Kervon watched as the sweet sticky caramel ran down his sister's freckled hand and onto the fresh snow, imagining the flavor of the caramel apple in such vibrancy he swore he could taste it on his tongue.

"Come on, Isidore, just one bite!" He begged for the seventeenth time. "You're letting it drip and it's wasting the caramel and it looks so good, Isi! Please, please, please, please won't you let me try a bite?"

Isidore licked up the runaway caramel and grinned at her younger brother from within the warmth of her fur hood. "Sorry, Vonnie, I won this fair and square. I beat you in hand-to-hand and archery. I won. I get the apple. Besides, if you ask again and I'll go tell Mum where all her treats have gone."

Kervon groaned. "First, don't call me 'Vonnie'. Second, I beat you in the footrace by a mile. Third, if you tell Mother about her treats I'll tell Father what really happened to his best bow."

Isidore froze, the caramel apple halfway to her mouth. "You wouldn't dare."

Kervon grinned, sensing victory approaching. "I would... and I will unless you give me a bite of that apple. Actually, make it the rest. Do we have a deal, Isi? Isi?"

His sister's grip had loosened on the wooden stick holding the apple, and the top-heavy fruit toppled to the ground. Kervon dove for the apple but only managed to coat his fingers in sticky caramel before it rolled onto the road and was crushed by a passing horse.

"Aww, come on Isidore! What—" Isidore slammed her hand over Kervon's mouth frantically.

"Hush, Vonnie! It's Father!" Kervon struggled out of her grip frustratedly, his curly hair flopping against his forehead, his eyes dark with annoyance.

"That's cheap, Isi. You don't have to make stuff up to hide that you dropped the apple on purpose. I may be four years younger than you but I'm not stupid!"

"What's this?" A deep voice rumbled from behind him. "I did not come home early so I could enjoy my children's petty arguments!" Kervon turned on a dime, his features lighting up in delight.

"Father!" Isidore and Kervon cheered at the sight of the broad-shoulder man saddled securely on top of a muscular stallion. His eyes glittered with mirth, but there were tight lines around the corners of his mouth and eyes, lines speaking volumes of a lifetime of worry and hardship. Here was a man who had spent his lifetime fighting against the bitter wind of the north, and although he had survived it was not without cost.

"Children," Gundar said, sliding of his horse and wrapping his offspring tight in his arms, "you have no idea how much I have missed you." Kervon smiled, burying his face in the warmth of his father's coat, inhaling the musty smell of the tundra.

"We missed you as well, Father," he heard his sister say, "and I'm very glad you are back, but you were not expected for another week! What brings you back so early?"

"Yes, Father," Kervon added, stepping back from the warm embrace, "and where is the rest of the hunting party?"

The laughter faded from Gundar's eyes as he answered his children. "That is not for your young ears to hear. There are many burdens I must bear as this village's chief, and I would be hard-pressed to push them onto you before your time. Now, go and let your mother know that I am here, but I cannot eat with you tonight. There are many pressing issues I must discuss with the council."

"But Father!" Isidore protested. "We have been waiting to eat with you for over a month!"

"Then you can wait one more meal, daughter. Go, do as I have said." The sternness in his eyes was effective in silencing Isidore. Kervon watched as his sister nodded her head and began to make her way back to the glowing warmth of their home. Kervon took a reluctant step after her.

"Kervon," his father's deep voice made Kervon halt in his steps. "Come here, my boy; I almost forgot. You turned 13 while I was away, did you not?"

"Yea, I did!" Kervon exclaimed, a smile lighting his features.

"Here, I have my gift for you." Gundar reached up and untied the coarse thread looping his neck, drawing the necklace out from under his fur-lined jacket. Knotted firmly to the chord was a wooden charm engraved with an eagle feather. "Ever since our people have lived in the north, this has given to the chief's son at his coming of age, but I feel that you are ready for it now, Kervon. Dark shadows are growing, and this necklace will harness the strength, courage, skill, and speed of the great eagle to protect you. I pray that you will never need the security it provides, but that if you do, that it will serve you well, my son. Make me proud." Kervon stood, frozen in awe, as his father's coarse hands tied the chord around his neck.

"I— I will, Father. I promise." Kervon clasped the eagle charm firmly in his fist and stared up at his father with a fierce determination. "I will make you proud one day. I will be strong like you and brave like Mother and skilled like Isi and I will be fast, even faster than I already am."

