The Meeting of Egil and Elaine
by Sir Egil Njalsson
(September 1993)Sometimes even the patience of a druid can be tested by the innocent blunders of youth.
Bjarni is a good lad, true; but sometimes he can get on a man's nerves. Perhaps I have been unfair to him by raising him without a mother. Perhaps a womanly influence would have made him more worldly-wise. Perhaps I would have been better off myself having a woman in my life these past twenty-five years. Perhaps... but I cannot dwell on the past. I must move forward.
Tonight I am fed up with his mistakes, though they are borne out of innocence. He does not deserve to be punished, yet I must retreat for a while.
The woods call to my druidic soul, and I answer their beckoning song. Though the hour is late, I wander far and alone. Deep within the sylvan woods, I find a mirror-like pond fed by a gentle stream. Merging my spirit with that of the trees, I commune with my beloved forest.
Hours pass; I do not keep count. The forest speaks to me of patience and endurance, and my soul takes refuge in the comforting solace.
Deep into the night, I detect movement. Following the stream to the pond glides the most graceful of creatures: a unicorn. Cloven hooves pad softly on the mossy undergrowth, and a golden horn reflects toward me the light of the stars and moon. Yet it is not the gentle beast which draws my attention, but its rider.
A cloaked and hooded form rests lightly on the creature's back; riding naturally, as if the two beings were united in some deeper sense. Though the cloak conceals all, the figure exudes feminine beauty, and a sense of belonging to the woods.
She dismounts and draws back her hood. She gives a slight toss of her head, freeing long fiery tresses which cascade down her back. I catch a glimpse of a delicate ear, not quite human. Completely at ease, she welcomes the unicorn's nuzzling. She cradles the creature's head to her breast, and rests her head against its horn, conveying the impression of a friend finding companionship and understanding in a similar spirit.
Walking toward the pond's edge, she slowly unclasps her cloak and slips it from her shoulders. The vision before me causes my heart to cry out in wonder, and my mind to lament the long passage of time without such a thing of beauty in my life.
Her young, lithe, nude form stirs me; the feeling calls partially to my male longings, and partially to my sense of wonder in the presence of all things of magnificence and beauty. Yet never have I seen one this beautiful. As she steps gracefully into the water I long to call out to her; to respond to her beauty. Yet I cannot bring myself to disturb the serenity of this magnificent scene. I watch her bathing, as her unicorn friend grazes serenely. Neither detect my presence, and I would have it remain thus.
She finishes her ablutions, and glides gently back to land. She lightly gathers her cloak, and dims the night by covering her bare form. Stroking the unicorn softly, she jumps into place on its back, and with a toss of its head the unicorn retreats easily into the woods, following the stream back in the direction from which they came.
I speak to the trees, and find that these two come to this spot regularly, in the dead of night. I vow to be here when they do.
For weeks, I return to this spot, communing with nature but awaiting the woman I now think of as "my lady." Nightly I am gifted by another glimpse of beauty incarnate. I dare not break the spell by intruding into the pastoral scene, yet I cannot continue indefinitely to intrude thus upon the privacy of her nightly ritual.
One night I determine that she must know of my presence, though it might mean the end of her pilgrimages to this quiet place. Slowly, as she bathes, I materialize from within the tree which has sheltered me. The unicorn notices, and bolts into the cover of the trees. The woman hurries to shore, her progress impeded by the water. By the time she reaches land, her escort is nowhere to be found.
She turns, and finds me amongst the trees. Fists on her hips, she stamps her foot. "Hey! You scared away my ride! Now what am I going to do?"
I kneel. "My lady, I am your servant, Egil Njalsson, a fellow creature of these woods. I beg your forgiveness for this intrusion into your serenity, but your beauty has brought me here. Might I have the honor of knowing your name?"
She gazes at me, appraisingly. "Elaine. Elaine Diancecht. How long have you been there?"
I cast my gaze downward, ashamed. Raising my eyes to look into her face, I tell her of that first fateful night, when the beauty of her presence combined with the murmurings of the forest told me that all could be right with the world, after all. I recount my intervening visits, and how her beauty is slowly transforming my heart. To my great relief, she seems flattered rather than angry.
She finds her cloak and dons it, sitting by the water's edge. I join her, and we speak of the forest and the beauty contained therein. Eventually, her unicorn friend returns, hesitantly, keeping a wary eye on me. I bid farewell to Elaine and she rides off.
We meet in this place night after night, and find in each other a kindred spirit. We share a love of the forest, and of all things of peace and beauty. Though she is half my age, or younger, we seem to understand each other, and our conversations range over all areas of life. I come to know of the convent in which she was raised, and she learns of Egilsstead. One day, I journey to the convent to speak to the nuns of wedding this lovely woman, and they give their consent, as does she.
At the court of Dragonspine, we are wed, and Elaine becomes the lady of my household as well as of my life.
At this point, many would say that "the rest is history," but as that history has not yet occurred, I can only conclude with "the rest will be history."
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