Home to Elladeen

He threw his arms around her as she hurtled toward him across the crowded dock and hugged her so tightly that he knocked the wind from them both. He didn’t care about decorum or propriety, he just wanted her in his arms. To feel at home again.

Cillian was tired, sea weary and there was still a slight groan in his stomach from the food poisoning that had nearly wiped out half the crew of the TNS Fiachra. He had never been a natural sea babe and as soon as he left the gang plank, feet hitting the solid and immovable earth, liberation had washed over him. Though it was nothing compared to the wave of relief that stole his breath when he had caught a glimpse of those long red locks swept up in a delicate bun, the upward point of her ears and the soft green eyes that he knew so well. She had come to see him home.

They were unaware of the amount of time that passed as they stood, neither wanting to release the embrace. Cillian felt the soft velvet of her coat beneath his arms, the delicate slender curve of Elladeen’s waist beneath his hands. Being with her was like ecstasy. A comfort he had sorely missed aboard the Fiachra – the ship he had been conscripted to when war had come to Thellerest.

Cillian Schwick had been nervous that night nearly two long years ago. He was at home, trying to enjoy the meal of elk and roasted vegetables that his mother had prepared. He had been staring at his plate, not looking up or joining in conversation, for several long minutes when his Uncle Silas leaned in and whispered, “Everything alright with ye boy? That potato isn’t going to jump into ye mouth on its own, y’know.”

“I’m fine,” Cillian replied glancing momentarily at his uncle. The women of the house were emersed in conversation, and didn’t notice how pale Cillian had gone.

“Ye most certainly are not fine!” he whispered in his rolling west land accent, deep concern flashing in his eyes. “Are ye ill? What’s goin’ on?”

Cillian slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a delicate circlet of silver leaves and small sapphire berries. He held it, hand trembling, beneath the corner of the dinner table for his uncle to see. With a glance toward the ladies to make sure he wasn’t seen; Cillian slipped the bracelet back into his pocket.

“That’s a Var’glor, Cillian!” Silas’ eyes were wide with shock, the tone of his voice rising. “Ye intend to propose marriage?”

Cillian gave a slight incline of his head and Silas sat back bewildered. At that moment Aunt Rieka asked, “What’s got ye so embarrassed Silas? Yer ears ‘ave gone pink y’know?” Her blue eyes flashed incredulously.

“Oh, I’m fine dear.” Silas waved dismissively at his wife who, after a curious look at her husband, resumed her conversation.

With food becoming harder to find, the effects of war had begun to seep into Thellerest. That night the Naval Commanders sought any young men that were of the appropriate age and of able body. Demanding that any man matching this description was to follow them at once to basic training. It was Cillian and his Uncle Silas that had been taken that night, unable to finish their evening meal.

The next few months had been brutal. Basic training had left the two elves beaten and exhausted. There was nothing in the bland and desolate navy barracks to take Cillian’s mind off his beloved and the promise they had been so close to making to one another. Ninety days of basic training gave way to ship assignments and the reality of war.

Neither athletic or strategically minded Cillian had spent his formative years tinkering away in his father’s workshop. Helping to build and repair the clocks and commissions that came their way. Eventually he also began building his own designs. When his father had passed away three years ago, Cillian had taken over the shop. He was not built for war, and had the navy not been desperate for personnel, would not have even passed basic training.

Cillian and Uncle Silas had stood on the frozen docks in the bright glare of the winter morning sun. Their frosty breath mingling amongst those of the crowd of anxious troops. They waited for their names to be called for their assignments. Cillian and Silas were called one after the other but assigned to different ships. The two looked at each other, a wordless goodbye passing between the two elves as they embraced.

Tears stung Cillian’s eyes as he watched his uncle walk toward the distant TNS Annwyn. He recalled the day that Silas had met the lovely young Rieka, who would one day be his wife. “You’re going to marry her one day.” He had told his uncle. Silas tore his eyes away from the retreating Rieka and scuffed his young nephew’s shaggy blonde hair. “Maybe.”

Cillian walked across the deck of the Fiachra the ship that would be his temporary home, the day that he met Elladeen played through his mind. He had nearly bowled her over near the fountain in Thornton Park, due to his head being stuck in a book on clockwork configurations, only managing to catch her by chance. They had been almost inseparable ever since. Smiling at the memory, he whispered a prayer to Asa and Kyrith that they would return home safely from this horrendous war.

It was surprisingly easy for Cillian being on the TNS Fiachra, as it soon became evident to the ships commanders that Cillian had a deft hand when it came to the operation and construction of complicated mechanisms. They quickly assigned him to the engineering crew and he soon found small comforts in the routine of his days, though Elladeen was never far from his thoughts.

