Side Story 1.12: Mass Winter Birthday Celebration
The central hall of the longhouse was transformed for the evening, pine boughs and dried winter berries adorning the wooden beams overhead. A mass Winter Birthday celebration was being held for Gel, Erik, Bren, and Betty—four villagers who had completely forgotten their own birthdays.
They had been so consumed by their daily responsibilities in the village—tending crops before the frost, reinforcing structures against winter storms, preserving food for the cold months—that personal celebrations had slipped their minds entirely. It was only when August, during a quiet moment by the hearth during their winter break, had casually asked them about their birth months that realization dawned.
"When were you all born, anyway?We've never celebrated properly," August had asked, steam rising from his cup of pine needle tea.
The question produced a moment of awkward silence as each tried to recall. Erik finally remembered he was born in the 12th month of the year, while Gel was born in the 3rd. Betty shyly admitted her birth in the 7th month, and Bren recalled his arrival in the 8th month. Adam and Isabel, the youngest among them, were born in the 1st and 4th months respectively.
When August heard this, his eyes widened in disbelief. "You mean to tell me we've already missed four birthdays this year?" The revelation left him nearly speechless—they had completely overlooked celebrating the older members of their tight-knit community.
The news spread quickly. When the adults heard of this oversight, especially Aunt Theressa and the other uncles, they mobilized with surprising speed and determination. Jonathan, Angeline's father, was particularly distressed upon realizing he had forgotten his own daughter's birthday.
"What kind of father am I?" he muttered, chopping firewood with renewed vigor that afternoon. "Too caught up in rebuilding the village wall to remember my baby girl's special day." He set aside his axe with resolve, vowing to make amends however he could.
Theressa, who had recently taken over as the village's primary cook, took charge of the feast preparations. Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she inventoried their winter stores, mentally crafting a menu that would delight everyone despite their limited resources. Though the children had been trained in cooking basics, this occasion called for Theressa's experienced hand.
"We'll use the last of the preserved berries," she decided, "and that smoked venison we've been saving for something special."
An hour passed in bustling activity, with delicious aromas wafting through the settlement. When everything was finally ready, an impressive array of dishes lined the long wooden table: venison stew rich with winter root vegetables, flatbread seasoned with the last of the dried herbs, preserved fruit compote, and roasted nuts drizzled with the precious honey they had traded for last autumn.
Theressa felt a twinge of regret at the absence of a proper birthday cake. "Next year," she promised herself quietly, "once we get the water wheel repaired and can grind proper flour again." The western farmland's reactivation had been postponed until spring, leaving them without fresh grain for the winter.
She had already submitted requests for egg-laying fowl and dairy livestock to August and the others. The proposal had been approved in principle, but implementation would have to wait until they could establish a trading route that would be able to connect to the main road. But it is quite the distance from the village or they could wait for a random merchant to lose his way here, just like the majority of the villagers living here right now. For now, they would celebrate with what they had—and truthfully, the children weren't particularly concerned about traditional birthday trappings. The mere fact of recognition was novel enough.
"WOW!" The collective exclamation echoed through the hall when the children finally glimpsed the feast. Steam rose from dishes arranged carefully on the table, the presentation rivaling the harvest festival held months earlier. The spread was extravagant by their modest standards—far beyond their usual daily fare.
Angeline's eyes glistened with tears as she surveyed the scene. "Thank you for preparing this meal, father, uncles and aunty," she said softly, addressing the adults who stood beaming at the edge of the room. "And you too, Gus, even though we don't deserve all this... the thought means everything."
The other birthday celebrants nodded in earnest agreement.
August shook his head, smiling warmly at the group he had come to consider family. "Don't worry, you all deserve this more than anyone," he insisted, voice steady with conviction. "Each of you has contributed immensely to this village and to me personally. I hope we can celebrate your actual birthdays next year." His expression turned playful. "Well, I hope you don't forget about them again—because I might!"
Laughter rippled through the gathering, genuine and warm against the winter chill outside. Soon they were singing traditional birthday songs, some half-remembered from their lives before this village. Dancing followed—Bren demonstrating an energetic jig while Erik clapped the rhythm. When they finally settled to eat, the joy around the table was as nourishing as the food itself.
In that moment, as snowflakes began to drift past the windows, their little community felt complete—not despite their humble circumstances, but because within those limitations, they had found ways to honor what truly mattered.