Rebirthday
There was a life before Hatching Day. To tell any being, especially a dwarf, they couldn't get sick or love was just a lie to control them. Their stories were forgotten. The egg was to force new life. A rebirthday.
Carnelian
She often said that on a sad day if it rained, the whole world was crying with you.
The rains had washed down the mountain on the day of her death to the day of the mourning visits. If the world truly knew it, then it was grieving with him. The healer dutifully raised a black panel of cloth in the window to indicate the loss in his family and obscuring the outside from peering in and stealing glances from the household at their most vulnerable. If they wished to honor his wife, they'd have to come inside and pay a visit.
The years had not been kind to Doc. He had achieved much. He had been made the head healer at a young age, but at what cost? For such a long lived people, Doc already appeared to be much like his elders. Age crept in, welcomed by stress and sorrow to make the dwarf look far older than he already was. Most of the color had been lost in the recent moons, or so he guessed. His eyes had become tired. His spectacles, forged with the most precious silver of their mountain would have to be refitted with a finer lens to help ease the strain on his eyes. His short beard had lost the golden color and was now welcoming in a snowy white.
What was the head healer if he couldn't heal the one who had completed his heart?
The dwarf brought himself to a knee before the household altar. An addition had been made to the scroll holding the family prayers and the offerings meant to honor the ancestors and family that had passed. Resting in a place of great importance was a mirror that had once been very loved. It was small and festooned with colorful gems that came together to form a symbol in their language. The particular character represented love and unity. That had been Doc's wedding present to his bride. He wasn't much of a craftsman, but it was certainly the most beautiful thing he had made for her. Every day she'd peer into the glass resting in her palm and smile. Even when the illness had taken her gorgeous curls from her, she'd still peer into the mirror lovingly to admire the gift her husband's hands had forged.
Candlelight caught one of the gems and managed to send a bit of orange light reflecting against a wall of the central room of the house. Following the light with his eyes, he watched it dance and sparkle against the stone walls with a weary sigh.
"You would do this to let me know you are here, my breath of all breaths..." Doc whispered to himself and reached out to touch the stone on the mirror. It would have been like her to send one final message of an errant light upon the wall being just as defiant as she once was in life.
The house felt too quiet and the world was far more cold. If this had been an ordinary day, he would hear his wife chastising him for not getting up early enough or not packing a folded cloth of dry bread with leftovers from their meal from the night before. She was always complaining about something, but the glimmer in her eye said she cared as she squawked out orders and stomped after him. Unfortunately, this was no ordinary day. It was the first of many mourning days to come.
Doc's eyes began to travel slowly towards the humble sleeping area. The bed had been plucked clean of the linens that once rested upon the bed and sent off to a laundress' home for a ritual cleansing. For all they did to honor the dead, there were so many superstitions about not touching the bedding of the deceased, even if they were your own wife. It was peculiar to him as a healer. He had spent years studying and discovering new things, yet much of their lives were still dictated by tradition. He inhaled and closed his eyes to try and imagine his wife one last time but soon realized the room was more than empty. He couldn't sense her. He couldn't smell her. When his eyes opened, there was the reality that her scent had been taken with the sheets. Hardly a trace of his wife remained. He was observing a tradition that made him feel rather uneasy... He would have let his thoughts wax on further when he saw tiny fingertips grasp onto the bare mattress tightly.
"Joy..." He uttered softly.
Peeking up was a dwarven child with large bluish eyes and her hair fashioned in a braid. Her nose was button-like and it seemed to wrinkle upon realizing she had been called by her father. Her little head tilted and her eyelashes fluttered.
How her mother lamented that this girl was her father's daughter. Stubborn, unable to be reasoned with, and full of questions. Doc found himself slipping around the side of the bed and crouching alongside the tiny dwarven child. "My treasure, what are you doing?"
Barely verbal but well aware of the world around her, Joy gestured to the space under the bed. "Mama." She announced softly and looked into her father's exhausted eyes.
