If you go down to the woods today, you'll never believe your eyes,
If you go down to the woods today, you're sure of a big surprise.


Afin ran his hands through his coarse black hair as he attempted to force it into something close to neatness. The broad-backed farmhand leaned forwards and poured a mug of water over his hair, hoping that it would in some way help. At least he thought it was water, didn't smell like ale. Wouldn't at all do for him to arrive at Mala's cottage stinking of stale drink. She'd think he was nothing but a common drunkard and that would not be a good way to start the day. Holy days were a rare enough thing as it was without ruining one by annoying the young woman whose favour he currently held.

Mala was a pretty little thing, dark haired and doe-eyed. Nimble as a deer and quick as a cat was the young milk-maid from the next farm over. There were many men in the region of Medoc who had cast lusty glances her way. But all of them had been rejected, all apart from Afin. Or at least that was what he told himself as he got ready. In his heart though he knew that Mala chose to bestow her charms upon a different man each holy day. Still, this day she was all his.

It hadn't really taken that much, just a few apparently random jobs that had taken him to the border between the two farms. A few jobs that had just 'happened' to place him near her cottage from time to time. And then of course a few smiles, a few teasing glances. Just enough to let her know that he was interested in her. Not that it took much to make Mala realise that, the milk-maid knew well enough than almost every man in the area would give anything they owned to get their hands on her.

He'd maneuvered their conversation around to the topic of the great forest that took up the majority of eastern Medoc. The farmers had been trying to cut down those forest for generations without success. There was prime farming land going to waste in their eyes under all those trees and wild things. Not that it bothered Afin, it wasn't as if he was planning to talk agriculture with Mala. No, what he had talked to Mala about were the old tales of the forests.

The old men in Medoc itself were always only too glad to be bought a drink and weave their tales of the fairy-folk who were said to live within the forests. No one honestly believed such things but they were a fair tale and one that sweetened the affections of Mala to him. He told her the tales of the fairy-folk and their revels within the leafy green depths of the forests. By the end of it Afin had as much been making it up as he went along as repeating the tales of the old men in their cups. He'd told Mala tales of secret fairy dwellings and wishes granted by the wee folk.

By the end of it all Mala had been only too willing to go into the forests with him on the next holy day. For a picnic of course, nothing more.

Afin grinned to himself, "Nothing more". The farmhand had plenty of plans that had nothing to do with looking for fairy rings with Mala. No self-respecting man of Medoc wasted a holy day with Mala. Giving praise to the Divine was all well and good but Mala had a tendency to focus a man's mind upon more earthly delights.

Mala's cottage looked like it came straight from one of the old fairy tales that mother's told their children. The outside walls were painted white with roses climbing artfully towards the thatched roof. A brown-stained fence encircled the cottage and its rambling garden of wildflowers. Bees hummed loudly as they danced from flower to flower. And a blackbird perched upon the fence and sang as though his heart would burst if he held his song back.

Afin walked along the neat stone path and rapped smartly upon the cottage door. A moment or two later it was opened and he found himself gazing into Mala's eyes. Dark and deep like a still pool, there was an unspoken promise hidden within their depths. It was all Afin could manage not to break into a wide grin. He knew what that silent promise would bring him once he led her into the forests.

They didn't say much as Mala handed him the picnic basket and they set off towards the woods. It wasn't as if Afin had asked her to spend the day with him because he found her company stimulating. No, it was her smooth skin, perfect curves and ripe red lips that interested him. The farmhand couldn't care less if the pretty young milkmaid was the world's worst, or best, conversationalist.

Holding hands they walked along the dusty paths that threaded their way across the region of Medoc. On the horizon the great forests grew larger as they got nearer. Eventually Afin found himself able to make out individual trees from the great mass of green. Only two hours after they had set off from Mala's cottage the two of them passed by the outer boundaries of the forests.

Under the trees it was far cooler than it had been out on the road. In the pale golden light that filtered through the leafy canopy Afin dared to slip his hand around Mala's waist. There was no one else about to point and snigger at his behaviour, in the woods of Medoc Mala was all his. It was a situation that the milkmaid seemed quite happy with. She snuggled up against him, fitting her warm slim body next to his.

The birds twittered and warbled overhead, singing out their songs as they flew beneath the boughs of the great trees that made up the forest. None of the old tales really spoke of a time when the forest hadn't been there. Looking at the trees with their trunks as thick as several men, it was hard to imagine a time when the trees hadn't been there. Only the oldest tales briefly mentioned a time before the forests and even then it wasn't much. Just something about a hill in the very centre of the forest and the usual tales of fairy folk cavorting in the wild places.

There were always stories of the wee folk in the region of Medoc. Afin supposed it was like that the world over. Some places were filled with tales of dragons. Others had their tales of vampires and ghouls. And Medoc, Medoc had it's fairies. It was kind of silly when he thought about it, even if it was the stories of fairies that had got Mala to spend the holy day with him.

Afin looked up at the sky. Or rather he looked up into the leafy ceiling that the trees had formed with their boughs. The sky was up there somewhere just as the rest of the world was out there somewhere. Somewhere in Medoc itself the majority of the people had gathered together to celebrate the holy day. Out there they would be singing hymns to praise the wonder and the miracle of life. They would sing and pray while the day's light lasted and then as the sun set they would begin the real festivities. There would be feasts and music while those with the energy danced till the sun once more made an appearance.

