"Da's a horse breeder," the boy said wistfully, unable to resist a few experimental swings. Kendath noted that he nearly chopped his arm off with each slash. Handling the sword as though it was made of glass, he passed it on like a showcase item to his friends. "My name's Ran," he offered, then raised his voice. "Da! Fyldwar! Jon! Dragonriders, these are! Real dragonriders!"

And in the space of three minutes, both Merrin and Kendath found what appeared to be half the village gathered around them.

"Stories!" they clamored excitedly, pointing and feeling Merrin's soft silver cloak, tracing their dragonrider insignias. "Tell us stories!"

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Stories! Merrin remembered stories, listening spellbound to some grizzled old man tell of the exploits of his youth. She had never quite expected to be on the other end, the teller rather than the listener. But small hands grasped at her cloak, and solemn eyes were riveted upon her.

Merrin unclasped the worn piece of dragonrider garb, and it was instantly pounced upon and examined. She grinned, and surveyed the expectant huddle of youth, children - even a parent on the outskirts.

Where to begin? Some things did not bear mentioning. Merrin would decidedly not begin at the beginning. She glanced up to meet Kendath's eyes. "Once upon a time, not so long ago at all," she began, inwardly reflecting wryly that these events had taken place in the far future, "there were two crystals..."

Her audience was appreciative, and Merrin's initial hesitance grew more confident. Beginning just after Kendath had appeared at her campfire, with no dragon and an astonishing request - though Merrin never said expressly where he had come from - she described the chilling guardians of the Cloud Crystal, their narrow escape from there and later from the Meiltha lair with the Star Crystal...and here stopped, unsure how to continue. Voices murmured for more...but where did the story go now? Or where did it go that she could tell to a spellbound gaggle of children?

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Kendath kept to the shadows, allowing Merrin to take center stage. He felt himself drawn into the story - their story - as though staring through a window at an august city on the other side, or perhaps a beautiful sunrise, where he wasn't one of the heroes at all but a carefree listener like the rest of them, dreaming of adventure like it'd never happened to him.

Merrin faltered at their arrival to Vryngard, uncertain of how to retell their entire joust with time travel. Impulsively, without even realizing his own lips moving, Kendath leaped in.

"And the thieves of the Cloud Crystal were at last unblinded by the darkness," he said quietly. "They returned to the light, where they relinquished their artifact of power and begged for forgiveness. Mercy was granted by the gods themselves. Both Crystals were returned to proper hands, and peace reigned through the kingdom." He met Merrin's gaze with a small smile.

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Merrin smiled back, and realized in a moment how long it had been since she'd seen him actually smile - not a smirk or a sneer. She found she liked it.

Finding her cloak deposited in her lap, admiring small hands still caressing it, Merrin shook her head upon requests for more stories and stood as the little crowd dwindled. The bonfire grew larger, merry voices singing accompanied by fiddle and panpipes, and the last few stragglers left off gazing admiringly at the pair of dragonriders to move toward it.

Merrin watched them, absently tracing the Renegade insignia herself. "I liked that ending," she said quietly, coming to stand beside Kendath.

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"If only all stories ended that way," Kendath murmured, resting a hand on Merrin's shoulder and offering it a familiar squeeze. My father would have liked it here, tonight. The thought came unbidden, but it was not entirely unpleasant to dwell upon. His gaze drifted over to the village square, where the villagers had formed a blithe circle and were dancing around the bonfire. A few villagers, sighting the dragonriders standing by the sidelines, beckoned for them to join.

The music had escalated to a lively riverdance, the drums and panpipes pounding merrily in Kendath's ears as he watched. The circling silhouettes - all twirling and skipping - cast long shadows on the firelit ground. Smile widening, Kendath turned to offer Merrin a hand. "Shall we?"

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Merrin was looking into the depths of the bonfire, gaze absent and expression faintly wistful, sad. But she grinned again and the look flew as though it had never been. "I really could be better dressed," she commented impishly - and took his hand. "Yes. We shall."

Silver-grey cloak and rapier discarded, Merrin felt curiously as though she were fourteen again upon entering the dancing circle of villagers - but five years ago there had been no Kendath. Both her hands in his now, Merrin reflected that imagining life without him was drearily flat. She would not have that life back for the world, time-travel or no. Just before the music began again she looked up at him, eyes laughing - "Aren't you glad you came?"

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"As opposed to Gyre dunking me in the ocean? Explicitly so," came the flippant response, but time allowed them little more as they were swept up in the community circle. Kendath found himself firmly clasping Merrin's hand on his left and connected with a congenially pudgy man he didn't recognize on the right.

The bonfire roared higher, and the night assumed an almost surreal air as the pipes picked up the pace, and the circle twirled in and out. Having not danced like this in years, Kendath found himself tripping over his feet in a frantic but oddly exhilarating effort to keep up. He was just growing dizzy, the bonfire blurring in his vision, when the dance reversed direction and he nearly barreled over the laughing man on his right.

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Images, too, danced in the flames before Merrin. She saw her story; not the one she'd told the villagers, but the one that began before...and still had not ended. So many things had changed since she had stumbled upon Kendath first that dark night, in the woods. Were any of the the same? She was not the Merrin she'd been then, and the hand that grasped hers now belonged to a very different Kendath.

And the Kendath of before would not have danced around a village fire with her. Nor would the Merrin of before have wanted him to.

She found herself grinning wildly as the pipes grew louder, elated beyond anything she would have guessed.

When the circle collapsed, Merrin didn't let his hand go but fell laughing on the sand while the stars rearranged themselves in the darkening sky above. "It reminds me so much of home," she murmured almost to herself, gaze taking in the scene - bonfire, murmurs of laughter drifting on the night air.

