Of all the children of Imrahil, the elven blood ran the strongest in the daughter. Her sight was keener than the trained archer, her form commanded honor and respect, and she moved with unearthly grace. She also possessed the gift of knowing. It was not foresight; she only saw colors and shadows of the misty future instead of clear pictures. But, she had the uncanny ability of determining the truth of words and the honesty (or absence of it) in the eyes. However, there was one instance when she dreamed a dream that was as clear as the day.
She was sixteen at the time, already receiving offers of courtship and marriage. She refused them all, for she saw the one she would wed. In her dream, he rode a steed of rushing fire, surrounded by wave of glinting gold. He held a sword aloft while a stream of white flowed from behind his helmet, which hid the shape and features of his face. But his eyes drew her even closer. Eyes the color of the green gray of the sea and hardened by the warrior life.
Just as she knew she would, she married the man of her dreams. Every time she saw him, and especially when he bestowed a golden smile, she felt her heart rushing to ears. She saw that everybody wanted him; he was the king. She saw ladies turn pale or rosy red when he walked past, and she knew that they wondered what it was like to be loved by him. She played her part; it wasn't hard to since she did love him. But she could see in his eyes that she was nothing more than the queen of his nation, daughter to a friend, and the one who warmed his bed some nights. She hated to think about what he did on the other nights.
She couldn't help loving him, for he was a great man of duty and honor. She bore him sons and daughters, and he was truly fond of them. But she loved them more fiercely than a mother bear, for her children were the result of her love. She found it a comfort that all of them took on some of her features and temperament.
Once the children aged and moved on with their lives, she found herself going back to the days of her childhood. She mourned for the girl with dreams. She still felt the rush whenever he was near, but it only brought her sorrow and pain. While his attention used to make her feel like flying like the eagles, now it only felt like her bones crushing.
She had grown old in years, though her body showed little sign of it. She was still strong of body and mind; like the ever young elves, her eyes gleamed with wisdom learned from hardship. But she knew it was time to go. She had done her duty to her husband, children, and country. Knowing that she was never meant to be remembered in history, she prepared herself to be like the mist in the morning. Beautiful while it lasted, but forgotten by midday. It was an early spring morning; the purple grey of the dawn heralding a bright day to come. She silently slipped out the city and headed towards the burial mounds. Standing in the midst of the delicate fragrance of white stars, she turned her face towards the east. For the first time in years, she felt the warms of the golden rays as the sun rose. When the morning mist of glowing gold rushed away with the heat of the day, so did she.
A/N: inspired from Taylor Swift's "gold rush" from her "evermore" album.