For the next few days I had trouble sleeping and I frequently broke into anger for no apparent reason. I got mad at simple things like stubbing my toe and my cat scratching at the carpet. I decided that I had to go back and be by Anwyel's side regardless of what came, even if that meant dying in my dreams and perhaps reality as well. But I could not return to the dream state. The harder I tried, the more anger consumed me.

In the meantime I worked at my new job at the Latino Center. I completed the first week and enjoyed a measure of the warm fuzzys associated in helping people that are in need. I helped give out food to a hungry family. I comforted a man who came in shaken and in tears. I assisted an elderly lady fill out a job application in English. After these events, I slept well. At the end of the week I slept soundly and returned to the dream state.

The forest was empty of all creatures, even birds. I could smell smoke on the North wind. I panicked. The village was empty and most of the houses burned. Most of the forest had been consumed as well. It seemed to take several hours for me to run to the plateau. I ran and walked intermittently, my heart pounding at the outrage of putting it to so much stress suddenly. At last I came to the clearing where the plateau began, outlined in the distance by the snowy mountains. The plateau was littered with the dead. Disbelief enveloped my mind.

I don't know how long I spent numbly going from body to body. At last I found the Elves, clustered near the middle of the field. They had of course been in the lead and the first to encounter the blond warriors. The Elves had taken a great toll and probably were the reason the battle was won over the Northern soldiers. All the Elves were there, they had given themselves completely to the battle and committed all the villagers. Perhaps they had been driven from their village, or perhaps the logic of the younger had swayed the logic of the elders. Even Garth lay crumpled in a heap apparently trying to protect the Elvan children to the end.

I then knew where to find my beloved, although I prayed with every ounce of my being that I would not find him there. At the very vortex of the battle, his body lay against that of his father as if in protection. His father had been killed instantly and I realized immediately that Anwyel had died alone, with no one to comfort him. I heard an unsettling scream of agony and realized it came from my own lips.

There were no Elves left to bury their fellow beings. I did not know where other Elvan villages were and none of the humans that survived the battle knew. They drug bodies into a common area and intended to burn the remains to prevent the spread of disease. I became savage in my insistence that all the Elves be buried together. Even that did not ease my pain at letting my lifemate die alone. At my instruction, three stones were hauled to protect the Elvan burial and the humans promised to honor those who had protected them and won the war for them by keeping the stones intact forever. I went back to the Elvan village and sat in the ruins of my father-in-law's house and allowed what I had not allowed for years. I cried. I could no longer utter the name of my Beloved because his name was no longer mine to share.

For several days I wandered, not eating or sleeping, until I encountered another Elvan village. They were preparing to go to war with a new wave of humans from the north. I begged them not to go and screamed the loss of Cuinean's village and my beloved. Several cousins of the family came to comfort me, but they could not. I heard them speaking of me with melancholy. They decided to send me back to my reality because my sadness hurt them. I didn't want to leave and resisted with all that I could grasp in my mind. They said I had already suffered enough and should not be made to witness their death. They felt all the Elves would eventually die in their battle with humans. I then declared I would stay and die with them because I had to find the soul of my Beloved. They succeeded in the end, however, and returned me to my waking state somehow. Since that time, I have not been able to reenter the dreamstate.

As I was returned to the waking state I brushed against the time circle briefly and, although I could not enter it, I saw several of my lifetimes pass by. I could not live with what I had done. I had perfect love and betrayed it for foolish human emotions. In several lifetimes I took my own life so the memories had been taken from me.

I returned to my own time and reality with knowledge of my past life as an Elf. Although I do not remember what actually happened the day I walked away from the village (perhaps the memory is still too painful for me to encompass), I have full knowledge of what I did and how my betrayal became the basis for hurt and pain in my present life.

It has become more profound when I realize that I have caused much of my own grief in this life. I often sabotaged myself so that I would fail at all I tried. I have never allowed a close relationship with anyone, though I had physical passion for several men. I realize that each that had attracted me was unattainable and perhaps that's why I was drawn to them. And each had an element of my Beloved: a crooked smile, an intense look, the way their stature looked against the sunset, or even the aroma of certain woods.

I have not yet found the strength to let go of the past. What keeps me going in this life is a daughter that offers Elf-like compassion. The only brief respite from my pain is in writing about it and that now being done, I don't know what to do with Tolkein's "what time I have been given". My daughter suggested I go on a quest to find the three rocks on the plateau but I don't know where to begin to look. After several hours on the internet, we found a plateau between a mountain range and a forest to the south in Slovenia. Should I go there? Or perhaps Ireland or Wales because of my Celtic heritage? If this event was truly real, would I find evidence of it and what would I do with that information? Would it ease the pain I now carry?

I still battle fits of crying and the pain has settled deep in my heart. It is so intense that whenever something reminds me of my Beloved I cry uncontrollably. If this event was not real, why are my emotions so out of control? Did a race of Elves really once live? Were they perhaps descendants of the Neanderthals, which maybe weren't as brutish as we insist on making them?

I may find answers to some of my questions in this life. I would truly like to find solace and forgiveness for what I did. My daughter insists a friend will come to help me in my quest. Sometimes she displays such Elvan qualities that I wonder if perhaps some of them did not survive after all.

The memories are fading quickly from my mind, which is why I had the urgency to write all this down. If real, perhaps the memory is fading so that the pain can be eased. Part of me wants the pain to end because I feel I cannot deal with it. Another part of me wants to consume the pain, feel it to the fullest and let it wash away the guilt whatever the cost.

While I no longer have knowledge of his true name, my Beloved is such a part of me that I cannot separate him from my own soul. I cannot separate his grief at dying alone from my grief at betraying him. The gift of perfect love, for me, was accompanied by perfect grief. May you find from my tragedy the balance of gifts in your own life.

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Copyright 2001. This is my story. Please write for permission to use excerpts.

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