In the darkness they would sing the old songs, the ones with the words in a language that no one understood anymore. Someone had once suggested that they should stop singing the old songs, that it was silly to sing in a language that not one of them understood. But the old folk had just shook their heads gravely and told everyone to sing them just the same. They said that the old songs served their task, that they kept the sleepers sleeping. Just another piece of silly superstition, Afin knew of quite a few people of his own generation who would make up words for the old sings, singing them instead. Besides, no one slept when the region of Medoc sang, not even the dead in their graves could stand such a cacophony. Most of the folk couldn't even hold a note.

The young farmhand grinned to himself and adjusted his position. Mala lay with her head on his chest, her shapely legs tangled about his much longer ones. There was a touch of pink in her cheeks and a contented smile upon her face. Her eyes were closed in sleep though she murmured as he moved himself slightly. "Now this is the way to spend a holy day", he said softly, running a hand through the milkmaid's unbound hair. "None of that singing and praying, this is much more like my idea of fun".

They'd walked deep into the wood while the sun was still rising up towards his noonday position. A small glade, dappled with light, had seemed like the ideal place to sit and eat together. The real fun had come after they had eaten though when Mala had turned her head towards him and pressed her lips to his. It had been a surprise to find her so forward, though he should have guessed that she would be like that with her reputation. The surprise hadn't stopped him from responding though and during the next hours there had been no need for conversation between them.

Afin could feel his eyes closing and his mind drifting off towards sleep. The regular breathing of the young woman in his arms was slowly lulling him into the world of dreams. And what was the harm in that? It wasn't as if anyone was going to come looking for them in the woods. Besides, everyone knew that the woods of Medoc hadn't got a dangerous predator in them. There were foxes and the like, but nothing that would go after a man, sleeping or awake. So Afin let his eyes close, his last gaze falling upon the thing that had convinced Mala that the glade was the perfect place to spend some time together; a ring of small while toadstools.

A fairy-ring.

It had been the tales of fairies in the woods that had convinced Mala to spend the holy day with him. Finding a fairy-ring had been perfect. He had told Mala that they should spend the day there, that maybe if they sat within the fairy-ring they would catch a glimpse of the wee folk that were supposed to have lived within the forests of Medoc long before the humans had settled there. Fairies indeed, as if such things really existed. There again if it had got Mala to spend the day with him Afin would have gladly said that one-legged unicorns existed.

As he drifted into sleep he thought he heard an unfamiliar voice, a voice like a silver bell, "My, what have we got here then?"

It was dark when Afin woke up. He could hear the songs of the night birds and the high-pitched trilling of the insects in the long grass. Down in Medoc he knew that they would be singing the old songs by now and preparing to dance the night away. The farmhand had planned on taking Mala back in time for the festivities so that he could show her off. The others would have been green with jealously at the sight of Mala in his arms. There was still the chance to get back in time for the later dancing if they two of them hurried.

He opened his eyes and looked down, smiling in expectation of the sight of Mala still at rest. But she wasn't there.

Afin frowned and sat up quickly, looking about himself. There was no sign of Mala, no sign at all. Had she woken up earlier and left him all alone in the woods? He knew that she could be a touch cruel to her admirers but he couldn't imagine her walking all the way back to her cottage by herself. The roads were dark and the night wind had a touch of chill within it. Mala wouldn't have walked back by herself, she would have woken him to act as her protector. Maybe instead of leaving she had just walked into the trees for a moment. Yes that seemed far more sensible, she would be back in a moment or two.

He laid himself back down and smiled to himself, already imagining the thought of the milkmaid in his arms again. She was so warm and soft, her skin like silk beneath his rough calloused hands. The memory of the holy day that she had spent with him would keep him warm and happy through the winter that was for sure. Maybe he'd try to get her to spend another holy day with him come the spring. Or perhaps he start thinking about asking the shepherd's daughter, Ordha, to walk out with him. Ordha wasn't as pretty as Mala but she wasn't hard on the eyes either. Mala was just a girl to spend a day in pleasure with, Ordha was the kind of girl to look to for something more serious.

There was someone behind him. He wasn't sure how he knew it, he just did. There was someone right behind him, someone who was watching him silently. Afin licked his upper lip nervously. The old men had always said that there wasn't a wicked creature in the whole of the forests of Medoc but could they have been wrong? Perhaps the creature behind him was a hungry wolf already licking its jaws and eying up his neck. Afin turned suddenly, rolling over onto his stomach and coming back to face with his watcher.

It wasn't Mala. And it wasn't a wolf either. It was possibly the most beautiful creature that he had ever clapped eyes upon. The face that he saw made Mala seem plain, even ugly by comparison. Her skin was the colour of peaches and almost seemed to glow as if lit by a glorious light within her. Amber eyes met his and drew him into their unspeakable depths. His lungs felt tight as he gazed at the wondrous apparition before him. In that moment he would have died gladly.

"Hello", the creature said, tilting her head to one side so that he could make out the tip of a single pointed ear peeking out from the masses of jet black hair that crowned her head. "Well aren't you a funny thing. Has the cat got your tongue?"

Afin swallowed and tried to speak, only to find the power of speech beyond him. He didn't even know the name of the fay woman before him but he would have gladly done anything and everything that she asked of him. She could have commanded him to drown himself in the nearest river and he would have done so without question. Again he swallowed and found himself able to finally squeak out a single word. "Hello".

