Chương 70: Vol 1. Memory Fragment: Gender Assignment: Part 1

Sylvar moved barefoot through the thickets with a water-like gracefulness, hopping rocks slick with fresh moss, scrambling vertically up tree trunks, swinging from branch to branch, and squeezing underneath fallen logs furred with mushrooms. Damp bark pressed against the soles of their little feet. Ferns slapped against their shins as they passed, and somewhere overhead, a startled bird flew into the air in a flurry of wings.

Elder Larrel was a little ways behind, their slender legs hopping from one branch to the next as they attempted to catch up to Sylvar.

"Na na na boo boo, you can't catch me!" Sylvar said sing-songy.

"Really? I caught you yesterday," Elder Larrel said.

"That was yesterday." Sadly for them, Sylvar's pride had bested them. Elder Larrel had sidestepped a tree and, with one slender finger, booped Sylvar on the nose.

"You're it!" Sylvar grumbled.

"NO FAIR!"

"All is fair in love and war," Elder Larrel said.

"What does that even mean?"

"Oh, it's just an old saying. Can't remember where I first heard it."

"Well… I… that was cheating!"

"Really?" Elder Larrel said with their head cocked ever so slyly.

"How so?"

"Well," Sylvar began to say, only to get booped again.

"Try to catch me if you can!" Elder Larrel said before dashing off.

"Hey! NO FAIR!"

"ALL IS FAIR IN LOVE AND WAR!" And so Sylvar chased their elder through the thickets and copses once more. They began to climb higher and higher, ridiculously high, until—"You're it!"

"Ah, shit," Elder Larrel said.

"Guess I am…" They grunted.

"But, oh, can we sit for a moment? These bones aren't what they used to be."

"Alright, old person," Sylvar said.

"Hey," Elder Larrel said, "I am only five hundred."

"That's pretty old."

"Age is a relative thing, my child." Sylvar sat with their legs dangling over the very much lethal drop. The branch beneath Sylvar was barely wider than their thigh. Hundreds of feet below, the forest was a smattering of shadow and green, although Sylvar did not seem to notice. Elder Larrel, unconcerned, looked at the landscape before them.

There was forest stretching far beyond the horizon, endless folds of green upon green, darker where the valleys cut between the hills and almost golden where the afternoon sun struck. Mountains rose beyond it all. Wind was moving through the canopy in a motion similar to waves. And beyond the very edges of the forest, there were billows of smoke and a cluster of angular roofs and pale roads, oh-so incredibly small from this height.

"What are those?" Sylvar asked.

"Ah, those are houses," Elder Larrel said, "like how some of our non-nomadic fellows live."

"Duh," Sylvar said, "but what are those things walking around?"

"Oh…" Elder Larrel turned their gaze away; they looked like they had not been anticipating this conversation.

"So, my sweet Sylvar, we discussed what an… Orc is, right?"

"Yeah," they said, "big, scary people, right?"

"But still people."

"Right."

"That is the same with those down in that village: the Kharani."

"They look like a Smilodon."

"Yes, they do," Elder Larrel said, "but they are ones with the Aether, just as we are."

"Then why do we not invite them for a feast?"

"Oh, my Sylvar," Elder Larrel said.

"I wish life were so simple, but it unfortunately is not. They are… it is simply best not to get involved in their affairs." Sylvar's eyes dotted to and fro as they watched a couple of kids playing.

"Their clothes are funny."

"Yes, they are." While clothing style varied from tribe to tribe, your typical elf would be something far more androgynous than that of the Kharani. For instance, Sylvar wore a fitted pair of dark leggings beneath a loose tunic that fell to mid-thigh, cinched with a broad woven sash; over it sat a longer sleeveless garment, split near the waist. Sylvar observed the Kharani clothing. Some of them wore long, brightly coloured garments that wrapped from their torsos down to their knees.

Others wore shorter coats and trousers. As Sylvar watched for a while, they were beginning to notice a pattern.

"Why are those ones dressed differently?" Sylvar asked.

"Those are boys."

"What's a boy?" Elder Larrel's brows knitted into a scowl.

"It's…" They trailed off for a moment, rubbing one pointed ear. They stared intently at a distant mountain before letting out a deep sigh.

"They have two sexes like us… but they attach special social categories called boys/men and girls/women. Does that make sense?"

"Not really," Sylvar said. They kicked their feet back and forth.

"So which are we?" Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

"Neither."

"Why?"

"Because we're elves."

"Okay, but which would I be if I were Kharani?"

"You aren't Kharani."

"I know. Which one?" Elder Larrel took a minute to think.

"Perhaps… well, you are a birth-giver, so female, but I suppose you have the personality of their boys, so I would say boy, but they would probably call you a girl." Sylvar cocked their head.

"So their genitals determine their personality?"

"Partially," they said.

"It's complicated."

"That's stupid."

"Maybe a little, but that is just how they live."

"But why?"

"Suppose they think it helps bring order to things."

"But the Aether binds all things."

"It does," Elder Larrel said.

"Perhaps it is just their way of understanding the Aether."

"Their Aether is different from ours?"

"No. Different in its expression, not in its nature."

"But they are still people, right?"

"Yes." They sat in silence for a moment. Sylvar leaned forward. The little cubs moved between the buildings below. Sylvar chuckled, beaming a bright smile. They were so cute: they were kitties! They had long tails that flicked behind them and ears perched high on their heads. They chased each other around while an adult shouted after them.

"They play tag too!"

"How do you suppose that?"

"I can see them."

"Can you? My eyesight isn't too good these days."

"Again, OOOOOOLLLLDDDDD!"

"Alright, any more of that and you aren't getting dinner today."

"Wait, no no no no—""I'm just teasing." Silence again.

"Do they have feasts?"

"Most likely, yes."

"Songs?"

"I do imagine so."

"Games?"

"Well, you just said they do." Sylvar smiled wider.

"Then they sound nice."

"Can be, yeah." Sylvar looked down at themselves, then over at Elder Larrel. Would Elder Larrel be a boy or a girl? They weren't sure; they had never given it much thought. Elder Larrel was just Elder Larrel. They peered down at the Kharani cubs again, but they weren't sure what to look for there either. Sylvar knew now that sex was part of it, but they probably weren't looking at people's genitals 24/7. Did boys and girls have different ears or tails? They gave up and asked:"How do they know?"

"Know what?"

"Who is which one?" Elder Larrel shrugged.

"How do you know if an elf is a birth-giver or a guardian?"

"Um… I guess you just ask?"

"Well, there you go."

"So they just need to ask that every time?"

"Yep."

"Sounds… annoying."

"Probably is." Silence.

"Can we go see them?"

"No," Elder Larrel spat. The answer had come so quickly, and had been said with such force, that it caused Sylvar to stop kicking their feet. They suddenly found their back arched in mild fear as they saw Elder Larrel was no longer smiling. No, their visage was uncharacteristically stern.

"Why?"

"Like I said, it is just best not to get involved in their affairs."

"But did we ever? Maybe they are lonely." Elder Larrel chuckled.

"They are fine not talking to us."

"What do you mean?"

"Once, long ago, our people visited theirs."

"Why don't we anymore?"

"Things changed."

"Elder… are Kharani dangerous?"

"Some are."

"Are elves dangerous?"

"Some are, to be sure."

"Am I dangerous?"

"Absolutely terrifying."