The Story Of The Great Gatsby By F. Scott Fitzgerald

Standing on the edge of his new world, Merlin watched his past sail into the horizon. If it were possible he would feed Sir Lot and his men as a snack to the sea god, Poseidon †¦ and he knew with his powers that it was possible. Yet, he sustained from doing so, only because of the young girls onboard. Instead, he began to chant, lifting his arms to the heavens, instructing the storm to wane, and the winds to blow the ship swiftly from the shores of Tintagel. When he could no longer see nor sense the sailing vessel’s presence, Merlin turned his back to the sea. For the first time in a long time, he was uncertain where he would bed for the night. Tintagel’s stone fortress loomed foreboding in front of him, casting a dark shadow over the land,†¦show more content†¦Ã¢â‚¬Å"Let us explore our surroundings, perhaps we can find a place away from everyone to become our temporary home.† As if answering in agreement, the hawk tucked her head next to his neck, letting out a reassuring cackling-coo. Taking a final glance toward the castle, Merlin speculated if there would be a post-battle celebration, as Uther’s men were prone to do when victorious. Yet, there were no true victors in this war. No foreign enemies killed, only slaughtered Britons: brother fighting brother, father fighting son. He wondered if Uther’s standing orders of slaughtering all wounded and survivors would pertain to the men who fought on the Duke’s side. Suddenly his stomach lurched. Bending over, he dry heaved in a pile of crumpled leaves; his hawk temporary taking flight. Rising, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He was bone weary. In desperate need of somewhere away from the madness, he searched for a place to rest his body, heart, and soul; a place to deaden the day’s deeds, a quiet place to escape into the world of sweet dreams. For the briefest of moments, he paused; the shadow of Tintagel’s fortress beckoning him. A wise man, a braver, saner man than he, would have sought a soft bed with a pile of pelts within one of the castle’s numerous empty rooms. But today, he felt neither brave nor sane. He was only tired. Walking to the northern side of the island he spied half-dozen small, stone-walled thatched