We All Come From Somewhere [Nenet - Solo thread]

[Valrein Gudrun]

"It is not a good time for a child! Can you not wait?"

The woman laughed, the gentle sound in stark counterpoint to the desperation and exasperation in the man's voice.

"You're son does not care if it is storming, he is impatient, like his father."

"We have so few supplies.. The Shaman has not reached us yet.."

"We have enough, and she is old, the journey is many days even in fine weather. Women have babies every day."

"Other women! Not you!"

"No, but we must all start somewhere yes? One does not wake up with a full herd."

"What if something goes wrong?"

"You heard the Shaman's prophecy, our son will be fine, strong, a leader. His herds will multiply and spread across the Tundra."

"I- yes. The Shaman said."

The man nodded once, decisively, before resuming his pacing, crossing the ground within the modest fur yurt in three long strides before turning and doing it again. In the center, a small fire lay banked, ensuring that the tent was warm and cozy. A very pregnant woman reclined on the ground, piles of furs around and under her.

"Come, sit, you will wear out your shoes, and I will not be making you new ones for several days."

She teased him, holding her arms out. He went to her immediately and gathered her against himself.

"When?"

He asked.

"Soon."

 

[Valrein Gudrun]

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"Aaah, I think I see them, up ahead! Faster!"

"Grandmother it is not good to go so fast, in a storm like this the caribou could mistep and break their legs, we could be going in circles! Surely this could have waited!"

"Mother Nature does not wait, and do you think I would not know what direction I am traveling in? Impudent boy, I have walked these snows for more years than you, your mother and your father combined."

"Of course Grandmother, I mispoke."

The boy, man really, hung his head at the rebuke.

"There, there, you have many years yet ahead of you to grow out of your foolishness, surely your first wife will teach you to mind your tongue if nothing else does. Now, faster!"

The boys ears blushed bright red, but he urged the great bull caribou pulling the small sledge on. A blur, hardly recognizable through the continually blowing snow resolved itself into a tent

"Ahah! What did I say boy?"

Cackled the ancient wizened woman wrapped up securely within the sledge.

"Spirits see for you Grandmother."

The boy responded, as was proper.

"Oh they do, they do, but you youth should learn to use your own eyes too! Sometimes the spirits are busy! Surely they are better than an old womans!"

They pulled up, the boy first helped unwrap the old woman and lift her out before handing her an old gnarled cane made of carved bone. He then unhitched their mount and moved it to the modest windbreaker that protected the two scrawnier does of those they'd come to see. That most important task done, he moved to follow the old woman into the yurt.

 

[Valrein Gudrun]

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"You're too late old woman. You and your damned spirits."

The vehemence and pain that dripped from that voice was palpable. The Shaman waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness within the tent, they did not do it as quickly as they'd used to. It was cold as well, did the fool not have the fire going? There was a rich, dark scent in the air that made her uneasy.

"Boy, light the fire."

"Yes Grandmother."

"No!"

A carved mug went flying across the small space, the liquid flying from it stinking of alcohol.

"What's the point? Come to see what you've done with your false prophecies?"

"Light the fire."

The boy bent to obey, expertly striking sparks of from his well worn piece of flint and small metal nodule. The spark caught, and grew, soon a small fire danced, though it would be awhile before it chased away the chill in the air.

Looking about, sorrow showed on the old womans face. The man was a mess, obviously drunk, eyes red and snot running down his face. Along one wall a carefully wrapped shape. Beside it, a smaller one, more discarded than placed.

"A strong son. A leader."

He sneered.

"She believed in you, now I have NOTHING. No son, no mate, nothing!"

"You are young yet, others have lost loved ones before."

Was her absent answer as she moved to examine the bodies. The man tensed, but even in his current state, the respect that had been ingrained in him kept him from actively acting against the Shaman. The boy alternated between staring at his feet and eyes darting back and forth between the two.

Because the smaller bundle was closer, the old woman opened it first.

"Spirits!"

She gasped, one gnarled hand rising to her chest. She rounded on the man, for a moment eyes flashing and hinting at the power she held within the tribe, and at the woman she had once been.

"What are you trying to do you stupid man! Kill the baby in punishment? As if he wanted to lose his mother?"

"Look closer hag, your eyes are as bad as your connection to the spirits, that's no son."

A second look confirmed that the babe was indeed a girl child, re-wrapping the small and oddly silent form that watched her with solemn eyes, the old woman cradled it to her breast.

