A Kelpie of Rowan

Chapter 44

He scowls, running his face over his hands. His red hair is mussed with how much he's run his fingers through it, drowning in concern for the girl. He has protected her the best he can, but this is something he can't control. These flowers could spell her doom. Despite the wall between them, the iron barrier, he looks at her through the window. Her flaming hair spills across her shoulders and bed, bright in the darkness. Perhaps one day, if her magic keeps seeping out, she could even light a room with her hair as if she was a sun.

She is calm in her sleep, still. She shifts, turning toward the wall. Her hair streams down her back, pooling against the bed. She moves an arm, curling it up against her chest. Or at least, he thinks that's what she's doing. He can't actually see what she's doing and it is not just because of the distance. Rowan makes a sound in her sleep, curling up into a ball. He pauses. She made a sound. His ears may be good, but they're not that good. She must be quite loud in order for him to hear her. Possibly having a nightmare.

He sees the edge of the door open and pulls back. He shouldn't be seen. He can't get very far before someone steps into view. Dark hair, a female. Rowan's mother. He stills, staring at her. Her hair is long, reaching down to her midback. It surprises him. He may not have seen her much while he has visited to watch over her daughter, but from what he has seen, this is unusual. Her hair is always tied up on the top of her head. But when he first saw her, so long ago, she had it long and loose. Free from the constraints she now puts it in.

The memories try to devour him, but he shakes them away. It won't do to dwell on the memories of times past. She sits on the edge of the bed and looks down at her daughter, stroking her hair. She begins to sing, he can see her mouth moving despite the darkness. At first, he can't hear it, but then the music grows louder, reaching his ears. Her voice is soft and light, the words sweet in the music.

". . . Flow gently, I'll sing thee a song in thy praise;

My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream,

Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.

Thou stockdove whose echo resounds thro' the glen,

Ye wild whistling blackbirds in yon thorny den,

Thou green-crested lapwing thy screaming forbear,

I charge you, disturb not my slumbering Fair.

How lofty, sweet Afton, thy neighbouring hills, . . ."

She glances up, looking through the window. Her voice trails off when she catches sight of him, or at least his eyes. She steps closer to the window, and he closes her eyes, trying to vanish from sight. He can hear the window click open a crack. He curses at himself. He needs to see, but he can't let her see him. But he needs to be able to see what she is doing. He cracks his eyes open, leaving his eyelids lowered. Rowan's mother is leaning out the window, her hair streaming around her in the flashes of wind that blow around the house.

"Hello? Is someone out there?"

He steps further away from the wall, staying low to the ground. His foot hits something that cracks beneath him. He glances down to find an acorn shell of all things. He exhales through his nose. It could only be Rowan's, she takes acorns to the smaller Aos Sí races that live near here. Now that acorn may spell the end for him. It may break him, this encounter. He glances up briefly to find that Rowan's mother is no longer standing in front of the window. Perhaps she didn't hear him? The door closest to rowan's room flies open, her mother darting out of it. She heads straight for him, unhesitating. She stops at the edge of the wall, scowling. She isn't looking straight at him, it's too dark, but she knows the general area where he is standing.

"Tell me, who are you?! Why are you watching us?"

He pulls courage from the forest behind him and opens his eyes, glamouring his antlers from sight. If he will do this, it will be as she believes he is. Human.

"Hello."

She gasps and stumbles back. "You! Wha- how- why?"

The emotions in her voice almost shatter him. He takes a shaky breath, restrained so that she can't hear it. "It does not matter. Not now."

Her voice is laced with fire and unforgiving steel. "How dare you! Like hell it doesn't matter! Tell me why!"

He shakes his head. "I cannot tell you."

Her voice cracks, laced with despair. "What is so important that you can't tell me? That you did this?"

"I can't tell you that. But I can do this."

She frowns. "What?"

He shouldn't do this to her, but he has no choice. This is the best option he has. Before she can move, he places his hands on either side of her head, over the barrier of the wall. His voice laces with glamour.

"Forget this encounter and return to sleep."

She blinks with confusion but turns, compelled by the glamour. He watches her go through the door of the house and presumably return to her bed. He sighs and slips away, his breath shuddering into his lungs. The forest welcomes him with open arms, to use a human saying. It soothes him, helps his emotions slip away. His breathing smoothens out as he returns to calmness.
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Why would the flowers make it harder for him to protect her? What do you think he did to Arwen that made her react like this? Do you like the song? (I've put it in my poems and songs book if you would like to see the whole thing. It's called Sweet Afton) Did this chapter change your idea of who he is? Who do you think he is now? Tell me your thoughts!

Happy reading and I'll see you next chapter!

~Goddess of Fate, signing out.