The Legend of the Waterfalls Pt. 01

Again, I would like to thank chasten for helping this Asian navigate the nuances of the English language and NOG77 for the support.

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Everyone in the ancient kingdom of Pagsanjan was excited, for as soon as dawn broke that morning, the king's heralds blew on their tambuyuks, the giant sea conches, to summon them to the lodge of their ruler, Haring Magat. Finally, after months of speculation, the king had chosen a husband for his daughter, the beautiful Bighani.

"I thank you all for coming," Haring Magat said, as he stood in the middle of the large crowd, "and I hope you will be pleased with my choice of husband for my daughter. You all know that both mortals and deities wanted to wed Bighani, but I have chosen none other than...Lakan Dumakulem, the mountain-god."

The people applauded and a satisfied murmur ran through the crowd, the king's choice was not just popular, it was also astute. After all, Dumakulem, one of the most powerful and richest of the deities, held sway over the tall cliffs and peaks that surrounded their kingdom - which he could command to fall and bury them any time he pleased. To forge an alliance with him through marriage was a great advantage. Everyone seemed pleased at the king's choice - everyone - except Bighani herself, for she had always dreamed of marrying for no other reason than true love and she was not in love with the mountain-god; in truth, because he was said to be ill-tempered, she was afraid of him.

That evening, a feast was held in the royal lodge as Haring Magat and his court welcomed the emissaries of Dumakulem.

"My lord has sent you these gifts, Haring Magat," Apo Galang, the head of the delegation and chief advisor to Dumakulem said, as he handed over bags of gold, silver and other rich minerals to Bighani's father. "They are the treasures that can be found in our mountains and highlands and are a token of Dumakulem's regard for you and affection for your daughter."

He clapped his hands once and an assistant stepped forward who held out a pouch to Apo Galang. The head of the delegation, in turn, offered the pouch to Bighani who stood beside her father.

"And this, Lakambini, my lakan sends to you; a symbol of his love and admiration. He knows it cannot match the beauty that you possess for you are aptly named, my lady, you can enchant both mortal and god."

With trembling hands, the maiden accepted the pouch and tipped its contents onto her hand; a gemstone as large as a chicken's egg and as blue as the summer sky tumbled out of the bag.

"We are honored by your lakan's gifts," her father said, "and please tell him that in a week's time, following our customs, my daughter will be at his lodge in the highlands and the wedding shall be a month from this evening, as he requested."

Applause filled the room as Magat's people showed their approval. Dumakulem must certainly be in love with their princess, judging from the richness of his gifts; yes, the match between Bighani and the mountain-god was certainly one made in heaven.

Bighani looked at all the smiling faces around her; she could not share their joy for she felt as if her heart were breaking into tiny little pieces, but she willed her tears to keep from falling.

"Are you not pleased, Lakambini?" the chief emissary asked.

"Of course, I am pleased, Apo, I am just...overwhelmed by your lakan's generosity," she said.

But her apprehensions kept her awake that night. It was said that the powerful Dumakulem was stern and cruel and ruled his kingdom with an iron fist, and since only his chief advisor, Apo Galang, attended the annual grand councils for mortal chiefs and deities, tales were told that it was because the mountain-god did not look like a god at all - he was...a monster.

She remembered her childhood dreams of finding true love and the tears threatened once more, but she was a dutiful daughter and a princess of the lowlands. Instead, she whispered a prayer to the earth goddess, Mariang Makiling, to give her the strength to follow the path in front of her, no matter how difficult it was; she owed it to her father and to her people.

A week later, the bride-to-be journeyed to the mountain-god's kingdom in the highlands above the villages. Upon their arrival, the maiden was presented to the many kings and gods who had journeyed from afar to meet the bride of the powerful Dumakulem. All the chieftains were in complete agreement with Haring Magat's choice - surely, a new era of peace and prosperity was in store for everyone. But not all of their wives and daughters shared the men-folk's sentiment; in fact, some of them pitied Haring Magat's daughter.

That night, just as Bighani was about to retire, she heard a soft knock on her door; she opened it and there stood Apo Galang.

