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The camp was alive with activity, people weaving in and around each other carrying all manner of food and drink to the pavilion tent. Coloured drapes billowed in the gentle breeze, the lanterns aglow in warm oranges and yellows. Dusk was creeping in, the sky clear of clouds and the far away stars just starting to emerge within the dwindling light.
Mah'ri sat in the centre of a tent in a quieter part of the camp where he had spent much of the day in meditation. Or more accurately, he tried to meditate. His legs kept going numb and every now and again he had to stretch out and shake them to get the feeling back. Dressed in a simple red robe with his sister’s favourite halla carving clasped between his hands. He gently rubbed the carving, the white birch wood smooth under his finger pads. Yvainne had sneaked in and gave it him for luck. He had been ritually bathed, his hair cut short and the remains burned earlier that day. New beginnings, he was told, to cast away childhood and be reborn again as an adult. He still wasn’t keen on the absence of his braid, his head feeling a lot lighter than he was used to.
He felt both calm and nervous, his breathing even but a slight shake to his hands. Can’t move during the ceremony, he reminded himself again. His gaze lingered on the clan’s altar, a ring of small candles, flowers and incense, carvings of the Creators, and in the centre a beautifully carved oak tree, with rivers of amber running through the trunk then blooming into hundreds of carved leaves and flowers. The candlelight illuminated the amber, bathing the space in a golden autumn glow, with flecks of light dancing on his skin like evening sunlight on water.
Mah'ri was unaware how drowsy he had become when a hand gently touched his shoulder, and jolted him from his reverie.
“We are ready for you, if you are da'len.” Veth spoke quietly, his usual commanding edge absent. Mah'ri lifted his hand placed it on top of his Hahren’s and squeezed briefly but did not move otherwise.
“How did you know when you were ready?” he asked gently. Veth moved to kneel beside Mah'ri, and stayed still for a few heartbeats.
“I didn’t.” He said simply. “Remember sitting here like you are now, thinking about..my previous life, who would I be now if fate had been different?” He paused, his brow creasing. Veth wasn’t a man of words. “I told Deshanna I was ready, but I wasn’t sure. During the inking, I still wasn’t sure.” he traced the lines on his jaw and chin as if to emphasize his point, Andruil’s marks perfectly framing his features.
“Saw my face in the mirror after…and it all made sense. It was like some o’ the missing pieces had finally come together. You are offered a gift and you alone have to shake Fen'Harel by the teeth and say this is my choice.”
Mah'ri listened intently, soaking up the rare moment of the older elf talking openly about himself. Some things are best left in the past, he would usually say. He looked up at Veth, took a deep breath and nodded.
“I am ready Hahren.”
Mah'ri walked side by side with Veth through the camp for the last time as child, passing through various points to ring the hanging bells and chimes, signalling to the Hahrens at the ceremony pandal tent that they were coming. Clan members stopped in their duties to wish him luck along the way, even those he didn’t get on with that well. In front of the tent, Keeper Deshanna was waiting patiently, flanked by her First and Second and the rest of the Clan’s Elders. Yvainne gave a little wave from her place as second, behind the Keeper. Deshanna smiled warmly as they approached, embraced Mah'ri when he stopped in front of her, then began the rite as she had done for every member.
“Welcome Mahanon, Son of Dales, family of Lavellan. You may announce your purpose to all present here.”
Mah'ri breathed slowly and tried to sound confident in his conviction. Keeper could be very formidable sometimes.
“I have completed the tasks set by the clan to earn the right to wear the Vallaslin of our people. I am ready to bear the burden of responsibility. I promise to serve and protect, to nurture and provide for my family and the people.” He recited.
“Is there anyone here to vouch for his skills?” She announced to the group, where upon Veth stepped forward.
“Huntmaster Vetharion, and I will vouch for skills and bear witness to his promise. Mahanon is a fine hunter and warrior; his skills are an asset to the hunt. He has proven that he is more then capable of providing for or defending the Clan.” Veth gave a short bow and stepped back.
“Ma seranas, lethallin. Is there anyone here to vouch his character?” She asked the group again. The figure standing next to Veth stepped forward.
“I speak not as the Craftmaster but as a Father. I will vouch for his character and bear witness to his promise. Ma isha'len is a joy upon my family, and it has been a blessing to watch him grow up into the young man he is now. I know he will continue to love and support his clan.” He too bowed and stepped back into the ring. The emotion within his chest threatened to burst through, as Mah'ri listened to his family members speak of him.
“Ma seranas, Beorne.” She turned to address Mah'ri again. “Have you chosen a Creator to dedicate yourself to? Your reasons are your own.”
“I have chosen the marks of June.” he stated.
“You have chosen well, da'len. If you are ready we can proceed.”
She turned and pulled back the curtain covering the entrance, her apprentices walked in first, and she motioned for him to follow. Warm calloused hands enclosed his shoulders before he took a step.
“Don’t forget to breathe, ena'vun. You’ll be fine.” His father gently whispered near his ear, then released him.
Mah'ri tentatively stepped towards the Keeper who was still holding the the curtains open, then she followed him inside past the threshold. There was a single bedroll in the centre of the small warm room, a single pillow at the head. The First was sitting next to a small table with different sized tools, some with a single needle at the end, and tebori combs of various lengths, and small pots of coloured ink. Yvainne sat at the foot of the roll stirring something in a small cup.
“From this point on you must not make a sound, and once we begin you must try not to move. Yvainne has a herbal tea for you a drink, you needn’t drink it all, but it’ll help with nerves. Josmael will assist me but I will be doing the marking. If at any point you wish to stop, raise your hand. There is no shame in this. Do you understand?” Deshanna stated.
Mah'ri gave a definitive nod and was led to the roll. He accepted the tea with a silent thank you and drank, sweet on the tongue but he couldn’t recognise the plant used. He layed himself down and got comfortable, closed his eyes, breathing slowly through his mouth, and his hands clasped on his waist, still holding the small halla figurine. He was vaguely aware Yvainne had gently placed her hand on his ankle. Deshanna sat behind his head as Josmael passed over various items. First his face was gently washed and dried, then an earthy scented oil was massaged into his skin, taking special care with his eyes and forehead.
A few heartbeats later he felt the first sting of the needle in the centre of his brow, causing his breath to hitch slightly. And then another, and another as she pushed and pierced the skin over and over again, his face growing hot and the area she had been began to burn. Don’t forget to breath his father said, and forced the air in and out of his body slowly and as quietly as he could as Deshanna continued to mark his skin.
A few hours later Mah'ri emerged from the pandal and rejoined the clan for the late evening meal, Vallaslin fresh upon his face. His skin was sore and tight, stinging most around his eyes and temple but he held his head high and proud, the entire clan welcomed him back as an adult. When he saw his reflection in the mirror afterwards, he realised Veth was right. It truly was like a piece of himself had finally come home.