human got his food.
When they were seated at the table, the Elpind continued, "The Elseewas is an important symbol to Elspind. The adult bird lives only six days. We feel a certain kinship to it, since the Elpind adult lives only six years, at most, after the Change."
70
Mark wondered how Eerin could sit there, calmly eating and speaking so matter-of-factly about what seemed to him to be a tragically early death. It's normal for them, he reminded himself again. I can't judge the Elpind culture by my feelings. Remember, understanding, not judgment.
"Six days?" he said, carefully neutral. "That's not long."
"The Elseewas grows very rapidly, mates, hatches one brood, then dies,"
said Eerin. "But it sings so marvelously and dies with such grace and passion that it symbolizes the way we, too, wish to live and die."
The Elpind's golden eyes grew faraway and hin stopped eating for a second.
"Elspind say that to see the death of an Elseewas changes one's life forever.
Hin has never been so fortunate."
Mark didn't want to ask, but he had to. "How do they die?"
"They drown."
"Drown? A bird?"
"They fly out over a body of water and perform a ... well, we call it a dance. It is an incredibly acrobatic effort. Parts of the Mortenwol symbolize that last flight. Then, when the bird is spent, it plunges into the water. Some speculate that it dies in the air and merely falls, but those who have seen it say that isn't true. They say the Elseewas seems eager for its last adventure and dives to find it."
All of a sudden this talk of last flights and death plunges was too much for Mark. "Uh, excuse me, I'm through," he said, getting up to ram his tray down the recycling chute with more force than necessary.
He turned around to find the Elpind studying him carefully. Mark cleared his throat.
"Uh, we've got advanced first-aid training this morning. If we go now, we can practice a bit ... you know, name the items in the kit for each other ... before the instructor gets there."
Eerin waited until they were in the hall before hin spoke.
"The CLS team that prepared hin to leave Elseemar warned of this. They told hin not to speak much of our culture's way of facing death because it would seem callous to many. They said the young of most species often have not even seen death yet."
71
Mark stopped. "You talk like there are dead bodies lying around everywhere on your world." He could not keep the bitterness out of his voice. "Have you experienced death personally? Lost someone you love? Believe me, I have."
"Hin has seen death," replied the Elpind calmly. "One of hin's siblings died in infancy, when the gland that produces the juvenile hormone began to function. It is a risky time. Another died during the Change, which is not uncommon. And hin's parents died, of course."
Mark stared at the alien. "What do you mean, of course?"
Eerin regarded him incredulously. "Hin told Mark the adult Elspind die within six years of the Change. Thus, after the parents bear the young, it falls to the oldest siblings to raise the younger, until all are through the Change. Every family goes through two stages, a parent-family, or 'pinlaa,' and a sibling-family, which is called a 'pinsa.' A pinlaa prepares for as much as two years for the coming deaths of the han and the heen so that all is done with dignity."
"I'm sorry," Mark muttered. "I should have realized."
The Elpind regarded him sympathetically, evidently realizing his distress.
"Mark has watched a family member embrace death?"
Mark nodded numbly. "First my father. I was very young; I hardly remember.
But"--tears welled up despite his efforts to control them--"just a few months ago, my mother ..." He trailed off, unable to finish.
Eerin's voice was kind. "Did Mark make a fine farewell ceremony? Mark said humans have death rituals."
The young man shook his head. "I wasn't there," he said in an agonized whisper. "I wasn't with her ..."
Eerin reached out and awkwardly patted the human's arm.
When they were seated at the table, the Elpind continued, "The Elseewas is an important symbol to Elspind. The adult bird lives only six days. We feel a certain kinship to it, since the Elpind adult lives only six years, at most, after the Change."
70
Mark wondered how Eerin could sit there, calmly eating and speaking so matter-of-factly about what seemed to him to be a tragically early death. It's normal for them, he reminded himself again. I can't judge the Elpind culture by my feelings. Remember, understanding, not judgment.
"Six days?" he said, carefully neutral. "That's not long."
"The Elseewas grows very rapidly, mates, hatches one brood, then dies,"
said Eerin. "But it sings so marvelously and dies with such grace and passion that it symbolizes the way we, too, wish to live and die."
The Elpind's golden eyes grew faraway and hin stopped eating for a second.
"Elspind say that to see the death of an Elseewas changes one's life forever.
Hin has never been so fortunate."
Mark didn't want to ask, but he had to. "How do they die?"
"They drown."
"Drown? A bird?"
"They fly out over a body of water and perform a ... well, we call it a dance. It is an incredibly acrobatic effort. Parts of the Mortenwol symbolize that last flight. Then, when the bird is spent, it plunges into the water. Some speculate that it dies in the air and merely falls, but those who have seen it say that isn't true. They say the Elseewas seems eager for its last adventure and dives to find it."
All of a sudden this talk of last flights and death plunges was too much for Mark. "Uh, excuse me, I'm through," he said, getting up to ram his tray down the recycling chute with more force than necessary.
He turned around to find the Elpind studying him carefully. Mark cleared his throat.
"Uh, we've got advanced first-aid training this morning. If we go now, we can practice a bit ... you know, name the items in the kit for each other ... before the instructor gets there."
Eerin waited until they were in the hall before hin spoke.
"The CLS team that prepared hin to leave Elseemar warned of this. They told hin not to speak much of our culture's way of facing death because it would seem callous to many. They said the young of most species often have not even seen death yet."
71
Mark stopped. "You talk like there are dead bodies lying around everywhere on your world." He could not keep the bitterness out of his voice. "Have you experienced death personally? Lost someone you love? Believe me, I have."
"Hin has seen death," replied the Elpind calmly. "One of hin's siblings died in infancy, when the gland that produces the juvenile hormone began to function. It is a risky time. Another died during the Change, which is not uncommon. And hin's parents died, of course."
Mark stared at the alien. "What do you mean, of course?"
Eerin regarded him incredulously. "Hin told Mark the adult Elspind die within six years of the Change. Thus, after the parents bear the young, it falls to the oldest siblings to raise the younger, until all are through the Change. Every family goes through two stages, a parent-family, or 'pinlaa,' and a sibling-family, which is called a 'pinsa.' A pinlaa prepares for as much as two years for the coming deaths of the han and the heen so that all is done with dignity."
"I'm sorry," Mark muttered. "I should have realized."
The Elpind regarded him sympathetically, evidently realizing his distress.
"Mark has watched a family member embrace death?"
Mark nodded numbly. "First my father. I was very young; I hardly remember.
But"--tears welled up despite his efforts to control them--"just a few months ago, my mother ..." He trailed off, unable to finish.
Eerin's voice was kind. "Did Mark make a fine farewell ceremony? Mark said humans have death rituals."
The young man shook his head. "I wasn't there," he said in an agonized whisper. "I wasn't with her ..."
Eerin reached out and awkwardly patted the human's arm.
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