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Part 23

“No, my Lady!” shouted Sir Bors, as he raced towards his Lord, for Eowyn had already stepped between Arthur and the whirlwind.

“Melmenya!” cried Legolas, darting towards her—“My Lady!” gasped Arthur, reaching out for her.

But Eowyn stood, frozen like a statue, gazing into the whirlwind’s spinning depths, her sword hanging uselessly at her side, whilst the red vapour swirled around her, lifting the edges of her cloak, and the loose strands of her hair, and drawing them into itself.

Melmenya!” shrieked Legolas.







Merlin caught the briefest glimpse of a lovely face, framed by long blonde hair, and immediately curled his outstretched hand into a fist, drawing his magic back into himself.

He looked about him, guiltily.

Arthur’s knights were still frantically searching for their Lord.

“Over there,” he shouted, pointing to a dense stand of trees. “I—er—I think I saw something, over there...”

He needed time—and he needed to be alone—to work out why, instead of Arthur, his spell had almost brought a beautiful woman back from the magical world.


Emyn Arnen

The whirlwind disappeared, swallowed by its own mouth.

Eowyn, released from its clutches, fell to her knees.

“Oh, melmenya!” Legolas threw himself down beside her and gathered her into his arms.

“Is she all right?” asked Arthur, anxiously.

“I saw someone, Lassui,” Eowyn gasped. “He—he was standing in the eye of the storm. I saw him clearly.”

“Was it a man?” asked Legolas.

“Yes,” said Eowyn. Then, “No—no, it was a boy—a dark-haired boy, with deep, deep blue eyes and he—he looked almost Elven, Lassui, but he was not.”

“Did you see anything more, my Lady?” asked Arthur.

“There was a tree, behind the boy, but it was black. It—no—no, it was scorched.”

Frowning, Arthur glanced at Sir Bors.