The fay woman giggled and the sound almost made Afin cry from the beauty of it. It was as if crystal bells rang when the fay creature laughed. It was only in that moment that he noticed that she didn't quite touch the ground but rather seemed to rest easily an inch or two above it as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Fairies in the forest, the old men had said that there were fairies in the forest. But that was all just the stories of old folk in their cups wasn't it? Then he saw the wings upon the fay's back. Gossamer fine and iridescent like a dragonfly's wings they seemed to contain all the colours of the rainbow. "Who are you?"

She smiled and it was as though the sun itself had reached down to kiss him, "I am Andraste ap Tanaith".

His thoughts came slowly as he looked into the eyes of the fay woman who hovered just a little off the ground. Every thought was difficult to form, it was almost like trying to mentally wade through treacle. Afin knew that he was in a forest and he knew that he had come there for a reason. What reason? Why had he ground to the woods? There had been someone, yes that was right, there had been someone else. A woman perhaps? Yes, yes there had been a woman, a beautiful woman. No, that couldn't be right the woman, whoever she had been, couldn't be called beautiful, not when Andraste was before him.

Mala was forgotten. The farmhand couldn't remember anything about her while he stood so close to Andraste. The milkmaid's face, name, even the sound of her voice, were gone from his mind. It was almost as though someone had reached inside his head and yanked out certain memories, leaving him with only holes where they had been. He knew that he was forgetting something but somehow it didn't seem important. Andraste's mere presence was intoxicating and left no room for thoughts of another.

The fay woman moved around him, looking him over from head to toe. She giggled sweetly and the sound made him want to drop to his knees before her. He'd never been so deeply enamoured of a woman, all he wanted to do was devote himself to her happiness. Andraste could asked anything of Afin and he would have gladly done it without a second thought. "What are you then? You're no elfling and you're certainly not a gnome, nor a goblin or a redcap. Such a funny thing, there's not a touch of glamour upon you at all. Tell me, funny thing, what are you?"

Afin looked at her dumb-founded, his tongue well and truly tied. She had asked a question of him, the breathtakingly beautiful woman had asked a question of him. The elation at her interest in him stopped Afin from actually answering her question. It wasn't until Andraste began to frown that he managed to gather his wits enough to form an answer. He didn't want her to frown, how could he let such a bewitching creature frown because of him? "I'm Afin," the words came out thick and awkward.

"You're an Afin? What's an Afin?"

"No, my name's Afin, I'm a human".

"Oh a human," she pursed her lips as she spoke, the smile tinted with just a hint of a smirk. "I remember humans, not part of my court of course. Dirty creatures, short-lived and messy, yes, yes I remember humans. They get all withered and wrinkled, what a dreadful way to exist". It didn't matter that she was insulting his race. All that Afin cared about was that Andraste was speaking to him, her voice sweeter than any birdsong. "I never did understand what Isolde saw in your kind".

"Isolde", he repeated the name but didn't really understand what it was. To Afin it was just a collection of sounds that the vision of loveliness before him had said.

Andraste reached out and cupped his chin in her hands. He almost whimpered in delight at her touch. Nothing in the isle could have made him react as he did. His heart leapt into his throat, the longing to please Andraste growing ever stronger. Her spell-like hold upon his soul was almost complete. "Tell me human, where is Isolde? Where does she now hold court?"

"Isolde".

"Yes where is she?, Andraste snapped, her harsh tone forcing Afin to his knees. Some small part of his soul that still remained free screamed at him to stand up. It screamed from within that this wasn't natural, that he should run away and never stop running. But he paid it no heed, huddling at Andraste's feet like a puppy who had earned the anger of his mistress. The fay seemed to relent, running her hands through his hair and whispering soft words to him in a language that he did not understand, "Tampa tanya, tampa tanya, edan Afin".

"I don't", he whimpered and flinched a little at her touch. "I don't know any Isolde".

"No Isolde? Isolde ap Belenus, she is gone? The Court of the Midday Glade, it is also gone?"

"I don't know those names, there's nothing and no one by those names in all of Medoc".

Andraste stepped away from him suddenly. Then she threw her head back and laughed, dancing about the fearful farmhand as she did so.

Afin watched mutely as Andraste danced in her joy. Before he hadn't really been paying much attention to what she was wearing, her face alone had captivated him. Without her eyes upon him though the fog that had clouded his mind seemed to fade a little and he found himself capable of thinking just a little more clearly. Or at least clearly enough to take a better look at the fay creature.

She was smaller than a human woman, perhaps no more than the height of a girl on the very verge of womanhood. Despite her stature Andraste was still perfectly in proportion. Although her height might have some thinking that she was a child the shape of her body would not have fooled anyone. Over her womanly curves she wore layers of diaphanous cloth in pale shades of gold. As she danced the cloth rose and fell, revealing portions of her body only long enough to tantalise the farmhand before hiding them once again.

"They're gone, they're really gone", she half-said, half-sang. Whoever Isolde had been it seemed clear that Andraste had not liked her and was very glad to be rid of her. Afin wished that he could ask her who Isolde had been but one look at the fay woman left him dumb-struck. There was something about the fay woman that he seemed powerless to resist. A single glance was all it took for him to fall hopelessly under whatever spell she was weaving. Hadn't the old tales warned him of something like that? He was sure that the elderly men he had spoken to had said something about the sight of a true fay being dangerous. Afin couldn't remember what, after all back then he had just been searching for stories to use on Mala.

Mala. Mala. Mala.

