Chapter Text
Sen'jin breathed the crisp, salty air in, before releasing it with a sigh.
A faint ray of sunshine started to appear over the islands, after a particularly bad thunderstorm occured overnight, causing a few damages to their village.
He patiently listened to every Darkspear whose hut needed to be fixed, or whose chickens got lost or hurt during the storm; luckily, no one got injured, so he simply divided the trolls into small groups to do the necessary repairs. While they all scattered to start working, Sen'jin observed the immense ocean's horizon, frowning; he wondered if the Loa will release another storm upon them in the near future. He hoped not, otherwise all their efforts today would be useless.
After a brief prayer to the spirits, he joined the others.
A couple of hours later, Sen'jin was supervising the reconstruction of a hut's roof, when his ears pricked up at at the high-pitched voices of the children coming from the beach in front of the village. They seemed to be rooting for someone, and he thought the kids were simply playing, probably in the middle of some sort of competition.
But then he distinctly heard one of the kids say a curse, and at that he raised his head: he knew that voice very well.
He immediately excused himself from the confused-looking troll adults as he descended from the roof with the aid of a wooden ladder and marched towards the beach.
Sen'jin could immediately see the circle of younglings, still cheering and yelling, for the two young trolls inside the circle: they were both rolling in the sand, punching and kicking and tearing each other's hair.
He growled before moving the children away and split the two rascals apart.
"What be goin' on here?!" He roared. The kids all fell silent, scared by their chieftain's commanding voice and angry eyes.
Sen'jin immediately turned his head towards the young troll at his right, which was looking at the ground with his arms crossed.
"Care ta explain what happened...Vol'jin?"
His son bit his lower lip.
"Jungan be offending Zalazane. He be callin' him a sissy."
"Because he be!"
"Quiet!" Barked Sen'jin at the other kid, who immediately shut up. The chieftain then looked up from the two brats to see Zalazane, nervously playing with his braided hair.
"Zalazane. Be dis da truth?"
The boy slowly nodded.
"Who started da fight, Jungan or Vol'jin?"
Zalazane's eyes widened. Sen'jin knew that he would never want to betray his best friend for anything in the world, but he also knew that Zalazane could not tell lies at all. He wasn't able to.
"Uhm, I...I..."
"Who, Zalazane?"
"...Vol'jin." the young one murmured, eyes full of guilt. Sen'jin nodded.
"Thank ya for sayin' da truth, my boy."
Zalazane nodded once and gave Vol'jin a sideglance, but the other kept his eyes on the ground, his ears low.
"All of ya, back ta ya parents! Show be over!" The children unwillingly left the beach and went back to their own families.
Sen'jin looked at Jungan.
"Ya motha will be informed of dis. Now go."
Jungan walked away, sulking.
"As for ya..."
The chieftain let his heavy hand fall upon his son's shoulder, whose ears dropped even more.
"We gonna have a long talk. Come." he said marching his son towards the village, leaving Zalazane alone.
........................................................................................................................................................................
Sen'jin guided his boy to a quiet spot between two huts, before stopping and turning Vol'jin to face him: the young troll looked at his father with a mixture of fear, shame and remorse. He hated to see him like this.
"Ya be havin' five seconds ta tell me why ya decided ta start a fight."
"Jungan be deservin' dat! He be callin' Zalazane bad names for some time now, and today he be callin' him a sissy and a coward! And I-"
"And ya thought ta punch him."
Vol'jin fidgeted a little.
"Well, yeah, but he offended my best friend!"
"Did Zalazane ask ya ta defend his honor?"
"...no."
"Den why did ya punch Jungan?"
There was no answer.
"Nothin'? I see. And, by da way, I heard ya when ya cursed. How many times do I have ta tell ya NOT ta swear? Next time, I be washing ya mouth with salt water!" Sen'jin scolded.
"Please papa, not so loud..." Vol'jin whimpered, clearly embarrassed.
Sen'jin narrowed his eyes. "I be not carin' if others hear me! Let dem hear me scolding ya, so dey will know dat I be not spoilin' my own son!" He said wagging his finger.
Vol'jin's face and ears became red, and he looked absolutely miserable.
Sen'jin sighed: damn those puppy eyes. That look could melt a mountain.
Even though his son was thirteen, he still looked so young and helpless when frightened or ashamed.
He put both his hands on the boy's shoulders, gently this time, and looked into his eyes.
"Vol'jin. Ya be my son. One day, ya gonna become chieftain of the Darkspear and lead dem. I be not raisin' ya ta become a trouble makah, ta start riots and ta roll into da ground like an animal. Ya be bettah dan dat. I know ya heart be in da right place, but fightin' with others will not earn ya deir respect: to obtain respect, ya need ta give respect. Da only good reason ta fight, is if someone's life be in danger, not for petty things like name callin'. Understood?" Sen'jin asked softly, rising his son's chin; he could see Vol'jin's eyes shining with tears as the boy nodded.
"Yes, papa."
"Good boy." Sen'jin smiled as he hugged him.
After a few moments, the chieftain released Vol'jin from the embrace and ruffled his red mohawk; the kid smiled at his father.
"Now, den. Ya be grounded for three days inside our hut. No playin' outside and no talkin' with Zalazane or any of ya friends."
"Yes, papa..." Vol'jin pouted.
"Good. Now off ya go."
He said, giving his son a playful (but still firm) swat on the backside. Vol'jin gasped and scurried towards their home.
Sen'jin smirked and shook his head, amused, as he went back to work.