The rest of the night passes uneventfully. Blaine's back and shoulders are grateful for the extra cushioning of a real mattress and he muses to himself that he should look for an inn a little more frequently, as a good night of rest has rejuvenated his confidence and he's almost eager to get back onto the road.
He whistles as he descends down the stairs in the morning. The porridge is warm and filling but lacking in taste, making him miss Cook Millie's delicious breakfasts of dumplings and hot meats. He'll need the nutrients for strength on the road, so he swallows it all without complaint. Thankfully, he doesn't encounter the strange woman from the previous night - the innkeeper doesn't know anything about her when he inquires and Blaine doesn't press further. She packs him some leftover stew to heat up over a fire and extra cheese and meat for his lunch before he sets off.
His first day back on the trail goes well enough. He's rested enough that his kinks have melted away and the scenery becomes more lush as they transition from valleys and fields to rolling hills and thick trees, which starves off his boredom as well. Blackbird seems happy, especially when Blaine takes her on a few gallops in the cool canopy and rubs her down afterwards.
Unfortunately, the following morning takes a turn for the worse. The fine drizzle that greets him when he awakens turns into a steady downpour as soon as he mounts Blackbird and his clothing is soaked within minutes.
The rain continues to drip continuously for the next several hours and Blaine is beyond miserable, his cloak wet and clinging to him, mud flinging from his horse's hooves to cake him. When he pauses for his midday meal, he's unable to start the wet wood on fire and the cold bread and cheese turn soggy despite his best efforts to protect them from the elements. Just when he thinks there's a break in the clouds, another pocket of hard pounding rain convinces him that he will never dry out again.
He's entirely discouraged and contemplating turning back to spend another night at Westerville (although rationally he knows that he'll never make it back before darkness falls), when his horse stumbles slightly, and then comes to a hobbling stop.
"What is it, Birdy?" He strokes the horse's head and dismounts. Blackbird's been so well behaved so far; it's not like the horse to ignore the gentle commands to move. Blaine groans loudly when he picks up the horse's front hoof and sees the horseshoe warped, nail half-pulled out. Great. Just what his trip needed: an injured horse in the middle of a forest with nary a person around.
"Fuck!"
It takes scrounging for a sharp rock to pry the deformed horseshoe off Blackbird's hoof. Blackbird is much more calm about the procedure than Blaine anticipated, chewing on grass while Blaine strains to remove the nails with the rain dripping down his curls and getting in his eyes. He won't be able to ride Birdy without a shoe. The road is empty - he hasn't seen another human being since before midday and the likelihood that anybody else will be traveling this road in the rain seems unlikely. He'll just have to wait until the rain stops and hope some other traveler stumbles upon him which most likely won't be until morning. Frustrated, he sets up camp, fighting against gusts of whipped rain to build shelter. He dares not try to make a fire again in the rain, so his supper is cold. It is, at least, dry.
His sleep is fitful, even if his lashed together canvass structure holds out the rain – he's pretty proud of himself for this one – disturbed by the cold seeping through his sleeping blankets and restless dreams. Cooper is always just beyond reach, shrieking in pain, a sound that transforms into the wind's moan through the trees when he lurches awake from the claps of thunder, again and again. The storm dies down after a few hours and then gradually blows away. In the residual silence, Blaine finally drops into a dreamless sleep.
The morning sky is that crystal blue that only comes after storms, with sunbeams filtering through lingering mist and birds loudly chattering in the trees. Blaine contemplates his options. There's no use going back and, if his maps are accurate, there should be another cluster of homes too small to be called a village several miles down the road. Perhaps there will be another horse that he could rent, although he'll hate leaving Blackbird behind. Blaine sets off at a slow pace, guiding Blackbird to avoid the sharper rocks in the road. Blackbird, besides favoring her injured hoof, seems almost giddy having her human walking beside her, prancing next to Blaine and nipping his sleeve in affection when Blaine ignores her for too long.
Blaine's bad mood dissipates with the storm as well. He arranges his leathers on the saddle to dry in the sunshine, and the freedom of walking in just a shirt and breeches is exhilarating. His hair is a mess, caked in dried mud, and the clear beaver pond appearing through the trees is an unexpected delight. After tying Blackbird loosely to a sapling, he strips down and wades into the water, washing mud and road grime from his skin and hair.