The assignment was meant to last nine months - a quick deployment to ensure the waters surrounding Oshela remained peaceful. However, they were under fire the moment they passed into Oshelan waters. The combat they faced was vicious. Their ship was under a constant barrage of enemy fire. Despite the magical protections provided by the Nirgali (shields around the hull, spells to keep the crew safe) they were just barely holding their mighty water steed afloat. Cillian couldn’t help but wonder when his time would come.

Nine months passed. Then twelve. Cillian had somehow survived this long, though so many of the crew had been lost. Most leaving behind young families. These were the times that Cillian’s heart ached for Elladeen the most. He longed to be home in her arms or taking a walk in Thornton Park.

It was in the short reprieves from enemy fire that Cillian was often the busiest, helping the rest of his crew repair what they could in each small window of time.

He was working on the navigational equipment when Captain Sewell announced that the king’s armada from Valonheim had arrived to assist the Thelleresian Navy. Many of the crew had long been praying to the Gods for mercy, and that afternoon it had finally come. Those on the bridge rushed to the bow window to see the VNA Teldrenir, lead vessel of the armada - twice the size of the Fiachra and looking a storybook picture - sails full with a strong south easterly wind, drift toward them on the distant horizon.

The nine-month deployment had waged itself into an eighteen-month onslaught, nevertheless with the aid of the Valonheim fleet, the enemy was overcome within the fortnight.

Exhausted and war torn the crew of the Fiachra erupted with pure elation when the order was given for them to begin the long journey home.

A storm developed a few weeks into the journey home and was so ferocious that Captain Sewall soon gave up any attempt to steer the hulking ship through the out-of-control sea.

Nine days passed before the gale force winds and fifty-foot waves began to ease. It soon became apparent that they had been separated from the rest of the Thelleresian fleet and were on their own drifting aimlessly in the seemingly never-ending sea.

From there it took them two months to find their way back on course and sail into the Ale Harbor on the eastern coast of Thellerest. The ravaged crew were finally home.

“Let’s get you out of here.” Elladeen said now with warmth and happiness in her voice. “Ma is going to be so glad your home.”

The mention of his mother brought the familiar sting of tears to his eyes. What of Uncle Silas? He had not seen or heard any news of his uncle or the crew of the TNS Annwyn since their departure from Oshela. He couldn’t ask the question now; it was too hard.

They slowly made their way off the dock, having to push their way through at times. Free from the crowd they began talking as they wandered back through the city. Cillian admired the almost forgotten sights, smells and sounds of his home, as they walked. The children running out of the school grounds as the afternoon bell rang out. The smell of the warm spices and the intoxicating aroma of freshly baked bread wafting from the village bakery. The ornate fountain in Thornton Park, the exact center point of the city.

It was here that his pace slowed unconsciously. Then stopped abruptly. Elladeen nearly lost her balance, her grip on his waistcoat not having loosened an inch since they left the harbor.

Cillian slumped to his knees, raised his hands to his face, grief over taking him.

“What is it my darling?” Elladeen cried, she crouched placing a hand protectively around his shoulders as Cillian’s body shook violently with shuddering sobs. He pulled her close to him once more, the horrors of what he had seen while away had finally catching up to him. Images flashed before his eyes, ships ablaze, the countless corpses of Cillian’s fallen crewmates hurled unceremoniously off the deck to prevent disease.

Finally, he looked at her, tears still streaming down his face. Elladeen reached up and brushed the tears from his cheeks with her pale, delicate hands. “It’s alright, my love,” she whispered to him. “You’re home now.”

He wasn’t alright – but maybe he could be one day. Maybe those words, that voice was all he needed. He wasn’t going to let the last two years destroy the future that lay before him. He would honor those who had fallen in battle, allies and enemies alike, in every action that he took moving forward. And although he didn’t know what awaited him as he returned to life on land, he knew there was one thing he could do right now.

He stood, taking Elladeen with him. He buried his face in the curve of her neck and whispered, “Marry me.”

He felt Elladeen stiffen. He straightened, cupping her small gentile face in his hands, looked her directly in the eyes and said, “I had planned to ask you the day after I was taken by the navy. The thought of getting back home to you - of marrying you - was all that got me through the last two years. Will you marry me? My beautiful Elladeen.”

Tears welled in her soft green eyes, a smile that could have lit the entire world, broke across her face. She gave the smallest nod. He swept her up in his arms and spun them around pulling her into a deep loving kiss as he set her gently back on the ground.

The first little piece of him slid back into place. Whatever else he faced in his life, whatever ramifications of the horrors he had witnessed would haunt him, whatever news came of Uncle Silas, he could now face with a little more confidence. He had come home to Elladeen.