In my absence, the mountains have changed little.  I look up at them and the drifting white flecks with a curious weft of the air, finding the odors of strangers on the wind, as well as familiar ones.  There is a strange absence of my mother’s scent, however, which is plentiful in my memories – but there is still the pungent stench of my hydrophobic old man with his unkempt hair and bewildered eyes.
            Would he know me?
            I have grown, tall and muscular, as much the Engineer’s son as my mother’s, perhaps more so; my deep black coat has faded and dappled in places to a rich, dark brown, my golden markings that had been indistinct in the soft coat of a foal now defined and gleaming as the ribbons of color had been upon my dam.  My thick, dark mane is tangled, entirely reminiscent of the man who sired me, baring a random assortment of twigs and leaves from my ventures that I give as much care as he. Most admired of my numerous changes, however, is not my newfound strength or speed, but the long, ebony and aureate horn that rises from my brow, both a weapon, and a crown.
            It glows in the rising light of the sun, a beacon that makes me wonder of my friends and their own crowns, of how much they have grown and changed, and of my sire.  Erebos’ sire had worn one of the longest horns I had even seen, and surely he too had inherited such an impressive blade, while Aithniel’s horns were surely curled all the way around her darkly rimmed ears.  The machinist was as he always was, mad and enraptured with his projects, occasionally lured away by a playful child wanting to learn or a pretty woman, laced with gold.
            Are they all there, waiting for me?
            Could they forgive me, for leaving like I did?
            Even if they are gone from Helovia forever and have no further love of me, was what I learned and gained worth their loss?
            I found nothing I was looking for, after all, for my mother was gone as if spirited away, and I wandered too far in search of her to easily find my way home at such a young age. 
            I found, instead, an enchanting forest, and within that forest, the Gods my mother had searched for but never found in the strange, powerful deities of Helovia.  Part of me hoped greatly that she would be among those I missed so deeply, so that I could tell her of the answer to all her long nights spent staring into the heavens, wondering where the pieces of my grandmother’s story had slipped away to.
            Perhaps it would soften her heart; perhaps, it would be as Xynia thought, and only harden it further.
            Xynia…
            The deep snow reminds me of her, as does the moon.  I am thankful for the red light of the dawn which colors the glistening silver of the ice, blessedly taking her image from me.  On ridges below, the crimson fades into pitch, and occasionally, the shadowy forests unleash a flock of winged figures which climb towards heaven with songs falling from their beaks.
            I wish she was here, and could see it.  I tried so many times to tell her of the tunnels of ice that, when lit by lightning, were almost as lively a blue as her eyes, or of the great gray stone peaks with the eternally white caps, colored by the ribbons of rainbow light that danced and flickered across the skies. 
            I don’t think she truly ever understood the beauty of it, so different was the painting from her ancient, redwood forest filled with fireflies, or the deep and massive cavern in which her people looked out upon the Starplane, the only pool of its like in all of Loorien; the Nightwalk, the wood was called, and for a long while, I too was trapped in the beauty of the flowering meadows and whispering boughs of the thousand year old trees. 
            Or, perhaps, I was simply lost in their ideas, or her gaze.
            Perhaps all of it held me there, for a while.
            But the heart yearns for home, so I heard many adults say as a child, and while I didn’t really understand or believe them then, I think that I just might now.  How else could a young man walk away from a land such as the Nightwalk, where I had been fortunate and blessed?  Already I had had a place among their warriors, a rightful place, my first blood spilt and left to rot in the sun in some land far away and foreign, a land I never learned the name of, and if Xynia was to be believed, I had her love, if I so wanted it; there was also the love of the First Gods, the promise of my people waltzing through the celestial ribbons of eternity, the mysticism that had captured my heart and lured me into its clutches of faith. 
            Vaelenne, her ancient face intensified in the low lighting of the vast cavern at the heart of the firefly forest, answered the capitulations of my soul with a very simple answer; that I must do what I felt was right.  And what did I feel, when I asked myself?
            I felt ashamed, ashamed that I wanted to remain here in this land of strangers when my father was in Helovia, and when my mother would return there if she was to be found anywhere.  I felt even more awful when I thought of Aithniel, and how I had left her alone in a land of wolves, knowing that my mother was not there to protect her; I thought of my duties as a prince to the land and how I had left them all behind.  Lastly, I thought of all I had learned, and how it was as selfish to remain here with my faith, where it could not spare Aithniel her pain, or another their blood.
            What was right, I decided that evening, was to leave behind sweet Xynia, her ancient grandmother Vaelenne, and brave Furen, my tutors and friends, and to fill the void that had grown since I had left all hope of finding my mother behind, and found, instead, this glorious herd and its many precious gifts.
            Now that I am here, of course, it doesn’t feel as I thought it would.  The wind is as cold as I remember it, and the mountains are the same, but the smells that drift down the peaks along this wind are strange, mingled with familiar odors, such as my father’s, or Thranduil’s; there is even the faintest of smells that might be Erebos, for it makes me think of him as a little goat boy in a time that almost feels like a lifetime ago.  They are not the same as my memories, no matter how similar the details, and it leaves me feeling oddly out of place, like a puzzle piece which fits – but is from another picture.
            Still, there is a thrill which rises through me as I see the slip in the mountain face that will take me to the hidden valley of the Time God and his horned children; my eyes look about me at all the oh so familiar swirls and ripples in the stone, the usual drops in the path expected and somehow smaller in reality than they ever seemed in my thoughts.  The gleam of bronze greets me as I emerge into the vale, the pink tinged heavens bleeding their light down upon me and the sentinel that has stood proud in my mind, and which still stands, guarding those within.
            Feeling an anxious giddiness well up in me I pause to look up at his proud, metallic face, my heart thudding almost audibly in the confines of my chest.  It seems odd to be so nervous, but I have been gone for over a year – so much could have changed in this time period that I am wary of being attacked as much as I am eager to greet those I left behind so long ago.  My ears twitch atop my head, catching the occasional quiet conversation which drifts over the misty mountain morning, a few silhouettes lazily lingering alongside the pink colored glass of the lake, others walking patrol, or doing whatever else they have deemed important in this early hour.
            I immediately recognize none of them, but it was often this way even when I woke and slept here every day; the tides of time drag so many in and out of this land, it will be a wonder if I know more than a few, and it is under such logic that I decide to remain here, beneath the figure of the bronze beasts crafted by my father, as instructed by my dam, occasionally looking up at the gleaming red of the mechanical guardian’s eyes.
 
[ OOC:  Rikyn is backkkkk~ Come at him bro.  Friends/family maybeh? :o ]