When Jahrra woke, it was well after dark. A low fire burned in the hearth but the small cabin was otherwise dark. Sitting up, she clutched her head. It ached and pounded from the dream she’d had about the Tanaan prince and the fall of his people. It hadn’t been a very long dream but towards its end she recalled feeling the weight of a hand on her shoulder. She hadn’t realized she had been standing on a hilltop, watching the battle unfold before her until she felt that presence. Turning to see who had joined her, Jahrra nearly collapsed in relief when she realized it was her green cloaked friend, hood drawn and face hidden as usual. She remembered smiling in the dream, glad that he hadn’t been chased away for good. After that the terrible scene before her faded away and she woke up.
Now that she was awake and the dream was fading into memory, she pressed her fingers against her temples in an attempt to chase away the headache then looked around. Why was she in this small house? How had she arrived here? Where was Jaax and Phrym? Then it hit her. Swallowing a groan, Jahrra fell back against the mattress. Perhaps it hadn’t been a dream, but a reality. The villagers had taken her up to the Sacred Oak of Ethoes and something had happened.
The faint sound of the door opening made Jahrra bolt upright. She clutched her head again and gritted her teeth. Those had been some powerful images indeed.
When the spinning ceased, Jahrra tried focusing on her visitor. She was a woman, several years older than herself, but not quite as old as Thenya. She gave a pretty smile and pulled nervously at her soft brown hair. Jahrra felt the anxiety melt from her bones.
“Forgive me, young miss. I came to check on you,” she said in a kind voice. “I’m Athon’s wife, Nelliah, and was asked to come see if you’d like to join the rest of the village outside.”
Jahrra blushed slightly. She was still fully dressed, except her boots were missing, and someone had draped a quilt over her. From the looks of the sheets on the bed it was quite obvious she had had a restless sleep. She wished she could at least remake the bed before joining the others.
“Oh,” she finally managed, “I’d love to. Just let me find my boots and tidy up here.”
“No, don’t you dare worry yourself,” Nelliah waved her arms in dismissal and stepped forward, fetching Jahrra’s boots from the hearth.
Jahrra flushed again. She hated all this special treatment and despite Nelliah’s protests, she made the bed to the best of her ability before following her out into the night.
The air was cold and clear and Jahrra felt grateful, for it took a bit of the pain from her head away. Nelliah led her past several neighboring huts that boasted the familiar wood pole pens full of sleeping animals. It was dark but she recognized the great bonfire burning in the center of the village several feet away. As they walked, Jahrra listened to the hearty murmur of voices far ahead. The sounds were cheerful and she even detected the melody of a flute. Above her, the black sky housed a thousand or more glittering stars which blinked in and out of sight as they passed under the branches of trees. Wood smoke, roasting meat and the distinct tang of livestock filled the air and Jahrra grinned. It was nice to have control of one’s senses once again.
She saw Jaax first, not surprisingly, sitting at ease with a great bowl in front of him as the fire accentuated all his fierce angles. He was having what appeared to be a cheerful conversation with Aydehn and a few of the other village men.
Once Jahrra stepped into the firelight everyone stopped what they had been saying to their neighbors and looked at her. Jahrra gritted her teeth. She really wished they wouldn’t do that. It had taken them all week to grow used to her presence without looking upon her in awe as they had when she first arrived. Now, thanks to her little spectacle earlier that day, she was once again a novelty. Jaax glanced over immediately, the almost calm, relaxed look on his face long gone. Instead he donned the same look he always seemed to give her when he knew she was watching him: caution, concern, authority and curiosity. This time there was a hint of relief.
Jahrra sighed and walked over to where her guardian reclined, not feeling comfortable near anyone else right at that moment. Nelliah joined a good-looking man on the other side of the bonfire, Athon, Jahrra guessed.
“It’s good to see you well, Jahrra,” Jaax murmured.
Jahrra blinked up in surprise. He actually sounded sincere, something Jahrra knew he was capable of but only saved for very rare occasions.
“How do you feel?”
“Fine, except for my head,” she answered, pressing a palm against the spot that hurt the worst.
“Then some willow bark tea is in order,” Aydehn said, stretching out a hand that clasped an extra mug.
Soon Jahrra was sipping at the bitter concoction and the modest festivities continued. She had done this nearly every night; joined them by the fire with Jaax at her side. But tonight it seemed strange, awkward, new even, as if this was her first night sharing tea with them.
Time crept on and Jahrra listened as the villagers slowly became accustomed to her presence, rejoining their comrades in light, cheery conversation. Jahrra guessed the reason for their cautious behavior was that they’d been holding out for her to drop to the ground and fall into fits of hysteria again. She was pretty sure that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.
Taking a deep breath to calm her mind, Jahrra found a soft spot on the ground beside Jaax, leaning up against his shoulder as she observed those around her. Despite today’s singular mishap, it had been a great visit. All in all, she decided this was a happy place, the village of Crie, and not for the first time she wondered what her life would have been like if these elvin people had kept her as one of their own.
Now that she had time to truly contemplate it, without Jaax’s commentary, she gave it some serious thought. She was sure she would’ve grown up playing along the riverbank, collecting wildflowers in the spring and tending the chickens and goats with a skip in her step. But she would have stood out like a sore thumb. Her blond hair, blue eyes and height would have been noticed and she never really would have fit in. True, she hadn’t fit in all that well in Oescienne but at least there were others who resembled her somewhat. In Crie she would have had different parents, different friends, and she wouldn’t have had Hroombra.
Jahrra bit her lip and sipped more of her tea, grateful that the somewhat unpleasant stuff was easing the pain in her head. No, she wouldn’t have had Hroombra. Jaax had been right. No one else could have raised her as well, she was sure of that now. Taking a deep breath to ease the pain of her memories, she eyed the bonfire more closely, noticing that the smoke looked strange to her.
“Why is the fire smoke red Jaax?” she asked sleepily.
She remembered the fire from the Sobledthe festival back in Lensterans; how the celebrants had added herbs and their very own magic to taint the smoke.
Jaax tilted his head, just enough so that Jahrra knew he was talking to her. “For you, Jahrra,” he answered quietly.
Sighing, she leaned her head against his rough scales, surprised to think they felt smooth and comforting. Equally surprised that she felt so comfortable doing so. Listening to the sound of the flute and the laughter of the elves of Crie, both young and old, Jahrra felt herself drifting off to sleep once again.
They left the next morning, Jaax claiming he would like to try for that shipping barge after all.
“I’m still a bit leery about it Aydehn, but what you said made sense and it’ll probably get us to Lidien much easier than if we were to travel on foot, especially since Jahrra is still a little under the weather from yesterday’s incident. And the sooner we’re away from this valley the sooner you’ll be out of danger as well.”