Ode to All That is Spring

Ode to All That is Spring is ToaGonel's standalone entry into the 2017 Spring Writing Contest. It takes place within the Broken Order Universe.

Story
Uniran, The Broken Order Universe.

Ten years before the Kritor/Makuta War.

A small Hoto bug scurried out of the forest onto the sandy beach. Careful to stay within the the cool shade of the trees, it observed the ocean from its small patch. The wonderful silver sea crested and splashed on the sand not far ahead. The sky had some clouds, but these were thin and insignificant.

A morning sun smiled down uninterrupted through the greyish-blue sky. The metallic fin of some Dermis brushed the surface, a sign the Hoto instinctively knew meant good weather. The sand glowed with a golden light, but a cool, pre-summer breeze swept through the island.

The Hoto turned back to the island proper. Barely visible through the trees, a tall snow “mountain” loomed over the island, although the Hoto wasn’t stupid enough to question the unusual weather patterns. Still, much like the general receding of the ocean, the mountain was shrinking the last few months, the symptom of warmer weather approaching.

Without warning, terrible war-cries resounded from up the beach, and the Hoto scurried terrified in the opposite direction. Still, he was not fast enough, as two towering giants painted for war raced up behind it, trampling the sand beside the bug and burying it in dirt.

Another war cry erupted from Arrin’s throat, and he waved his wooden weapon of mass destruction at Kimp.

“You cannot defeat me, Kimp,” the Fe-Matoran cried. “For I am nothing!”

“Even nothing can be defeated,” Kimp exclaimed boldly, “When it is filled with something!”

Arrin gasped as though Kimp had happened upon his mortal weakness. Seized by a sudden fervor, he lunged forward, swinging with his Stick of Victory. Kimp fell back, raising his own Stick of Truth to parry. An elaborately clumsy duel ensued, with one gaining the advantage and then falling back. Both Matoran fought with the same valiance as though the fate of whole world hinged on the outcome of this battle, for perhaps it did.

With a sudden downstroke, Kimp brought his stick down on Arrin’s knocking it into the sand. A sweeping kick sent it deep into the forest. Arrin stared at Kimp helpless who pointed his stick at Arrin’s shoulder as if he here about to knight the Fe-Matoran.

“Yield.”

“No.”

“Do it.”

“No.”

“Arrin--”

“Fite me.”

Kimp rolled his eyes. “Arrin, I refuse to kill an unarmed--”

Arrin reached for something stored in his backpack. When his hand emerged, a powerful wooden Zamor Launcher of Death was pointed at Kimp’s face. The Su-Matoran’s eyes widened as Arrin grinned malevolently.

“Prepare to be… Bye bye, Babylon--BE GONE!!!”

In fear, Kimp raised his arms to protect himself and closed his eyes, awaiting the inevitable.

click

… the inevitable.

click click.

… sooner or later.

click click click click click.

Reluctantly, Kimp opened one eye.

“Why isn’t this working?!” Arrin snapped, banging the Zamor Launcher repeatedly against a tree. He pulled the trigger again.

clickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickcli--

“Okay, okay, it clearly isn’t working,” Kimp snapped. He raised his stick again at Arrin. “Yield.”

Arrin rolled his eyes and raised his hands. “Okay, okay, I get it. I yield.”

Kimp smiled darkly.

“Good choice.”

Arrin examined at his weapon. “So it wasn’t good enough to simply lag. Now it just doesn’t shoot altogether.”

“You should take it to Turaga Grunpa. He might know.”

“Or I should find some other toy to play with,” Arrin replied, depositing the weapon in the sand like so much trash. “Did Borin ever finish developing that action figure toy system? Those… buildable action figures or whatever he called them?”

“Seeseebeeess?” Kimp replied, picking some shell out of the sand. “Not to my knowledge. It looks dumb though. I don’t mean anything against Borin, but I can’t imagine who would play with that. The whole idea sounds rather dweebish.”

Arrin shrugged. “I suppose everything appeals to someone. Even the silly-sounding ideas.”

“Yeah.” Kimp started into the forest. “Anyway, I’m going back to the village. Have fun finding the Stick of Victory.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Arrin muttered as he watched him go.

Several hours later, Kelrik tromped out of the forest onto the beach.

“Aaaarin. Aaaarin.”

Rounding a bend, he thought he’d found some weird variety of colored rock formation, but then he realized it was Arrin sitting cross-legged and covered in war paint.

“Aarri--”

Arrin raised his hand. “Stop. Matoran don’t like it when other Matoran yell their name for prolonged periods of time. It happens way too often.”

Kelrik started toward the Fe-Matoran. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Kimp said--”

“Careful where you step.”

Kelrik looked down. Surrounding Arrin were various pieces of what was a disassembled… gun?

“What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to figure out what’s wrong.”

“How do you know something’s wrong?”

“I figured it out.”

“No… I mean what part doesn’t work?”

“All of it.”