Blaine takes advantage of the shimmering lake to swim a few laps, the water cool against his skin. He floats, his mind drifting as well, brainstorming as he often does of how he can defeat Sue when he meets up with her. Nothing comes to mind – nothing ever does. He's never tried to take on a witch before, never contemplated ever killing a human. He's squeamish at the thought, his mind skipping to other topics whenever he attempts to think about it too deeply.
Before long, the tug of his quest urges him back on the road. He feels guilt with every luxury that delays his journeys, as each delay extends Cooper's captivity, and Blaine sighs regretfully as he rises out of the water.
He's rinsing out his clothes, when a distance murmur of a voice stops him. He looks around, trying to pinpoint the location. There, just beyond the next cluster of trees, he can see a figure pacing back and forth. Perhaps, just perhaps, luck is shining on him and this person might know a nearby farrier. Blaine dresses quickly, his wet shirt clinging a little uncomfortably to his chest and back, tugs on his boots, and leads Blackbird to the clearing.
The man, tall and lithe with fine features, doesn't seem to notice Blaine standing at the edge as he dances on light feet in the circle of willow trees, singing to himself. Blaine doesn't recognize the dance or song but he strains to listen, as this man's voice is beautiful, high and clear and rich with emotion. He moves in an intricate pattern from tree to tree, hands drawing patterns in the air to the rhythm of his song. The last note rings out in perfect pitch and, for a second, echoes across the clearing, while he reaches up to the sky as if in benediction. Blaine can't look away, so taken in by this sudden vision of graceful beauty.
Blackbird chooses that moment to snort and stamp her foot impatiently and the man startles at the sudden interruption, his song breaking abruptly.
"Oh! Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to startle you!" Blaine walks towards the man with a friendly smile, holding his hands open. "We have not been introduced. I am Blaine. Blaine Andrea-" he coughs to hide his slip – his matriarchal name is too easily identifiable – "Blaine Anders and I'm afraid that my horse has thrown a shoe. Would you happen to know of a blacksmith nearby?"
The man stares dumbly at him as if he doesn't understand. Blaine falters, and lowers his hand. "I fear I have disturbed you. My apologies again." He tips his head.
"Who are you?" His speaking voice is as clear as his singing, but Blaine can't read the tone.
"Blaine. I've been traveling all day and my horse's shoe came loose in the rain yesterday. I'm lucky he didn't throw me."
"But who are you? What are you doing here?"
Blaine scratches at his chin. He's never been good at lying, but he's not trusted anybody so far with his identity. "Just a… I'm on a mission and got caught here."
The man's frown deepens, eyes crystal blue in hardness and mistrust. "You're on a mission?" His eyes track up and down Blaine's body.
Blaine flushes. He must look like a sight with his wet clothes and curls that must be wild and unkempt. "Yes."
"To do what?"
Blaine flattens a hand across his curls, trying to give them some semblance of control. "I… to rescue an enchanted prince. It's a long story, and I need to get my horse-"
"You must leave." The man announces abruptly, his body language and voice forbidden any argument.
Blaine takes a step back, startled by the man's tone. While obviously trespassing on this man's time and generosity, he thinks that he has been polite enough for some direction. "I promise you, despite my appearance, I am no vagabond. My apologies again, sir. Good day." He grabs Blackbird's reins and turns back to the road, annoyed at the lack of hospitality.
He hasn't gone more than a few steps before he hears the man gasp loudly and run after him. "Wait, wait. Who did you say you were?"
"Blaine. From Dalton."
"Blaine. From Dalton. What- what help did you need?"
"As I said, it's my horse." Blaine replies slowly.
Kurt nods and his face relaxes with a small smile. "I'm sorry. I- my father- my father lives just down the road here. He's a blacksmith and can shoe your horse for you."
Blaine blinks at the sudden change of heart. "Are you–? That is most fortuitous and I would be grateful, sir."
The man finally extends his hand, and Blaine can't help but admire the firm grip and slender fingers. "Kurt. My name is Kurt. Come, there's a shortcut around the pond." He tugs on Blaine's hand and leads him deeper into the woods, away from the road.
Kurt doesn't say much, just asks him a few questions about Blackbird and the thrown shoe. He no longer seems distrustful of Blaine, but he still seems troubled and keeps looking at Blaine pensively. Blaine opens his mouth once or twice to ask him but he doesn't know Kurt and his manners prevent from probing further.
It's not long before they break through the trees to see a small house next to a barn and smithy. Kurt marches swiftly into the smithy, shaking the shoulder of an older man working at the anvil. "Da. Da!"
