Ledimo awoke early the next day, the sun filling his hut. Lying quietly on his mat for a while he thought over the events of the night before. His body already felt different, slightly stiff as he got up, something he had never experienced before. He looked carefully in the mirror (a gift from the strange ones). There were lines around his eyes and on his forehead, and horror of horrors, there in amongst the pitch-black hair on his head was one gray one! Yanking it out quickly he ran outside; he would have to hurry up. If this aging thing was going this fast he didn’t have much time left.
Ledimo ran to the meeting place, shouting at people as he went that he had something important to tell them. They followed him feeling worried; when Ledimo was in a fuss it normally meant trouble. Everyone gathered around him and he announced that he was getting older and that he had decided to get married so that he could produce an heir to carry on after him. There was silence. People looked at each other baffled. “Old? After him?” What was he talking about? Ledimo was immortal. He didn’t get old and die. Then they took a closer look and saw the lines on his face and a gray hair (another one) amongst the black. They realized that times were changing and even semi-gods must now die. This didn’t go down very well. Who would look after them? The children—maybe the children of Ledimo would inherit his powers and all would not be lost. In the meantime he was still very much alive and there was a bride to find and a wedding ceremony to organise.
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