The Best Outcome

Samael had been dreading this day for years. Today he would leave the comforts of the cabin he shared with his wife and children to escort his son to his mother’s people for schooling. Little Kniles was the result of a brief relationship between Samael and an elvish seer. Mind, this was before he had even met Kerra, his wife and the love of his life. Samael wasn’t a two-timer. The elf woman had disappeared from his life, and he had met and swiftly fallen for Kerra shortly after. It was a complete surprise when Elowyn brought them the child. It had been the dead of night, and Elowyn had appeared in the middle of a thunderstorm soaked to the bone with hot tears streaming from her brilliant blue eyes, carrying the little bundle of squirming newborn tight to her breast. She pushed Kniles into Kerra’s arms, and Kerra had taken to the sweet baby instantly. Elowyn had explained the situation, and made Samael promise that her child would be returned to her for his elfish schooling the autumn after Kniles’ seventh birthday. She explained tearfully that he couldn’t remain with her because her purist elf parents would do something horrible to him. She didn’t have to explain it to him, Samael had seen her abilities as a seer in action. The elf woman trusted them to care for the child. Before she left, the elf hugged Kerra, and thanked her for the years she would spend as Kniles’ Mama, sobbing that she wouldn’t be able to do it herself. Since that fateful night, Samael and Kerra had quarreled endlessly over his agreement to return the little boy to the elves. She preferred that Kniles stay with his family--his human family. She loved the child like her own, and was adamantly against splitting the family to return him to a woman the boy hadn’t seen since the day she dropped him off on their doorstep.  Kerra would often gripe about this, saying the “stupid woman” abandoned one of the best things to ever happen to her. Samael’s word was his bond, however, and never in his 29 years of life had he gone back on  a promise and he wouldn’t start now. A hunter keeps his word. He would escort Kniles to the elves for the school year, but he would make sure the boy was happy there.

Kniles wasn’t too happy about the promise at this moment. “Mama, I don’t wanna go,” the seven year old cried into Kerra’s skirts, while she glared daggers at her husband over the boy’s trembling shoulders. Samael had seen a version of that glare every night for the entirety of the summer as Kerra carefully repeated her argument for breaking his word to Elowyn.

“I know, baby,” she soothed, rubbing Kniles’ back to calm him. Artemis, the couple’s youngest child, slept in the next room and she wanted to keep Kniles calm. The little girl didn’t need to be awake this early, it would only lead to further tearshed. She shot another nasty look at her husband, before nudging Kniles’ tear stained face up so she could smile at him. “Mama will miss you so much.”

“I will miss you too Mama,” Kniles agreed, then sobbed harder. “I’ll miss your stories and your laughs and the way you kiss my boo-boos and your face and--and--” He followed this by breaking into complete gibberish that Samael couldn’t quite understand. He could only assume it was further praises for his little wife. Kerra seemed to understand it, for she smiled, and placed a kiss on the blonde crown of the little boy’s head.

“I will miss your smile, and your little dimples,” Kerra laughed, pulling Kniles into her lap. “I will miss your little nose,” she said, tweaking it and causing him to laugh, “and I will miss that giggle!” she exclaimed, tickling him under his chin adding to the laughter, “And your beautiful eyes!” Kniles beamed up at Kerra with pure adoration. “I will miss your kindness,” she continued, drawing him into a hug, “and you never ending optimism,” she was about to go on, but Kniles stopped her.

“What’s optimism?” he asked, tilting his head, so that one of his pointed ears brushed her shoulder. His breath hitched, but otherwise he was quiet, waiting for her answer.

Kerra pursed her lips in thought, and a flash of something dark crossed over her startlingly green eyes. “You know how when things might seem bad,” she tried, pushing the hair out of his eyes, “how you always know things are going to be ok?” Kniles looked at her with the same dark eyes that he shared with his Papa and little Artemis.

“I do?” he asked.

“Yes, baby,” she said, patiently. “That’s called optimism. You know things are going to be ok.” Kniles flashed a smile at her, and his dimples appeared. His tears were beginning to dry. She pinched a cheek, lovingly. “You tell me everything will be ok even when all I can see is the bad.”

“Everything will be ok, Mama,” he said, hugging her again. She tucked his head under her chin, and sent another death-glare in Samael’s direction.

“I hope so, baby,” she sighed. Her glare expressed how much she believed the little optimist’s prediction. Samael would need to remember flowers when he got back. Probably once a week for the next couple of months. Ok, maybe the next year. At least she had gotten Kniles to quit crying.

“Are you packed, son?” Samael asked, and Kniles nodded at him sheepishly from Kerra’s arms. Samael winked at the boy, and gave his wife a quick kiss.  “Well, then, let’s wake your sister and say our good-byes!”

