My white hands are cold and my shawl does not help a lot anymore to ward of the cold of a true mountain winter. My handwriting is no longer as even as it once was, my eyes fail me more than I had ever expected they would. But my stone castle does me great comfort, even in the barreness of it.
    My servants and what little family I had with me are all dead or sent away, and it is only because of great gifts I still live. If only I could have given those gifts to others for their good instead of my own. The streets that once thrived with people are empty, and children's cries and dog's barks no longer echo among the buildings of brick and stone.
    I am the granddaughter of a famous king you may have heard of, if tales of him are still told: Brutus the Trojan. Brutus lived in ancestry and long before the days of King Arthur. His eldest son, Locrine, was my father. Locrine was married, in the first, to the daughter of one of grandfather's best friends. Her name was Guendolen and was a sorrowful woman--from many hardships, I am sure. But my mother was named Estrildis, and she had been brought captive from Scythia while Locrine reigned in the territories grandfather Brutus had passed to him at his death. Locrine saw my mother when she was brought in his palace as a captive, and because of her rare beauty, became enamored with her. Through wrong dealings, I was born of Estrildis and Locrine while the latter was still married to Guendolen. But after Guendolen's father died, Locrine divorced Guendolen and married my mother. It was a day I'll never forget, even though I was but four years old.

    The horses stomped and pranced in anticipation, providing a backdrop for the loud murmuring among the thousands of people. But they were not happy, I remember knowing. They knew that this was a fateful day for their lord.
    I was not allowed downstairs to join the wedding because of the shame I represented, though I didn't know that was the reason then. I contented myself with playing in my room. Sometimes I would hear something down in the main Hall, but eventually I got bored of running to the small overlooking balcony. I was an innocent little girl, and contented myself usually with the most simple things. When my mother cried I cried too, when she was happy I rejoiced with her, though I didn't always know why. But the people's countenance confused me.
    "Why aren't the people happy?" I asked my nurse. She looked surprised at the question.
    "Why don't you think they're happy?"
    "Because they aren't making noise and none of them are smiling." I answered matter-of-factly.
    "Well..." I know now what peril she must have been in. She couldn't explain something like this to me, being who I was. "They are worried about a fight breaking out." This answer made me very curious, but I didn't say anything more.

    Guendolen went home in tears to the place of her birth, where her eldest son had been raised by her father. They gathered all their friends and loyal subjects and waged war on Locrine, my father. Locrine was slain in battle and my mother and I were taken captive by the rejected Guendolen.
    I remember clearly the day my mother and I were taken down to the river that ran near the palace. Guendolen and all her people stood as witnesses as we were bound tightly. I was only ten or eleven, but I remember everything clearly. I can still see in my mind the knight's glittering steel mail, the rather large Guendolen looking on with steely eyes, and my home in the background. Many people who were now under the new queen were weeping and crying, but no one with any power looked to them.
    The river water swirled and churned over sharp rocks and boulders just in front of me. My mother stood beside me, looking sad and angry all at once.
    Then came the blindfolds and I was picked up by one of Guendolen's men. I could still hear my mother amid the silence, near beside me. Then I could hear the river, angry and fast, beneath me. I could feel the cold air currents carried by the river. Then I was free-falling, and my mother caught her breath before we plunged together into the icy river. The shock took my breath away, and the blackness conquered my mind.


    Sweet singing, like the sound of a thousand birds on the first day of spring, yet less clamorous, the voice or voices complemented each other instead of trying to be the loudest. My hands were no longer bound, but my eyes felt like they were glued shut. I lifted my fingers to my eyes and found there was a heavy cloth over them.
    "Oh now, my little bird. Naught for thee yet." And strange fingers put my hands back down at my sides. The voice was the one which had been singing, a high, musical voice that didn't even cease to be melodical when it spoke.
