Molly McCormack & the Legend of Tir na nOg

20- Home

Soon they found themselves in the same meadow they had stumbled upon when entering this strange land. Molly was wary of the small leprechaun eyeing her from not so very far away. It wasn't the fact he was a leprechaun that unsettled her so much. But rather that he was the same leprechaun who had witnessed her murder his field of flora. She stayed close to Donal's side and was careful to avoid crushing petals beneath her step. All that was left of the massacred field was a pitiful bunch of blue and yellow flowers. Apparently all reds, purples, pinks and oranges had been completely decimated. The bulbous headed leprechaun remained rooted to the outskirts of their circle, eyeing Molly suspiciously. He muttered what she was sure was to be leprechaun curses under his foul smelling breath. He really was a queer little man.

Molly returned her attention back to their going away party. Donal and Lord Killian were there, but surprisingly Mama had also made the journey to see them off. She was already pouring her heart out into a sodden hankie, grieving over how she would miss them so. Molly couldn't help but smile. The woman was practically purple and swollen from the tears she shed.

Molly's attention was drawn to Conor. He appeared busy with his invisible friend. Batting at non-existent hands, Conor reluctantly stooped down to give whatever it was he saw an embarrassed hug goodbye. She wondered how she would explain his loss of sanity to his mother.

With a heavy sigh, she turned her attention to Lord Killian and held out her hand (which was completely in tact due to the healing power of Elvish herbs.) No need slobbering all over the man. A simple handshake would do. A coy smile fell upon his lips as he gracefully lifted her hand and kissed her gently upon the knuckles. She blushed.

Conor came up beside Molly and took the opportunity to offer his hand up for a shake. Lord Killian squeezed Conor's hand firmly then cut the handshake a fraction short. He pulled his hand away and placed it behind his back, eyeing Conor curiously.

Donal cleared his throat of a lump and moved in to hug Molly and Conor.

"Now yer not be forgettin' us, will ya?"

Molly shrugged her shoulders not sure of what was in store for them upon their return trip through the arch. "I dunno, will we?"

"You will be allowed to remember all that has happened here. But are forbidden to speak of it." Lord Killian continued on a trifle sheepishly. "Of course there is the Merrow's spell that would strike you mute if you ever do decide to reveal anything about our world. Just an extra precautionary step."

Conor smirked at Molly. "Imagine that Molly. You a mute!" He doubled over as a fit of giggles took over him. She smacked him on the back of the head for good measure.

Molly looked up into Donal's face with tears in her eyes. Twice she opened her mouth to speak, but couldn't. It was as if the Merrow's spell had already been cast. Instead she threw her arms around their guardian and gave him her strongest hug. He returned her embrace with a comforting pat on the back.

"There now lass. It be not the end of the world. I be thankful to even had the privledge of knowin' ya both for the short time we had."

Conor joined in on the hug and they stood together for a moment, embraced. Donal was first to pull away.

"Look to the skies at high moon on the eve of ya' new year. Know that I be lookin' at that same moon, on that same night, thinkin' of ya both." Donal pushed away a stray tear. "Ya both be dear to me." He nodded his head a few times. "That be all I say."

Of course, Molly and Conor knew all that he meant to say.

Lord Killian eyed his timepiece. The time had come. As if by magic and from no apparent signal, roots and branches of ancient trees clawed their way from the ground. Holding out her hand to Conor, he clasped it readily within his own. She gave him a little wink.

"Ready?"

"Ready!"

Before stepping into the archway they gave one final look over their shoulders. Donal offered up a small wave and Molly knew that she would miss this magical world. A forlorn smile graced her pretty mouth before she and Conor took the step that carried them home.

* * * * *

The Moat was dark and even after all they experienced, still creepy. They searched some time for the dropped locket, but found it mysteriously vanished. Just as well. Molly would have been too tempted to use it again. The primitive gate had remained open while they stood in the wood, but as they moved their way through the clearing and into the dense underbrush, it too disappeared. Slithering along the ground and burrowing underneath, roots returned home as branches filled the sky. Molly looked at Conor.

'Come on. Let's go home."

They walked together in silence as they made their way through the McCormack backfields and up the returning path. Once at Molly's house, they paused for a moment before acknowledging that they'd see each other in the morning. Molly watched for a moment as Conor's retreating figure vanished silently into the night. He seemed different somehow. The trials of his quest had left their mark on him as surely as if he'd been scarred. Molly wondered if he would ever talk about what had happened to him that night. She made a mental note to cut him some slack the next time he bugged her.

She turned to her own home and snuck in the same way she had snuck out. In her room, she undressed and opened her window before crawling within the comfort of her bed sheets. She lay silently with her hands folded across her chest staring at the ceiling above. Moments passed to the sound of her ticking clock. While lost in thought, she listened carefully for the distant echo of thunder. The night air was still and silent. Finally, Molly rolled to her side and set her alarm for school.