Between the Veil and Crown

Kylin 5

The children had more energy than should have been possible, given how much they had used and how they got less sleep than their poor mother. However, that energy was put to good use as they were made to ready the cart and horse while Myrtle and Numier cleared the camp area and Kyin went on ahead to make sure the coast was clear.

It was about midday when they arrived back to the path. Kylin went up and down it several times before he was confident in the fact that there were no dobharchus hanging about. Happy with the knowledge, the children began a variety of different songs, sometimes mashing them together or changing keys every line. Myrtle sensed that this was not a wise and tried to shush them until Numier told her it was fine. Especially as it meant that they were trying to do anymore exploring.

That, and it brought a certain kind of merriment to the journey, Kylin felt. There were some of the Rangers that were inclined to burst into song when quiet was not necessary, and most Elves who traveled up this far always announced their presence with some traveling song. Kylin's father would do it all the time as the traveled the villages, and his mother would always join in with a harmony. Kylin's blood related siblings would join by the second verse, but he preferred to sit and listen. There was something about the differences in his parents' voice that intrigued him. Clearly meant for different styles of music, they had a way of joining their harmonies together that was mesmerizing. The odd medley of the children reminded him of such songs that his parents would sing. A snap of twig underneath his horse roused him from his happier memories, quickly recalling the fate of his older sister. Before the darker times could replay themselves for him, he shook it off and focused hard ahead of him, trying to shut out the singing of the children to prevent his mind continuing down the dark path. His shift in demeanor caught Numier's attention and he rode up alongside him.

"Perhaps, for safety's sake, you should ride on ahead," Numier suggested gently.

Kylin nodded, not verbalizing his thanks. He signaled his horse and they took off at a canter. When he was a distance away, he slowed. The singing of the children could still be heard, but it was much easier to shut them out. He took a few deep breaths, closing his eyes. It had been years, he told himself. At this point, he needed to get over it.

There was still Amelia. Amelia and her small little house, covered in ivies and morning glories, and other blooming creepers. The pies she would make with all of the berries that grew near her house, or with apples from the apple tree out back. There would still be the well out in the front, patched with moss that was occasionally harvested. There would still be the weeping willow, draping over the part of her house that needed some more work done. And the goats that would come up to greet him, bleating all of their complaints to him.

There was still that.

Having recovered, he opened his eyes and straightened. His horse took that as a cue to pick up the pace and broke out into a swift trot. A little further, he figured, and he would either go back or wait for Numier and the family to catch up. They weren't too far now; they probably could make it to the village of destination by evening time.

A noise ahead interrupted his plans. He slowed his horse back to a walk and approached cautiously. It sounded Human, but nothing about it sounded like it was a fellow Ranger. Perhaps the soldiers were actually successful in getting rid of the dobharchu, and he had now caught up to them? If that was the case, he didn't know if he should feel relieved or not.

After a couple of bends in the road, he found that he was almost right.

Only Jarven was on the road. His horse's head hung low to the ground, sweat drenching the poor animal as it breathed heavily, dragging its hooves across the path. Jarven sat with his shoulders slumped, blood staining his clothes and armor, some of the material tattered. His helmet was missing, showing matted hair, twisted together because of the sweat on his exposed neck. Upon hearing the sound of hoofbeats behind, Jarven tried to straighten and face the newcomer, but he was only partially successful. Despite the tightening of his lips and his hand reaching for his sword, he could not hide the fact that if Kylin were his enemy, he did not have strength to defend himself. His horse lifted its head a little, making an attempt to pick up its feet faster.