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Artemis had been almost inconsolable that morning, but Kniles had left her with his favorite book and had promised that he would try to write her if Papa and Mama agreed to read his letters and write back. Artemis swore she would draw him a picture for every day he was gone. A courier from Ar traveled through their village about once a month, so it would be some communication, but Samael doubted his little Hawk would keep to her daily art plan. This placated Artemis, but only after Kniles promised her he would bring her a special gift from the elf city when he returned for the summer. He was feeling brave after the talk with his Mama, and he couldn’t show Artemis his fear.

It was an entirely different matter once Father and Son were on the path to Ar. Samael, always the hunter, had given up on any notion of possibly catching any game until his return trip. It was not Kniles’ first time in the wildwoods, but he kept to his questions. Kniles would not let up. Papa, how far is Ar? About three days’ travel, son. Papa, what do you know about Ar? Not much, son, I’ve never been. Papa, what do you know about elves? That their ears are pointed, son. Papa, do you know anything else? No, son. Papa, is my mother a good person? I think so, son, but it’s hard to always be good when you know everything about what’s going to happen. Papa, why haven’t I met my mother before now? She told me she was scared for you, son. Papa, should I be scared? No, son. You should be brave. It went on and on like this throughout their entire first day of travel.

Samael was certain the boy’s ceaseless questioning had scared the wild out of the wildwood, and when the evening woods were oddly silent, Samael did not think much of it. Kniles had been yammering, after all. It might have been strange that even the nighttime insects were silent, but Samael had other things on his mind, mostly his son crying himself to sleep. When the pair awakened in the morning to the sound of complete silence, with not even the melodies of birds chirping, that Samael began to think something was most definitely off. It was the kind of silence that overtook an animal when it knew a predator was on the loose, only it appeared to be affecting the whole of the wildwoods. Samael was on guard, but he tried to hide this from his son. Kniles had enough to worry about. The child still seemed apprehensive, but his slew of questions had slowed, and Samael appreciated the lapse. The pair enjoyed a pleasant walk along the road, and even took a chance for target practice with their bows around lunch time. Kniles had always loved the bow, and Samael had been happy to gift him the newly carved bow the child now carried. “You make sure you practice that whenever you can in Ar,” he made his son promise, ruffling his hair, “I don’t want to have to train you again next summer.” Kniles returned the comment with a sad smile, which wasn’t what Samael had intended.

“You’ll be the first human in among the elves that I have ever heard of,” Samael said, pleasantly.

“I’m not a human, Papa,” Kniles muttered unhappily.

“Of course you are, son,” returned Samael, “Why, you’re the spitting image of me at your age.”

“Except the ears,” said Kniles moodily, “And the hair.”

Samael laughed. “So maybe you have a little of your mother in there,” he agreed, “but I think you will find you are more human than elf, once you’re in Ar.” Kniles frowned in refturn, but Samael went on: “You gotta show them we’re good people. Whether you’re an elf, or a human,  you’re all Harcourt, son. Do me proud.”

Kniles looked at his father with a little skepticism, but decided to shrug it off. Samael had to admit the boy was probably doing better than he would in his situation. Maybe Kerra was right to call him an optimist. The pair walked onward, and even heard the sound of bird song. Whatever weirdness had been upon them, was apparently over. Samael felt relieved.

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That night after a good dinner of rabbit stew, with Kniles curled up in his sleeping bag asleep, Samael sat in front of the small cooking fire he had built. September’s chill was not quite upon them, but nights were certainly cooler than they had been during the height of the summer. Samael added some extra brush to stoke it up a little. Traveling with a little one was hard work. They tired more easily, and usually had to take more frequent rests. Kniles, however, had walked tirelessly throughout much of the day, and they had made surprisingly good time. Samael assumed it was probably the boy’s nerves giving him extra energy. Samael yawned, and scratched his chin under his beard. He would need to sleep soon as well. He began to unpack his sleeping bag, when he heard a stirring in the nearby wildwoods, he reached for his bow but heard a woman’s voice. “Not necessary, Samael, it’s only me.” Samael looked up and watched the delicate form of Elowyn come forward through the woods. She looked exactly the same as she had when he had first seen her eight years earlier. Her appearance reminded him of a hunter's legend of wood nymphs who drew men into the wildwood to devour them.

“Did you not trust me to bring Kniles to Ar?” Samael asked, bitterly, returning his bow to it’s place on his pack. Maybe Kerra was right, and the elf didn’t respect them or deserve their son.