"I know you will, Kervon. But now, run along home. I am already late to the council. Give your mother a kiss for me!"

Kervon grinned and took off across the frozen plain, snow scattering at every footstep. Gundar smiled at the receding figure of his son proudly for a moment longer before turning and entering the village center to discuss the fate of the north.

Kervon flew through the doors of his house, the eagle charm bouncing against his chest, to find his mother and sister already seated at the table.

"Took you long enough, Vonnie," Isidore teased, her cheeks pink from the outdoors.

"Don't call me that!" Kervon retorted, shedding his coat and piling it on the floor. "Look what Father gave me for my birthday!"

"Pick up your coat first, Kervon," his mother's quiet voice commanded. Her bright blue eyes held no room for argument and Kervon knew better than to complain. His mother's figure might have been small and her voice soft, but Loma was relentless in her discipline. Her house was orderly, her rules firm, and her love overwhelming. Once his coat was hung up by the door, the young boy slid into his seat, proudly brandishing the wooden charm.

"Father gave me his chief's necklace, Isi! Look at it! He said it's got an eagle feather carved onto it and it's supposed to give the wearer strength and courage and skill and speed! I wasn't even supposed to get it until I was seventeen but Father said I was ready for it now!" The only pauses in his exclamations were for spoonfuls of stew to be shoveled into his mouth.

"That's great, Vonnie," Isidore congratulated her brother mockingly. "Maybe you'll finally be able to beat me in combat! Wanna have a bout after supper?"

"No!" Loma's sharp cry rang throughout the room before Kervon could accept the challenge, and both her children froze. "There will be no more talk of fighting tonight, Isi, Kervon. After supper it is straight to bed for the both of you. I don't want to hear another word about war or battles from either of you, understand me?"

"Who said anything about war, Mother?" Isidore inquired nervously, filling the terse silence.

Loma just shook her head. "Just... just trust me, Isi. There are things happening that even I do not understand and I do not wish to burden my young ones with such matters. Now, quickly, finish your supper and head to bed. I am going to bring a meal to your father in the meantime." The children nodded glumly as their mother rose from the table. "Goodnight, my children. I will see you in the morning."

"Night, Mother," Kervon and Isidore day responded in unison before returning to their meal in silence. Their mother went into the kitchen, filled a wooden bowl with steaming stew, then kissed Isidore and Kervon gently on the forehead before exiting out the same door Kervon had come flying into not a few minutes before.

Kervon sat in silence for minute before Isidore jumped up, her chair falling to the ground and startling her brother. "Stay here, Vonnie. I'm going to check this out."

"What? No, if you're going to sneak into the council meeting than I'm coming too! And stop calling me Vonnie!" Isidore ignored her brother, grabbing her own coat down off the wall and disappearing into the night. "Hey, wait up!" Kervon slid off his chair and slung on his coat. He set one foot out the door before turning around and grabbing one last bite of stew. Then he was gone, running out across the snow after his sister. 

He caught up to her at the fringes of the council fire. "What are we doing here, Isi?" He hissed nervously. "We're gonna get caught!"

"Not if you shut up!" His sister whispered back. "Besides, if you're afraid of getting in trouble then you should've stayed home and finished your supper!" Kervon stuck his tongue out at Isidore, but he knew she was right, so he followed her lead as she wove her way to the back of the circle, where the elders and his father sat.

"My people, my people!" Gundar's voice rang out over the fire. "Please, I know this is startling news, but we must deal with it in a sensible manner. One at a time, enter the middle of the council and present your concerns."

"We cannot fight this!" Brexxit strode to the center of the circle, anger palpable in his voice. "Gundar, those were some of our best men who accompanied you on that hunt and all of them except you were either captured or killed by a fraction of the forces we must face!" Muttering filled the silence that followed, until Loma spoke up from her husband's side.

"You are right, Brexxit, we can not face this. At least, not alone. We need someone to bring a message to the wood-elves. They are our closest allies in this, and they have been fighting the same darkness for many a generation. If we send our swiftest runner asking for aid, I have no doubt they would send their own warriors to help us in this war."

"You say that you have no doubt of their aid," Brexxit retorted, "but I am not so sure. Why would they send their own immortal warriors to help the frozen north? This fight does not concern them, it is not of their interest. By sending a messenger we would be doing nothing more than losing a warrior!"