The older man jumps, before carefully placing the hammer down. "Watch it, Kurt! What've I told you, you can't startle me like that."
"This is Blaine. He found me in the forest and he says that his horse has thrown a shoe." Kurt introduces them.
"In the forest?" The older man questions, looking sharply at his son.
Kurt shakes his head slightly, communicating something to his father that Blaine can't pick out. "Yes. He's on a mission and I told him that you could help him."
"Alright." The man gets up and appraises him closely, wiping his hands on a cloth before extending one out. "Burt Hummel. You got a lame horse?"
"Ah, yes, sir. She threw a shoe yesterday in the storm. I was able to get it off, but she needs a new one before we can continue on." He replies politely.
Burt picks up Birdy's hoof and inspects it. "You got all the nails out, that's good and there's no damage to the hoof wall. I gotta finish this wagon up today for the watermelon harvest, but I could get a new one on her by morning."
It's not as much of a delay as Blaine had feared. He counts out coins and hands them over to the blacksmith. "Greatly appreciated, sir."
Burt pockets the coins before peering at him closer. "You got a place to stay tonight?"
"Oh, Blackbird and I have just been setting up camp by the road." Blaine nods to his pack on the saddle.
"After the rain we had yesterday, nobody wants to sleep on that soggy ground. Stay for supper and we can get ya set up on the spare bed."
"Da." Kurt starts.
"Kurt, it won't be a problem adding an extra spot for supper. And maybe Blaine can tell us a little more 'bout himself, and we can give him a hand. Like neighbors do." The two seem to have a silent communication that makes Blaine uncomfortable.
"If it's an inconvenience–"
"It's not." Kurt answers bluntly, and then softens his tone. "Really. My stepmother should be home shortly and we'll sup then. As my father said, there's enough for you to join. Please."
The Hummel home radiates warmth from the moment Blaine crosses the threshold. Kurt helps him drape his clothes in front of the hearth so that they'll dry and offers him another shirt to wear and Blaine blushes as he does up the buttons. At Blaine's insistence, Kurt puts him to work chopping vegetables. "It's not much, just a rabbit stew. We weren't expecting company."
Blaine laughs, trying to ease the man's embarrassment. "I've been on the road eating bread and dried meat for a week. Stew sounds wonderful."
Kurt doesn't say much initially during the meal preparation, but for being virtually strangers, the silence doesn't feel stifling. Instead, Blaine's surprised as how comfortable the atmosphere is between the two of them . They work well together, with enticing smells wafting from the pots as the meal cooks. Blaine's stomach rumbles in anticipation and Kurt's laugh seems to thaw any lingering barriers so that conversation flows between them.
Kurt, Blaine finds out, works about a day's walk from here but has recently returned home for a visit as his father has been ill. "He's doing much better and as long as he doesn't insist on visiting all of the ailing widows over the winter and catching their head colds, he should be to full strength soon." He's vague on what he does, but so is Blaine, dancing around questions about his home life. He can't tell if Kurt picks up on his evasiveness; Kurt doesn't press and neither does Blaine.
Carole, Burt's wife, returns an hour later and warmly greets Blaine as if she isn't the slightest bit surprised at his presence. It's loud and loving in their cottage, and nothing like any of the dining experiences with his family, usually attended by dignitaries and conducted with decorum.
The fragrant stew is delicious, hearty and bursting with flavor, and Blaine nearly moans as he swallows spoonful after spoonful. Kurt's cheeks pink with the praise.
"Blaine here says that he's on a quest." Burt informs his wife.
"Indeed? What kind of quest?"
Blaine blushes as he stumbles through his excuse. "It's nothing, ma'am. The prince of Dalton was cursed a few years ago, and I'm one of many who seek his return."
"We haven't had any knights come through here for many moons, have we, Burt?" Carole mused, dipping her bread into the stew. "For a while, there was one stopping by every night or two, but it's been quiet for so long now. I had rather thought that he had returned home, but I suppose that news would reach us even out here."
Burt nods in agreement. "Nobody was able to find him; guess the interest died down."
"Why the renewed interest?" Kurt questions, his eyes intent on Blaine.
"I… there's been some new information filtering in, places that people weren't looking before. I thought I'd poke around a bit."
"What makes you think you'll be successful?" Kurt presses. "He was bewitched, wasn't he? How do you plan on breaking the enchantment?"
"So many questions," Carole laughs lightly. "Don't feel like you have to divulge all of your plans."