"There is no dishonour in a daughter, you know this."

"And what am I to do with a daughter? How am I going to feed her? Do you see breasts on me woman? Do either of my does look like they've calved recently? The child is dead, leave it to go back to the damned Spirits."

The old woman gave him a shocked and angry look.

"This is not our way! You had your does! Once it was clear your wife was lost you should have set out immediately for another tribe! You knew we were nearby, and would have seen her fed."

"Bah. What do I care if it lives or dies, my heart lies dead under those furs. Take it if you want it, and may the little corpse bring you much satisfaction."

He spat and turned his face away from her.

"You are lost in your grief, so I will beg the Spirits to forgive you. We will take this child, and when you are done grieving, know you will have a place in our camp."

She rose to go, but paused once at the tent flap and looked back.

"You are the Father, she is yours to name, it would be bad luck for her to travel without one."

"Velrein."

He spat out at once. The boy blanched, and took a quick step away from him. Even the old woman looked shocked.

"This is.. This is not a lucky name. She is your flesh and blood. Your wife's flesh and blood. You will not reconsider?"

"It is my wife's death. It is as I have named it, the lonely death, much may your tribe enjoy it. I am the Father, and I have spoken before the Spirits! If the damned thing survives, let all who hear its name know what it is! Now leave me old woman, you are not welcome in my tent."

This was a grave breach of hospitality, and to an elderly shaman during a storm no less, but the old woman didn't give it another thought, merely headed out the door and the boy hustled to get ahead of her and ready the sledge.

 

[Valrein Gudrun]

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"I would not question you Grandmother, but her own Father has put a life curse on her.. before the Spirits."

"Bah, that fool knows the spirits as well as you. If the Spirits took note of every fool who said something in pain we'd not be here. Besides, she lived didn't she? What newborn do you know who could have made that trip without first milk? That is the will of the Spirits."

"I suppose.. I do not know which tent will take her though, not everyone can be expected to see the Spirits will as clearly as you, but they will hear the curse each time her name is said."

The Chief furrowed his brows. He supposed it would have to be him. He would not make anyone else unwillingly take the child and he could not gainsay his Shaman when she chose to throw her weight around. His wife was not going to be happy, which meant that he was not going to be happy.

"I have considered this."

The old woman replied with a flick of her hands, as if tossing aside an unworthy problem.

"She will be raised in my tent."

"W-! Grandmother! It is not done! She is an infant, not a shaman! How can she belong to your tent? It will be many years before she can even be tested to see if she is Spirit-touched at all!"

"Bah, do you think I have not thought of this? It is not without precedent. Some shamans bring their mates into their tents, and their children are raised within, though most bloodlines do not breed true."

"Yes but.. Everyone knows this is because the Spirits know the Shamans blood and sense it in the children, protecting them."

"Pfft. This is what Shamans tell you so they can have their families, just as shamans before them told you they could not have their families in their tent so they could get a little peace and quiet! The Spirits have more sense in them than that."

It was a great honour to have the eldest Shaman in his camp, but every now and again he desperately wished he did not. The things she said! It was amazing the Spirits had not struck her down, they must have been truly fond of her.

"Besides, I already receive tithe from the tribe, it is easily enough for one small girl too. Plus, when she reaches an age when we might need to worry about the Spirits taking too much interest in her, she will likely be moving into the tent of her husband."

"If you think it best.."

He did not look convinced.

"I will make her a charm."

That seemed to do it. The old woman mentally rolled her eyes. Use your brain and no one would believe you. Stick a hank of blue on something and suddenly it was all fine.

"As you say Grandmother. I will have my wife see if any of the other women have milk to spare, if not we will get one of the reindeer who have calved recently."

"Good boy."

​

 

[Valrein Gudrun]

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"Grandmother! Look!"

The young girl, perhaps six or so, ran into the tent, braids flying behind her, puppy in her arms.

"Ah Valrein, what do you have there? is that from Audhild's queen?"

The old woman peered at the white and black pup, who looked back with sparkling brown eyes.

"Yes! She says 'cause I helped at the birth I can have one! She let me pick! Well, she picked out her favorite first, but this one is better."

"Oh?"

"Mmmhm. He's real smart!"

"How can you tell?"

"Well just look at him!"

The pup in question was not looking terribly bright head craned upside down and tongue lolling out.

"Oh yes, I can see that."

The old woman agreed, nodding gravely.