"Did Gyre really threaten to dunk you?" she added, laughing, turning to look at him. "I had no inkling you were so opposed to the idea."

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Stimulated by food and adrenaline, the townsfolk went their separate ways about the village square, more than a few newly united couples holding hands. The instruments had abated for the musicians to catch their breaths, and the only sounds that drifted into the starry sky were laughter and friendly banter.

Suddenly Kendath was being dragged to his knees, his own strength having escaped his legs. He shot Merrin a mock bewildered expression. "Gyre's a demon in sheep's skin," he returned. He picked up a flower that'd fallen to the ground. It resembled a rhododendron, with its outward fanning blue petals that bore an uncanny resemblence to Merrin's eyes. He held it out to her.

Then, just as her hand was about to close over it, he had a better idea. Snatching it away, he leaped to his feet and held it high. "Come get it if you can," he challenged, essaying a bold dart in the opposite direction. Grinning like a boy half his age, he slowed and glanced over his shoulder to see if she was following.

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Merrin laughed and gamely made a dash for the little blue-petaled thing, entirely willing to play at his game - if only for an evening. Like the maid of fourteen she remembered, she chased him round the bonfire once, then made as if to stop and stood in the firelight.

"Perhaps I'll find my own flower, then," she teased, blue eyes so like the blossom he held sparkling merrily. Casting about, she rescued a pale pink one from where it lay on the sand, and came toward him.

Having pretended to be entirely happy with the little pink bud, upon nearing Merrin deftly snatched the blue from his grasp. "I do rather like blue better," she told him impishly, lingering just out of reach.

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"Clever, aren't you." Kendath assumed a mock scowl and lunged for the blue flower, but she danced tantalizingly out of reach. He raised an eyebrow - he wasn't one to give in so early in the game. Stepping back, he insouciantly glanced about to see if anyone was watching. None were - they'd meandered to the very edge of the firelight, nearly on the village outskirts.

His eyes narrowed quite alarmingly.

The next thing Merrin knew, Kendath had grabbed her waist and tackled her to the ground. They wrestled in the sand for a brief moment before he found himself holding the flower again. "Temperamental little dove," he teased, playing the hypocrite. Gloating over his prize, he tucked the flower behind her ear, where its fanning petals beautifully accentuated her upper cheek.

Spent for the evening, he slumped back in the sand and listened to the breakers crashing against the sand. A tell-tale hissing, ensued by a brilliant explosion, alerted him that pyrotechnics were being shot off back at the village square. The fireworks burst in a shower of light and sound above them.

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Merrin found herself breathless and tingling. She was suddenly fervently glad that the darkness hid the flush rising to her cheeks, and glanced sidelong at Kendath. The blue flower nodded where he'd tucked it. They had played like a pair of carefree children - something Merrin would never have dreamed of doing, with Kendath least of all.

It was arguably the most enjoyable evening she'd experienced in a long time.

Sand had made its way into her boots, likely in those few moments where they'd rolled on the ground, both scrambling for the ingenuous little flower. Merrin grinned to herself. She pulled them off and burrowed her feet into the cool sea-sprayed sand beneath her.

"Our story doesn't need a happy ending," she said suddenly, watching the lights burst overhead. "Just this."

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Kendath sat up and absently traced a pattern in the sand. The fireworks seemed endless; the villagers must have traded half a year's harvest for one midsummer's gala. The sprays of light illuminated Merrin's face, set it to a dazzling display of soft colors.

For the first time he looked down at his sand design and realized that he'd been tracing Merrin's name the entire time. Fingers curling into a fist, he stared at the name for a plaintive while. At length he wiped his hand across it, sending sand scattering to the wind.

Without thinking he pulled her close, letting her head fall onto his shoulder. Thoughts of dragons and wars and Meiltha slipped from his mind. He closed his eyes and deeply inhaled the salty air. "I don't regret it," he murmured to no one in particular. "Merrin. Do you ever... do you ever dream...?"

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"All the time," Merrin murmured in return, leaning against him and twining her fingers through his where his arm rested around her shoulders. "Dream of what?"

She dreamed of everything, it seemed...the dizzying myriad events that had deluged upon her lately most of all. Had she dreamt of his arm about her shoulders before, dreamt of playing in the firelight with flowers?

The thought only brushed her mind and was gone before Merrin could examine it. Her bare foot found the remains of a handwritten M, but not for a moment did she even guess what it was. A glance upwards made her heartbeat quicken and Merrin contented herself with leaning close, head resting on his shoulder.

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Kendath opened his mouth as though to say something, then closed it again. How did one express such thoughts? How could he put into words the events of his past - how he'd never before dreamed, how he'd never imagined life as a tangible joy and purpose?

"Dream of anything," he admitted helplessly, casting his other arm about. "Dream of the ocean, the sand beneath your feet, the sky - the sky! I've been a dragonrider this long, but I never knew the sky had so many stars..." His voice trailed off. What was he saying? Why was he telling her this? He sounded so petty, talking about the ocean and the sky when the entire fate of dragonkind rested on their shoulders.

He glanced askance at her, for the first time noticing her nearness and her warmth pressed against his side.

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"I used to live on dreams," said Merrin. "Vryngard was a dream...Wyvern was a dream...being a dragonrider at all was always a dream. Until they came true." She was silent, and then continued in a murmur. "Until, well, not very long ago, life seemed a bad dream come true in itself."

There was no sound but waves breaking on the sand and the hiss of the fireworks above - though these were dwindling. "What do you dream of?" she asked, taking the flower from her hair and dropping it in his lap, where it caught the moonlight.

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