Rifiuto: Non Miriena
A/N: Written: 2012. Rewritten: 2014. Found: 2018.- Licia
The young translator sighed. Though he had been stolen by the Yunamata- technically, taken in a raid by the Scrow, and then stolen from the Scrow by the Yunamata and traded to the Arjiki- when he was a mere boy of six, he didn't fault any of the tribes for what they'd done. His family had, like hers, crossed through the Thousand Year Grasslands back in late summer of eighteen-hundred-forty-three, meaning he was only seven short years older than her, and he'd been stolen much like she had- in broad daylight, along with his three-year-old sister.
The Scrow had treated them like they treated all outsiders, before they were stolen by the Yunamata. The Yunamata had treated them kindly, cared for them, but not to the extent the Arjiki did when they'd bargained for the white children. A few short weeks after arriving at the Arjiki camp, his sister had died of sickness, but he had survived. Adopted by the medicine woman, he had thrived in the tribe under her tender care, until the age of thirteen, when he was, like Elphaba, stolen in a raid by the white man and returned to 'civilized' society.
"I was stolen in a raid by the Scrow when I was six-years-old. My little sister, ShenShen, was also taken. She was three. We were then stolen by the Yunamata, not long after; they treated us good, but weeks later, we were bargained for and given to the Arjiki." Melena swallowed. "My sister died of sickness not long after we arrived at the camp, but I survived. I was adopted by the medicine woman, Sarima."
"Did... did you have a name?" Melena asked, and he nodded, knowing she was asking of his white name; his birth name. He swallowed thickly.
"Crope. Crope Tenmeadows of Gillikin."
She nodded; he seemed hesitant to speak it, as though it would call forth the devil. "You're not much older than my daughter." She whispered as the realization struck her. He smiled softly.
"We are six years apart, your daughter and I." He sipped his coffee. "Sarima named me; 'Gift from the Great Mother', for she had lost her own child to stillbirth, three years before. She saw my arrival as the Great Mother answering her prayers." Tears filled Melena's eyes; that a woman could suffer such a loss- how could she not see a captive child as an answer to a prayer, when she had suffered so already? "I resisted, as all captives do at first. But over time, I learned that they were not going to harm me, and that no matter what I did, they would still treat me with respect, and love and compassion, even though there were times I know I did not deserve it."
She reached up, brushing at the tears on her cheeks. Over his shoulder, she could see Frex, Nessa and Shell in the doorway, listening. Neither said a word, so enraptured were they. "How long were you with them?"
He sighed. "Until I turned thirteen moons. In the spring of eighteen-hundred-fifty, a white party came to the village. They had heard stories of a white child living among the tribe, and came to take them back to society. The Arjiki did not give me up. They kept silent, kept me safe from the white man. Two days later, a pair of officers showed up; they searched every tent, before they found me and dragged me from Sarima's arms. I fought back; I was learning to hunt, to fight, to be a warrior among the tribesmen, but I was a boy, which meant no match for the white men. In moments, the life I'd lived for seven years, the woman I'd called 'Mother', who had raised me as her own, was gone. I was brought back to the white society and forced to re-assimilate. I fought it every step of the way. I wished for nothing more than to be back with my tribe. But the years passed, and I knew, by the time I turned twenty moons, that I could never return. I did not know the way back on my own, nor did I know if the tribe was still around, if Sarima was still alive," He swallowed thickly, meeting Melena's gaze. "so I made the best decision I could. I became a translator; it's a way for me to walk between the worlds, to help others like Elphaba find that balance, to hold onto some part of the live I lived for those seven years."
His gaze moved to the window. "So when I heard that you were still searching for your daughter, I knew I had to help. And when I'd heard that there was another white living among the Arjiki; I took it as my opportunity to return. None of them recognized me. Those I had known growing up did not know me any longer. Some had passed from this world to the next. Sarima, when I saw her... I knew she would not know who I was. I simply asked my questions, but they did with her as they did with me, all those years ago; they protected her."
"You're twenty-six." Tibbett turned to Frex, nodding.
"I am. By the time your daughter was stolen, I had lived six years away from my tribe. She was the age I was when I was stolen from the Arjiki by the whites."
"Stolen? You really view returning to society as being stolen?" Nessa asked, arms crossed over her chest. Tibbett turned to her.
"I do. Because I lived a peaceful life with them. They gave me a home, as they gave your sister a home. I loved them, they were my tribe. They still are my tribe, no matter how many years pass, or how long I live away from them. In some ways, Elphaba and I are mirror images of each other."
"And the tattoos?" Melena asked, tears coursing down her cheeks. Tibbett chuckled softly.
"Once a person has been accepted into the tribe, they are given green tattoos. 'The Time of New Beginnings,' they call it, for it means the tribe will grow and prosper with the acceptance of a new person. Because I was adopted by the medicine woman, my tattoos were to be upon my face, signifying my status as her son. I was not quite royalty, like your daughter, but I was considered the next in line to become shaman, upon Sarima's death, for she was to take the shaman's place upon his passing."
"So the diamonds... they're about status?" Nessa asked, taking a seat beside her mother. Tibbett nodded.
"The Arjiki are the only tribe to tattoo themselves. The more diamonds, the higher your status." He licked his lips. "Normally. Because I was son of the next shaman, it wasn't necessarily the number of diamonds, but where they were. The shamans, the medicine men and women, are the only ones of the Arjiki to have their faces tattooed. They believe the diamonds are a way to commune with other words, a third eye, if you will. The royalty have their diamonds either on their chest or back; I remember the young Crown Prince, Fiyero." A small smile tugged at his features. "He was a mere child of eight moons when I was taken away. But he was the most curious child; it does not surprise me that your daughter was chosen to be married to him."
The others in the family shared a look, before Nessa spoke up. "So... she... she really is a... a princess?"
"The Crown Princess of the Arjiki. Upon Avaric's passing from this world into the next, Fiyero shall become the Chief, and she his Chieftess; in white society, they would be a king and queen." He glanced back to the window. "You must understand. She has a home with the Arjiki, a husband, children. A life. Just like I did. I understand that you want desperately for her to stay, but have any of you even stopped to consider that her life is no longer here? Once you become Arjiki, there is no going back. Arjiki you have become, and no matter how many years that pass, or where you go- be it with the tribe, or away from it- Arjiki you will remain."