    My mother was my first thought, even before my own safety. But my mouth wouldn't move to ask a question, and I doubt I would have had the courage to ask even if I could have spoken. The voice continued to sing in thousands of tones and melodies, all blending together, it seemed, without words.
    A few minutes passed, and I almost jumped when the voice inside the room spoke to someone else. The other voice answered back in the same language and almost the same way of speaking, except the second voice was the slightest bit deeper. Then the singing resumed, and my body relaxed once again.
    Then the singing stopped again.
    "'Tis the hour of evening judgement. Thee and myself shalt attend." Here I expected, as you would have, to be allowed to see, but the blindfold was stayed in place. The strange hands once again touched me and guided my feet safely. When I stood up, I found I could speak.
    "Might I be allowed to see?"
    "Nay, it is not for mortals to look upon us." The melodic, high voice answered.
    "Then where is my mother?"
    "She is not with you, she has passed on to recieve a higher judgement than the courts of this earth." I don't think I realized at that moment what the statement truly meant, for other things took my attention away from pondering the words.
    The owner of the voice helped me to stand, as I said before, and my bare feet touched what seemed to be earth. I had a sense I was in a small room. The rough blankets I had been lying on were fairly low to the ground. The only sound was the almost noiseless pit-pat of my own feet and a much longer, though just as soft, noise to my right. The strange hand held my own and I didn't stumble.
    We went out through what seemed to be a steel doorway. I felt a bit of the steel frame of the door under my feet. We paused on the way out and there was a blowing sound, like the blowing out of a candle or lamp. Then the door was shut behind us, and I had a sense we were in a much larger room. The sound of long, soft steps multiplied and echoed the slightest bit, but there was no other noise. We, all the other footsteps and I, walked for what seemed like a very long time. My senses were all alert, and the strain of it was begining to wear on me by the time another noise was heard.
    Beautiful voices, like chaotic voices all competing for supremacy, filled the air slowy, muffled, as if coming from behind a door or heavy curtain. A minute or so passed, then we passed through another doorway and the voices all became clear and loud. But they stopped as soon as the door shut behind us. It felt like a thousand eyes were on me, but I am not quite sure even today if I was the reason they had stopped talking.
    There was a small scuffling noise, and the hand that still held mine tensed the slightest bit. Light, long footsteps could be heard in the silent room. They stopped a long ways out in front of me, but directly in front.
    "It has been many years since a daughter of men has visited our realm." A deep, melodious voice came through the silence. "The judgement shall come."
    Then there was another ruffling noise, like the sound of many chairs being taken and sat in.
    "Please, might I see?" Fear promted me to speak, I think. It's much more disturbing not seeing who is looking at you. And not being able to even try to destinguish friend from foe is nerve-wracking.
    "But, dear heart, our faces do not look like the ones you have seen all your life. You might be too frightened." the voice gently answered.
    "Please, you've given me a warning. I would much rather be allowed to see."
    The deep voice sighed and a murmuring went around the room. After a moment or two of silence, a signal was given, and I could feel the odd fingers working at my blindfold. When it came off I closed my eyes for a second, then opened them.
    My senses that had been previously muffled or blinded now came to life. An earthy, almost watery smell filled the room. High, vaulted ceilings soared over two long lines of chairs, going up in sort of a straight isle to the throne directly in front of me. Sitting in the chairs, and in the throne, were the strangest sort of people I had ever beheld. They had sort of human shapes, yet not so. I knew immidiatly what they were, though. Nymphs are hard to mistake. I had read in the old stories about them. They are hard to describe, even in their human shapes. They have sort of a weird, watery appearance, as if you could pass your hand through them without any resistance. Yet they have solidity about them also. They have human-like faces, but fairer. Most were crowned with rushes or vines that becomed them beautifully. All eyes were on me, and I stared back, unafraid with only the uneducation of youth. If, perhaps, I had heard more of the stories told about these people, I might have feared, but I didn't.