Kelrik rolled his eyes. “What part of the gun doesn’t work properly?”

Arrin picked up some parts that resembled the butt of the gun. “The trigger isn’t working.” he picked up another piece, a helical metal coil. The piece was likely meant to return the trigger to its regular, discharged position, but this clearly wasn’t returning as it should.

“So you’re triggered?”

“No.”

“Maybe you’re the trigger.”

“You're triggering me. Cut it out.”

Kelrik shrugged. “I don’t know what to say. In disassembling that thing, you’ve probably irreversibly ruined it. Unless you have step-by-step building instructions.”

A sudden wave of helplessness fell over Arrin whose arms fell lifeless as the tools he’d been working with rolled out of his hands.

“I… don’t know what to do.”

“Get another trigger.”

“The trigger itself isn’t a problem. It’s this coil.”

“Get a new one.”

“You can’t just find replacement pieces. You have to order them… or something. But it’s not easy.”

“Have you asked Grunpa?”

“... no.”

“Then we start there.”

“No, I’m afraid I can’t say there’s any way to repair this,” the Turaga said as he thoughtfully stared at the broken piece. The two Matoran were staring at him intently within his small wooden hut. For several months prior, the windows and doors had been held shut in order to deflect the cool “winter” breeze, but now they were propped open to welcome the sunlight.

Behind Grunpa stood Ervik, in search of guidance as he often was. The Su-Matoran was waiting patiently as the Turaga and the Matoran spoke.

“Do you know if we can find a replacement anywhere on the island?”

The Turaga considered for a moment.

“I think Borin might have some in his tools. I’m not sure if any would be the right fit, though.”

Borin was cleaning the kini with Callah when he saw Arrin bounding over, Kelrik in his wake. At the mere sight of them, Callah rolled her eyes and started to walk off.

“Tell me when the two jokers are gone,” the Ce-Matoran muttered.

Borin watched her go, but Arrin was soon upon him.

“Where’s she going?” he asked.

Borin looked back at Arrin. “I dunno. What do you need?”

Arrin presented his broken mechanism. “I need a replacement piece for this coil. Do you have something that would work?”

“Uh… I take it the coil controls the trigger?”

“Yesss.”

“Mmm. I did find one washed up on the shore of the southern part of Uniran--”

“You mean on my kingdom?”

“Uh… sure, Arrin. Sure. I found it on your kingdom. I’m not sure how well it will fit, but it might.”

“Wait, what were you doing on my kingdom?”

“I, uh… it was before you annexed it.”

“Oh, okay. Carry on.”

Borin turned and started for his hut. Arrin glanced at Kelrik. “I hope to Mata Nui it fits.”

“Yes. Then you can fix up the launcher and shoot everyone, including myself. I hope it fits as well.”

Arrin patted Kelrik on the back. “That’s the spirit.”

Borrin ran back, a small coil in his hand. “How does this work?”

Arrin reached in the small slot where the rusted coil was fitted and removed it. Carefully, delicately, he placed the replacement part in its place.

It worked like a charm.

“Hey, look! It’s working! The coil’s working!” Arrin exclaimed, pressing down on the trigger, feeling the pressure of the coil pressing back against him.

“Well… this adventure has been rather anticlimactic.” Kelrik muttered.

But Arrin didn’t seem to mind. Borin smiled at Arrin’s enthusiasm. “Glad to see it works. And it’s called a ‘spring’ by the way. A type of coil, but more specific.”

“Thanks, Borin!” Arrin said. “Kelrik, let’s take this back to the shore and rebuild the Wooden Zamor Launcher of Death.”

As the two Fe-Matoran started back to the shore, Arrin declared, “He said it’s called a spring, right?” Kelrik nodded. “Let’s take a moment to appreciate all the springs in our lives!”

“Springs raise us up when we are low.”

“Springs pull us down when we get too high.”

“Springs pull us along when there is somewhere to be.”

“Springs keep coming back, even if we make the mistake of pushing them away.”

“They add an extra bounce in our step.”

“They ease us as we fall.”

“They help us stay at a safe distance in our relationship.”

“I love springs,” Arrin declared. “Without springs, nothing would work properly.”

“I can only imagine the horror of a world without springs.”

“Or broken springs,” Arrin shuttered. “Springs are like order. But if they’re broken…”

“Broken Order Universe,” Kelrik breathed.

“Indeed. Thank Mata Nui we don’t live in that universe.”

As the Matoran continued their trek down to the beach, the trees rustled with the wind of an incoming warm front. Arrin would repair his toy and promptly chase Kelrik all around the island and into the Cave of Wonders. All in all, life on Uniran was as it should be.

And the Hoto bug lived happily ever after.

Characters

 * Arrin
 * Kimp
 * Kelrik
 * Borin
 * Turaga Grunpa
 * Callah
 * Ervik
 * Other Matoran of Uniran

Trivia

 * The story could not end "they lived happily ever after" because of the looming Kritor Makuta War. Alack.