Childhood's End
"Do you see it yet, my little one? All of life is a circle. Watch the world and know it for yourself. See where the land meets the sky, little one. All around you is a circle. The sun forever chases the moon across the sky, as the Earthmother gently turns the land so she may look upon it and see its goodness. The seasons follow a circle. Life and death itself is a circle, little one. What once was will be again. Do you see it yet, my little one?"
Many summers would pass before the little bull would see it for himself.
The big bull now smiled, "You will never learn anything worth knowing by only asking of it, Takoda, and you have learned all you may by watching without doing. Here, little one. Take what I have made." He handed the weapon down as pride welled up in his heart. "This is yours, my son. It is time you have your own." The young one took the gun into his hands. He hefted it a moment, getting a feel for the weight. In a motion Takoda had seen his father execute countless times, he let the heavy stock rest on his right forearm while the butt pressed up beneath his arm. His father reproved him as Takoda's hand reached forward to run down the barrel, "You know better, little one."
His father was outspoken, headstrong, and prideful. He was a hunter, a caretaker of both land and tribe. For twenty-four years the young bull had watched his father. In this time, he had learned many things. He now knew the scent of his prey on the wind. He knew to listen to the land to determine their numbers. He learned the importance of the Great Hunt. He had learned to find calm in himself and stillness of hand, where others gave in to fear. He had learned to appreciate the tranquility of the still pond, as well as the turmoil of swift waters. He could survive on his own for what seemed endless days at a time. He could take from the land its bounty.
His mother was quiet, unassuming, and contemplative. She was a druid, a caretaker of both land and tribe. For twenty-four years the young bull had watched his mother. In this time, he had learned many things. He now knew the guidance of the Earthmother on the wind. He knew to listen to the land to hear her wisdom. He learned the importance of caring for others. He had learned to find peace in his heart and clarity of mind, where others gave in to rage. He had learned to appreciate the lush beauty of the plains, as well as the strife of harsh environs. He could survive with others for what seemed endless days at a time. He could return to the land its bounty.
In giving Takoda his first weapon, his father had started a new phase in the life of the young bull. He would now begin his long journey to adulthood. In just over two decades time, he would be expected to perform the rites of passage. This seemed so far off to the young bull, but his parents knew it would be upon them far sooner than they wished it. This was the second honor his father bestowed upon him.
His father, as a youth, had been called Takoda, as had his father before him, and his father, and their fathers stretching back beyond the Time of Memory. The first-born bulls of his family always took this name. In his time, his father knew young Takoda would pass it to his first-born bull. In the Orcish tongue, the name Takoda means "Friend to All." This was the first honor his father bestowed upon him.
Young Takoda was given to long periods of wandering. He would hunt. He would fish. He would play with friendly animals. He made games of approaching the most fearsome beasts he could find until they either trusted him or chased him away. He would enjoy life, perhaps a bit more than he should, and did not focus on the preparations for his rites of passage. In this way, he was much like his father.
Always, the enemies of the tribe were about. The tribe had for long ages known war with the centaurs. They knew the threats of other enemies to both tribe and land. In this, the tribe was the same as any. They would band together when needed, and seek peace whenever they could. Though young Takoda knew war, he had no wish for it. He saw its need and would fight with the same ferocity as any who protect that which is loved by them, but when the fight was over he would be glad for it. In this way, he was much like his father.
Many summers passed. Young Takoda would soon undergo the rites of passage. His focus became intense, his preparations were all that occupied his mind. Countless hours were spent developing the skills he would need to successfully navigate the rites. His father and mother provided guidance. They wept quietly in moments alone, joyful and saddened by this moment soon to be upon them. Young Takoda did not see this, knowing only their love and support. In this way, he was much like his father.
The time of his rites came. He was tested in mind, spirit, and body. All his skills were called upon. His wisdom was questioned. His endurance was pushed to the limit. He emerged from it, knowing in himself what he had accomplished. He knew how far he had come. He knew that it was his parents and his tribe to whom he owed it. The ceremony that followed brought him into full adulthood in the eyes of the tribe. Now was his time to shed the name of his youth, to find a new one for himself out in the world beyond the plains. He would return to his tribe later, having learned what he could of the outside world, to raise his own family. In this way, he was much like his father.
They stood together, his arms around her in comfort, his hands holding hers. They watched until the young bull disappeared into the distance, out of their sight. They kept watch for hours more, both weeping quietly. The old bull finally saw for himself the wisdom of the words of the circle. He was grateful for this, and glad he had spoken the words to his son.
In this way, he was much like his father.
Posts