At the thought of the milkmaid's name everything became very clear for a moment. He had come to the woods with Mala to share the holy day. And they had certainly done that. Then they had both drifted off to sleep and when he had woke up Mala had gone. But all thought of the milkmaid had been stolen from him by the sight of Andraste. He looked one way then the other but he could see no sign of Mala or where she might have gone. Outside the glade seemed suddenly very dark and filled with foreboding. Things moved beyond the circle of the trees, some at man-height, others much smaller and one or two that seemed monstrously huge. None of those were Mala, he was sure of that.

"You have brought me great news human, the news that my most hated rival is gone. I think you deserve a reward for such a thing but I do not know what sort of things that you kind wish for. So instead you may ask a boon of me as a sign of my favour. What would you ask of me human? Choose well though for you have earned the good will of Andraste ap Tanaith, queen of the Court of Endless Twilight and in doing so are unique amongst your kind".

As Andraste turned her attention back towards the farmhand he felt his free will slipping away from him once more. It was like trying to hold onto the tide, impossible and futile, he could not best the force that was set against him. At the very last moment though he managed to say a single word, "Mala".

The fay cocked one eyebrow quizzically, a touch of irritation crossing her features. "Mala? You want that thing? I am the queen of my Court, I could offer you anything your heart desired and you want that wretched creature?" Andraste sighed and laughed, though it seemed more than a little forced. "Very well, if it is Mala you want then it is Mala you shall have. But you shall have to journey with me to the heart of the these forests, to the very knoll that houses my Court. Are you willing to do that for this Mala? So that you may always have her?"

He nodded slowly, unable to trust himself to actually speak. If he spoke he feared that he would ask a different boon of the fairy queen, he feared that he would ask to be hers forever.

He followed on Andraste's heels as she led him out of the clearing where Mala and he had spent the day. Afin felt almost completely numb, both his body and his mind. Things were happening to him and around him that he couldn't quite comprehend. He had the disconcerting feeling that his mind was shutting down his flesh and his feelings in order to cope with it all. Though it worried him to think that perhaps it was not his mind that was doing it but rather Andraste's strange magic.

Only one part of his mind seemed to remain relatively clear, free and under his own command. But all that it said, over and over, was that 'fairies aren't real, fairies aren't real'. The fay folk were meant to be only stories that the old men told to one another and to any one too far gone in their cups not to run away. They weren't real, they couldn't be real. Andraste's presence proved all that to be wrong though. There could be no denying that the fay queen was real, Afin knew that his mind could never dream up something so unspeakably lovely.

The trees seemed to give way as Andraste approached them, recoiling from her path as if they were afraid of her. Shrubs and lower laying plants seemed to scurry away even as Afin looked at them. Plants couldn't move, he knew that, but there again he had thought he'd known that faeries weren't real. The fay woman moved through the forest, following no path that the farmhand could see and yet nothing barred her way. Once he saw her walk straight towards an oak tree with a trunk as thick as three beer barrels. But as soon as Andraste reached it the oak seemed to disappear, reappearing a few paces to one side.

To either side creatures still moved in the darkness of the trees. Some scampered close to the ground while others seemed to stride ponderously along. He was fairly sure that he didn't want to take a closer look at Andraste's followers. The stories had always said that a fay court was full of beautiful, otherworldly beings but Afin didn't think that he wanted to trust those stories anymore. The fay queen herself was more than he could cope with, any more like her and he feared that his heart would stop in its place. He was just an ordinary farmhand, he wasn't meant to deal with the likes of Andraste.

Something rushed out of the darkness behind him, bowling past Afin at a great speed and coming to a halt before the figure of the faerie queen. The farmhand felt his knees go weak from shock as his heart pounded painfully fast in his chest. He barely heard the first words of the creature from the shadows. "My lady, my fine, fine lady, you seem to have found herself a stray. I had no idea that you wanted a new pet, do I no longer make you laugh?" Its voice was mockingly melancholy as it pretended to be saddened.

Andraste laughed, the sound of crystal bells ringing in Afin's ears. "I think you have frightened him Rin. He's no pet and you know well enough that no creature could take your place".

Afin dared to look at the creature that stood before Andraste. It barely reached to his hips and was dressed in clothes of wildly differing clothes like someone who had dressed in the dark. A wide, somehow grotesque, grin was stretched over its face and its skin was painted bone white. On its head it wore a great floppy hat with an over-sized feather of brilliant blue decorating it. The creature fixed Afin with a dark grin, "No pet you say, my fine, fine lady? Well I don;t think you'll find much good eating on those bones".

"Rin, don't scare him, this is Afin, a human, and he had brought me great news; Isolde is no more. Afin, have no fear of Rin, he is my beloved jester, though his humour does not appeal to all". Andraste lay a gentle hand upon the head of the ugly fay creature that had given Afin such a fright.

The creature Rin pranced towards Afin, shaking a stick that was almost as tall as he was and setting the bells upon it jingling. The farmhand would have sworn that the creature wasn't holding it a moment before. "Isolde is no more and you've gone and earned yourself the favour of the fairy queen. Most fortunate human". Rin paused and cocked his head to one side, "Or unfortunate, depending on how you look at it".

Afin felt like he was walking through a dream world. The dark woods were full of strange creatures that he could only half see in the little moonlight that filtered down through the leaves. Andraste walked ahead, still not quite touching the ground as the trees removed themselves from her path. The trees had always seemed so strong, so immoveable, “Guardians of Medoc” one old man had once called them. Now somehow they seemed afraid, though the small part of his mind that was his own chastised him for thinking so. Trees couldn’t be afraid, that portion free of Andraste’s magic seemed to say.