Mother certainly wasn't under the bed but she had been looking. The child knew she wasn't there, but where? She tilted her head back and forth and looked up to her father for the answer. He knew everything, didn't he? That's why he was head of the healers.
Doc gave a sigh and reached out to take the child in his arms. "Joy of joys," he began. Affection lit up his voice. "My treasure of all treasures. Have breakfast with me."
There were foolish traditions and traditions that felt so empty, but this one he'd keep. This tradition was comforting on a most mournful day. For the small one, Doc had become rather skilled at warming up coarse flour with goat's milk and boiling down berries to make the bowl a little more appetizing. He preferred honey cakes with dried meat. It wasn't that he didn't feel like cooking. He just didn't feel particularly hungry. It was all a show to make the small child happier to see that one thing hadn't changed, even though her mother wasn't there anymore. Munching away idly on the honey cake in his hand, he watched the girl fumble about with her wooden spoon as it plowed through the snowy white sweet porridge decorated with purple and reddish streaks of mashed and strained berries. She had begun to hum a song to herself. Doc recognized it and smiled. Children had little regard for tradition or rules. After breakfast it was supposed to be silence out of respect for her mother, but what mother would insist on a child being silent? His wife certainly wouldn't have. She would have been fussing over trying to teach their daughter the old songs and sighing when Joy would get frustrated and wander away.
Father's daughter. Mother's headache. Too busy asking about her father's place in the clan and not enough focusing on learning to walk and talk like the adults. Couldn't hold a spoon but wanted to help him mill medicine for his patients. A girl who couldn't hold still to have her braids tied but begged to hear more about her father's work. Mother's headache indeed.
"Mama was trying to teach you that." The grieving father replied with admiration in his voice as he collected his empty plate. "You figured out the tune. You know that's about the mighty people we descend from. It's important. If you ever get scared... hum that. Think about all the strong dwarfs who came before you. They'll protect you." He paused and began to stutter. "N-not that anything will get you. I'll always be here for you."
The girl didn't seem to pay much mind to her father's words. She seemed more interested in repeating the tune and glancing about the room. At long last she finally asked as she had in the bedroom.
"Mama?"
Doc bristled. She still didn't understand. How could she? Joy was hardly a speaking child and only grasped a few words.
He paused as he returned to their tiny mealtime table and reached for the bowl. He drew in a breath. "She knows, my treasure. Even if she is not with us now, she knows you learned the song for her. She is happy. She is smiling upon you. Mama is not here with us to share breakfast or make sure that Papa remembers his tools for work. But Mama can see us. She's rejoined the Stone. That means she's all around us now." Was she? It felt like a story to tell children. No matter how much study he did, it felt like a weak answer. Yet maybe there was some truth that everyone returned to the earth. He'd do more reading but until then, he had the empty traditions to give him a half-comfort.
Removing a rag from beside the cooking hearth, he wiped Joy's face clean and allowed her to wander. He'd have to clean a bit more before guests arrived for The Visiting.
Tradition dictated that no color was to be worn on The Visiting. His wife had always enjoyed color, especially since the dye on their mountain was particularly rich due to the minerals found in their mines. Bright colors were everywhere. Colors flew from their banners and flapped in the breeze. There were traditions brought from the world beyond welcoming mists and those they had taken upon themselves to discern themselves as a new dwarven people. Yet it all seemed like needless displays to him. What did banishing their beloved colors accomplish? This was their mountain. His wife adored color and displayed the ribbons woven into her unruly, braids she tamed from her curls. Yet tradition had to be observed. He sat on a cushion while facing the door and found himself gently pulling at the drab and undyed clothing that he had changed into. Doc was exceedingly uncomfortable.
Joy seemed confused. Her complicated braid was still in-tact, but there would be no ribbons or silver clasps today. Simple twine kept her hair in place. Tradition was supposed to hinder the movement of children, but tradition would find a foe in the cheerful Joy. She just wouldn't stay seated on her cushion and had begun to move around the den. Her attention flew wildly from the darkened window and to the shrine where her mother's mirror had come to rest. Things were familiar yet new.