Blaine shrugs. "I don't know that I will be successful. Nobody has, but I've prepared as I could. I know nothing about magic or enchantments, but there's always a weakness and I have to try."
"Is there a reward?" Kurt questions again. His tone isn't exactly angry, just inquisitive and insistent.
"Honestly, Kurt." Burt exclaims, exasperatedly.
"There's no reward. I'm not in it for the money."
"Then why are you doing it?" Kurt speaks firmly over the rising cacophony of voices from his parents.
"Because his family misses him!" Blaine states, passionately. "Because he's alone and goodness knows what she is doing to him and I can't just leave him to suffer!"
Kurt argues back, "And your family will miss you should you fail! Why is it up to you to fix all of the earth's ills? Plenty of people suffer. Will you attempt to save them all?"
This certainly isn't how he anticipated the conversation going. "No. I can't save them all, although I would hope that I would do what I could to alleviate their suffering. I know Prince Cooper, and I kept waiting for somebody else to free him and they never did. I'm able and strong, I've studied and prepared. I might fail, but if not me, then who?"
Kurt stands up abruptly and stalks over to the hearth, grabbing at a poker to retrieve the kettle. Carole hands Blaine a refilled bowl of stew. "You'll have to excuse Kurt his bluntness, it comes from a deep sense of protectiveness."
At Blaine's curious look, Kurt elaborates. "My brother left us to make his fortune two years ago. He never returned. His letters stopped over a year ago."
"We've never received official word, but he likely," Carole chokes, "has died and we'll never know how or why."
"I'm so sorry." Blaine murmurs in sympathy.
"Finn's a good man," Burt says, "and he made the right choices with the information he had."
"He left you alone at the smithy, Da. He could have been here helping you and you wouldn't have been injured."
"He had the same right to leave as you did. I don't begrudge either of you trying to make this world your own."
Kurt shakes his head. It's obviously an old argument that has been rehashed multiple times. "I should have been here, too."
"Now, you know that's not the truth. Your studies are important and you're headed back to them soon."
"Not until you're healed."
"I'm healed enough now and you know it. Will's lad was here today, you remember him, Carole, little Danny. He used to come round here before he could talk and help me with the bellows. He's twelve now and I've offered to apprentice him."
Carole squeezes her husband's hand. "Oh, Burt, what a wonderful opportunity. He's a good boy and will love working with you."
"It'll only be a couple hours a day for now. I think it will work out well for all of us, including you." He looks pointedly at his son. "You've been dawdling around, Kurt, anxious to get back and it's enough to upset the horses."
Blaine's only known this family for a few hours but their love for each other is evident, especially in Kurt's soft expression as he gathers the dirty plates and squeezes his father's shoulder. Kurt slides back into his seat with the teapot. He pours a cup of tea and hands it over to Blaine with an apology. "I was hasty in my judgement and had no right."
Their fingers touch. Blaine wraps his hands around the cup, feeling more than the warmth of the tea spreading across his face. "I took no offense."
Carole smiles at him encouragingly. "Tell us more about your plans, Blaine. Perhaps we can assist."
The evening that passes is one of the most enjoyable of Blaine's memories - the Hummels are interested in Blaine's plans and supply him with information not conveyed on his maps, and as the sun shadows fade away, they light candles and play cards. Carole, surprisingly, is a keen competitor, preying on any perceived weakness. Kurt's as intense as his stepmother and the two of them team up against Burt and Blaine who throw their hands down in defeat. Something in Blaine yearns for this close connection and he wishes that he could spend more time with them. His parents love him, he knows this, but their relationship tends to be formal even in privacy and they spend more time correcting faults rather than just enjoying each other's company.
After the fire has died down and Burt and Carole excuse themselves for the evening, Kurt leads him up the stairs to the small room in the attic. "It's not much, but it should be clean." His hands fidget as he waits for Blaine to survey the room.
"It's perfect, thank you." Just like the rest of the Hummels' residence, the room is homey and cozy, with a cheerful blanket on the bed.
"It was Finn's." Kurt admits, lost in memories. "When our parents married, Finn moved up here. He loved having the attic space to himself - I think in some ways it was harder for Finn to lose that only child status than me and the two of us didn't get each other in the beginning, so this was his place. Although, when Da caught him up here with Rachel once, he made Finn sleep in the kitchen for a month."
"You must miss him greatly."
"Yes." Kurt answers simply. "I do. Sleep well, Blaine." He slips away, leaving Blaine with a swirl of emotions that he can't sort out.
