Legends of Belariath
Gwenhwyfar Onyxfyre
To even start Gwenhwyfar's story is something of a trouble. It's best to start at the beginning, but as it is from her account, there was no beginning. There was only an awareness, and before that, time without time. Her body nothing more than a wisp of thought in the soothing dark of the abyss. It is when she first opens her eyes that the story begins, as this seems as close to the beginning as one can be.
The amber glow of a setting sun casts across her body, lying unanimated in the grove of her birth. It is difficult to determine what would be so special about these trees, this water?to bring a physical manifestation of their spirit to the world. Yet there she lies, perfectly formed. Her life created at the dusk of the day, when it seems magic should happen. Her hair is mainly that of multifaceted emerald, looking as the color of leaves against a noon sun. If one were to look closer, within the sheening emerald sweep deep highlights of purple and blue. Her body belongs as much to the trees as the water, or flowers that border the pool in the center of the grove, and within the knee-length strands this is mirrored.
It is far past nightfall before she wakes. Above her still dormant form, the heavens are stretched wide as a familiar blanket, lovingly sewn with millennia old shining facets. Except now, nearer to the tops of the trees of a grove, a new star shines, adding its soft voice to the never-ending melody. It is this star, that from now until eternity, will guide the dryad, directly or indirectly. It is her very own star, born with her, her guiding light.
When she stands and opens her eyes for the first time, it is this star she fixes her gaze upon first, and then the grove in which she finds herself. Fortunate or no, her allegiances are set in a blink of an eye. It is her own star that she is first awed by, and its heavenly body is the form she first connects with. It is only after this do her eyes travel down to look upon the rest of creation, and the vast dark secret that is the forest of her birth. So it is, her own awareness is before that of nature.
Understandably, the Goddess for whom she serves, is somewhat amiss at this. A great nature deity (in Belariath, her name is Gaea) saw fit enough to give her life and independent thought. And her first allegiance is to herself? At this very moment, the Goddess moves swiftly to act, and within her mind is placed the seed of self-doubt.
It is here, that the conflict within Gwenhwyfar begins. A deeply loyal servant that finds herself unwillingly disobeying, as if to an otherwise known truth. Her mind works at the will of Gaea, her body at the movement of her star.
Unfortunately, knowing doubt one's whole life can have more than just the desired effects. Perhaps the Goddess saw what was to become of the dryad, perhaps not. Through the four centuries of her life, she has grown careful. Her feelings are deep and hidden, her pleasure and desires even deeper. Her beauty is unquestioned, but the will for her to accept such a thing is lost.
Perhaps, this is why her emotions play out so violently in the myriad colors of her irises, any other outlet is constrained. Her name, in fact, comes from the movement of her eyes. By the elves, whom she so cherishes, she is Gwenhwyfar, child of the Dark Fire. The words wrought in remembrance of the tones of her eyes, dark, with a darker fire within.
Slowly, her body and mind move to unison, a time that traveled nearer and nearer as she spent more days with the company of elves. Roaming the woods with rangers, the two parts of the whole were forced to join in order to survive. But how it was that she came to leave her grove for the ancient race's company, and then, they for the Inn, is a tale told another day.