Tribal Relations

A/N - Sorry for the long wait - first I had a virus on my computer, and then Keil was mad at me and wouldn't co-operate. This chapter goes into a bit more on Keil's past and his tribe, so I hope you enjoy it even if there is no Grael/Keil action.

Also, shameless self-promoting, I am putting up Prologue/Ch1 of another fic 'Into the Dark'.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Chapter 7
________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Keil sighed and lifted the rag to rinse off the rest of the blood. The abuse had stepped up since he had returned; it didn't take more than an hour before his entire tribe knew of his time as an enemy village's captive female. Even the women were laughing at him. It had never been confirmed that he had been penetrated, but the entire tribe just assumed it and he had no way of disproving them even if it wasn't true. Keil found himself having to fend off most of the male population. It was only a matter of time before one of the groups succeeded in subduing him and forcing him to submit to them. Crele did what he could to protect him, but Keil knew that his brother had more important things to do than watch out for his weakling brother. And even if his father was still alive, he had never had the patience for his failure of a second son. So he spent most of his time in the woods, even if he wasn't technically supposed to be away from the village until he passed his trial. He was also glad for once of his small size; he had managed to get away from his attackers each time, but his luck wouldn't hold out forever. Keil knew that, even though he had been okay (more than okay after a while) with submitting to Grael, and even got pleasure out of it, if any of the men of his tribe managed to force him, it would be just as bad or worse than the first time he was taken.

It would also mean there was no chance of him taking his trial and being seen as a man. He'd be seen for the rest of his life as not a man, but not a woman either – the communal punching bag or means for release. It was a fate he wanted to avoid at all costs. Thankfully, no matter what the men thought happened, or what the rumours said, there was no real proof, and without that, his brother stood firm and said he was allowed to take the trial. His response when the other men said he was being too soft on Keil because he was Crele's brother was that he couldn't pass the trial for him. If he was weak, he would fail again, and Keil knew he wouldn't make it another year without losing a fight and being forced. So he had to keep on his guard and pray he made it to his trial without letting any of the men catch him. If all he got were the cuts and bruises he had acquired so far, he'd be happy. There was a limit to how much Crele could help him – watching out for him when he could and making sure he was allowed to take his manhood trial was all he could expect at this point. After that – he'd have the safety of the woods, and the men would have to leave him alone because of his status. He didn't expect the abuse to stop completely – he wasn't that naive – but at least they'd have to be more discrete about it. And the boys who were older than him, but still considered boys wouldn't be able to touch him without repercussions.

Before the trial, all he had to depend on was his father's protection – it was normally enough. Most fathers, however, were proud of their sons, and gladly taught them everything they needed to know as soon as they were old enough. Verel had done that with Crele, and even Keil at first. It was only once Crele had passed his own trial, and Verel had focused all of his attention on his younger son that Keil's insufficiencies had come to light. Without either Keil or Verel realizing, Crele had done what he could to cover for his little brother. However well-intentioned, however, that had only made matters worse once Keil was once his own. His tracking and wood skills weren't affected, but they both realized just how easily Crele had let his brother off during fights. When Verel had taken over, he had his son disarmed and on the ground within seconds.

As Verel got more frustrated, he got more violent, and Keil had no chance of actually learning how to fight. As the years passed and his body remained short and lithe, the headman just got angrier, and he had heard several arguments between Crele and their father about Crele's coddling of him. Verel didn't seem to care that with or without his brother's help, he still wouldn't have grown.

The rumours started slowly – most of the tribe afraid to risk their leader's anger. However, once it became obvious that Verel was just as scornful of his youngest son as the rest of the tribe was the whispers and comments became louder and more common. Keil's father was expected to protect him, and he couldn't risk openly disowning him – something Keil was immensely grateful for – but he found no reason to protect him from the words of the other tribe members. The fights were worse, but as scraped and bruised as he had gotten, he was never in danger of losing his life. The general feeling was that boys fought, but as long as no serious harm was done, it was ignored as normal, and good fighting practice at least. And at least in his case, the fights forced him to learn how to defend himself. There were very few times that Verel actually had to step in, which Keil was thankful for. He had long since given up trying to win his father's approval.