    "You shall be judged justly." Nereus sat directly in front of me, at the 'head' of the long line of chairs, and he spoke softly. I knew it was Nereus, though I hadn't really taken to heart all the stories told about him because I hadn't thought they were true. In the stories told about him, he was the ruler of the Nymphs, a great powerful creature of justice and wisdom.
    Feeling inadequete, and bowed my head and cursied slightly. When I slowly looked back up, Nereus nodded. I had done the right thing.
    "You have come to my realm because of the sins of your mother and father. You were the consequense of that error."
    "By what shall she then be judged?" One of the Nymphs stood up as he spoke and addressed Nereus. "As I can see she is innocent."
    "Every action carries weight, and to lessen further sins, prevention shall be placed on this daughter of men." My advocate nodded, understanding what I did not, and sat down again. Nereus turned to me again.
    "Do you know of the sins of your father and mother?" I had found out only in the days before Guendolen had come of my parent's affair, and nodded.
    "You have your mother's beauty that so caused Locrine to fall. You have been saved from the watery grave and higher judgement, and I charge you only this. From the time you leave my realm, you shall go veiled until the man you are to marry asks you without having seen your face or known why you wear the veil. This only do I charge you with. Your road shall be long and seemly unbearable at times. But many beautiful girls would benefit greatly to have the gift of a plain face or a veil. Only then do they have the assurance that the man they are to marry loves them for their enduring heart, and not their face, which fades away with aging time."
    "Do you accept this just judgement?" The whole of those strange people had risen, and all eyes were on me as I trembled beside my guardian.
    "I do." I had no choice, really. Death had not taken me, but now I was under the charge of another people than my mother or any nurse. Nereus looked kindly at me.
    "You have a strong will and are able to learn and pick yourself up after falling down. All that you learn, hold dear, yet do not hold onto wrongs done to you, it can destroy your soul. I send you forth, and you shall have safe passage. Learn of life and what it means to the mortal race. As the Lord God once said when sending out of his own, be as wise as a serpent and as gentle as a dove."
    "Note well the words spoken." Everyone spoke at once.
    "I do." And before I quite knew what was happening, everyone broke rank and the council was dismissed. The strange people drew near as we started to go out the door, and I felt small amid those tall, noble people. They were kind, but distant. A few spoke encouraging words.
    I don't think I really realized, at that age, what it would mean for all my future. Like I said, I didn't really think it through then, I was eleven. For now I was taking in other things.
    From the council room we came out into a huge, seemingly never-ending corridor, about five times the width of the previous room. The high, carved ceiling seemed to march on forever from where we started forward. The whole room looked like it had been hewed out of solid stone, and I do not have proof even now that it wasn't. Huge, stately pillars marched along the wall, and every other one broke rank and came out of the wall about two feet. The white-grey stone swirled in patterns of it's own in a backdrop for detailed scenes chiseled into the stone along every wall. Some things were proportioned huge and took up the wall from floor to ceiling. Others were smaller, and read like a book. The floor was of the same white-grey marble, polished to a high sheen. I could see myself in it.
    But the most marvelous thing about that room was not anything about the huge corridor. It was the people. Hundreds of Nymphs, walking slowly and gracefully to different destinations. Sometimes they greeted each other, and once in awhile a beautiful song would break out and spread along the long hall.
    My guardian and I, a tall, stately Nymph, walked along at a moderate pace back the way we had come. Near where we had turned out, a song was started and spread through the whole of that room, which didn't end at our door. Thousands of voices rang out, resounding along the high ceiling and echoing seemingly to the depths of the earth.
    My guardian and I passed into the small cell that I recognized from when I had still been wearing the blindfold. I had no sense of time, but I found that I was tired. I was given some strange liquid in a cup and told to drink, which I did without hesitation. It was sweet, but watery and cold. It somehow gave me nourishment as well as quenching my thirst, and soon I feel asleep, contented, on a little pallet pushed up against one wall.