And then of course there was also the odd little creature, Rin. The fairy queen’s jester from what had been said. Afin couldn’t see anything funny about the tiny creature, creepy perhaps but never funny. There was something just a touch sinister about the bone-white face of the jester and the twisted grin that was stretched across his features.

“Oh look at this”, Andraste exclaimed suddenly, pointing at something just a little ahead of her. There was laughter in her voice, mocking and just a little cruel. She was beautiful, there was no doubt of that, but there was something about her that sent shivers of fear down the farmhand’s back. He couldn’t put his finger upon it. She had been pleasant to him, she had offered him a boon, she was even showing him to her home herself. So why was he so sure that something was wrong? “Look Rin, look what Isolde left us. Such an innocent, oh such a dear, dear innocent”.

He followed the capering jester towards the fay woman, curiosity overcoming his fear. Where Andraste pointed the forest broke suddenly, leaving a long clear corridor free of trees to left and right. Beyond the clear area stood a grassy low hill with what appeared to be a series of standing stones on the top. As far as Afin could guess the clear area went all the way around the hill, encircling it. That in itself was not unusual. What was strange was the fact that the belt that surrounded the hill was covered with red flowers of every kind. There were roses and tulips, poppies and even orchids as red as a bloody sunset. Not a single flower of any other colour broke up the red belt.

The jester peered at the flowers but did not draw too close to them, “Isolde did this? She wanted to keep us here, my fine, fine lady, she wanted to make sure that we never woke up. Especially to fall back on something like this. Wonder what else she set up before she vanished into the valley of the forgotten”.

“Indeed, indeed”, Andraste turned suddenly, one moment facing the flowers, the next facing the farmhand. “Tell me Afin, how long as it been? How long have I slept beneath the hill with my court?”

He opened his mouth but no words came out. He didn’t have any idea how long the fairies had slept in the forests of Medoc. They were just old stories, no one honestly believed that they were real. Believing that they were real was the kind of thing that got a man banned from society, or at least from the tavern. “I don’t know, I don’t know when you went to sleep. I do know that no one talks of your kind as being real. Begging your pardon, but fairies are children’s tales, stories told to keep the bairns happy”.

“A long old while then, my fine lady”, the twisted jester said, looking up at Andraste.

“But how long remains to be seen”. She tapped one pale finger against her chin as she considered the situation that she found herself in. As Afin looked at her he wondered just how long she had been asleep. And just how old the beautiful, apparently young, fairy was. Years? Centuries? Older than even that?

Andraste’s expression turned sour as she looked back at the flower belt. “It may have no true power against me but I still dislike it. I dislike all this. It’s Isolde’s work and I will not have Isolde’s mark upon my territory”. She gestured almost negligibly towards the flowers and for a moment nothing seemed to happen. Then, as Afin watched, one petal on one deep red rose began to wilt and wither, blackening as rapid decay overtook it. The decay spread from the petal to the rest of the flower, then to the entire plant. From there it seemed to leap to the next flower and the next until the once red belt of flowers was being over taken by the process of decay.

“Come along Rin, Afin, I think things will manage themselves out here now”. Andraste beckoned to both of them as she stepped through and over the rotting flowers. The jester scampered through the patch of decay, apparently unconcerned about it all. He stepped more carefully through, knowing that he couldn’t disobey the fairy queen yet not wanting to move through the rot and putrefying matter.

As he walked towards the low hill, Afin didn’t notice how the decay moved from the flowers to the fearful trees themselves.

The twisted creature Rin still pranced and hopped about the farmhand as they reached the hill and began to climb up. When he had first met the jester Rin's clothes had been made of all sorts of different fabrics and colours, now they were uniformly black. He still carried the stick with the bells upon it but that didn't comfort the farmhand one bit. Afin was sure that jester's were meant to be funny and Rin most certainly wasn't. Of course it might always be that fairies had a different sense of humour to the rest of the world. He was sure he didn't want to find out exactly what sort of a sense of humour they had though. Afin had a nasty suspicion that he wouldn't like the answer to that query.

The ring of flowers around the hill still bothered him. Why had they all been red? It was a nice enough colour he supposed, and girls always did seem to like getting red roses from a man. The Isolde woman had put the flowers there though Afin couldn't understand why. He knew enough about plants to know that they didn't grow so close together naturally. Not to mention that some of the flowers he'd seen didn't bear flowers at this time of the year. just the presence of the flowers had been strange, Andraste's reaction to them had been stranger still.

He could still remember how the flowers had decayed before his eyes. Afin knew that flowers died eventually, all things did. But he'd never seen flowers die so quickly, that had been most unnatural. Andraste seemed to have powers that he most certainly wouldn't have wanted.

On top of the hill seven standing stones stood in a circle. The stones had been brought up onto the hill a very long time ago, before the forest had grown up around them at least for they showed clear signs of weathering. In one place it looked as though someone had struck one of the smaller stones. Andraste ran her hands over the chip in the stone, "It must have taken her a great deal to harm this stone."

"She wanted us locked up inside for good, my fine lady", Rin offered, dancing up to the fairy queen.

"She should have known better, these stones cannot be broken down wholly or removed. Isolde was young, she was inexperienced, but she was determined, I'll give her that. But she broke the rules, she lowered herself to using", Andraste didn't finish her sentence. But Afin clearly saw the look that passed between the queen and her jester, they were keeping silent on something. They didn't want him to know something that had happened to the past. He wanted to ask her what she was hiding but the sight of the queen still stole his breath from him and he knew that he was still caught within her spell.

