Rifiuto: Non Miriena

Summary:

A/N: Written: 2012. Rewritten: 2014. Found: 2018.

Two Months Later

She hummed softly as she worked, plaiting her hair quickly, carefully watching her son as he lay before her on the blanket. They would stay at Kellswater through the spring months, moving to the Thousand Year Grasslands with the buffalo in the summer months, around the time of the summer solstice.

Irji gurgled, and Elphaba leaned over him, cooing back to him. The baby smiled at her, kicking his legs and reaching for her. Once she finished tying her hair, she scooped her son up, exiting the tent and joining several young women who were working on what appeared to be dresses. As she approached, the women set their bone needles down and nodded to her, a sign of respect to the young princess. She nodded back. "Posso unirmi a voi?"

They made space for her, and she knelt, laying the baby on his blanket before taking a seat beside the women and taking up a piece of soft buckskin, intended to be a moccasin. The five worked in silence for several minutes, before the youngest, a young girl no older than Elphaba, named Candle, asked, "Ti ricordi la tua famiglia, principessa?"

She stopped, mid-stitch. Her family? Did she remember them? She thought a moment. How did one remember someone you had only been with briefly? Though, since she had been with Arjiki for two years now, technically, she had to have been with her family for longer than she'd been with the Arjiki. Yet she couldn't remember them-

A moment passed, before she merely whispered, "No" before resuming her work. The young girl seemed disappointed, as though she wanted to experience a life among the whites, even if only through stories.

They continued their work in silence, before Irji began to fuss and Elphaba set her work down, scooping him up and shrugging out of her dress to nurse him. The sight of a mother nursing her child was normal for the tribe; it was white society where a woman providing basic nutrients to her child was frowned upon, the woman often sent off to seclusion to nurse and not allowed to return until done.

But here, not even an eye was batted; if anything, Candle was enthralled. At fourteen, the young girl had been no older than ten or twelve when the young white had been brought to Arjiki encampment. She'd watched in awe as people had tugged at her strange dress and poked at her white skin, so unused to such fabrics and colors. She herself had been fascinated with the white girl, with her strange language and skin, and had hoped she would stay, so that Candle could learn from her. The teenager had a sense of adventure many in white society would frown upon; she wanted to experience the white man's world- and was constantly asking Elphaba questions that the older teenager could not answer, because she did not remember.

Once the babe finished nursing, Elphaba gently rubbed his back before returning him to the blanket and resuming her work. Silence settled among the women again, silence that was only broken by the laughter of children as they played or the chatter of others not far away. The men had gone out hunting, and were due to return soon with kill that would keep the tribe in sustenance for months. Though they had packed and stored dried beef and fish they had caught from the lake, it was still nice every once and a while to have fresh meat.

A horn sounded, announcing that the chief, his son and the men were returning from the hunt. Instantly, people began to gather; the women set their sewing aside and rushed to join the others. Elphaba scooped Irji into her arms, following behind, calming the fussy infant, thanks to the celebration. It was soon quiet, however, when it was discovered that not only was it the hunters, but Chief Liir, of the Yunamata, come bearing gifts. Chatter began among the people, chatter that was soon quieted down with a wave of the Arjiki Chief's hand.

It was suddenly evident that the Yunamata chief was there to bargain for something. Fiyero rushed to his wife, scooping his child into his arms and pulling Elphaba close. He was here to bargain for the white. Such bargains were not uncommon among the tribes; many of the white captives that had been taken in the Scrow raid two years earlier had died of sickness. They were wanted for captives, then would eventually marry into the tribe, such as the one between Fiyero and Elphaba.

A blanket was laid out, and the two chiefs sat upon it, facing one another over the small fire. Chief Liir beckoned a warrior to come forward; he brought with him ten of the finest stallions. "Dieci cavalli il tuo corvo, Avaric." The chief glanced back at his daughter-in-law. Ten horses for my beloved daughter-in-law, who loves Fiyero and our tribe? That is all she is worth to him? She is worth so much more than ten stallions. Even the finiest. He shook his head.

In aggravation, Liir beckoned a man forward; he set down a quiver of beautifully crafted arrows and a bow. After examining them, Avaric shook his head. No matter how elaborately carved the arrows or bow, they weren't worth Elphaba. The bartering continued; each time, Avaric turned Liir down until he got so aggravated, he stormed off. Elphaba watched Avaric in silence as he made his way to her after the Liir and his party had left. He took her face in his hands, studying her.

She is worth more than a thousand beautifully carved arrows and bows, more than a million of the most sleek and graceful stallions. He pressed a firm kiss to her forehead. "Arjiki tu sei. E Arjiki tu resterai."

And remain Arjiki she would.