Short Story – “The Wanderer’s Ritual”
It was a strange thing to attend your own funeral. It was a stranger thing still to be the one to arrange it. Kolstace had chosen a simple affair this time around. After all, his life had been lived modestly. A simple gathering of chairs near the large, gnarled oak that he had been born under was all he needed for a proper send-off. That, and some of his closest friends. In attendance, there were five people, a paltry number compared to the seventy years of life before it. Mostly human, some other elves, and a dwarf thrown in for good measure.
All in all, this was his third funeral. Some elves didn’t count, but Kolstace preferred to keep track.
Taking to the podium, he looked out at the gathered faces on this warm, sunny day. They were mostly sombre, especially with the elves, who had brought handkerchiefs and quietly sobbed into the little bits of cloth while waiting for things to get started. The humans looked more confused about the whole affair, but tried to be respectful. It was only natural. Humans were born with one life after all, whereas elves could harbour five or more. Kolstace had once heard of an elf even reaching ten before, but that was quite unusual in his culture.
The dwarf, whose name was Dentri, kept his arms folded and his brow firmly furrowed. That, too, was probably only natural. The dwarves didn’t share the same patterns of death as the elves and rarely had any understanding of it, despite living just as long as their pointy-eared peers.
‘Welcome, friends.’ Kolstace cleared his throat, reading from the script he’d prepared in his mind. ‘I’m so glad you could join me at the end.’
Some nods. More tears. A stern gaze.
‘It was seventy years ago, on this spot, that I first found my third life,’ began Kolstace. ‘I had chosen a simple life this time around, one with ambitions to travel and explore the world around me.’ He patted the podium lovingly. There wasn’t a coffin or a shrine, as there was no need for one. This was a spiritual death. ‘I did some of that, but not as much as I would’ve liked. Suddenly, my life has caught up with me, and I have run out of time. I do not wish to relive this life, as Kolstace,’ he eyed the sobbing elves carefully, ‘as that would, I feel, insult this noble tradition of the wandering elves. Before I go, though, I will say that I have enjoyed these past seventy years. It shall be a life I remember for the rest of my days. One that will pervade my dreams and bring me joy in moments of darkness.’
Kolstace left then, taking the seat directly next to the dwarf. As he moved away, one of the elves stepped up to the podium. She was still sobbing, drying her tears away as she approached. Rayla was a young elf, still on her first life. Her tidy brown curls framed an innocent face, now flushed with red, and she wore a robe of purple—the traditional colour of mourning in eleven culture.
‘I met Kolstace when I was quite young,’ she began, trying to keep herself from bursting into tears. ‘He taught me how to paint and imparted a wisdom of the world around me. How to watch the trees, and the rivers, and take in life with a gentle ease. Before him, I was always rushing through life as though running towards something. Now, I have learned some grace in my steps.’ She turned to the elf and bowed politely. ‘Thank you, Kolstace. I pray that your next life is a happy one and that I will know you.’
‘This is bloody stupid,’ Dentri muttered under his breath.
Rayla stepped away from the podium, a fresh set of tears marking her cheeks as the next speaker rose to take her place. One of the humans, an older man, hair grey with age, sporting a tired set of traveller’s clothes that did nothing to hide his outwardly grown body. Tunlin took to the stand and looked, for a moment, lost for words. ‘Uh,’ he said, looking over at Kolstace. ‘I guess you’ll be missed, mate. Elves do this a little differently from humans, I suppose. Well, I know, I don’t suppose. We normally wait until the person is actually, you know, dead. Then again, we don’t really live that long compared to the likes of you, so…uh, I hope it goes well for you.’
Tunlin sheepishly turned away from the podium.
The next elf moved to rise from his chair, but the dwarf swiftly shot up to take his place. Dentri marched with a huff in his step and didn’t bother with the podium. He was too short for it anyways. Instead, he addressed the crowd. ‘I’ve known this elf twice,’ he said, pointing an accusing finger towards Kolstace. ‘Once, when he went by the name Larshan and was a down-on-his-luck travelling minstrel, and now again as Kolstace, another world traveller but with far better luck this time around. I held my tongue last time, but I won’t hold it this time.’ The dwarf took in a deep inhale. ‘This ritual, rite, tradition, whatever you want to call the blasted thing is stupid. Bloody stupid. Being reborn every seventy years, in spite of the fact that you’re still living? And without a choice, no less! Why can’t you just continue as you are?’
Rayla stood up. Her face scornful. ‘We wouldn’t expect a dwarf to understand!’
‘Please!’ Kolstace motioned for peace, moving between them. ‘This is supposed to be a nice occasion. A send-off.’
‘You enjoy this life,’ argued Dentri. ‘You told me as much yesterday. Why not just continue living it, then? What’s the point of this rebirth nonsense you elves do if you can’t live the lives you want?’
‘It’s because-’ Rayla snapped.
‘It’s because,’ Kolstace interrupted her. ‘Most elves living today do not have a home, Dentri. We have been forced to wander about these lands, finding room where we could and living with creatures that we will simply…outlive. Friends, family, companions of all kinds tend to wither away with the time we’ve been cursed with.’
The dwarf’s lips were a tight line.
