Hero stood and waved farewell to his friends. Craning his neck, he still tried to spy their wagons on the trail leading away from the village, a while after they already vanished from sight already.
"Go back home." Rangil directed sternly. Grake frowned at his tone but didn't protest. Obediently, the child went to the barn and closed the door.
Rangil went to the house and began to take apart the extra tables and chairs and sending the supplies back to the Kin inventory.
"Kari, what's wrong?"
Rangil paused, his lips drawing thin and gestured to the house.
"We need to talk, uncle."
Glancing at Margol and Tnul, he pointed to the village. "Go and see if uncle Kiroh needs help."
Glancing at Hero, Margol took his brother's hand and drew him away, saying nothing. Hero went to the barn and sat on his new old bed, which atta Beor once made for him. He stared at the square of sunlight that shone on his rough beam floor from the small window that now adorned his barn. Kyle and Jin's fellow villagers had completely rebuilt it, so now it resembled a small house rather than a barn. And they had built another barn for uncle Rangil nearby. Now Hero had a house.
He was completely alone in it, though. He glanced at the place where Kyle and Jin had their two cots and pouted.
In the house, Rangil glared at his uncle. "Uncle, when were you going to tell me?
"Tell you what, kari?" Old Grake wearily looked away, his hands starting to shake a little.
"About Hero! How the witch not only told Beor that he is a Monster who killed villagers. About his scary dreams that she made Beor see. And about the Bindings that she put on his power to keep his magic from returning!"
Grake dropped his gaze. "Oh..."
"Yes, I overheard! When elder Jalil was here and you both talked. No wonder he didn't want to take him after that! No one will want to take him after something like that, uncle, and for a very good reason! And if your old friend tells about this to anyone else, then not just Hero and you, but what remains of our family will get banished out to the woods to live with the monsters! They might even curse us to become pale-faced upon our next respawn!"
Grake heavily sighed beneath the younger villager's glare. "He promised not to tell anyone. For my sake and..."
"He is first of all an elder." Rangil firmly pointed out.
"And on his hope of rebirth." Grake finished firmly. "He promised me that as long as Hero does nothing truly wrong and shows that he is not becoming that Monster, he will not tell. On his hope of rebirth, Rangil. That's the greatest oath any villager can make."
Rangil breathed out with relief, his shoulders sagging and his posture stooping where he stood. With weary steps, he went to the chair and sat down on it. Old Grake winced, rubbing his left wrist where he felt a strange numbing pain. It ached, going up his arm and pressing heavy on his chest. He did his best to ignore it.
"Why didn't you and Beor ever tell me about this?" Rangil asked, this time much calmer, or maybe just more tired. Grake shrugged.
"We didn't want to burden you even more than you already were, kari."
Rangil nodded, accepting this explanation as he wearily ran a hand across his face.
"And now. What am I going to do, uncle?" He helplessly looked at the older villager, his expression hurt and lost.
"What am I going to do? I am only twelve years old, and I have three children to take care of, one of whom might be a mysterious Monster from scary tales. And the other two who do not listen to me in the slightest. And although other villagers in our village are supposed to help, they laugh instead and often call me a fool behind my back... They are wondering why I simply won't go back home to my old village."
Grake lifted his weary eyes. "Not all of them, kari. Not all of them. There are a few who will be glad to help you. They understand how difficult it might be for you to do something like this and to raise a relative's children."
"How could they understand?" Rangil bitterly exclaimed. "They cannot possibly imagine what I'm going through!"
Grake gently shook his head.
"You're mistaken, kari. While they might not face the exact same situation, they can relate to your loss, because each one of them can remember losing a loved one. Our lives go by so fast, kari. Don't waste this time on worrying or wishing for what might have been. Look for good in what you still have. Even grieving for too long will only cause you harm. You need to let Beor go and remember only the good things. That's what he would have wished."
A tight feeling gathered in Rangil's throat and he nodded, not trusting himself to speak as uncle Grake's words washed over him with pain and relief both. He did need to let go. He would one day see him again. He very much wanted Beor to be proud of him.
Rangil felt his uncle's hands coming around him in a hug, holding him close warmly. Smiling a little, he lifted his head, encouraged.
"I'll try, uncle. I will take care of them all the best I can. I promise."
"Try our best is what anyone of us can do. You'll do well, kari. You'll see." The old villager promised and got up, heading to the corner where he picked up a new large basket that he just finished making last night.