When the warriors had been sent out to find him and drag him home in disgrace, they found his abandoned bow, and the trackers hadn't taken long to figure out where he was. There had only been a pair of them, however, so they couldn't do much – they hadn't actually seen Keil, but the fact that he had been taken only a few hours walk away from Grael's tribe had been enough to figure out what had happened. If they had come for him when they first discovered he was a captive, it would have been a few weeks at longest. The tribe he was with was only about three weeks away, and Keil had realized to his embarrassment that his tribe was in the opposite direction of the way he was going to go. Gods only know how long he would have been travelling if he had attempted to make it back on his own.

It didn't take long for Keil to find out that Crele had tried to force their father's hand in the rescue, saying it would look bad on him if he left his son in their hands without even an attempt at a rescue. The long months – nearly two seasons – that Keil was with the other tribe was because of Crele fighting against their father. He was saddened but not surprised that his father had been willing to give him up as dead. Verel had argued that if another tribe had captured him, Keil would either be killed on the spot, or if they were cannibals kept until the next feast. Crele had said that even if Keil was dead they needed to retaliate for the loss of a tribe member. To be fair to his father, he had to admit that there were more reasons not to come get him. It made no sense as a leader to risk the warriors of the tribe for one boy who was most likely already dead. Finally, just a few weeks before his rescue, his father had been killed in a raid by another tribe. After securing his position, Crele had immediately gathered a group to go and get him, or avenge his death. Even if sometimes it was obvious that he was just a burden to his brother, it made him feel good that Crele at least cared that much about it.

Crele had been the one to organize the rescue, and if it hadn't been him in charge, Keil had no doubts that the rescue attempt would have failed, and that scared him even as it made him thankful to his brother. It took the tribe another three weeks to get back to the tribe, but those three weeks were better than the week he'd been back. There, the warriors were all hand-picked by his brother, and while they looked on him with scorn and disgust, had made no move to actually touch him, in any way. It was the boys, and some of the younger warriors and hunters that had made the last week hell. The only relief that Keil had gotten since his return was that they had said that due to Derk's stunt, his first ritual was considered invalid. Once Crele had convinced them to let him retake it, they just had to wait for one of the hunters (that both brothers trusted) to have the time to take him. It would only be another few days before his brother accompanied one of the older, less abusive hunters to the edge of their territory for his second attempt. He would still be the youngest to pass if he made it this time – which he would. He had to.

He wasn't entirely sure what would happen after that – he would be a full hunter, and technically he could take his own woman and start a family. He had to admit to himself that he did want children. But that was just words. He wouldn't have the respect of anyone in his tribe, and it was unlikely any father would allow their daughter to bond to him. So it was unlikely to really get any better for him, even once he was officially a man. He still wouldn't have the respect of anyone, and the only person in the tribe that would talk to him was his brother.

There was also the worrying fact that he found he didn't want a woman. He wanted to blame it on his captivity, but if he was honest with himself, he couldn't remember ever wanting to have a woman – it was just something he had taken for granted would happen at some point, and then, as he got older, wanted for the sole reason that it would mean someone thought he was worth something. It made him mad - mad at himself for accepting the role, mad at Grael for making him enjoy it so much. There was also the part of him that wanted to that the warrior's trial just to be able to fight Derk - since it was mostly his fault. If he hadn't been wearing that damn dress, at the worst he'd have just been killed outright. But he needed the freedom of the hunter's lifestyle too much to throw that away just to take out his anger on Derk. Especially since he'd probably lose.

Not that he would have any choice in the matter. Choices in the tribe were slim. Men had a choice of being a hunter or a warrior, and for the strongest, a choice in what woman they bonded with. Women had one time they were allowed a choice – any female children a woman bore the mother was allowed to name. It was a small enough concession seeing that the men didn't really care what their women were called.

