Your name
(Part one of a non-chronologically posted series of stories, ft @fangedarsonist 's characters Faerhîw and Toah)
The way the kid looked at him made him raise both eyebrows, unable to discern what was going on in that little head of his.
“So elves… choose their names? When they grow up?” So this wasn’t the case for drow, as it seemed. Then again, traditions rarely matched between elves and their underdark cousins.
“Yeah. Usually around the one hundred year mark.” His seat was not disturbed in any way by the conversation. Good to see, considering how well his training had gone otherwise.
Laeran’s head tilted softly, his eyes staring off into the distance.
“Are you thinking about your own name?”, Faerhîw asked directly, the drow looking oddly caught about it. Maybe the concept of chosen names was so entirely alien to him that it sounded alluring, yet enstranging at the same time.
A short bout of silence followed, a deep breath washing through the lungs of the kid.
“Do you think I… I would also be allowed to do this?” The elf’s eyebrows shot up once more, letting out a short snort in return.
“Allowed to? Who would stop you from choosing your own name?” With a sigh, Laeran’s face scrunched up ever so slightly, before he remembered his demeanor, back straightening again to be in a proper position.
“It’s- it’s an elven tradition”, he mumbled, not daring to look over. Ah. So that was the issue.
Faerhîw tilted his head, leaning it onto his hand.
“And so?” Of course there was a faint hint on why the kid would say it, however, he wanted to hear it for himself. Sometimes speaking something out aloud made the person who said it realize how ridiculous it was.
In this case, though, it was more likely that he’d have to point it out himself.
“And I’m… me. A drow. I- I know you told me that I should push such thoughts aside. It’s not… a matter of despising myself, as you said.” The kid took a deep breath once more, his head leaning back to let the rays of dawn meet his skin.
“Well, then you also shouldn’t try to find any reasons for not doing it.” Finally Toah also threw in a word, before he could even reply anything against it himself. Laeran turned his head over towards his fellow student, who had kept their spot on the stone with unbroken silence until now.
“What, I’m not mute just because I know how to shut up every now and then. Hear me out. If you wanna do it, do it. Doesn’t matter if it’s a tradition or any other folk. If you like the idea, go with it. I mean, you’re not doing anything forbidden. The only one stopping you is yourself.” Couldn’t have said it better himself, honestly. Faerhîw felt a small bout of pride about his pupil taking up his teachings this well.
Laeran, on the other hand, still didn’t seem too convinced by the words.
“No I- I know I’m not doing anything forbidden, per se. But it’s something that elves do because it’s what they’ve been doing for centuries. And… drow have lost this somewhere along the way. Or they never had it, to begin with. I feel like an intruder. That, no matter how often he sheds his skin, will never fit, even if I try my best to do what others do.” A huff escaped the kid, his hands gesturing around.
“Look around.” It was the same view as every morning after their lessons. The rising sun dyeing the landscape in tones of deep pink, red and orange. Light slowly creeping up the horizon to show more of the lands to any eyes willing to witness it.
“I’ve been here for a few years now. And yet, everytime I see the sun rise, everytime I feel like this is the world I belong into - I get reminded that I was not born to be here. That my eyes will never be able to let me walk in the sun without feeling the burden of who I was - who I still am. Who I was meant to be. I was raised to kill without question, to despise, to hate those different from me. And I believed it. For such a long time, I only knew how to kill or be killed. To hate, so a knife in my back would come to no surprise.” Toah shot a short look towards their mentor, eyebrows furrowed lightly. Still, for now, they remained silent.
“I’m not someone meant to be in the light. And all that it means to those on the surface. Life. Joy. Whenever I hear music, I follow it, only to stay back and watch from afar, not daring to join the dances I was meant to stop with violence. Had I- had I followed the ways of the drow, had I not been captured back then - it would have been me striking down families. Children. Mothers. Fathers. I… I would have been the one to rip them apart. So what gives me the right to do as they would have done if they grew up? What if their blood stained my hands?” His voice had grown erratic with the retelling, a slight shiver going through the jaw of the kid.
Faerhîw took a very deep breath in.
When he had taken in Laeran, he had expected it to be quite a bit of work. So something of the likes was not something new.
This needed to be solved in a very specific way.
Shooting one glance at Toah, he gave them a short nod, before his eyes fell back to the strained face of the drow.
“Ow!”, he yelled out, one fist each finding his shoulders from both sides. A confused glance darted from his mentor to his fellow student.
“Cry, then. Cry it out, if you must.” Confusion settled on his pupil’s face, his hands rubbing the opposing upper arms where he had been hit.
“All that grief you carried over the years. You think it’s yours alone to bear? Forget about that right away. Let it out. Allow yourself to feel it. For so long, violence was what you knew because it was all that surrounded you.” One finger carefully tugged some of the white hair behind a dark elven ear, parts of it missing.
“Forget about being alone. You are no longer the only one carrying your burdens. Allow others to share them. Allow us to be there for you. And allow yourself to feel this grief. It will be hard, but one day you’ll be able to forgive yourself for all the things you’ve done. For all the things you think you could have done. You stood against them. It was not the path you chose for yourself, even if it was chosen for you.” Continuously, the face of the drow shifted from the initial confusion, maybe even a bit of anger, to one of pure and utter desperation. All the emotions he had felt over the past few years seemed to pool up in him, eyes welling with tears unshed, ears hanging low.
Without another word, Faerhîw stood up, taking one swift step over to embrace the kid in a gentle, yet firm hug.
It didn’t take too long before he returned it, slow shaking sobs starting to turn into full blown cries as his hands dug into the backside of the elf’s robe.
For a few minutes, he simply stood there, holding the poor kid while he let out every tear, sob and call that his little body had held.
Toah shot him a short glance with a lopsided smile, one hand also placed on their fellow pupil’s back.
“There we go”, they mumbled, leaning over against the shaking figure, just to provide some extra confirmation to the words.
“And if anybody is being an asshole towards you just because of the circumstances of your birth, I’m gonna replace their spine with a quarterstaff.” A startled laugh rushed through the drow’s body, slowly letting go of the body he had held onto for dear life again.
“Sor- sorry about the- about the snot on your-your robe”, he stammered out, wiping the tears off his face as Faerhîw simply shook his head in return, a smile forming on his face again.
“Nevermind that, do you have your answer?” A bit of confusion also returned to the kid’s face, causing his teacher to let out a chuckle in return.
“Your name”, he mentioned casually, flicking one finger softly against the drow’s forehead.
“If it’s the word of elven tradition you seek, then as an elf, let me tell you, you may be a bit young for it, but it’s your given right to choose your own name.” Tears gathered in his student’s eyes once more, yet a smile wandered onto his features, one arm now wrapping around Toah’s shoulders as well.
“Sion”, he whispered, hair caught in a gust of wind, as if it would be underlining his words.
“I’d like the name Sion.”
