Conquerors
By Arwyn, of the Lios Alfar
Love, they will tell you, can conquer all. A theory with certain inherent flaws, perhaps. A theory which I came once to test.
Before I begin, I shall outline something of our race. Our skills, and our selves, are not always lost when we die. Some of us continue on as avatars, into different bodies, different people. I - Arwyn - am one such person. Another such was Llawdan.
Llawdan was tall, and devilishly handsome, his dark features striking even without the beautiful antlers pushing through his softly curling hair. He was the greatest archer this land, or any other, has seen. He traveled always, wandering on, for how, he asked, could any person be content to live forever in the same land, when there is so much that can be seen? With his bow slung carelessly over one shoulder and a quiver resting at one hip, he needed little else, and with a song on his lips he passed softly through worlds and lives leaving only our wistful memories.
And he loved me as I loved him.
We traveled together, Llawdan and I, wanderers both. We witnessed the birth of a star, and the death of a world, the triumph of hope over those who would see it crushed, and the final breath of a true hero. On occasion we could help, on others we could do nothing but watch, and bear witness. On other occasions no help was necessary, and these were the best times of all.
We traveled together for many years, until finally we admitted to ourselves what we both knew: that what we had was greater than any love before, and more passionate than any could be in the future, and that, to put it simply, we could not countenance life without the other. We returned home, and stood side by side on a beach before the setting sun, before our friends and our ancestors, and swore that we would always be together. And the cynics laughed and the romantics cried and he kissed me, and I knew then that I had made the right choice.
We had many wonderful times together, Llawdan and I, wandering on. The years stretched into decades, and centuries, and millennia, and still we loved each other, and knew that we should be together. For love can conquer time.
The millennia passed and even our race, eternal though we may seem, do come to age. Grey streaked through his once beautiful brown hair, and his hand lost its surety, his aim lost its perfection. When I looked at him, it was through eyes wrinkled with time, and my own hair was grey, and my own hand unsteady. But I still loved him, and he still loved me. For love can conquer age.
You know what is coming. It comes to all of us. It came first to Llawdan, quietly, peacefully, in his sleep. We were far from home, in the shelter of a greenwood glade, and I am still glad of that, for Llawdan did not have a spirit which should leave this life from within four walls. I woke to the stiffness of a cooling empty shell. I buried him myself, with his bow in one hand, and my ring on the other, and placed a cairn to mark his passing, though by this point I had hardly the strength to do so. I grieved for many years, long after many expected me to recover and become used to it, but I did not. For love can conquer death.
Many years later, I too died. As I said, some of us continue as avatars, myself included. I died at the end of a long and so happy life, and I returned, as I knew I would, and I was someone different. A different person, a different life.
Some many years later I met another different person. No longer of the clan of the Stag, his long hair was blonde, his physique stronger, his eyes darting with a fire I had never seen. But I knew him, as all our kind will know one they have met before. One they have loved before. Llawdan stood before me. I could see he felt as I did.
It was awkward. We tried, hard, for the sake of those we had once been, and what we had once felt, but it wasn't true any more. Though Llawdan and Arwyn remained a part of us, they were only a part of two very different people. He didn't know me, I didn't know him. We spent time together, but it only reminded us of what we had lost. And finally, with embarrassment, we gave up, and drifted apart, subtly avoiding each other from then on. I do not know where Llawdan is now, who he is, what he does, whom he loves, where he walks.
For love cannot conquer everything.
All Works are © Original Author
(OC Author - Marianne Wells)