Forbidden Love (Rewritten) | Arthur Pendragon

8 • THE BEGINING OF THE END

Eowyn's dreams had become more and more frequent, and more and more somber. Darkness and fire had painted the sacred whiteness of the first dream, and its peace had been replaced by screams of agony. Wails and cries of pain filled the air as the smell of death spread fast while the white high towers of a once immaculate castle fell from the sky, destroyed by the fire of hatred; its inhabitants burning, their skins melting and turning to ashes. And amid this dreadful, crude, and horrid chaos, a white horse with a blonde mane pierced through the fallen city. A cloaked figure skillfully directed the strong and rapid mount among the soldiers who were blood red, tightly but carefully holding an infant, newborn baby in his arms and vanished in the forest.

This was by far the most frightening dream Eowyn had had. If Gaius was right, if these dreams were memories of her very early childhood, if the people she had seen were her birthparents, there was a high probability that they had already left the realm of living. There was no chance now for her to know them, to know more about who she was. Her family, perhaps her entire kind had been murdered during the Great Purge led by Uther. He had killed her parents. Not directly, but he was responsible for it. He had their blood on his hands, and the blood of many, countless other innocent people.

The more the days passed, the more it appeared difficult to remain under Uther's command. It became more and more difficult to follow his orders knowing the massacre, the slaughter he had allowed and committed. It did not feel right to her, to serve such a heartless, tyrannical king. Yet, what could she do? She was but a magical being that would be beheaded the moment the truth about her. She could defend herself against one man but she could not defend herself against a kingdom.

Eowyn sharply inhaled. It was wrong. She had made an oath. Do not cause harm and live a respectful life. Having such thoughts was not acceptable. But could she bear living in a lie for the rest of her life? Could she bear to live a lie of pretense? Could she bear to live a life as someone she was not? She feared what she could but she did not want to deny a part of herself.

She took the book. The green leathered, metal ornamented one. Though she could not understand what it said, looking at paintings of her people always brought her a sense of serenity. To see them so free, so blissful, so at peace with who they were. The life she yearned to live. A life of freedom where magical beings could live in harmony with humans. A life where being born different was not a crime. As she turned the pages of the book, she found a particular section that brought a smile to her face. The paintings depicted the pointed-ears beings in the middle of the dance. It seemed to be the depiction of a ceremony. They appeared so tranquil, so serene, as if war had ever reached their lands. A utopia where only peace prevailed.

With a longing smile, Eowyn gracefully reproduced the movements. She moved her arms gently, and slowly as the wind guided her movement. Eyes glowing the purest white, she let herself be guided by the kind breeze. Her steps were light, like a feather, as she connected with the wind, and listened to the birds chirping, the leaves brushing, linking her spirit to nature. Her mind was naked of weighing worries or heavy fear. She commended the wind around her in the most beautiful and gracious ballet.

But the peaceful silence shattered. Her heart tightened, and her soul broke, as an agonizing scream resonated in her mind. She gasped, ceasing any movements as the jars and vials that had been levitated around her fell and broke on the floor. Heavily breathing and the heart hammering, Eowyn, utterly frightened and concerned, frenetically looked around. The voice sounded so young, that of a child, and sounded greatly in pain and sorrow. A cold, freezing chill ran down her spine as the wind began agitating. At once, Eowyn sped out of the chambers and followed the troubled breeze. She looked around, preoccupied with any sign of a child in need of help.