"Isolde doesn't matter any more, my fine, fine lady. She's gone, not even remembered by these people hereabouts. There's no one here but us and them". The glance that the jester shot towards Afin was one filled with a dark hunger, one that the farmhand was fairly sure he didn't want to see fulfilled.

Without a further word the queen and the jester walked into the centre of the stone circle and promptly vanished. For a moment he was free of the queen's influence. His mind was his own once more and had already made the decision to run back to Medoc. He'd tell the people of Medic what had happened, they'd laugh at first but in the end they'd believe them. He'd tell them that the fairies had taken Mala, that'd get their attentions. If the young men of the region thought that Mala was in trouble they'd run into the very gates of hell, fairies or no.

Afin managed to turn round and look down the hill before Andraste's influence began to push its way back into his mind. She wasn't there any more but she could reach him nonetheless. He was her's now, he realised with horror, he'd never be free of her. 'Come along edan Afin', the words bypassed his ears and went straight to the core of his mind, 'You want me to give you your boon, do you not?'.

His body was not his own, his moved by the will of another. He caught one last glimpse of the forests of Medoc before he found himself turned around and marching towards the circle of stones. That last glimpse of the forest sent a cold shiver through him. Once the forests had been a grand expanse of lush greenery, full of life. Now Andraste's spell of corruption had spread to them, changing them forever. What had been tall and green was now dark and twisted, with strange lights like will-o-the-wisps dancing sickly between them. Once the people of the region saw that it wouldn't take them long before they wanted to find out what happened.

All of a sudden Afin wasn't so sure he wanted the people of Medoc to find Andraste and her court. If the queen could corrupt an entire ancient forest, what would she be capable of doing to people?

His legs wouldn't obey his commands, they followed her will now. Unwillingly Afin walked into the circle of stones, trying with every step to regain control of his own body. As much as he didn't want to entire the circle neither could he stop himself. So long as he had been in the woods he had at least felt vaguely safe. The woods of Medoc were outside, theoretically all he'd have had to do to get away would have been to run. But once he entered the stone circle? It didn't appear that escape would be as easy gained from there.

As he crossed into the circle of stones he felt a slight resistance as if there was an invisible barrier before him. Although he could not see it, it felt as if he was trying to walk through a giant spider's web. It held his traitorous body back for a moment and no longer. Then the barrier gave way and he walked through. A strange heat spread across his body momentarily and then the outside world disappeared.

Or rather he disappeared, following the same pathway that Andraste and her jester had already taken. It had to have been magic, he told himself, there was nothing else in the world that could have moved him from one place over to another. Though perhaps 'over' was the round word to use, maybe 'down' would have been more appropriate.

The farmhand was inside now but the walls, floor and ceiling were like none he had ever seen before. They weren't made from bricks or even stone like most buildings were. Instead they looked as if they were little more than compacted earth, as if someone or something had tunnelled its way through many, many layers of earth to form them. It was then that Afin realised that he had indeed moved down rather than over, down into the low hill itself that the stone circle had rested upon. He looked up but there was no sign of the embedded lower sections of the stones above him. There was no knowing how deep inside the hill he really was.

Cold blue-white spheres of light flickered in settings that were attached to the hardened earth walls. They illuminated a long winding tunnel in front of him that curved out of sight but gave no hint as to where it went. The fairy queen and her jester stood a few metres ahead of him. Andraste was impatiently tapping her foot, though it was tapping against nothingness as she still seemed to float a few inches above the ground. he had no idea how she managed to avoid touching the ground, though she had wings they remained still against her back, reflecting the blue-white light back into iridescent glory.

"I do not like to be kept waiting", she snapped, a frown creasing up the perfect skin of her brow. "No one makes me wait, especially not an edan".

He was almost afraid to ask, "An edan?"

The queen threw her hands up in the air as if in despair at a slow child. "A human, Afin, a human. An edan is a human".

"I can think of more appropriate things to call him, my fine lady", Rin offered unpleasantly. For a moment the stick and bells seemed to shimmer in the jester's hands, becoming a long, curved knife for just a second. Then it shimmered back again and he shook the stick, causing the bells to ring gently. Rin grinned viciously and Afin once more wished that he had been able to control his own body enough to prevent a trip into the halls of the fairy queen.

A slow ponderous booming began. Quiet at first but growing ever louder. It seemed to be coming from the long twisting tunnel in front of them. Neither the queen nor her jester seemed at all concerned by the noise. It occured to the farmhand that perhaps if the sounds had been quieter they might have been footsteps headed towards them. But that was ridiculous, nothing made footsteps that loud.

Apart from perhaps the creature that came around the corner. It was huge, easily dwarfing Afin. Its skin was green and massive fangs sprouted out of its mouth to curve upwards over its lip. It had a long, off-white beard that mingled and mixed with the similarly coloured hair that stretched down from its head. Afin had never seen a troll before, he was fairly sure that he would rather have spent his life without the experience.

The troll stopped a few feet from Andraste and bowed low and long to her. It was only then that Afin noticed that the creature was wearing thick, ornately carved bronze armour. In its right hand it carried a staff, though it looked more like a a symbol of office than a weapon of war. "Your majesty", the troll said. His voice was deep and low. It put the farmhand in the mind of the thundering of a waterfall in some deep, undiscovered pool beneath the ground.

