as to not understand what she'd done here. "I understand. I'll see to this final task...and leave these shores," she said acknowledging her part in this. Oh well, it wasn't like she loved this place at all. She'd been born here, and now she'd leave. Perhaps she'd see what the world had to offer her.

Her instructions given, she'd wait for the King of Uruk. She'd lead him to the washing place and do all things instructed of her. In this particular moment she had no real thoughts of her sacrilege nor her own abandoned post. Right now, she simply wished to conitnue helping the king until he ended this long journey of his.