Of Gwendolyn & Ealdian

Of Gwendolyn & Ealdian

By Katrina Craig

2-16-2026

Ealdian parried his opponent’s blade, the steel shining in the moonlight as the world dreamed. He stabbed forward, and his opponent twisted aside his blade with her own. He felt a goofy grin on his face, exhilarated at being foiled.

“Excellent form! You’ve been practicing.”

Gwendolyn laughed, a laugh he found more beautiful than the song of the nightingale. “That I have, have at thee!”

They sparred a few minutes more before taking a seat beneath one of the blossoming trees lining the path. Ealdian couldn’t help but gaze at Gwendolyn; admiring her hazelnut skin, wavy hair and rich green eyes, but these things were not the reason he struggled to look away. Her spirit captured his heart, for it was like fireworks; colorful, shimmering, surprising.

She noticed him looking and smiled back, “Ea, you’re smiling at me again.”

Heat flushed his youthful cheeks, currently in his early twenties. “Oh, erm, sorry.”

Gwendolyn laughed and playfully nudged him, “I don’t mind, you know I fancy thee. Why do you restrain yourself so?”

Ealdian’s face fell and he looked away, watching a petal float from the tree into his palm.

“It’s complicated. I don’t want to lie to you.”

Gwendolyn touched his shoulder, “Then do not lie.”

“The truth might ruin what we have, it’s happened before. You don’t know what I am.”

“I don’t care what this truth is. If you were a troll or goblin, I would still fancy thee. You have shown me a life of adventure, of freedom. You listen when I tell you my dreams, you have danced with me and valued me for my skill, not my beauty or dowry. Can you not trust me to do the same for you, to see who you are and value that, regardless of what you are?”

Ealdian looked up, studying her face. It was full of warmth and compassion, a sincere, genuine face. He remembered Ardûnn. He remembered Sudie’s words.

Ealdian looked down at the petal in his hand, rubbing it between his fingers, marking them with its sweet scent. “I’m no troll or goblin… but I am the Everwander.”

Gwendolyn’s hand left his shoulder for a moment, “You are immortal?”

Ealdian winced and nodded. “I just come back when I die. By blade, illness, old age- it matters not. It’s like a reset; I revert back to the age I was cursed at, all the scars and everything fade, but I always remember what came before. I am far older than I look.”

For a moment, Ealdian wondered if she would leave, but then Gwendolyn smiled and kissed him upon his cheek, “See? Was that so difficult?”

Ealdian pulled away, closing his fist around the petal, “That’s it? Gwen, I am centuries old. I don’t even recall how old, but it’s been at least four hundred years, not to mention I am sustained by arcane magic. Your family won’t like it, the town even less.”

She lifted her chin. “It doesn’t matter what they think Ea, only what I think.”

“Then, are you certain you are alright with this?”

Gwendolyn paused, kneeling on the grass, considering his words. She looked up again with a smile and doubtless eyes, “I’m certain.”

“Even though I am older than your grandfather’s grandfather? You’re twenty-five, it’s such a gap…”

Gwendolyn smiled at him, tilting her head as though observing something she found sweet and adorable. “You can be so silly sometimes, worrying so much what others will think without a thought for yourself. Everyone deserves a partner Ea, and it isn’t like I am some young star-crossed lass that is still yet a child and naïve in such things. I understand you are old, but that doesn’t mean I cannot adore you. You are kind, considerate, and wise. I adore your patience, share your wanderlust, and admire your character. I don’t care how many years you have lived, I only want to spend more of those years with you.”

Ealdian took in her words, then looked down at the petal in his hand. He chuckled.

“Ea? What humors you so?”

“Just that I am an old fool,” Ealdian said, “You say I am wise, but you still are wiser.”

Gwendolyn smiled, tapping Ealdian’s nose, “That’s because I am a lady good sir. Ladies know best.”

He laughed again, feeling as light as the mist swirling about the trees in the starlight. He stood and offered his hand to Gwendolyn, “Well, my lady, shall we dance?”

Taking it, his firework smiled, “I thought you would never ask, my star.”