Andraste moved forward slowly while the troll remained bowed before her. She rested her hands gently on his head for a moment like a blessing. "You may rise Seneschal Keteel, your queen permits it. I have brought a guest from the outside world Keteel, see to it that the court is assembled in order to view him".

The troll looked towards Afin, "As you wish, your majesty". Then it got up once more and returned the way that it had come.

"A guest she says, a guest. A guest to be viewed. Or an oddity to be watched". Afin span round quickly to see Rin somehow behind him. The stick that the jester carried was still a stick, its bells jangling as the jester moved. But Afin still had the uncomfortable feeling that while his back had been to the jester the stick had become a knife once more.

Afin thought he followed the fairy queen through the tunnels for hours, it certainly felt that way to his tired legs. Andraste never slowed down, she just kept on walking, following the curved tunnel down. There had been nothing to distinguish the tunnel that he walked down. Nothing on the walls save for the glowing lights and nothing on the floor except a layer of dust. There had been no doors or exits of any kind from the tunnel, nothing that indicated that it was anything except an endless downward stretch. The farmhand couldn't guess how deep into the earth they were, he would certainly have said below the height of the hill. But at the same time he couldn't be sure. Even as his mind told him that he had been walking for hours he was convinced that if he turned around he would see the place where he had first entered.

He didn't want to turn around though. Rin was still behind him and he could hear the jangling of the little bells that the jester carried. It was better to the farmhand's mind to face the tunnel than to look behind and see Rin's grin. Besides, if the jester did intend to stab him, it was probably better that he didn't see it coming. Afin didn't think he'd want his last sight of life to be the twisted smile of the tiny fay jester.

Andraste seemed oblivious to the farmhand's fear of her jester. She continued to walk, or rather float, down the tunnel, completely at ease with the world around her. For all that had happened Afin couldn't bring himself to think ill of the queen. Her commands and her actions were to be expected from royalty and were probably quite acceptable at the time that her enemy Isolde had bound her in sleep. It was only natural that it was going to take some time for her to overcome that and learn what was acceptable in the present. Royalty did act differently to common people like him, he couldn't judge her. After all he was just a low and base human, he should be lucky that she had even touched him.

The tunnel changed abruptly ahead of him, ending in a great set of doors that rose up twice as tall as he did. To either side there were two guards, armoured in bronze just as the troll had been, each standing to attention. Bronze again. A strange metal to be used for armour and weaponry but Afin couldn't recall seeing a single piece of steel since he had entered the hill. Had Andraste and her court slept from before the time when steel had first been created? Two guards hurried forward, opening both great doors as the queen headed towards them. Not one of the guards spoke as Andraste passed them by and she showed no indication of having seen them at all.

Afin went to follow her into the vast chamber that he could just see beyond the doors. But as he stepped forward the guards moved, quicker than his eyes could see. Bronze swords were drawn from their scabbards, each pointed towards him as the guards eyed him warily. They wouldn't stop to ask who he was, they would just kill him if he even thought of taking a step closer. He could tell that from the looks in their eyes. They didn't care about his life, nor their own, only Andraste's was important. Afin took a careful step back, followed by another as soon as he realised that the guards would not press their advantage any further.

Behind him he could hear the little jester laughing and beating the ground with his stick.

Afin turned quickly, no longer afraid of the bronze-armoured guards. The jester was rolling on the floor, laughing so hard that a single tear had fallen down his right-hand cheek, smudging the white paint that covered his skin. "'Guest' you may be but no man enters that room except in the most special of circumstances". The jester stopped laughing just long enough to look Afin up and down critically, "Trust me edan, you're not special enough".

Just then the slow ponderous booming began again that heralded the appearance of Andraste's seneschal. The troll appeared from down the tunnel, though exactly how he got behind them Afin couldn't figure out. Seneschal Keteel had definitely walked ahead of them and there had been no other doors except the ones that Andraste had gone though. It made no sense, it wasn't as if they could have walked past the troll without seeing him, he was far too large to miss. And yet it was definitely the same troll, there was no doubt of that.

Keteel peered down at the jester laying on the ground. Then very deliberately the troll reached down and picked up Rin in one hand, lifting him up so that he was level with Keteel's face. "Behave, little jester, the queen may laugh at you but remember that you have no other friends within the court".

Rin squirmed and wriggled within the troll's grip but found himself unable to escape from what Afin could see. When even he could realised that there was no escaping he stopped still and grinned up at the troll beatifically. "Ah but that's all that matters in the end, isn't it, my great lord seneschal? So long as the queen favours me I have no need of other friends. My fine, fine lady will see to it that no harm comes to old Rin".

The troll released the jester in disdain, "Go to your place, curl up outside your mistress's door where you belong".

Then he turned his attention to Afin. The human drew back on a reflex before remembering the guards behind him. Although they might only have bronze swords they were still quite capable of killing him. The troll bowed, surprising the farmhand no end. He gathered his wits enough to return the bow as best he could but it was a clumsy thing even when compared to the troll's. "Honoured guest, you will come with me and I will take you to the hall. Have no fear of danger, you are under the protection of Queen Andraste ap Tanaith and as such it is my sworn duty to see that none harm you".

"Thank you," Afin managed to stutter out.

Keteel cast one hate-filled look back towards the jester who had scrambled away to hide behind the guards. "And especially have no fear of that thing. In time his favour with the queen shall end. When she ceases to find him amusing he shall be given over to my care". Afin shuddered involuntarily. Though he was sure that Rin probably deserved everything that was coming to him, he was sure that the troll's care of the jester would be a most unpleasant and most protracted thing.

