Mirror
I walk along the lake but I find no peace, no rest. War will be upon us, a shadow lingers at my borders. Darkness seeps in. I can feel it with every breath I take, it hurts in my lungs, makes my head spin like no dark wine could. And I fear, I fear so much. Everything lies in shadows again and old scars come forth. Burning fire. Molten flesh. I look into the clear water and what I see is a mask barely hiding all those horrors imprinted in my soul. My skin.
In ancient times, in years I do no longer remember I had looked into the mirror and seen a proud young man, his face a beauty not to be compared with any Sindar walking this earth. I was well aware of my own beauty. Too aware. Too proud and too vain.
Proud I am still but there is no vanity left. My beauty is destroyed from within. Blades may cut our skin and we will heal. Scars will fade. But not those left by dragon fire. The searing pain cuts deep into an Elven's soul, destroys everything that lies on its path. I nearly died. I wanted to die. Still do at times. No more. No more.
I fought the great serpents in the War of Wrath, I fought, I survived. But I no longer live. I remember my father's cries and his words beseeching me to stay, not to go, not to give in. I scream. Even today I scream in my sleep when the dragon strikes again. I feel my skin melting, my muscles burn and my blackened bones crumble. I feel cold Elvish hands weaving magic into my broken body. I remember. I remember. I wish I would not.
I look into the water and it mirrors back my face, stricken with grief. My mask has slipped and I can no longer hide. Burned flesh, burned skin. A hollow face. I dare not look closer because I fear for my sanity. This is not me. Is it?
Why does it hurt so much?
My soul is marred. My soul is burned. My soul weeps. Too much pain for an immortal to bear.