This is really nothing. Just a small thing for a fandom that only consists of around 5 people. Hope you enjoy!
"You're a traveler aren't you?"
The question cut straight through the bustle and noise of the old tavern. A young man looked up from his drink, eyes wide from being addressed so directly.
"A-are you talking to me?"
"Of course I'm talking to you, who else here is sober enough to answer a question?" The bartender rested his elbows against the counter in front of him. "Did you here what I said or should I repeat myself?"
"No no I heard you just fine!" The man tried to shake off his shock. "What gave it away?"
"You have that kind of air about you; restless, like you can't wait to get up and go."
The man looked down feeling a prickle of embarrassment for some unknowable reason.
"Don't be like that, son, I've seen this place for many years. I've seen lots of people walk through those doors. Where ya heading off to?"
The traveler looked into his drink for a spell, gathering his words before answering. "To the forest."
The bartender was, for the first time in their short meeting, completely silent. "You don't mean..."
The statement hung but the man knew exactly what he was talking about.
"Yes, the forest that houses the Abbey of Kells."
"You do know what the people say about the forest, don't you?"
"I've heard some talk as I've traveled, but people don't talk much."
"The Abbey...they say that a treasure resides there."
"I know that much, why else would I go? The Book of Kells, supposedly the most beautiful thing in all of creation."
"They also say it's guarded." The words were solemn, the bartenders face even more so.
"Guarded?" The traveler rose an eyebrow. "By what?"
"Not 'what' but 'whom'." The bartender looked thoughtful for a bit. "But 'what' works too, I suppose. No one is sure if they're human or spirit."
"Spirit? Is this just a myth, told to keep me away?" The traveler has seen many superstitions prove false; many stories were fabrications of an active imagination.
"May be, may not. I've heard thousands of stories in these walls, I cannot tell what's true and what's false. I can only say that many think this one to be true and therefore it may have some truth."
There was a long silence; bartender pondering the stories he's heard, traveler curious hear a new tale. Finally it was broken by the bartender. "I cannot tell what you don't want to hear."
Understanding immediately, the traveler replied, "What is this story? Who guards the book?"
The bartender smiled, delighted to find someone who wanted to listen. "They say it's two children, a boy and a girl. There's some debate on what the girl is; fae, spirit, witch, or wolf. The boy is more agreed upon; they say he's the spirit of a young monk who died when the Northmen invaded Kells."
The traveler felt chills go down his spine. "The Northmen..."
"Aye, caused much havoc they did. Killed most of the refugees in the village, burned and torn the whole place. Kells is now but a ruin of what it once was."
"You said they guarded the book." The traveler tried to rerail the conversation. "How? From what?"
"They guard the book from people who want to exploit it; sell it for however amount of change they can get; gaze upon the pages with greed. The book was torn apart by the Northmen, before another monk from the same abbey completed it. They don't want to book to go through that again."
"But...how?"
The bartender smiled, it wasn't a nice smile. "They say the boy judges the person, sees if their intentions are good. The girl...well, she sends the wolves onto those who aren't judged well."
The traveler gulped. "So, what then?"
"If your intentions are good, then you have nothing to fear." The bartender shrugged, before turning away to continue his work. "Of course, if they're not, you shouldn't step foot into the forest."
"I just want to see if the book is real...those are good intentions, not selfish at all, right?"
The bartender was gone, leaving the traveler to sit alone with his thoughts and growing anxiety.
A young man dressed in heavy robes stood just in front of the entrance to the forest. The story he heard at the tavern - obviously a myth - still shook him.
He knew that he didn't want to do anything bad to the book, if it even existed. He just wanted to look. That's it.
He'd be safe.
The traveler steeled himself and stepped into the entrance of the forest. With no other way to go than forward, he walked deeper and deeper.
Now, the traveler has always been aware of magic; he trekked across Ireland, it's impossible to miss.
But this forest had more magic in it than he's seen in his lifetime.
It was in the trees, in the earth; even the air hummed with an ancient power.
Then he heard it.
It swept across the leaves like wind, resonated through the ground and rocks at his feet. It came from the trees, it came from the air; it echoed off of everything and yet it seemed to come from nothing.
From the depths of the forest itself, he heard the sound of childish laughter.