~

Breath filled Ealdian’s lungs and escaped them again with a groan. What happened? He wondered, not yet opening his eyes, I was felling a tree, it was falling the wrong way, then- oh. Pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes, he felt familiar weariness in his limbs.

Oh no…

“Ea?”

“I’m awake Gwen, I’m alright.”

He felt his wife’s arms pull him into a sitting position, wrapping around him. He embraced her back, feeling her tremble with fear or relief. Perhaps both.

“I couldn’t help but worry,” she said, “I know you said you would be alright if it happened, but… are you hurt?”

Ealdian shook his head, “No, just tired.” Pulling back a bit, he looked at his wife’s face. He still thought her beautiful, even in her forties with strands of gray peppering her dark hair. Reaching up to his own hair, he pulled a strand into view, noting it was charcoal again. He winced, looking again to his beloved. “How do I look?”

Gwendolyn hesitated. “Handsome.”

Shaking his head, Ealdian stood and leaned on the bedpost. Looking around he saw he was in their bedroom, no longer outside with the tree.

“Ea, you ought to rest—”

“No, I need a mirror.”

“You should lie down.”

“Gwen, please. I need to see it.”

“Are you certain?”

Ealdian nodded and Gwendolyn sighed, “Wait here, and sit down before you faint.”

Sinking back onto the bed, Ealdian waited as Gwendolyn searched the dresser for her small handheld mirror. Glancing down at the sheets, he saw a bloodstain, matching the smears of blood still on his skin. He ran his hand over them; his young hand.

Gwendolyn returned to his side with the mirror, clutching it toward her chest so he could not see his reflection. “Ea, are you certain? It will upset you.”

“It’s not going to change, and I know what I’ll see. I just… I need to get it over with.”

She nodded and handed him the mirror. He closed his eyes. Inhale. Exhale. He flipped it over and looked upon his reflection.

Gone were his graying hair and creases. Gone were the marks of decades.

“Nineteen again,” he muttered, then dropped the mirror on the bed beside him. He leaned forward, burying his face in his hands, “I am such an idiot!”

“Ea, it’s okay—”

“No, it isn’t,” Ealdian said, “Look at me, what will your family think? Or the town?”

“They know you’re immortal, it’s alright.” Gwendolyn again wrapped her arms around him, trying to comfort him. He leaned into her. So tired…

He pulled away.

“I know but they haven’t seen it. We looked about the same age before, and now? You’ll be in the crossfire, and it’s my fault. Forgive me, I’m sorry, I never meant—"

“Stop it,” Gwendolyn ordered, her tone shifting from sweet to strong. A blaze of gold sparkling in the night of his gloom. “We will figure it out. I don’t right care what they all think of me and you darn well know it. You died! Quit apologizing for dying! Now, you are going to stop this rambling and get some sleep, and when you wake up we will worry about what to do next.”

“But—” he looked at his wife’s face and understood the battle was lost. Stifling a yawn he nodded, “Yes ma’am.”

A smile emerged on her lips as Gwendolyn proceeded to tuck her husband in, “For being four and a half hundred or so years old, my star, you can be such a stubborn child.”

“Must be my youthful spirit.”

Gwendolyn chuckled and kissed him upon his forehead, whispering to him, “Remember Ea, even if the world is against us, I will never leave your side. We are partners, now and forever, and nothing will sunder us.”

Sleep pressed in on Ealdian, and the nightmares failed to break through the ward of flames set by his wife’s words. A shield from the horrors of his curse.

~

Pain worse than any death in nearly five hundred years tore at Ealdian’s heart. Agonizing acid flames, yet cold, empty and barren. It was charring lightning in a desolate blizzard, enduring longer than a brief flash. He wanted to die from the torment, but it would not end if he did. He could never follow. He would never see her on the other side. He clutched her cold hand in his, ruing the curse for letting him live long enough to know her only for the inevitable to happen. And yet… he would not have changed a day. He wept, for a cold, lifeless frame was all that was left of his beloved firework. The joy of Spring, Summer and Autumn had passed, and Winter returned.

The blossom he had held onto for so long had withered.