Morning mist
Soft is the moonlight reflected from the mists, blowing in wisps from across the moors so near the sea. The dawn not far off as the eastern sky begins to blend its rising colors with those of the moonset. Upon a knoll, nestled in the heathers nearby, sits a lady. Woken from dreams, drawn to this place she knows not why, awaiting the rising of the sun. In the distance dark and alone, rising above the mists, outlined against the dawn stands a Castle.
Once her home, long ago filled with laughter and song. Joy and happiness in the land then, when the Lords still there lived, back before time stopped and her heart fire grew c0ld. For with her father, when the call to fire and war came, rode he to who she had given her heart and soul. Few were left behind, the children and the old, to few to protect the castle and hold when sea raiders came, bringing with them fire and destruction.
Long the months since that did happen, longer still since last word came of the final battle. In a faraway wood her father fell, and those who stood beside him died, in a stand that broke the enemies hold. No word of he who she loved, whether alive or dead, came from the words of the Bards that have come and gone. Of the stories told of the heroes that day, of her love they had much to say, of his gallantry, but none as to his fate.
The moon has set and slowly the eastern sky turns to a purple and the clouds above begin to take on the colors of a rainbow, the last of the stars becoming dim as they go to their sleep. The stream that circles around this knoll coming to a waterfall and a hidden pool brings back memories to her as she sits in silence waiting for some doom. She knows not what she waits for but that soon it will come.
Strangely her heart is light. In the dawn, with the sounds of the birds a background, she sees the fox run through the meadow to the woods nearby. The murmur of the falls comes gently to her ears, the fragrances of the flowers beginning to bloom and awake from their nights sleep carried to her upon the breeze. In silence does she continue to sit, her memories flooding through her, bringing a smile to her heart and warmth to her soul.
The Fragrance of spring’s flowers brings back memories of another day, another morning, when here she sat but not alone. Of swimming and making love under the sun and moon. Many the times tucked in the arms of her love, to sit back in safety and comfort, to watch the stars above. Many times to watch the sunrise and the mists swirl, retreating to the moors and bogs from which each night they would come.
Leaving in the suns morning light, dew upon the grass bringing with it greens of the grass, and the colors of the wild flowers that grow in the meadow. The beauty of the Forrest in the distance, hard have the days been since the fall of her home. Never though in despair, always with hope, yet as the years did pass hope began to wither. Yet joy was still to be found in her heart, for on the last night together they made love.
In the months after a child inside grown to become born, a son with the light of his father residing behind his eyes. In the mornings light a tear begins to fall from her eye as her heart again remembers the love and joy of those days gone by. The silence broken now as from behind she hears the sounds of steps coming up from behind, for an instant her heart pounds her blood begins to flow.
Turning rapidly in thought and hope, but tis not what she would wish, yet it is nonetheless a good thing. For coming along the path that leads to where she sits, come three others, her friends. Saying nothing they sit beside her and look to the moors and the mists that still cover and hide. Yet each has looked in the eye of the other and seen the same thing. Something has come in the night to disturb dreams and lead them to this place.
Now with the rising of the sun the breeze comes fresh from the sea, bringing with it, its own fragrance and memories. Each of the ladies silent in the mornings sun, in awe for the beauty that is beginning to unfold before them, as the mists begin their final retreat. Yet to only one place do their eyes rest and that is upon the moors to which their loved ones long ago marched. Inside she knows that he shall never return this shall be her last morning of hope.
Taking the hands of her friends, she hangs her head to hide the tears that have finally come, come to cleanse her soul and give new beginnings, each in her thoughts saying goodbye to the one she loved. A final sending of the soul to search for those they were given to. To stand beside them wherever they would be. Knowing that love crosses the void. As she sits head bowed her hand is gripped, squeezed with strength, she hears a gasp.
Raising her head, she looks but sees nothing but the swirling of the retreating mists. Then in wonder as though in a dream she sees. From the mists there comes a knight, the morning sun reflecting off beaten armor, head held high, then from the mists come others, in silence do these woman stand. In silence do those below halt and time again stops as each catches and holds the eyes of the one they love and again souls meld and become one.