Rangil smiled at him. "Hero's basket?"
The old villager chuckled. "Yes. I finally finished it."
"Your baskets are beautiful, uncle. Both Tnul and Margol love them very much." Rangil thought of the trading baskets that both other children already received.
"Of course, they do. I spent weeks on each one. They are my best work." Grake said proudly. "Each one holds sixty times as much as any normal basket can hold. And add to that all the Kin gifts. Non-spoiling. Light as a Feather. Never Lost. Fire Resist."
"Oh, Hero's going to need that last one." Rangil joked, but then sobered up.
"Then... we're going to teach him how to make Trades? Tonight?" He looked hesitant. "You don't think that he is still a little too young? Will he even be able to say things properly? What if he cannot?"
"Now, what did I say about worrying, kari..." The old villager reproached with a smile. Rangil blew out a breath.
"I suppose we'll see." He said in a resigned way.
...
Later on that afternoon, their entire family stood in the village market, dressed in their best robes. They drew many stares. Many villagers looked at them with plain curiosity, but some whispered with doubt.
"Are they really going to teach that little monster how to Trade?"
"I bet you ten raw steaks that he cannot say the words." The butcher said, his eyes narrowed upon the small figure of the little Human standing before the bread-maker's stall.
Margol heard all this and felt like he was melting with shame. Just standing next to this being that he was still forced to call his brother was embarrassing, especially with some of his friends watching and whispering from the sides of the house nearby. He saw them lifting their hands and pulling at their eyelids to make their eyes appear rounder and bigger like Hero's, as they pointed fingers at the oblivious Human. Terik and his family stood on the opposite side, looking at the younger villagers with disapproval.
Margol scowled and barely kept himself from walking away. Only his younger brother's pleading gaze kept him in place. His little brother just wanted everything to go good for once. Huffing, Margol set himself to ignore everything and encouragingly grasped Tnul's hand, squeezing it.
His younger brother happily beamed at him and turned his eyes to Hero and grandpa Grake, who was helping Hero with his first words of the Trade.
"I am a Human. And I am here to trade. I have... apples, pies, carrots, some bread, and lucky gems that I found in a stream." Little Hero nervously offered, clutching his huge basket.
Bread maker Torm lifted his eyebrows. "Very well said. Good job." He amicably smiled and pulled up a sign that held all his trades. At the looks of other villagers, he shrugged, appearing in a good mood.
"I thought it might be easier for him if he saw the pictures. In the stories, that's how Humans trade with us, remember?"
At that, many villagers began to nod and a few also pulled out their signs, drawing them from Kin inventory. A few others, however, wavered. Butcher Narid instead huffed with disappointment and shook his head with disapproval.
"Well, I'm not trading anything to him. His eyes are white. It's bad luck." He said confidently and closed his stall with a showy gesture. Nodding again, some of the other villagers also followed suit.
Looking at them, Uncle Rangil's smile lessened, and Margol dropped his gaze to his feet.
"It's fine, kari. Pay them no heed. Appa Fir over there has a few books for you to trade. And Uncle Tot has sweets. Your favorite apple tarts."
Hero hopefully glanced in the direction Grake pointed and immediately perked up at the several friendly faces watching him, who waved for him to come over to them next. A little torn between sweets and books, Hero finally made his decision and headed to Fir, his white eyes nearly glowing with anticipation upon rows of books that the old librarian put up for trading. His little child, Tavish, stood with him and waved to Hero in a friendly way, but didn't dare say anything as his atta gave him a stern glance not to interrupt the traditional ceremony.
Today was Hero's day for Trading.
Slowly, their small family continued to make their way along the village market as Hero carried his basket and said the right words perfectly, each time becoming more and more confident.
In late afternoon, Grake and Rangil watched the three children enjoy their spoils as Hero generously laid out all his obtained goods before his family.
Even Margol had a small smirk on his face as he watched his younger brother, Tnul, chewing on a sugar stick that Hero gave him.
His heart nearly overwhelmed, Hero suddenly jumped up and ran to grandpa Grake, burying his head against his gown in a tight hug. Smiling through his tears, only this time because he was so happy and grateful.
"Thank you, appa." His small voice shook.
Grandpa Grake and uncle Rangil exchanged a hopeful look and Grake bent down, patting the clinging child on his back.
"You are welcome, kari. You're most welcome."