It was mid autumn. The air was crisp and clear. The day dawned brightly, and sunbeams shone through the colored leaves of the trees. Various members of the clan sang to mark the special day as they emerged from their homes. The children busied themselves clearing the leaves from the field in the center of the citadel. A teenager dropped a suitable piece of hide and walked upon it to flatten it out, while another teenager hammered stakes onto the edges. A woman tied green, brown, and white ribbons around the stakes.

Acclamation rippled through the crowd as the guest of honor appeared. Whistles and cheerful obscenities sounded as he walked among his friends and family. The people followed him as he made his way to the field. At fifteen years of age, he was but a boy, but bred of the large stock common in the region. As such, the boy stood near six feet tall with broad shoulders and the first signs of hair upon his face.

When the youth reached the field, he approached the table where the blacksmith had laid out his wares. The boy selected and hefted a few axes before settling on the one he preferred. He gave a playful swing toward one of his friends that had stood too near. Laughter ensued among the spectators. Someone handed him a wooden shield.

The jesting banter continued until the Chief arrived. The Chief was a great bear of a man, who towered nearly a head over the crowd. His hair and beard hung in thick braids. The man lumbered to the table, where he picked up an axe. He turned away and paused in afterthought, then turned back to the table and picked up a second axe. The Chief had elected to fight with a pair of axes. The crowd hushed at his choice, and all eyes turned to the boy to see his reaction.

Unperturbed, the boy raised his axe and shouted at his adversary. The Chief grinned in return and stepped onto the hide. A chant arose from the spectating crowd. It was a chant with no meaningful words, yet it held intent. The audience stamped the ground in a concerted beat. Both combatants raised their weapons, then assumed a fighting stance.

The boy gave a warcry shout and ran at his opponent, who stood calm and ready for the first blow. With his axe held high, the boy swung his weapon down. Without a shield, the Chief raised his left arm and axe to block the attack, meeting the handle of the other axe with such force that the boy recoiled.

Without letting the boy recover, the Chief moved his right arm. Inexperienced, the boy was almost too slow to react, but he reflexively got his shield up in time. The shield took the full brunt of the hit and shattered instantly. The Chief backed away as he let the boy shake off the splintered wood from his arm and acquire another shield from a waiting bystander.

As soon as the shield was on, the Chief charged at the boy. The boy pivoted out of the way and tried to strike a blow, but his swing was wide and missed. The Chief used his momentum to continue with a flurry of strikes with both axes, forcing his opponent to retreat. When the boy had reached the edge of the hide, the chanting stopped as the audience watched for two steps to be taken off the hide.

Suddenly realizing he was in danger of forfeiting, the boy ducked beneath a swing, and thrust his shield upward with his weapon. It was a bold maneuver with the advantage of being partially obscured beneath the shield, and the crowd gasped in unison. The Chief had anticipated it and jumped back, blocking the upswing of his opponent's axe with his left, even as he swung his right axe down onto the shield. The axe struck the shield at a strange angle, and though the shield didn't shatter immediately, it did break in two when the large man wrenched the axe out.

The chanting resumed while the Chief waited as the boy took his third and last shield. This time, the boy moved quickly out of the way of the fighter's next swing. They feinted and parried and blocked, testing each other. The bout continued, and both combatants began to show signs of wear. Thoroughly enjoying the fight, the Chief smiled as he spun, and both axes sliced through the air. The boy danced out of the way with alacrity, and in an unexpected move, tossed his shield at his opponent's face. The chanting stopped abruptly.

Surprised, the Chief raised a hand to block the incoming shield though the move was awkward. The boy used the gambit to strike, which the man reacted to, but he was too slow. The axe had touched his forearm. The shield fell to the ground and bounced once. Both fighters stepped back and held their breaths. The blade had indeed cut skin, and blood dripped onto the hide.

Fists rose into the air, and cheers erupted. Breathing heavily, both fighters dropped their weapons. Townsfolk stepped forward eagerly to pat the boy on the back and shoulders in congratulations. Beaming proudly, the Chief moved toward the young fighter and embraced him as a father would his son. In a booming voice, he made his announcement.

"Today, a boy has become a man. We welcome Copin Bälen of the Bear Clan."