Keil would become a hunter, and then, if the opportunity came up, take a woman. At least, after the trial, he could disappear for as long as he wanted to.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The day he was supposed to take his second trial dawned cold and wet, and Keil couldn't help shivering, and wishing he had Grael to curl up with. Cursing himself for the thought, he grabbed his bow, and the knife his brother had given him as a birthing day gift years ago, and headed outside.

Most of the tribe was already up; women cooking, some of the warriors were training with the boys of the tribe, and his brother was standing with one of the hunters. The rest of the hunters would have already left for the day, if they had returned the previous night at all. Unlike Grael's tribe, the hunters tended to wander further, and sometimes didn't return for days. The younger ones, without women, would often be gone for a week or more. That would be Keil's preference, as soon as this was over.

Crele had chosen Litan to lead Keil on his trial – one of the oldest of the tribe, he didn't return often; after losing his entire family to sickness, he disliked crowds, and preferred to spend time in the woods. Keil assumed Crele had picked him because he was less likely to put any stock in rumours, or at the least not care one way or the other. Litan nodded briefly at Keil, then turned and headed out of the village without a word. Crele and Keil followed, after his brother had secured the blindfold over the boy's eyes.

Keil felt horrible as the following days dragged on. The brothers learned quickly that Litan didn't talk, and any questions would be answered with one word, or sometimes even a grunt or nod. Crele spoke a bit, but they were both a bit unnerved by their silent companion. Most of the time they walked in an awkward silence – or at least awkward for them, as Litan seemed perfectly content. The few times Crele or Keil had started a conversation, they had gotten the distinct impression that Litan was annoyed at them, and the conversations hadn't lasted long. Besides, even though they were brothers, and cared for each other, they really didn't have much in common, so their conversations never lasted long anyway. Grael had been the only one who he found he could hold a conversation with effortlessly.

Unable to see and only his brother's hand on his shoulder to guide him gave Keil the unnerving feeling of walking though a void. With the three of them silent, and the woods going still as they went by, it should have been peaceful, but with the lack of sight only made him feel lost. Mostly though, Keil felt bad for dragging Crele away from the tribe again. His brother had only been leader for a couple of months, and just because their father had been the headman didn't mean that Crele's position was secure. If one of the other warriors could get a decent enough following in the one week absence, he could challenge Crele when he returned. Keil wouldn't forgive himself if his weakness led to his brother's loss.

So halfway out, as Litan had left to get dinner – a tradition to keep the boy standing trial from getting any clues as to where they were – he had decided to confront his brother. His blindfold had been taken off for the night, and they were camped in a spot that Litan would have ensured didn't have any distinguishing landmarks. Keil certainly couldn't see any. His brother was working on the fire for dinner, a task that Keil really should have done, but Crele seemed to enjoy. He knelt on the other side of the fire pit, watching his brother work for a minute, before getting his attention.

"Crele...I don't want you to think I'm not grateful for what you're doing...but I think you should go back."

His brother looked at him with raised eyebrows, and he hurried on. "I don't think Litan is going to try anything – I don't think he cares enough to. And the other hunters are already annoyed at the special treatment I'm getting."

Crele gave him a small smile, more than he normally got from his brother. "I'm sure he won't do anything, but I still want to be here. I know there are plenty of people not happy with me right now, but I'm doing the right thing, and even if they don't like it, the ones who matter know it. You'll be a good hunter, and you deserve a fair shot. If I allowed Derk to get away with what he did, it would be worse for the tribe. So even though you're my brother and I want you to succeed – I'm not just doing this because of that. "

Keil nodded, still worried, but knowing that his brother was not going to be swayed. Crele was just as stubborn as their father had been.

"There's also the fact that I'm half afraid Litan will forget you're there and lead you straight off a cliff."

