Escaping the War (Sequel to Pardoned on the Peak)

Seven

May, 1777

Over the course of the next few Years, Life within the settlement that eventually come to be called Loch Ailbhinn–or Elvin Lake, to use the English name–was far more peaceful than its inhabitants coulda imagined. They’d essentially rebuilt their old homestead from scratch with a few differences, the most notable being the Change in how their guard towers were oriented and literally everyone having that indoor Elvin plumbing. Everyone was as healthy as they could possibly be and thriving, and the overall family’d grown by several new members over the course of that Time.

        First and foremost was that Jamie and Róisín were now grandparents twice over–their oldest Elvlings’d made Return tripsta North Carolina and Virginia to check in over Time, which’d led to them finding spouses of their own. The oldest Fraser son’d handfasted with a lass by the name of Eachna MacGregor, who’d finally tired of living under her father’s thumb through poverty and famine. After quite a bit of planning, she’d managed to fake her Death so she could immigrate to the Colonies without anyone chasing after her, and they’d met quite by chance. More or less the same was true with the oldest Fraser daughter’s spouse–a lad by the name of Dallas Logan–’cuz aside from the part about faking his Death, he’d also been looking for a better Life.

        Those grand-Elvlings–Aidan Niall Casey Morgan Fraser and Flynn Roirdan Daire Fraser Logan–were the Apples of their collective parents’ eyes. Both lads were every bit as rambunctious as their father and uncles–or solely their uncles, in one’s case–were as weans, and they’d both inherited the somewhat legendary trait of red hair. However, only Aidan’d inherited the trademark bright green eyes that’d started with Gunhild–Flynn’d inherited a combination from both parents that’d resulted in hazel eyes.

        Next on the list of additionsta the family was actually quite a bit of a surprise, ’cuz no one–not even Lachlan and Saoirse–had seen such a thing coming from an Elvin mile away. The aforementioned Norse Elf’d shocked even her husband when she’d turned up pregnant for only the second Time in her incredibly long Life. But everyone’d been ecstatic when she’d shared not only that news, but that she’d already sensed that this Time around, she’d be delivering a son. Her husband was obviously the most ecstatic of them all, to the point that he hadn’t argued with her when she’d insisted on the name Torquil Njord Cahill. And the fact that he was born on New Year’s Eve, according to the vast majority of the World–or Hogmanay, as they generally celebrated it–made his arrival even more special since even the humans considered going into the New Year with a new baby particularly fortuitous. Only being born on Samhain when his Celtic, Pagan family members celebrated the Beginning of their New Year coulda made his Birth better.

        With the Births of the lads that were sorta surrogate grandsonsta her, though came a bit of Jealousy on Geneva’s part that she simply hadn’t been able to help. By that Time, the youngest of her Elvlings’d grown up enough that she’d learned how to walk and was working on learning how to speak aloud, rather than just in Projected Thoughts. It made her miss the Days before Druella’d even learned how to crawl, and there’d been a part of her that’d Wished she could turn back Time. That was when she and the ginger man’d been surprised to feel the conception of yet another Elvling–their third son together–considering they’d thought their collective Days of building their family were over. Equally surprising was when they felt the conception of their third daughter together just over a Year after that child’s Birth, which finally made him put his foot down on having more.

        But despite all the added Happiness of each conception and subsequent Birth, what they were hearing from back East–particularly, from Lord John–wasn’t nearly as great. Tensions’d continued escalating to the point that now, what’d once been known as the War of the Regulation’d broken out into a far bigger War. Known as the War of American Independence among certain circles, this conflict’d broken out a couple months before the brunette lass’d delivered her final Elvling in July of 1775.

        That conflict clearly wasn’t getting any better, more and more British troops being sent over to quell the so-called rebellion that resulted in battles such as the Siege of Boston in March of 1776.

        “From the sounds of things, it sounds like General Howe’s gathering his troops fer an attack on Philadelphia,” Jamie sighed, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes.

        “That was what John told ye when last ye went East to confer wi’ him, aye?” the Healer queried.

        “Aye, ’tis,” he answered, nodding as he lowered his hands.

        “Weel, that’s certainly no what I’ve been Seeing in me Visions of late,” Róisín mused, her lips pursing thoughtfully.

        “What do you mean, Róisín?” the brunette lass asked, bouncing her youngest–Shellina–on her knee.

        “I’ve been Seeing a battle, but no anywhere near Philadelphia,” she answered. “Nay, this battle’s been somewhere in New York, and no fought in the Summertime.”

        “What Time of Year was it fought in–or do ye ken, mo chridhe?” their shared husband queried.

        “Autumn, I think–I just canna say whether ’tis September or later,” the Healer answered.

        “I suppose we’ll get news on it, if and when it happens and John’s able to get some sorta word to us,” Geneva sighed.

        “Aye, we certainly will,” he agreed. “It just makes me all the more thankful that we left North Carolina when we did.”

        “Ye’d be caught up right in the middle of this conflict on one side or another,” Róisín said.

        “Likely on the side of the Rebels, and I ken meself as weel as I think I do,” the ginger man chuckled. “Which wouldna be verra easy to manage since yer da’d have likely gotten sucked into the quagmire on that of the Loyalists.”

        “Considering the Land grant was in his name…” She nodded as she trailed off. “Granted, we both ken weel enough that even and he started out on their side, he’d have eventually turned his coat.”

        “He’d have stripped that damned coat off and burnt it right under their noses!” Jamie laughed.

        “Would he really’ve done such a thing?” the brunette lass asked, torn between laughing with him and at least feigning shock.

        “Och, ye havena spent enough Time wi’ Lachlan after all these Years, and ye’ve to pose that inquiry, a nighean,” he retorted with a grin. “And ye’ve no spent enough Time wi’ Tiernan either, and ye’ve to pose the same inquiry about him.”

        “I suppose the question now is just how long this conflict’ll continue,” Geneva mused. “I mean, it can’t possibly go on forever.”

        Shrugging as he took their daughter when she reached out to him, the ginger man agreed that almost no War ever continued till the End of Time, itself. But he couldn’t Begin to guess when this one in particular’d End–after all, one could say it’d already been happening for over a decade, as it was. With any Luck, though, both sides’d be able to reach an accord of some sort that’d allow them to go their separate ways–and on relatively amicable terms, at that.

        If Róisín was right about what she’d Seen recently, the Rebels’d be the winners and they’d officially found the country that’d be kent as America. While that’d be great for those currently caught up in the fighting, the Elves’d to remember that such a Victory’d eventually lead to white settlement far beyond just their own family out here and even further West. And considering how Europeans tended to be when they moved outside their own boundaries, things wouldn’t go nearly as smoothly with those settlers as it’d gone for them. Said settlers’d be more likely to push Native populations off the Land they currently lived on due to greed, rather than coming to the agreement to share the Land and its resources.

        The only thing they could do now was count their Blessings, and at the top of that list was that Willie–who’d started going by William in recent Years–had no interest in joining either side of the War. He was content with remaining at Loch Ailbhinn and helping on the massive homestead however he could, whether it was with Animals, his siblings, or a massive harvest. Provided that mentality continued, they wouldn’t have to worry about him getting hurt by accident or anything–they’d only have to worry that he’d eventually wanna leave home, if only long enough to find a bride of his own.

        And when that Day finally came, the already massive family’d grow by at least one more member, which’d be another Blessing to add to their collective list.