"I know it is late, Lakambini, and I hope you will forgive me. But I am here to tell you that starting tomorrow, I shall introduce you to the ways of the highland people and to what is expected of the wife of a mountain deity. Do not worry," he quickly added when he saw the look of trepidation on Bighani's face, "it will be a gentle education and you will never be forced to accept anything that you will find abhorrent."

The maiden bowed her head.

"I am sure, Apo, that I will not find anything distasteful in the customs of your tribes and I will strive to be what the mountain-god would desire in a wife."

The old man nodded his head in approval.

"You will not fail, Lakambini, of that I am sure. Tell me, are you acquainted with my lakan's lineage?"

"A little, I sought to know more of Lakan Dumakulem, when my father told me I was to marry him, so I asked our tribe's babaylan to tell me what she knew. I learned that his mother, Aman Sinaya, was a water deity and his father was the previous mountain-god. I also know that he has a brother."

"That is correct, Lakan Danum, the water-guardian, is my lord's younger brother and the protector of all the rivers, streams and lakes."

Bighani nodded.

"My people know Lakan Danum well, for without his help, our crops would shrivel up and die. That is why we thank him for his generosity by holding a festival in his honor every year."

"So you have met him?"

"Yes, we...have spoken," Bighani said.

She had met the water-god the first time she led the festival, three harvests before. Lakan Danum was handsome and gallant - and a terrible flirt - even for a god! She smiled, remembering the outrageous compliments he had paid her; it was fortunate that the young princess' head was not easily turned.

The advisor mistook her smile for something more than remembrance. He knew Dumakulem's younger brother very well and how charming and cunning he could be, especially to someone as beautiful - and innocent - as Bighani.

"I must ask again, Lakambini, are you happy?"

Bighani straightened her shoulders.

"You must know, Apo, that, as Haring Magat's daughter, I will always abide by his decision. Every choice he makes is for the good of our tribes, and as a princess of the lowlands, so are mine. I am...content."

A sad look entered Apo Galang's eyes - it was not the answer he had hoped to hear. He bowed and made his way to the door; when he reached it, he stopped and without turning around, spoke again.

"Lakambini, it is true what they say of my lakan, his temper is unmatched in both mortal and spirit worlds, but he is slow to anger and has always been kind and compassionate." Then he opened the door and left.

The days passed and Bighani quickly learned the ways of the mountain kingdom, under the tutelage of Apo Galang. He was such a patient teacher that Bighani began to enjoy the time she spent with him. She had always been an apt and willing pupil and to learn the ways of a culture far different from hers was the one source of delight she found in Dumakulem's court. It was not that the highlanders were unkind to her; on the contrary, they were exceedingly polite and courteous, but since she was to wed their god, they kept a respectful distance.

Then one afternoon, as she was weaving an intricate pattern on the cloak she intended to give her betrothed as a wedding gift, she asked Apo Galang the one question she needed answered.

"Apo, why has Lakan Dumakulem not shown himself to me? I have been here for more than two weeks - and in a fortnight - we are to be wed. Is his reluctance to see me because what is said of him is true, that he is more akin to a monster than a god or have I offended him in any way?"

"Rest assured, Lakambini, the lakan's affection for you grows with each day that passes. As for his looks, he is no monster, but he himself is aware that he is not - and will never be - as handsome as the other deities, which is why he can be reclusive. Fate can play tricks even on a god."

"What do you mean, Apo?"

The advisor placed the scrolls he had been studying down and looked at Bighani.

"His life has not been easy. There was a time when the highland tribes began to turn away from the ancient ways, they started to place more value on the wealth of the mountains - the gold and silver and gemstones - than the mountains themselves and the peaceful life their forebears lived atop them. Soon greed and jealousy took over; they quarreled amongst themselves and stopped caring for the mountains, they ceased planting crops and turned to destroying the cliffs and peaks to find and mine the wealth buried there. The thick forests that covered the mountains fell to their axes, the rich soil wasted under their shovels. Then, even the unthinkable happened, they began to doubt the very existence of the deities. This angered Dumakulem's father and mother so much that they took their two sons and abandoned their people. And without the lakan's protection, the very mountains that gave the tribes the riches they craved, turned against them. The sacred mountains Arayat and Makiling spewed flames and rivers of fire; waves of soil and boulders and molten heat, never experienced before or since, rained on the highlanders and whole villages disappeared under the horrible deluge - men, women and children - no one was spared. After three days, those who were still alive realized what they had done and began to call upon the mountain-god once more, begging for his forgiveness and for salvation. But only the older son heeded their plea, only Dumakulem returned, because as much as he cared for the mountains, he loved his people even more."