He laughed, and relaxed. Neither of them really though the old hunter was that oblivious – but sometimes it certainly seemed like it.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Keil waited until the last footsteps had faded away before taking the blindfold off. That part was always based on good faith, but it was also usual for the hunters to take a roundabout way back to the tribe. If someone tried to follow the hunter back, they usually had an unpleasant surprise waiting for them at some point. They had gone in two separate directions as well, so Keil assumed Litan was not going back – not that it surprised him.

He could easily recognize whose footstep was whose – but it didn't matter. As they were travelling, he had recognized that they were mostly heading towards the setting sun – the opposite direction from Grael's tribe, which was rather predictable, but it made good sense. All they needed was for Keil to end up there again.

Still, he was glad the trip out was over. The rest of the week had gone just as badly – nearly complete silence, except for when he and Crele had attempted a conversation, and the uncomfortable feeling of being blind. Keil didn't like the blindfold any more this time than he had the previous time, although it had been better to have his brother's hand on his shoulder instead of Derk's. Derk had gripped with the intent to bruise, and he had had finger shaped bruises for a few days after the other hunter had left him.

With a sigh, he glanced at the sky, and the shadows. He turned a bit to his left and struck out, after checking quickly to make sure his bow and knife were secure. Neither had been touched, and he felt foolish, but there was no room for error this time around.

The rest of the day went quickly – the three had travelled for most of the day before abandoning Keil – and he knew it was time to start thinking about dinner and shelter. A trick to these trials was that deer and other larger animals weren't what the boys should be going after. The carcasses would attract predators, and the meat wouldn't be of any use, as they didn't have anything to carry it with.

So he kept his eyes peeled for smaller animals, and just as he thought he'd be going hungry for the night he managed to snag a small rabbit. It would be enough for dinner and breakfast, and that was good enough for him.

The remainder of the week went about the same – he'd get his bearings, look for any signs of his tribe, and walk for most of the day. This time around at least, he managed to find the tribe markings each day, so he at least knew he hadn't left their territory. That had been his downfall last time – he had started out in the wrong direction from day one, not checked for tribal markings the next couple of days, because he had been so sure it was an easy trip back, and by the time he thought to look for them, was hopelessly lost. This time he wasn't going to let overconfidence ruin him.

Surviving without anything but his weapons was the easy part. He'd drink whenever he had the chance, and shoot what he could find. The third morning he stumbled over a dying fawn, it's mother some distance away, also dead, and he took advantage of the find and ate a large meal before starting out for the day. A few times he found bird nests with abandoned eggs, and he even tried his hand at fishing at the river. That had gone remarkably poorly, but at least he had tried.

From the river, however, he knew he had to be close to the village, as long as he chose the correct direction. Keil spent most of the morning debating with himself; but then he realized he was well within the two week period, so even if he made the wrong decision it shouldn't make him fail. There had only been one lost day, when he had come across a small gorge that was deep enough to slow him down significantly, so he picked downriver, and was only slightly disappointed when he discovered he was wrong. Keil recognized the large split trunk tree that they had passed on the way back from Grael's tribe, and promptly turned around. At least now he knew almost exactly where he was, and how to get back.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Three days later, he walked into the village, drawing surprised looks from most of the warriors, and scowls from most of the boys. It was clear they expected him to fail again, and he was happy to prove them wrong. Keil couldn't have helped the smug, self-satisfied smile that came to his face if he had wanted to.

His brother emerged from the main tent, and smiled broadly when he saw Keil. The look on his face was definitely one of pride, and Keil felt almost giddy at the realization that even if he never had his father's approval, he at least had his brother's.

There were the usual words of congratulations and official 'welcome' into the tribe as a full adult, and then Keil went off to clean up. That night there would be a celebratory dinner, with Keil as the guest of honour, and he while he disliked the group dinners, he was looking forward to this one, as custom dictated that everyone, men, women and children, were all required to treat him nicely, and welcome him. It would probably be the only time he'd ever hear 'kind' words from his fellow tribe members, even if they were insincere, and he intended to enjoy it as much as he could.