“Not at all,” returned Elowyn carefully, and Samael realized she had a line of tears streaming from her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

Samael’s animosity left him. Elowyn loved Kniles, of course she did. Only a mother could love her child enough to choose what was best for him, even if it wasn’t with her. “You said you didn’t have a choice,” he reasoned, “that Kniles would come to harm.”

Elowyn shook her head adamantly, her silvery hair swaying with the motion, and the tears streaming off her cheeks. The motion momentarily reminded Samael of a guilty child, fessing up to a crime. The sort of action Artemis would take if she stole one too many of her Mama’s cookies before dinner time. “It’s not that,” Elowyn sobbed, “There’s more that I couldn’t tell you.”

Samael was beginning to get worried, so he took a few steps to close the gap between them. Kniles shouldn’t meet his mother for the first time while she was crying like a baby. It would unnerve him. The adults in his life should be calm and rational, not a sobbing mess like Elowyn. He awkwardly patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry,” he said, calmly, “I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think.”

“No,” she wailed, “It’s worse.” Samael glanced at Kniles, but luckily the boy had been exhausted from the day’s travels and was now sleeping like the dead. “But there wasn’t any other way,” Elowyn continued with a sniffle, “This was the best outcome.” Ah, thought Samael, Seer stuff.

“It’s fine,” he said, with a wave of his hand, “You told me you saw a need for Kniles to stay with us, and, frankly I’m glad you brought him to us. Kerra loves him, and he’s been a great older brother for Artemis. Truly, we’ve been blessed by the gods to have him in our life.” What Samael thought would be kind words, only set Elowyn off in a barrage of further tears. Samael was at a loss as to how to console the petite elf woman.

“It isn’t that,” she eventually managed to gasp out between her tears. “I’m so very sorry,” she repeated, “I am so sorry. I know you were happy.”

Samael’s blood ran cold. “What happened?” he asked, urgently, grabbing both of the elf’s shoulders.

“This was the only way to save you and Kniles,” Elowyn explained tearfully, “If you had stayed, only Artemis would have survived.”

“What happened, Elowyn?” Samael repeated numbly.

“Kerra is dead. They got her. She died protecting Artemis.”

Samael’s heart pounded heavily in his chest. “No,” he said softly, denying the Seer. “We saw them yesterday morning, they were fine.”

“It was the only way,” Elowyn repeated, “The only way to keep you safe. To keep Kniles safe. Artemis needs him. She doesn’t survive in any future without Kniles.”

Samael felt dazed. “Is that the reason you… us?” he got out blearily. Samael couldn’t focus. Kerra couldn’t be gone. He had to go to her. He had to protect her. He loved her, shouldn’t that keep her safe?

“I can take Kniles from here, Samael.”

He looked at her foggily. He should wake Kniles. They should go home. Samael turned to wake the child.

“He will be devastated,” Elowyn said softly, between soft sniffles, “he loves his Mama.”
“I have to see for myself,” Samael said hoarsely, at last.

“I understand,” said Elowyn, there was barely any sign of her tears now. “You will travel faster without the child. Please, let me care for him. You can come back to us with news.” She looked down to stare at her feet under the flowing fabric of her dress. “We will come to no harm,” she murmured at last, “Leave now, and travel all night. Leave the supplies for us. You’re much faster alone. You will reach your home by noontime. Artemis needs you.” Her elfish blue eyes met his human dark eyes. “Please, let me do this for you.”

Samael closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. He could do this. He nodded, and went to shake Kniles awake. “Kniles,” he whispered, and the boy blinked his eyes open. “This is your mother Elowyn, she wanted to meet you early before we got to Ar. I’m going to leave you two alone for a day or two so you can get to know each other.” Samael glanced at Elowyn, hoping she would corroborate the story, she nodded eagerly, and Samael numbly realized this might be a chance for her to do just that. He felt too empty to say much more, so he ruffled Kniles’ hair, and headed back along their path home. He would run all night. If there was even a chance that Elowyn’s words were false, that he wasn’t too late, he would get there as soon as he could. He had to get home.

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After Samael was long gone, and she was certain Kniles was once more asleep, Elowyn sobbed into the sleeping bag Samael had left for her. She could follow his path with the gift of her Sight. His anguish would be terrible when he arrived tomorrow without any rest to find the ruin of his family’s cabin with little Artemis rocking back and forth grasping that awful crystal to her chest next to the lifeless corpse of her mother. It simply wasn’t fair that such a good and kind soul as Kerra had to be corrupted. That Detraf would target her. Elowyn would have kept sobbing for all the wrongness in the realm, but she felt a small hand on her shoulder, drawing her out of her misery. “Don’t worry, Mother,” came Kniles’ quiet little voice, “Everything will be ok.” Elowyn could only sob louder.