Silmarwen: Thanks for your review! It is kind of supposed to be confusing-this girl appears out of nowhere, into nowhere, all she knows is Mathieu's name and she loves him and now he is gone, the confusion is coming from her perspective, and confusing the reader-adding hopefully to the story and hopefully making it exciting and full of doubt, discovery-Hopefully!

Colourful Darkness: Thanks!

This chapter I have a song that matches perfectly it is called The Memory of Trees by Enya_the link is here just drag it into your search bar.

.com/watch?v=tL29MQMRUaw (this should take you to Google-choose the first one on the list made by hippylove28-her video is the best I've found! or you can go onto my profile and it'll have the right link there that will take you straight to it!)

:D


Enithea watched as the snow dripped of the trees, and dainty blossoms appeared, in its place.

The cold snowy forest had turned into a wood of blooming cherry blossoms.

Surely it is magic.

Enithea caught a blossom that had fluttered off a branch, tucking it behind her ear she walked under the canopy of the blooms on the trees.

She came to a shinning lake, that seemed to stretch on forever before her. With trees hanging over it's surface, blossoms falling on the silver water.

It gleamed like silver in the light, she walked to the waters edge, and let the water lapp onto her feet.

Stepping deeper, her floor length dress billowed in the water, she walked in deeper until the silver water reached her waist. She ran her fingers through it, casting shinning ripples out from her hands.

The delicate pink blossoms that continued to fall, came to rest in her hair, and in the water next to her, as Enithea walked they caught onto her dress, floating next to her.

Were am I?

Were is Mathieu?

Enithea stood in the water, staring out across the surface. The wind blew her hair away from her face, her dress billowing in the water and air.

She was trapped in a world she knew nothing of, she had no memory of how she got there or why she was in this mystical world.

All she could remember was that she loved Mathieu, and he had been taken from her.

Something touched her, disrupting her thoughts. Looking down she saw it was a beautiful carved white boat, floating next to her.

She climbed into it, and the current grasped the intricate vessel, and took it past the wood, into a place were all Enithea could see was water.

What is this place I know nothing of?

The current then pulled her further into another forest, the lake thinning into a river that wound through the trees. A green canopy lay above her, the occasional leaf falling into her boat. She gazed around at her surroundings, wondering what secrets the lush tree's hid.

The river carried her down until it fanned out into the lake again.

She cupped her hand into the water and drew from it a lily, white as snow.

Now instead of blossoms floating in the silver water, there was lilies, scattered over the vast lake.

Enithea drank from the pure water, it freshened her, quenching the thirst she had not realized she possessed. She slipped the lily back into the water, and watched as it made its way down the silvery lake.

She sat back into the boat. What is the point of this?

Am I ever going to stop being a wanderer in a land of magic, a land which I do not know how I got here or why I am here?

Enithia's boat sat lonely in the vast waters, water shimmering around it.

She looked around her again, from all around the landscape had one characteristic-water.

Then from somewhere came a faint sound, so faint it could have not been. Then there it was again, yet louder this time-until it was so load that she could almost feel the boat trembling, with the magnificent sound.

It was sweet sound like honey, flowing like a river, and bubbling like a fountain. It sounded at first like birds singing in harmony of spring, then a thousand leaves falling in the midst of autumn, the sound a million of china snowflakes dancing to the ground in winter, and the gushing of a waterfall in summer.

The intricate white boat seemed to be pulled to the sound, attracted to its beauty. It flitted through the waters with ease, pulling to an place full of wonder and grace.

There, from out of nowhere rose a place beautiful and majestic, full of intricate pillars, with pavilions scattered and carved bridges and halls and towers, carved in beauty.

It was peaceful, but Enithea sensed power in its midst despite its beauty and grace, it was the land of the immortal, graceful Elves, whose beauty and grace spread to those they were a-midst.

There was Rivendell.