Through the forest canopy the night sky was bright and the stars blazed, bathing the land surrounding me in a brilliant, haunting light. I looked around. Everything was silent, except the distant gushing of water. This place seemed so familiar, like I’d seen it in some other lifetime. Yet I had no idea where I was, or how I got there. A breeze whispered past my ear. I listened, hearing words in a strange language I didn’t understand, yet one word sounded strangely familiar to me… “Firedhelien…” Ahead of me, through the trees, I could see a faint light shining. It was strangely hypnotic, and somehow it was drawing me towards it. My feet seemed to be moving on their own as I took a few steps forward. The light grew stronger and the breeze kept whispering in its strange language. I kept walking, oblivious to everything around me except the light’s dazzling glow. The sight that met my eyes was so brilliant as I came up to the light. Standing before me was an Elven Prince. He was perhaps 6 feet tall, lean but very well built, with long, brilliant sun-gold hair and tanned skin. He was dressed in all green and brown, apart from a silvery-grey cloak he wore around his shoulders. But by far his most amazing feature was his eyes, Brilliant green they were, green as the grass in the fields of Rohan. They held in them the Wisdom, sadness and memories of the long Ages of Elven immortality. He was mounted on a silver horse, whose mane and tail flashed with diamond lustre and whose eyes reflected the elements of its creation. Spirit, fire and dew. The Prince gazed upon me with his eyes, probing into my soul and willing me to look up at him. I looked up at him in as and he gazed at me, sending shivers through my spine. He held out his hand to me, and although he spoke no words, I knew he wanted me to climb up on his horse and come with him, wherever he was going. An overwhelming desire to do just that took hold of me and I reached for his hand. Suddenly, everything disappeared…
… I found myself in my bedroom, woken by the blaring of the alarm clock on my bedside table. I sighed, pulling back the covers and sitting up in the freezing cold of early morning. Why do I have to live in this world? I thought as I gazed into the mirror and grimaced. My reflection taunted back at me. My waist-length jet black hair, tanned skin, startling blue almond eyes and my oddly pointed ears all contributed to my hellish time in that daily torture, school.
“Elf girl” “freak” “loser” and “Weirdo” were some of the many names I’d been christened with over my past three years at St. Gillian’s Christian School for Girls. I had no friends there, but so many enemies, and their stupid names and hostile behaviour toward me made me withdrawn, aggressive and depressed. My only escape was my daydreams. There I would wander long forgotten worlds and be absolutely content. Often I’d draw what I saw there, not wanting to forget the beautiful scenery. My art was the only thing that gained me ever so slight respect at St Gillian’s. People gazed in awe at the sketches that fell out of my books at inconvenient moments, but they were eventually dismissed and assumed someone else’s.
Walking out the door is often the hardest thing for me to do in the morning. It’s like a march to my doom, knowing I have to survive yet another day. I trudged drearily along, staring straight down at the cracked dull concrete and ignoring the girls who made snide comments and giggled whispers to their friends “Oh look! It’s Melody the freaky loser.” I heard one girl say. “You should really get some surgery on those ears, Elf girl.” Sneered someone else. I fought back the urge to punch them both, and kept on walking. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed a brilliant shimmer. It was incredibly bright, and I wondered why no one else noticed it before I did. It was a silver brooch, but the most beautiful silver brooch I’d ever seen in my life. It was leaf- shaped, studded with tiny jewels that shined an infinite amount of colours, making everything that surrounded it dull and grey by contrast. There was an ethereal quality to it, something that no material object on earth could ever dream of possessing. The brooch was otherworldly.
Should I leave it there? I thought as I looked at it hesitantly. Or wait for someone to pick it up. Surely its owner will come back for it. It’s so beautiful…For what seemed like hours I stared at the brooch, debating whether to pick it up or leave it lying in the middle of the footpath. My thoughts wrestled with each other, but eventually the desire to pick it up overwhelmed me. I kneeled down on the ground and gently picked up the beautiful brooch….