I groaned. My head hurt like crazy. I scratched an itch on my leg. Were there bugs in the grass or something? I rolled off onto the ground and stared up at the roof of the tent. My whole body was sore. All that fighting, running, and climbing had pushed me to my limits. Especially going back to grab Kelser without any rest. Maybe I should have sent the tribesmen with some directions. If I hadn’t lost the sunflo beetle at the cave on top of the mountain, I could’ve just handed it off to a rescue party, but that little bugger went off with its mate the moment I wasn’t looking.

I sighed. My lips were cracked. I needed water. I felt hungry, too. I had to grab a bite when I left the tent. What time was it? There wasn’t any light seeping in through the entrance, so I figured it was night time. I should stand up and get something to eat and drink.

But I didn’t want to get up. It wasn’t my battered and bruised body that was stopping me from getting off the ground. I just didn’t feel like doing it. Doing anything. Especially thinking. I definitely did not want to be thinking right now. Let the hunger and thirst keep my mind preoccupied. No need to think about a dream that made me homesick, or my adopted family getting murdered, or my best friend disappearing into the wild to hunt godlike immortal beings.

Man, I was bad at not thinking about things.

My ears pricked up. Elfin ears feel weird, by the way. It’s not the length that feels weird, it’s the shape and movement that gets me. They perked up whenever I was trying to listen to something, and would droop down if there was nothing to listen to. The stories don’t mention how strange it feels when your entire face gets pulled up slightly when there’s a strange, loud sound outside, but it definitely happened to me as loud thumping noises drifted in from outside the tent. On the bright side, that subtle feeling was enough to make me want to get up.

I gingerly pulled the monster hide aside, and left the tent. All the fires near my tent were out, with only a few smoldering coals dotted inside them. There was nobody nearby and all the tents seemed empty too. The sounds were coming from the distance. I squinted and made out a small light coming from near the peak of the mountain. I didn’t know where the food was, but I knew there was a spring where the sounds were coming from.

As I approached the large campfire, I began making out the different sounds that I was hearing. There was a lot of hollering and cheering, with some chattering and shouting mixed in. Drums like heartbeats boomed through the air. Twangy strings cut through the cacophony, dominating every other sound with their high pitch. Some drums were deep, others were shallow but beat quickly. Many voices provided notes the instruments could not hit, serving the tune like a chaotic a cappella. I noticed some of the drums did not sound like drums at all, and as I got closer, I realized they were actually thumping feet.

A massive bonfire had been erected on this side of the mountain, on a small open area with no tents or other obstacles. You could get an amazing view of the surrounding area from here, although it was so dark tonight, I couldn’t see anything over the edge. All I could see were the highlighted silhouettes of dancing, laughing, singing humans, with many a child playing or old man droning or women chatting while feasting on the many things being cooked and grilled over the large fire. The freshwater spring that I was looking for was right by the fire too.

I stood still at the edge of the festivities, trying to wrap my head around what was going on. The summer solstice had long since passed, and I knew there were not supposed to be any other special events since most tribes should have already left by now. The only reason they hadn’t, was because they wanted to stay with elves for as long as possible.

I saw elder Kezler laughing with some friends near where I was standing. His laugh seemed a little less bright. I remembered how happy he had been with elder Sunki. I wasn’t sure where Sunki had gone, but judging by what happened to Priest Oxi, Sunki was probably not coming back any time soon. Kezler’s gaze drifted over. Perhaps he’d seen me in the periphery of his vision. His eyes widened and he stumbled forward. His friend’s followed his gaze, and became flustered as well. I walked over, attracting even more attention from the humans nearby. Luckily, we were far from the thick of the action, and the music and merry-making carried on.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

“Teacher, you are awake!” said Kezler.

“Yeah, sorry for worrying you. Was I out long?” I asked.

“You were asleep for a couple of days, sir,” said one of Kezler’s friends.

I raised an eyebrow. No wonder I felt so hungry and thirsty. I asked them if they could bring me some food and drinks, and they almost began fighting to go get it for me. I ended up picking one of them, a bald-headed old man. I told him to not tell anyone I was awake and to avoid getting any more attention on me. As the bald-headed man left towards the fire, I sat down behind a small rock, shielding myself from view while still being able to look at the humans having a great time at whatever event was going on.

“Elder Kezler,” I said, “I thought the festival was over. What are all these people celebrating?”

“Ah, teacher, it is a wonderful situation, made possible only by your presence!” said Kezler. “Two young people who were courting each other for a few solstices finally decided to get together. One’s ceremony of departure is not usually this well attended, nor is the food and entertainment always this good, but everybody realized that opportunities like this are rare. We decided to work together to make this ceremony grand and enjoyable!”

“This is a wedding?” I said as I looked around the place. Nothing about this event was like the weddings from back home. I couldn’t even tell who the bride or groom were! “And why did you call it something weird, like the ceremony of departure?”

“What do you mean, teacher? The ceremony of departure is the ceremony of departure. It is when two people decide to formally join together and start a family,” he said.

“Right, it’s a wedding. But I want to know why you’re calling it the ceremony of departure,” I said.

“But you are calling it by the same name?” he said.

Ah. More translation shenanigans. “Never mind that. Departure. Is there some sort of link with the dead? A ceremony involving the ancestors or those who have passed?” I said.

“No, the departure we are referring to is the act of leaving one’s tribe,” he said.

I frowned. “Leaving the tribe?” My mouth opened as realization dawned. “Right, because if both partners are from different tribes, one of them has to leave their tribe for them to live together.”

“Exactly,” said the elder. “Custom dictates that all couples be made between tribes, and the ceremony of departure is an important rite of passage for all the young people of our tribes.”

“But how do you decide who stays and who goes?” I asked.

“Well, the elders of the two tribes will sit down with the couple and try to figure it out. They consider things like the size of the tribes, whether one tribe needs more hunters, or does not have enough children. The couple may choose on their own, if the needs of either tribe are not very pressing, but most prefer to let the elders decide. No couple wants to ruin their relationship by insisting only the other leave their family behind,” said the elder.

I nodded, slowly. As an American, this sort of wedding and family structure felt quite strange and alien, but then again, this was another world with its own cultures and norms. I almost asked the elder why the couple didn’t just leave both families behind and join a third tribe, until I realized that crying man who was hugging and old woman near the edge of the bonfire was probably the groom. If he was crying on what was essentially his wedding day, I figured leaving one’s tribe was probably a difficult thing to do.

“Of course, this time, the decision was quite an easy one to make,” continued the elder.

“What do you mean?” I said.

“The groom was from the dishonored Nare tribe. It was only natural that he leave the tribe for his wife’s tribe, so his children did not have to carry the name of that tribe,” said the elder.

I frowned as the bald-headed man returned with some food and water. I turned to stare at the still weeping groom, his hands wrapped around a feeble old lady. A young woman walked next to him and put a hand on the crying man’s shoulder. The music and festivities drowned out the man’s cries.