‘This seventy-year ritual allows us to discover new relationships and live ordinary lives amongst people we can consider peers.’ Kolstace, smiling sadly, motioned towards the two humans still sitting in their seats and watching with genuine interest. ‘If we don’t die, even in gesture, then we’re cursed to watch loved ones die instead. It’s just easier to reinvent ourselves and explore new perspectives.’
There was a moment of silence then. Kolstace didn’t doubt that the dwarf understood. After all, Dentri had told him he had understood yesterday over their last drink. Suddenly, tears began to stream down the stalwart creature’s face, his cheeks reddened, and he had to put his sleeves to his face to mask his shame.
‘I’ll tell you about Kolstace!’ the dwarf snarled. ‘Best elf I ever knew, same with Larshan. I met one in a tavern, and the other saved my life from a troll. Been fast friends ever since, travelling the world and earning our way in laughter. Got lost most of the time, but that was part of the fun.’ The dwarf let out a sigh, which was half a sob. ‘Now I’m supposed to stand here and accept that he’s moving on when I can see him right there as plain as day? I’m supposed to pretend that he’s dead?’
‘He is dead.’ Rayla’s voice had changed now, becoming softer and more sympathetic. ‘You have to accept it.’
‘If it’s any consolation.’ Kolstace eyed his friend. ‘I’m glad I died first, Dentri.’
‘It’s time.’ The other elf, with long blonde hair carefully braided and a much older look about her, stood up. Yuio was on her sixth life, a fact Kolstace knew, and was perhaps one of the more advanced of the elves he had met. Her skin was wrinkled, and her face was tired, but she had a certain sense of pride and nobility about her that could only come with advanced age.
Dentri, with some reluctance, moved from the podium and sat back sternly in his seat, still weeping away.
‘Kolstace,’ Yuio spoke, arms outstretched. ‘You have lived your third life, and so, must move onto your fourth. Is everything prepared?’
‘Yes,’ replied Kolstace, stepping towards her.
‘Then shed your old life.’
Kolstace moved to a bright, burning fire near the proceedings. Besides it was a small chest of his possessions. One by one, he threw them into the fire, only stopping every now and then to admire the memories that were going with them. Once he was finished, he stripped off what was left of his clothing and, those too, were thrown into the fire. Kolstace watched his former belongings burn for a minute, becoming nothing but ash.
When he turned back to face Yuio again, he felt the draft in his nether regions and quickly covered himself with his hands. It was almost over. Yuio held her hand out without another word, and Kolstace took the gem from her—a small emerald. The wanderer’s ritual called for any wealth he had collected in this life to be spent on a single gem, which was the only thing he was allowed to take into his next life.
‘Now, venture forth, young elf,’ said Yuio. ‘Keep the wisdom of Kolstace with you, remember his skills, but find new wisdom and passion moving forward. Never forget your past lives, Kolstace, and never forget the people that made them worth living.’
The elf turned from the group then, finding tears now at the sounds of their sobs. Before him was a literal path through the forest, one with twists and turns that he could not remember. This was part of the tradition, of course, so the people of your past lives couldn’t follow you easily, and you could stumble upon a start somewhere new. Kolstace stepped forward, momentarily pausing to say goodbye to a well-lived life.
The dwarf bellowed a goodbye, but it was quickly drowned out by the bawls of the small crowd behind him.
Two years later…
Enessa wiped the last drops of ale from the countertop. It was an hour until closing time, and she’d be the first to admit that she was looking forward to collapsing into her bed. It had been hard going recently in the Second-Hand Boot. The tavern had seen more visitors lately, thanks to the new road that had been cut across Direwood Forest. That meant adventurers, mercenaries, and caravans stopping for the night in Petty’s Nest and taking more than their fair share of ale and food. It was good for business but terrible for one’s vitality.
She yawned as the door’s bell rang out, announcing a chorus of new guests to the tavern. By the look of their worn clothes and a jumble of old weapons, they were travellers from the road looking for a place to keep warm. Enessa didn’t envy them for their travelling. A cold snap had come down from the north and chilled the bones of every unfortunate soul who dared to step outside.
‘A pint of—’ The dwarf shook her from her cleaning by crashing a few coins down on the counter, and then he stopped mid-sentence, a stunned expression washing over his face. Enessa tucked her dangling hair behind one of her pointed ears and smiled sweetly.
‘A pint of?’ she asked.
‘Bitter,’ the dwarf replied quietly.
Enessa took to pouring the dwarf his beverage. ‘Where are you coming from, traveller? Judging by the dust on your cloak, it must be far?’
‘South, near Doomgar,’ the dwarf replied. ‘Doing some work guarding the mines, but thought I’d come back north. For a bit.’
‘That sounds exciting,’ she said, handing him the tankard. ‘I bet you’ve got quite the tale to tell.’
‘It used to be easier,’ replied the dwarf, sombrely staring down into his bitter. ‘I used to have a friend that did the guard work with me. Travelling up and down the Avanni Coast, offering our skills for money, you know.’
Enessa leaned forward. ‘Well, I hope you enjoy your bitter. I know it’s probably not the dwarven variety you’re used to, but I’m sure it’ll do just fine.’
‘Yeah.’ The dwarf moved clumsily away, stumbling to join his group, but he turned to look back after a few steps. ‘Uh, it’s good to see you again.’
Another sweet smile spread across Enessa’s lips. ‘It’s good to see you too, Dentri.’
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