Almost instantly the memories flooded over Serrin. He saw the skyline over the port with the sailing ships, felt the warmth from the winds over the azure waters, saw his own white robe, saw her beside him. He could hear no words, but he saw himself talking to her, jabbing with a finger as she wrote down what he was saying on a piece of animal hide, using a sharp reed as a pen. He had hardly registered the fact that she, too, was elven before the scene faded away. Then he saw himself alone, inside some gloomy straw hut in a damp darkness illuminated only by a beeswax candle guttering on the crude wooden table before which he sat. He sensed damp, smelly fur on his back, a hide covering him. An ornate iron plate and goblet were beside him, but he didn’t take in much more of his surroundings. The wretched feelings just spun around inside him. I can’t have her. She's been sold by her father into marriage with Declan and I can’t have her. Do I kill him or do I kill myself ?