One is five, and five are one.

In the beginning, before the Rift, all Tribes were one. They were Farmers, Miners, Nomads, Fishermen, and Guardians. They each lived in their own lands, and followed their own calling.

But ever so often some Farmers would travel to the lands of, say, the Nomads, or some Fishermen to the Miners, to live amongst them—and they would become as them, alike in all features and pursuits.

Because all people of all tribes were Changers.

But then came a time when the Guardians became prideful, and the Nomads secretive, and the Fishermen deceitful... and they would not welcome the other Tribes into their midst. It was the time of the Rift.

The gift of change was frowned upon, and over time all Tribes lost the ability to change—all bar a few of their people who, henceforth, had to hide their gift from the world.

Thus kin became strangers and a gift became a curse.

Ere long, all people of all Tribes forgot... Exalting their differences they didn't retain any memory of what had united them. They mistrusted and feared in other Tribes what was unfamiliar to them—and fear made them rivals and, sometimes, foes.

In this new order there was no place for the Changers amongst the Five. And so they became outcasts—shunned and vilified and, eventually, forgotten.

But like the turning of the tide, the changing of the wind, or spring following winter... just when things were at their most dismal there came a sea change in the minds of some, and the unthinkable once again became a possibility—and then these few set out to turn a possibility into an opportunity.

It started small, with the belief in one simple truth—the certainty that what people were was not important as opposed to who they were... because who they were didn't alter with the Change.

Those willing to listen and learn came to understand: The core remained the same, no matter the outer shell.

Thus the seed was planted.

And to remind themselves of who they were, no matter their appearances, they gave each other names.

This story doesn't end here; it has only just begun.

We have been travelling the Plain for many years now, and we have travelled far beyond. Life has not always been easy, especially in the beginning, but we have many a wondrous tale to tell.

Or, rather, he tells them. He is the Storyteller while I am the Healer—and in our own small way we have enough to offer that people accept us. And they hear us out... and, sometimes, they take the seed of our stories into their hearts and let them grow.

Of course, taking the Spice seeds to all the Tribes has helped to build a foundation of trust... Except with the Guardians... and some Nomads were not so enthused, either.

Anyway, we plant the seed, but whatever becomes of it is not in our hands. Though lately we have come to gather a small harvest of good things.

It is the villages at the fringes that are changing the most; the people there have always had more of a sense of who they were, and what their friends and neighbours were to them. In a close-knit society there are less secrets, trust is not an option but a necessity, and in consequence they have been the first to disclose their names to each other.

It has turned out that those small isolated places have always sheltered Changers, and welcomed outcasts into their midst. The large places are a tougher nut to crack, but we are no longer alone on our mission—and little strokes fell big oaks. Eventually.

Life has been good to us of late. Not quite yet to the extent of allowing us to settle down, but we may get there before we turn very much older—and, besides, we always have each other. He is my home as much as I am his.

And, yes, we are Jinari and Morvarid these days. Not only to each other. We are using our names, and we have become unafraid to reveal them. In the beginning it was terrifying, but over time we have learnt to trust in the change—and I believe that, in a few generations, the Plain may not only have stories but a history.

Maybe someone will name the River eventually, and the City, the Hills. The Town.

But this will be for others to tell...

—

The End

A/N:

To all of you who have reached the end and have not given up somewhere on the way—Thank you so much for reading! You're the best. :-*

'The Tribes' actually is my favourite of all the North & South stories I have written to date... and yet I'm pretty sure that it will go down like a lead balloon here at Fanfiction . net. This is why, rather than wait for reviews that may or may not come, I decided to post the chapters more or less in one go. Having said as much... all and any comments are very welcome, of course! So, if you felt at least moderately entertained, please let me know; and if you actually liked it, DEFINITELY let me know! (Remember, it's my favourite piece)

And now some explanations as to how this story came about...

First of all, in any other circumstances I would absolutely never write a story of that length in the first person singular. As a first attempt I had tried to do otherwise and have a 'neutral' narrator, but with all the 'avoiding names thing' it didn't work out. Identifying characters became just so, so circuitous. But once 'I' became the narrator, and therefore had one important person less to identify, it started to go smoothly.

So, why do without names in the first place? Well, the initial problem was that a fantasy story featuring characters called 'Margaret' and 'John' just wouldn't work, would it? As names go, they are about as commonplace and 'real life' as it gets... Besides, I couldn't as easily have followed through with the whole 'Changer' plot. And lastly, I liked what it said about societies on the Plain.

Another side effect of the 'no names given' decision was that I had to reduce the 'supporting cast' to keep this manageable. Eventually I decided to play it wild and loose, combine several characters from the original into one in my story (the eldest brother who 'represents' Maria and Richard Hale, and the Miner healer 'as' the Higgins family), swap gender (the uncle and the mother, the latter representing Mr Bell), or drop them altogether (Dixon, Fanny, the Bouchers). So, what remained in the end was just the rough outline of N&S. Sorry about that!

One more thing this story fails to have (besides names)—and what any decent fantasy story worth its salt should have—is an epic battle, or any battle at all, for that matter... This was for no particular reason; I just couldn't fit one in. I generally start writing with only a vague idea (a few origin stories, in this case), and the plot has its own way of coming into existence, and therefore it's less of a conscious effort than one might commonly expect.

I could go on writing about the ideas I drew from—but that would be taking things really too far...

... except for this: I'm quite aware that the use of 'Spice' might have been a distraction for some readers of my story, especially now that the new 'Dune' movie has been released, and yet I decided against changing it because, quite frankly, 'seasoning' or 'condiment' just doesn't have the same ring to it. ;)