"He's gonna be real good with the herds."

The little girl continued, oblivious to any sarcasm.

"AND!"

"Yes?"

The old woman smiled indulgently at the girls enthusiasm.

"Geir said when his does start to calve, I can have one! Not first pick obviously, but he says some of his does got covered by someone elses stag, so unless they come out better'n he thinks, they're for the pot, so I may as well have one."

"How exciting, your own herd!"

"One reindeer is not a herd Grandmother."

The little girl informed her, rolling her eyes.

"Well I suppose not."

"But it could be the start of one! Even if it's not a very good calf, if I can earn stag rights from someone with a good bloodline, I can start breeding a better one!"

It might seem odd for one so young to be so involved in animal husbandry, and what was at its core a rough and ready form of genetics, but the lives of the Tundra tribes largely revolved around their reindeer herds, and the children were steeped in it from a young age.

 

[Valrein Gudrun]

----------------

Valrein rode across the tundra, the hooves of the reindeer stag she rode drumming across the ground, she threw her head back and laughed in sheer joy. Father, as she'd called him, was not a typical stag. The tundra people favoured reindeer with whiter coats, and the closer to all white coats, the better than animal was usually considered. Father had very little white on him. What he did have however, was an impressive build and nearly unmatched stamina and speed. His legs were longer and his chest deeper, he stood at least half a foot taller than the largest of the established bloodlines, and his impressive rack of antlers ensured that no wandering stags looked twice at his does.

He was Valreins pride and joy. For seven years she'd been breeding her tiny herd, and he was the culmination. At just over a year old he was almost done his growing. She'd kept him at her side from the time he was calved, going so far as to keep him in the tent because he'd been born during a particularly vicious cold snap. The breeding males were not usually used as mounts, because they were too aggressive, but for Father the woman on his back might as well have been the doe who birthed him, and he responded still to her commands. Of course, no calves of his had dropped yet, that would be next season, so it remained to be seen if his genes would breed true.

Turning reluctantly, she headed him back to camp. Grandmother was out talking to the Chief, and Valrein winced internally, hoping to remain unnoticed, but knowing that very little slipped past the old Shaman.

"Valrein!"

Sharper than usual, and exasperated.

"Yes Grandmother?"

She turned Father towards the two and dismounted a courteous distance away, approaching on foot. Though she simply threw the reins over his neck, Father followed placidly along behind her.

"Where have you been? You should be packing!"

"I am already packed Grandmother."

Valrein was perhaps not quite as respectful in tone as she could have been.

"Then you could be helping others! A Gathering takes much work, the whole Tribe must help! You know this, it is not as if you have not done it before."

The fourteen year old girl huffed, pushing a strand of hair out of her eyes.

"It's not even a real Gather."

"What?"

"It's not! I wanted to try and trade for fresh bloodlines this Gather! Instead we're going to, to some grassers hand holding party where we can braid feathers into our hair!"

*Smack*

The sound of the bony old hand smacking her cheek rang through the air.

"You will mind your tongue. You are foolish and spoiled, though that last may be my fault. It is a great honour to be invited to a Grassland Gather, and one not many get! And while you may not get the does you were hoping for our tribe will be able to trade for medicines that do not grow here. You will pardon me if this old woman thinks the health of the tribe is more important than your little vanity project!"

"Th-the herd is the life of the tribe!"

Protested the girl, eyes stinging as they watered no matter how hard she tried to stop them.

"Ah Valrein."

The Shaman sighed, becoming Grandmother once more.

"What am I to do with you? None are better with the herds or the other beasts, but how can you become a Shaman when you do not look at the people of the tribe as well? Do you know I use grassland herbs during the dry colds to ease my lungs? I might be dead if not for them."

"And if you were dead.. I would be dead too, and all the other people and animals you saved.. Oh.. I'm sorry Grandmother."

Her cheeks burned with shame.

"Besides, you are a woman now, Grassland Gathering or not, you might find a husband."

"Grandmother!"

"Don't Grandmother me. If you were one of your does you'd have a stag picked out already and be naming the calves."

"I don't-I'm-I'm not.."

"Pffft, go take your stag back to your herds before you choke on your own tongue girl. We leave tomorrow at first light, make yourself useful before then."

The girl rushed off, cheeks and ears still burning. Naming her calves already indeed! She would find a mate eventually of course but.. She was busy. She had so much to do, how would she ever find time for a man?