The door creaked open slowly. Doc sighed and bowed his head. It was about to begin. He knew this all too well. Even if he had lost his parents when he was much younger, it was difficult to forget how to recite the greetings when in mourning. His thoughts had been increasingly on what would happen if he lost his wife. Now came that day he had feared the most.
"Greetings upon you and your family in this time of loss!" The voice was oddly jovial. Then again, even when the owner of the voice was sad, there was always something hopeful about him.
Doc tilted his head upward and dropped formalities for his first visitor. His legs relaxed and his entire body began to droop like a wilting flower on command. "Dreamy."
Before him was the idealistic son of the chieftain who led their people. It seemed he had little regard for tradition as much as Doc did. Dreamy wore an open tunic with a swirling design of a rainbow. His eyes were bright and despite the rain marking the terrible day, he had a smile lingering on his lips even when he frowned.
"Brother," He began with a positive and confident voice. "She loved you. I know she did. I knew her best."
Of course he did. The little brother would always know his only sister's secrets. It felt nice to hear, but Doc couldn't chase away the pain. Why would Dreamy be here now after all this time? He was on his own for so long and to be greeted by his brother-in-law felt particularly painful. Family appeared now rather than when his wife was in pain and frightened.
"Maladroit would have enjoyed seeing you, Dreamy. She missed you. She missed everyone." The fatherly soul had become unusually cold despite the warm being before him. He lowered his gaze and then eventually closed his eyes, feeling only disgust boiling up. "Your brothers or father should have been here to see her." His eyes quickly darted to Joy. She had found a doll to play with, but Doc didn't have the heart to stop her. It wasn't a day for playing but for him, it wasn't a day for forcing a child to take on adult emotions when she didn't have the ability to understand them. His weary blue eyes returned to Dreamy as he let out a long sigh. "She should have had you, Dreamy. Joy should have had you instead a withered old man trying to cure her mother and failing her. Least you could have done was show her life isn't so ugly. You're particularly good at that."
His breath shuddered at the half compliment. He couldn't hate his brother-in-law. Maladroit had loved her younger brother. He was her favorite and Doc never questioned why. He could see it in how he had aspirations for their little mountain village. That was why he'd be their leader one day. That was why Doc had pledged himself not only to her father but to Dreamy when the mantle was to be passed. It wasn't often that a son took over as chieftain, but Dreamy knew his people more intimately than his father would ever.
Unfortunately he didn't know his own family very well. Such a wound wouldn't heal and Doc felt slighted, if only for Joy's sake. "She still doesn't know you're her uncle."
Dreamy stopped and pulled his tunic around himself self consciously. "Father said that when a woman marries, she joins her husband's family."
Doc's eyes flashed with anger. "I have no family, Dreamy! My father is gone. My mother is gone. I changed my name from the shameful one she placed upon me. You know this! You may have been a boy at my Naming Ceremony, but you watched and celebrated with the rest of us! You watched me become a healer!" He paused and brought a hand to his chest. Doc breathed in and tried to center himself. There was no Maladroit there and had she been alive, it was more likely that her own reaction would have been more explosive. With Doc, his anger fizzled like a weak fire being choked out with a larger cooking pot.
"It's a day for healing and a day for remembrance. I'll hold my anger" Doc considered his words more carefully while Joy had begun to rock the cloth doll in her arms, humming the tune from earlier.
Dreamy had gone quiet and joined Doc in watching Joy. She was off in her own world while the adults had their own worries. There was life and death. There was a clan to feed and clothe while providing them care. All Joy had to focus on was her doll right now. Dreamy slowly brought his friendly gaze back to Doc. "She's really something."
When the other dwarf didn't reply, Dreamy's near-constant smile slowly began to fade. He tried again. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize. I just listened to Father. I didn't think he was that stuck in the old way. I didn't know what I was missing out on. I didn't realize I missed out on-"
"Saying goodbye." The healer finished for the chieftain's son with a mournful creak in his voice. "You didn't say goodbye to your sister." He began to grit his teeth as he glanced through his glasses. The weight of the situation finally began to bear down on Dreamy at last. His shoulders began to lower from an invisible weight. His sister was gone.