"What did he do?" Bighani whispered.

"He shielded them with his body, protecting them from the flaming storm with his strong arms and mighty shoulders. He withstood the fiery pummeling and the burning rain for a whole day and a whole night; when his father saw this, he calmed the sacred mountains and the storm finally ceased. Dumakulem was in great pain and horribly disfigured, but his only concern was for his wayward people. He blew the scalding ash away and scooped the many rocks and boulders that had fallen and returned them back to the mountain tops."

The maiden let out a long sigh; she had not realized she had been holding her breath as Apo Galang told her the tale of the mountain-god.

"Why do the story-tellers and babaylans not mention the tale of Dumakulem's sacrifice?"

Apo Galang smiled sadly.

"I have no answer, Lakambini. Perhaps the tales of an ugly and vengeful god are easier to believe. And as you know, the gods seldom speak for themselves."

"Why have his people not spoken then? Why allow everyone down in the lowlands and valleys to believe in the falsehoods about Lakan Dumakulem?"

"Our lakan would have it that way."

"Again, why?"

"When Dumakulem's father and mother saw what their son had done, they felt a great shame for the pain and disfigurement they had caused him to endure, but they were also filled with pride. Their son's selflessness had not only saved his people, it also restored the highlanders' belief and reverence for the deities and the mountains. The very next day, the mountain-god named Dumakulem his successor."

"There must have been great rejoicing."

"Yes, almost everyone was happy, except for Lakan Danum, who had always been envious of his older brother for he had hoped to be named mountain-god himself. To appease him, Aman Sinaya made him water-guardian. Unfortunately, this was not enough for Danum; he waited till the day that he and Dumakulem took over from their parents. When that day came, he stopped the mountain streams here in the highlands from flowing; until today our water comes from the rainclouds that cover the peaks and from the lakes and ponds in the lowlands which our people must journey to every week. Dumakulem has remained quiet, for he knows that, out of spite, Danum can cause even the waters in your land to dry up; what would happen to all of us then?"

"There would be great suffering...everywhere. Dumakulem is truly worthy to be called a god."

Apo Galang nodded solemnly.

The rest of the afternoon passed quietly; Bighani at her loom and the advisor scanning the scrolls he always carried. When nightfall came, Apo Galang stood up and begged leave of the princess.

"Lakambini, I cannot dine with you tonight, the lakan has requested my presence."

Bighani nodded.

"Apo, I, too, have a request to make," she said, nervously, unsure if the lakan would grant her wish, "I would like to see and speak with Dumakulem, at least once, before we are wed."

"I shall ask him."

That evening, after a solitary supper, Bighani went out to the garden to breathe in the sweet delicate scent of the flowers that grew there and to look at the stars; it had become a nightly ritual for her, ever since Apo Galang taught her their names and the reverence the mountain tribes placed upon them. They seemed so much larger up in the mountains and, with a full moon, seemed to glow even brighter.

She looked around her and since there was no one else in the garden, she lay down on the soft grass and looked at the sky - the most comfortable position for stargazing. She had already seen one shooting star and was hoping to see a second one, when she heard footsteps coming towards her.

She rose quickly, too quickly, for she lost her footing and would have fallen back on to the grass, if not for the pair of strong arms that caught her.

"Are you alright, Lakambini?" a deep gentle voice asked.

Bighani nodded. The stranger set her upright and quickly stepped back into the shadow of a huge molave.

"You are Lakan Dumakulem," she whispered.

"And you are Haring Magat's daughter, Bighani," he answered, "Forgive me for startling you, I thought you would be inside the lodge."

