Invited to a dwarven wedding, and you’re not sure if this is a joining ceremony or a courtroom proceeding. Either way, you hope you brought the right gift. -- Weirdlet
The ceremony was in a beautiful cavern, where stalactites and stalagmites were decorated with glowing crystals and fungi. The surface world had its traditions. Flowers. Manner of dress. Vows. On the surface, the marrying partners met each other in the middle and there were portents regarding how quickly they did it.
Here in the D'varuv portions of the Everdark, the marrying partners came with lawyers. All dressed to the best of their ability. The would-be matrimonial participants were wearing their wealth on their bodies, while the rest were merely wearing their best clothing. Each parent or guardian argued their reasons why their child should remain in their family, before each child argued why they should wed.
All of it was in formal D'varuk, so Espial was completely lost. He was the only Hellkin and the only outsider, invited there by Reinwulyn, and feeling like the only petunia in the onion patch. Or rather, the tallest poppy in the field.
Reinwulyn had told him -several times- that he was there to bear witness, and not take notes. He itched to take notes. This sort of stuff was fascinating, and needed to be shared with the world.
Espial also respected Reinwulyn, and therefore behaved himself. His journal would be expanded by quite a lot of pages after the ceremony. And only once he was sure it was allowed.
He heard his name, and saw Reinwulyn gesturing at him to come forward. This was his cue. Some surrounding D'varuv giggled into their beards as Espial made his way to the celebrant. At least one child attempted to grab his tail, but they were restrained by their parent.
"Just tell them honestly about our time together," said Reinwulyn. "I'll translate."
At least Espial knew how to show respect in the D'varuv fashion, beating his fist over his heart to show how heartfelt he meant his testimony to be. "Your honour, I have traveled with and fought beside Reinwulyn for almost seven years. In that time, she has proven to be a steadfast friend and honourable companion. I've lost count of the number of times she has saved my life or defended me from malice..." he spoke of how they met, and the adventures they undertook together. How a decent quarter of her train o' coin was to repay the debt he owed her. Though he skipped over the bit about it being his bar tab. And how every single magical item she brought with her was fairly won.
In the D'varuv fashion, he finished with, "She is a credit to her people, the best working I have ever had the privilege to know."
The celebrant, a rather grouchy-looking D'varuh at a rather ordinary desk, nodded and took notes. Like most high-ranking D'varuv, he wore a helmet and a tool belt. No gold or gems, because he was working. It took a sharp eye to notice that the tools, their belt, and the helmet were all exquisitely made, and made to last for D'varuv generations[1].
This was a pit-master. What surface folk might consider a very high rank. He was not, precisely speaking, a celebrant. He was a judge. A manager. A claims adjudicator.
Espial leaned down to whisper to his friend, "I thought this was a wedding."
"It is," she whispered back. "It's also a custody battle. We're arguing our case to belong to each other."
Well. That put a new spin on giving away the bride...
[1] D'varuv can live for five hundred years in good health, so heirlooms are made to last for at least five thousand years.
[Photo by Raychan on Unsplash]
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