Not Forgotten:
Merlin visits the lake on the anniversary of Freya's death.
….
The sun was just breaking over the horizon as the young man wove throughout the trees. He walked swiftly with his head down, glancing up every now and then to make sure he was following the right path. The jacket he wore was thin and shabby, a faded brown colour, and hung loosely from his wiry frame. A swath of tattered material hid his throat from view and in his right hand he clutched a small bouquet of flowers.
After a few minutes the man emerged from the shelter of the trees, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the change of light. The great pool of water sparkled in the early morning sun, which spilled its golden rays over the pale, watery blue sky as though somebody had upset a chalice of the glowing light. Surrounding the lake were mountains lush with clover, reaching towards the rising sun.
Merlin placed the bouquet of flowers at the edge of the lake and sat back, smiling as the water lapped at them gently. Cupping his hands together, he whispered a few words in the Old Language and his eyes glowed golden for a moment before fading back to their natural blue. He opened his hands once more to reveal three ripe, red strawberries. He set these at the lake's edge also, smiling softly as the water pulled them, one after another, from the bank. He liked to imagine that she had taken them, because they were her favourites.
The warlock sat there for a few more minutes, happy to remain silent. But as the sun rose higher in the sky, bathing the lake in a soft green light filtered through the trees, he knew that it was time for him to go.
Awkwardly clambering to his feet – he would never learn the grace that she had naturally possessed – he glanced back at the spot where he had put his love to rest.
"I will never forget you", he promised, before turning away.
….
Short and sweet. Hope you liked it. x