Doc reached out a hand to gently touch Dreamy's shoulder.
"Maladroit... It's a real pretty way of saying "clumsy like a baby deer", ain't it?" Dreamy grinned, but soon came the thick tears. "She'd tell me that. That I was special. I had the nice name and she had to learn to live with a dumb name." A giggle drew from Dreamy's lips and the tears rolled down in a relentless march, leaving traces on the apples of his cheeks and getting caught in his beard. "I always thought it would be me first. That I'd help a farmer with his sheep and one would buck me off the side of the mountain."
Squeaking back a pained noise, Doc flattened his lips into a thin line. "She uh, thought that too." There were so many times his wife had voiced frustration over brother doing foolish things, but it all worked out for the best. "Sometimes she even swore I'd get myself killed at work mixing the wrong powders together and that'd be the end of me." The bitterness began to subside but nothing could take away the images in the dwarf's head. He had lost and his wife's family hadn't been there. He had thought to be a dwarf was to know you always had kin. Dreamy was there now. The pain wasn't dulling but the two men were sharing in their loss. Doc shook his head as they both eulogized Maladroit. "She did everything for us."
For a few weeks, Doc had settled with himself that he was going to lose his wife. He had mourned within himself. He had grieved privately while still fighting against death. In the end, he only had blame for himself. He hadn't grasped acceptance. He could feel Dreamy's hand reaching out to now touch his shoulder in return.
"You can be angry with me. I'm sure my sister was. I'll do what I can to make it up to you, Doc. I'm sorry. I've got to be there for Joy. We're family. Forget tradition. We're gonna make our own tradition from now on."
Feeling a lump building in his throat, Doc nodded slowly. Tears had begun to surface and now slowly roll down his bare cheeks and onto the thin, white beard around his chin. "Thank you, Dreamy. I know she's proud of you."
"I hope she is. I hope she's proud of me instead of shaking her head right now and threatening to reach out of The Stone and slap me across the face. I want her to rest knowing we're going to take care of you and Joy. I'm going to be chieftain. Besides, brothers take care of one another."
"Brothers..." Doc had been born an only child. It was a lonely existence, but he had his books. He often wished he had been like Dreamy and Maladroit. With so many siblings, it must have been difficult to stay lonely for very long. He and his wife had hoped and planned to have another child but fate had cut them off in the end. Joy would remain the only child. With Dreamy promising to be more present, perhaps she wouldn't be as lonely as he was in his youth. The idea of uncles to put a smile on her face was the promise of sunshine after the storm clouds. They would be temporary. All rain was temporary.
Dreamy rose to his feet. He clapped his hands together and bowed, but paused when he forgot the words. "How does it go again? I even asked the old man for the words and I completely forgot."
With a dry chuckle, Doc was on his feet. "I ask to take your leave in this time of sorrow..."
"Right! Right! I ask to take your leave in this time of sorrow-"
Doc returned the action by clapping his hands and bowing deeply. "I grant you leave and thank you for blessing our family." Standing up, Doc felt somewhat awkward and vulnerable. Even with the window covered, he still felt on display for their entire mountain to judge. Before his mind could wander any further, he felt arms around him. It wasn't Joy, even though she was prone to constantly hugging him. It was Dreamy.
"I mean it," He urged gruffly. "Brothers take care of one another. I'll spend a lifetime making it up to you. We both lost someone. You lost a wife. I lost my big sister. We're gonna lean on each other now. I'm gonna keep showing up so much you're gonna be sick of me!"
It was impossible to be sick of Dreamy, he thought to himself. Even though he had that way of always trying to see the bright side of things, there was something immensely comforting about that.
"I welcome the challenge, Dreamy."
As he departed, Joy slowly returned to her cushion, though she still seemed enamored by her doll.
To think, they had only just started entertaining for The Visiting. Poor Joy wouldn't last very long unless Doc was planning on keeping her very entertained!