Blaine awakens early the following morning, his troubled thoughts left behind. Kurt and Burt are already in the forge and it's Carole who greets him with coffee and a steaming roll, before she leaves to attend to her duties as village healer. "Fanny's child will be here within a fortday and little Edmund's arm isn't healing properly." She cheerfully gives him a hug on his way out, with well wishes on his journey. "Stop by on your return. We'd love to have you again."
The smithy is surprisingly empty and Blaine crosses the courtyard in search of the Hummel men. He finds them in the barn, holding Blackbird's foot up, deep in conversation. "You sure about this, son?"
"I don't have much of a choice, do I? I caused this."
"It's not your fault."
"Maybe not, but it is my responsibility. Carmen will know what to do. She can fix my mistake and nobody will be the wiser."
"Things rarely work out so smoothly, you know."
"I am aware." Kurt replies wryly.
"Just… be careful, kid. Keep things close and mind your business."
"It won't be long, I promise. A week at the most and then I'll be back."
"I told you, I'm doing well enough."
"And I told you- Blaine! Good morning! How did you sleep?" Kurt looks up and smiles at him, a dark smudge of soot across his cheek. Blaine gives himself a mental nudge from the temptation to reach across and wipe his cheek. It's a good thing he is leaving today. Kurt is a distraction that he can't allow himself to think about.
"Never better. Thank you again for your hospitality."
Burt shrugs from where he's holding Birdy's leg. "It's nothing. We're fitting this gal's shoe now, she should be ready to go in an hour. The other shoe was also coming loose, so I've pounded it back on. Just a little bit longer and she'll be right as rain. She's such a patient girl, yes, she is." Burt coos.
Blaine rubs Blackbird's nose in greeting and she nudges at his chest with a blissful snort, obviously delighting in the attention despite the discomfort in her leg. "'Lo, old girl. Did you miss me? Are you getting some new shoes?" Blaine runs his hands over the horse's shiny black neck, grateful that he's not having to say goodbye to her this time. He pours a small pile of grains for her breakfast while rubbing her down and tightening the saddle. The Hummels make no attempt to return to their previous conversation and Blaine is polite enough not to probe before he heads back into the house to grab his packs..
When he returns, Blackbird is bridled and ready, patiently waiting in the lingering morning mist. Blaine glances around the little valley as he throws his packs on, making sure the food that Carole had left him was easily accessible. He's been here for less than a day, but it feels like home and he's going to miss the Hummels and their warm hospitality. He lifts Birdy's legs to inspect the work. The shoes are neatly placed, clinched on appropriately, and should travel safely for the rest of his journey.
Blaine turns to the sound of hooves clomping across the ground to see Kurt, leading a tall, speckled cream horse over to them, also saddled and bridled. Kurt has changed into tight riding breeches and Blaine's momentarily distracted how they accentuate his long legs. "This is Pavarotti." Kurt announces. "I was hoping that I might tag along?"
"What? Why?" Blaine's thrown by the unexpected request.
"You need a guide."
"I have maps." Blaine argues. They had discussed the maps in detail the previous night and all had agreed that they were mostly accurate.
"I know the area better than a map and I'm better prepared for the elements." Kurt counters. "It'll be a safer journey with two of us. You know that's true, I don't understand why you haven't journeyed with others before this. My father has declared himself well enough and no longer needs me. I think you do."
"I— It could be dangerous."
"True. I'll be sure to abandon you before it comes to that."
Blaine laughs at the unexpected joke. The thought of getting to know Kurt better is certainly a pleasant one, even though he strongly suspects that he'll be fighting off more of those distracting thoughts. "Are you sure?"
Kurt nods, hands gripping Pavarotti's reins tightly. "Positive. I have some business of my own and it would be beneficial to combine our journey."
Blaine acquiesces. "Then I value your companionship. The Prince will reward you if we are successful, I am sure-"
"You aren't the only one who has motives besides money, Blaine." Kurt chides lightly and Blaine holds his hands up in surrender. "Point taken."
Blaine looks away when Burt comes out of the forge to say goodbye and Kurt throws himself into his father's arms for a long moment. Burt's eyes are shiny when he clasps Blaine on the shoulder and his voice gruff as he tells them to stay safe.
Blaine swings on Blackbird and touches her haunches lightly with his heel. Together, he and Kurt ride silently away, leaving the cozy hamlet behind in the mist.