It was a cool spring evening; the sun was barely above the horizon. The songs of birds had been replaced by that of the crickets. I lay upon the ground with the grass being a natural mattress. A gentle breeze tickled my cheek as my eyes began to droop.

I must have dozed off, just a little, for my eyes shot open to a mysterious sound. I looked about and saw nothing, but . . . there was a strange presence in the air. It was not one of man nor beast, for . . . it felt to fair.

I examined my surroundings one last time, and again saw an empty scene. I decided it was just my imagination getting carried away, before a beauty revealed herself. She seemed too elegant to be a mere mortal, for her beauty was that of a goddess. Her blonde hair waved in the air as if it was welcoming me. Her smooth skin showed no sign of blemish nor flaw. And her eyes, her crystal blue eyes, had snared me into her trap.

I awed at the beauty and wished to draw closer, but . . . at the same time I felt small and insignificant. For look at me, how could a man like me compare to someone so magnificent. I am only a wretched peasant, a mortal in the presence of an angel. My clothes are torn and my face is littered with mud and grime. But she waved her hand to beckon me to follow her. I hesitated, before bending to her wishes. We walked at a steady pace before we quickened. Our legs became a blur to the land. Some strange magic was at work her, for I neither grew tired nor did perspiration touch my skin. Faster and faster, we sped until a clearing came into site.

A beam of moonlight shined on her face, enhancing her beauty.

The night then became still, unbearable to my taste. I had to say something, but what? “You’re pretty,” the words spatted out. My cheeks burned as embarrassment flooded them. She giggled, but that did not help. I did not wish to make a fool of myself again, but I had to say something, “You . . . Your . . . Your face blooms as a morning flower. Your eyes twinkle like the stars. And, your hair is as soft as velvet. For your beauty is rare, it is one that will never fade, nor should it. Your beauty is like no other. It is one that is told in tales, and sung by angels. It is one that even gods and goddesses would be envy of. I might be cursed even now if Aphrodite hears me utter these words, for you are not like her. You are not a beautiful succubus that deceives the hearts of men but an elven lady that brings joy to all of those who see you.”

She did not say a word, but took my hands in hers and placed a golden necklace in them. I gently wrapped my fingers around the precious jewel. She looked into my eyes before she came closer and touched my lips with a kiss.

Thou I remember these events so well, I don’t really know if they are true. For after that kiss I found myself in the place I lay before the sight of the maiden. But . . . the necklace was still clutched in my hands.

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