"No, my friend," Gundar spoke out, "there is wisdom in my wife's words. We are the first line of defense for Middle Earth and if we fall without a fight, the whole world itself is in danger. But you are right in saying that we cannot send a warrior to do this task; I fear we shall need all the help we can get while we wait for the wood-elves."

"Who do you propose we send, them?" Brexxit scanned the circle of men and women, shadowed in the night. "Who of your people will you charge with the task? Or will someone volunteer?"

"I will go!" Kervon shouted, running into the center to stand next to Brexxit, his heart pounding in his chest. "Send me, Father. I can do it."

"Kervon! What are you doing here?" His mother cried before Gundar could respond. "And where is Isidore? You two should be asleep!" She scolded as Isidore reluctantly entered the circle.

"But we're not," Kervon responded hotly, "and a good thing too! I'm the only solution to carry this message to the wood-elves! I'm the fastest runner I know, but—" he paused to scratch his head ashamedly, "but I am not a good warrior, not yet. Isidore is better at combat than I am, so you mustn't send her. I'm old enough to do this and I'm fast enough and I know my way and if you send anyone else it would be a mistake, Father." He looked up at his father, then quickly back down at the ground.

"Are you sure, Kervon?" Gundar's deep voice asked.

"No!" Loma pleaded. "Gundar, you can't seriously be thinking of letting him go! He's too young! Don't let him go, please!"

"Loma," Gundar's voice was gentle and reassuring, "he is my son too. I would never send him into anything I didn't think he wouldn't be able to handle. And though I would gladly keep him sheltered and safe for the rest of his life I must also consider the safety of our people. Kervon presents a good argument. I do believe he could do this; he could save us all."

Loma began to cry. "Oh, alright then. I will allow it. But you can't ask me to be happy about it!"

"None of us are happy about this, Loma," Brexxit said, startling Kervon, who had forgotten about the grumpy warrior, "but this is war. Your son might be our only chance."

"Is everyone in agreement, then?" Kervon looked on in amazement as his father addressed the crowd. This was actually happening! "Kervon will take our message to the wood-elves and lead them back here. The rest of us will prepare for the impending battle and hold off the enemy till Kervon returns with reinforcements." The council nodded and murmured in assent. "It shall be done, then. My people, return to your homes and rest. We shall begin the battle preparations at dawn. Kervon, come here. You must leave right away."

Kervon swallowed and took a step towards his father's chair, but halted when Isidore's arms grabbed him tightly. "That was so brave of you," she whispered. "I owe you a caramel apple when you return."

"Isi?" Kervon whispered as she backed away. "I love you."

"I love you too, Kervon." Then Isidore grabbed her mother's hand and walked back to her house, trying in vain not to cry.

"My boy," Gundar said after the women were out of earshot, "that was incredibly foolish. Foolish, but brave." Kervon half-smiled as his father handed him a freshly sealed scroll. "Bring this to the wood-elves as fast as you can. Do not lose it, do not stray off the path, and do not talk to anyone. Speed is of absolute importance. You know the way to where you are going?"

"Yes, east to the river, then south to the woods, then watch for the path. You pointed it out to me last summer on our journey."

"Good. Now, run home and grab the pack your mother has prepared for you. I wish I could keep you safe or prepare you more, but each passing hour the danger grows."

"I know, Father. I will be fast, faster than I've ever been," Kervon vowed.

"May the eagle guide you, Kervon. I am proud to call you my son." Gundar wrapped Kervon in a brief embrace, kissed the top of his head, than stood up. "I must join the council in our preparations now. Go. Run. Be swift."

And just like earlier that evening, the chief watched as his son ran towards the direction of his home— although this time there was no guarantee of safety.

The moments before Kervon left his village were a blur: the tears of his mother, the kisses of his sister, a frantic packing and securing of weapons, storing the scroll within his shirt, waving goodbye, nervousness filling his stomach. But one the silhouettes of the houses against the stars faded, Kervon could think of nothing but the mission and his running.

East towards the river, south towards the forest, into the woods, show the scroll, lead the armies back, save the day. The last part was his favorite, and so as he ran toward the rising sun he kept the worry at bay by imagining the victory feast to come, surrounded by his friends and family and tall fair figures full of laughter and grace.

Yes, he would bring the wood-elves. He would run faster than he even had before and he would save the village and when it was finally over he would enjoy a nice, big, juicy caramel apple.

Fin

Stars_Alight

Hope you enjoyed it!!!