A/N: Here is a short little one-shot for you.
Mirror
The road runs through the long fields of rye and barley on either side of the river. A space of flowers is overlooked by a tall gray castle. In the dusk, little breezes rustle the plants on the ground, framed in the last glowing rays of sunlight where the sky meets. It's a beautiful sight, but she can't see it.
In the dawn, she's singing from her tower. Her song reaches out over the fields and is caught by the ears of an early-morning reaper. He stops, straightens, and looks upward. "Listen," he tells his partner, who also drops his scythe.
"'Tis the fairy," he says.
She was the golden-haired lady, the maiden in her tower. All night and all day she sat there, weaving. In front of her stood a mirror, through which she watched the world. A whisper once told her of her curse if she were to look directly upon the world. So she sits in her tower, singing as she weaves the mirror's magic sights.
She doesn't know what the curse will do to her, so she delights in her web and the shadow sights of the mirror. Sometimes the knights would come riding down the road two-and-two, or happy damsels, or an abbot, or a page in crimson, or a curly-haired shepherd boy. Often at night she would see a lighted funeral going silently to the castle, and once, a young couple, just wed, as their shadows pass through her mirror.
She watches them with longing. She has no loyal knight.
"I'm half sick of shadows," she says.
She doesn't sing the next day, and weaves in silence as she watches the world in her mirror. And then, a bow-shot's distance from the eaves of her tower, she sees him. Between the barley sheaves he rides. The sun dances through the leaves and flames upon the figure of the bold, red-crossed knight. His war horse strides on burnished hooves, his long violet hair cascades from beneath his helmet and glows in the sunlight. The bells on the halter clink and his armor rings. A bugle bounces against the jeweled saddle leather. The knight rides down to the broad stream, singing "Tirra lirra," and on toward the castle.
She leaves her web, the loom and mirror. Three paces takes her across the room, to the window, and she sees the world. She sees the plumes and helmets of the knights, she sees the water lilies, and the storm coming on the east wind. She looks down to the castle.
The mirror cracks, the web flies out.
"The curse is come upon me," she cries.
The pale yellow woods dim in the straining storm. The river complains as the wind whips the rain out of the low sky.
She leaves her tower and walks down to the river, where she found a boat underneath a willow tree. Around the prow she writes a single word. A name. Rima.
She wanders the dim expanse of the river, until the day begins to close. She draws the chains that hold to boat to the shore and lays herself down in it. The river takes her far away, through the noises of the night. She lays in her snowy robes flowing to either side of her, and the leaves fall lightly onto her fading figure.
They hear her singing her last song, a mournful, holy carol. She sings it loudly, lowly, until her blood is frozen and her eyes darkened. The river turns to the towered gray castle. As she reaches the first house along the waterside, she dies, singing. Her gleaming shape floats by gardens, under towers and balconies, dead pale and silent to the castle.
They came out upon the wharfs. The knights and lords and ladies gathered. The sound of royal cheer from the palace died. The read her name around the prow, and crossed themselves fearfully.
It was Nagihiko who stepped forth.
He said, "She has a lovely face."
A/N: This was heavily based on Lord Tennyson's poem "The Lady of Shalott." I don't take any credit for the story, and I realize some of my wording is very similar to his. I basically wrote it without rhymes, with Rima and Nagihiko instead of the Lady of Shalott and Lancelot. It is one of my favorite stories of all time, and I highly recommend you read it. If you would rather listen to it sung than read it, go to youtube and search "Loreen McKennit the Lady of Shalott."
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