"Oh, I...I often come out to your gardens at night, to breathe in the fragrance of the flowers, they are lovelier here in the highlands, and their perfume is so much sweeter. And when it is a full moon, such as tonight, I gaze at the stars. It is I who must beg your forgiveness, Lakan, for I did not ask if I was allowed to..."

"Lakambini, everything in the mountains is for all to enjoy, they are not my gardens, for they belong to no one entity, they belong to all."

She took a step towards Dumakulem.

"Lakan, you are to be my husband in two weeks, please do not think me too bold or improper, but, please, I...I...nais kitang masilayan," she pleaded.

The mountain-god bowed his head.

"I know you want to see me, Lakambini," he whispered, "Apo Galang told me earlier. At first, I did not want to reveal myself to you, but after I thought long and hard, I realized that, as my bride-to-be, you have the right to know what your groom looks like. But I must warn you, gracious Bighani, I am not handsome; in truth, I am considered...hideous."

"There are different ways of seeing, my Lakan."

Dumakulem took a deep breath and stepped out of the shadows. He was large, larger than any being Bighani had ever seen. He was dressed simply, wearing only the traditional loincloth, although the weave was more colorful than those Bighani was used to seeing. His arms and shoulders, thighs and legs, were heavily muscled - almost grotesquely so - and everything about him bespoke strength and power. She also noticed the many huge red marks on his body, some of them were long jagged gashes while others were deep gouges.

Bighani closed her eyes, as she thought of the pain he must have suffered when the hot boulders and ash rained upon him.

"I am sorry to have distressed you, Lakambini, I shall leave you to your stargazing."

Dumakulem turned to go, but Bighani's hand on his arm stopped him.

She looked up at the face that stared down at her and caught her breath for it truly resembled the mountains that he ruled - sharp-edged and dark and scarred; yet it was his eyes that drew her attention. They were a strange color, the irises were the lightest brown, almost yellow, but the pupils were grey with blue rings around them. It was like staring at the sun and the moon at the same time.

One could easily fall in love with such startling eyes, she thought.

"It is not the scars that distress me, Lakan, but the thought of the pain you must have gone through to earn them. Please, won't you stay and sit with me for a while?"

The mountain-god bowed and breathed a sigh of relief. He had long admired Haring Magat's daughter, ever since he heard of the beautiful young princess Bighani, who, at fifteen summers, had assumed the duties of queen to her father, when her mother died suddenly. She soon displayed a maturity far beyond her years that news of her began to spread, not just among the lowland tribes but among the mountain-folk as well. The traders among his people told tales of how her beauty and wisdom rivaled that of the goddesses and how fortunate the man - or deity - who would wed her would be. But when one of the traders showed Dumakulem a portrait of Bighani, the mountain-god's admiration quickly turned to love, but it was a love that was accompanied by a deep sadness.

"She can never love someone like me," he thought.

When Haring Magat proclaimed that his daughter was of marrying age, deities and mortals sent emissaries to vie for the king's favor. At first, Dumakulem was not one of them; he knew all too well that he could never compete with the other handsome gods, lakans and princes. But Apo Galang reminded him of the many tales told about Bighani's wisdom - surely, a maiden as wise as her - would see beyond his scars and disfigurement. Besides, the advisor pointed out, if Dumakulem were to stay solitary and childless, then his kingdom and his people would eventually lose the constant presence, assurance and protection of a god, and there was the constant danger from Danum to contend with. Reluctantly, the mountain-god sent word to the lowland king of his desire to court his daughter, never expecting that in less than a week, a reply was quickly delivered: Magat had not only accepted his proposal, he had chosen Dumakulem!

"Have you never ventured outside your kingdom, Lakan?" Bighani's soft voice broke the silence, as they sat on a low smooth slab of granite.

"Just once, and that was a very long time ago, when my family and I sought refuge in my mother's kingdom."

"When your people turned away from the ancient ways."

"Apo Galang has taught you well."

"He also told me of how you saved your people."

"I did not save them, Bighani, they saved themselves when they started to believe again."

"But only you came back to help them, Lakan, not your father nor your brother."