(no subject)
When Paul-who-isn't-his-father and Jaelle-who-isn't-his-mother die, Kevin dan Davor of the andain has been around twelve years old for going on twenty-five years.
He doesn't know where to go at first. He has always had a home, before. He stays in the cottage for a month, feeling lonely. He considers seeking out his mother, but he suspects that wouldn't help with the loneliness. So instead, he does the next-best thing to seeking out his father, and goes out to the steppes to find the Dalrei.
Kevin likes the Dalrei, and they like him. Ivor dan Bannor is long dead, but Levon dan Ivor remembers Kevin's father well, and welcomes him in Davor's name. Kevin learns to hunt elkor with reasonable skill - and if he sometimes runs with the elkor as one of them, he makes sure not to do it on days when anyone is hunting.
"This life suits you," says Levon after a year, pleased to be doing well by his old friend's son. "You've been growing."
Kevin looks around fifteen, now. He can ride with the warriors, though he is still more a child than not, and not let to do anything to dangerous. This suits Kevin perfectly well; he has no urge to prove himself. There's no rush. He is andain, and he has time.
He has time, but his friends do not. The boys who learned to hunt elkor along with him grow, and keep growing, and marry, and have children. Kevin stays slim and beardless and likeable and free of responsibility. A few years pass, and he rides with a new crop of youths. Another few years go by. Another set of boys grow up, and Kevin does not. Levon dies, and his son, who once helped Kevin to smuggle a skunk into the shaman's bedroll, succeeds him.
The Dalrei know what Kevin is. They don't question his youth. Kevin doesn't question it either. He is surrounded by people; he enjoys his life, mostly. He doesn't know what more to ask for.
All the same, for reasons he can't name, he finds himself running more with the elkor, these days, than with the hunts.
He doesn't know where to go at first. He has always had a home, before. He stays in the cottage for a month, feeling lonely. He considers seeking out his mother, but he suspects that wouldn't help with the loneliness. So instead, he does the next-best thing to seeking out his father, and goes out to the steppes to find the Dalrei.
Kevin likes the Dalrei, and they like him. Ivor dan Bannor is long dead, but Levon dan Ivor remembers Kevin's father well, and welcomes him in Davor's name. Kevin learns to hunt elkor with reasonable skill - and if he sometimes runs with the elkor as one of them, he makes sure not to do it on days when anyone is hunting.
"This life suits you," says Levon after a year, pleased to be doing well by his old friend's son. "You've been growing."
Kevin looks around fifteen, now. He can ride with the warriors, though he is still more a child than not, and not let to do anything to dangerous. This suits Kevin perfectly well; he has no urge to prove himself. There's no rush. He is andain, and he has time.
He has time, but his friends do not. The boys who learned to hunt elkor along with him grow, and keep growing, and marry, and have children. Kevin stays slim and beardless and likeable and free of responsibility. A few years pass, and he rides with a new crop of youths. Another few years go by. Another set of boys grow up, and Kevin does not. Levon dies, and his son, who once helped Kevin to smuggle a skunk into the shaman's bedroll, succeeds him.
The Dalrei know what Kevin is. They don't question his youth. Kevin doesn't question it either. He is surrounded by people; he enjoys his life, mostly. He doesn't know what more to ask for.
All the same, for reasons he can't name, he finds himself running more with the elkor, these days, than with the hunts.