Rin hurried away from the troll, trying not to appear as worried as he was. He could see the guards looking at him from the corners of their eyes. They were trying not to laugh at him. The jester knew that they longed to see him brought to heel, everyone in the court did. Other than the queen he had no allies within the Court of Endless Twilight. Of course what other ally did he need? Andraste ruled her court with a will that could not be broken. No one disobeyed the queen’s will, not if they had any love for their lives. So long as the queen favoured him he was safe.

What if the queen withdrew her favour and protection from him though? Well it was a possibility. Andraste had been known to give and take back her favour in the same breath. The queen could change her mind as easily as the wind changed course, unpredictable and uncontrollable. Rin still remember the time when a brownie had earned the queen’s thanks and yet died at Andraste’s order before a reward had even been mentioned.

The edan Afin would soon learn that the queen’s favour was a double-edged sword.

None had ever held the queen’s favour as long as Rin had. Previous jesters had found their japes and jokes had been worn out all too soon. Andraste always had more amusing uses for a jester who was no longer capable of making her laugh with their clowning. Although if he lost Andraste’s favour, the queen might decide to give him over to her seneschal. Keteel had longed to get his crude, brutish hands on the jester for a very long time.

Seneschal and jester, troll and kender. The two of them had clashed right beneath the queen’s nose for many a long year. Keteel seemed to think that their hatred of one another was a secret, Rin knew much better. The queen knew exactly how deep the hatred between the two of them ran. It amused Andraste to allow the division to continue, to even aid one side or the other if one ever threatened to overwhelm the other. That the troll did not realise only made Rin laugh all the more, but what else could you expect from a troll? Especially one whose family had not originally been allied to Andraste’s court.

The soldiers were still trying not to laugh at him. Well they would learn not to laugh at him. It wouldn’t take much to drop a word here or there to the queen and get the guards assigned to some less pleasant duty. Some would have accuse Rin of abusing his position and power. The jester scoffed at such thoughts; what was the point of having climbed the ladder of the court if you didn’t use the benefits that came of it? Andraste realised that, his fine, fine lady knew how to use her power over the court well enough.

He curled up by the door, watching the backs of the guards keenly. They could feel his eyes upon them, boring into him. Their orders forbid them from turning to face the queen’s chambers. Yet they knew that he was staring at them, that he could accomplish all kinds of mischief behind them. Rin knew the effect that he had upon other members of the court. Not one of them liked to have the jester behind them. A knife in the back was the least of his tricks.

Although the threat of such a thing had been enough to frighten the edan Afin.

Human, that was what the edan had called himself. “Doesn’t change what they are though”, the jester snorted. Back before Isolde had worked her magic upon the court the edan had been a rare and unusual sight in the region of Medoc. The courts had warred for many years before any of them had set eyes upon an edan. Andraste had disliked the creatures, and Rin had agreed, they were little more than cattle to his way of thinking.

The queen had believed that the edan should play no part in the warring of the courts. Isolde though had taken another view, using them to augment her own forces. That had been the turning point in the war between the Court of Endless Twilight and the Court of the Midday Glade. Before the appearance of the edan in Medoc Andraste had had the upper hand, afterwards Isolde had grasped control. Although it had been Isolde who had gambled everything, breaking the rules of engagement even, it had been the edan who had won the war for her.

“Or perhaps she only won the battle but not the war”, the jester crooned to himself. “After all where’s the Court of the Midday Glade now? Gone, all gone, not even a memory”.

The guards flinched a little as he spoke, all too aware of the jester’s sense of humour. If he chose to play a ‘prank’ upon any of them Andraste would not chastise him. The chances were that the queen would choose to praise the kender instead. None would counter her orders if, or rather when, her jester chose to let his ‘jokes’ get a little bloody.

There was one exception though. The edan Afin. All others in the court Rin might kill and be certain of escaping punishment. The human was another case though, the queen favoured him currently, more than she had favoured any of his kind before. “It’s disgusting, letting one of them in here”.

“It will change though. Eventually you’ll bore her my fine, fine edan and then you’ll be mine”.

The troll walked on, leading the edan that his Queen had found through the long winding tunnel. Although his steps seemed almost ponderous the length of his stride made it to that Afin needed to keep to a quick trot to keep up. Keteel tried to slow himself down so as not to tire the little thing out but as soon as his mind wandered his pace picked up. The seneschal was unused to keeping his pace slow for another. Only one could have made him do so and Andraste had no need to force him to slow down, with her seemingly effortless magic she could easily out-pace even him.

Keteel spared a glance down at the human, it had been a long time since he had last seen one. he remembered when he had still been a young troll and they had first appeared in the court. Not Andraste's court, Isolde's.

The seneschal hung his head; it was his greatest shame. For Keteel had not been born into the ranks of the Court of Endless Twilight. His family had instead been loyal to Isolde and to her father before her. Before Andraste had had King Belenus murdered, hoping that his daughter would prove to be a naive and easy foe. Keteel's family had served Belenus and Isolde in turn, as he should have. Yet he had been a foolish and rash young troll, looking for fame and power that was not meant to be his without the weight of years to accompany it.

Long ago, in a jealous rage, Keteel had left the Court of the Midday Glade, seeking power, seeking strength to add to his own. What he had found was Andraste.

"I hate to mention it but - "

The troll's head swung round suddenly to look at Afin. The movement was so sudden that the human fell into silence without finishing what he had meant to say. It had been so long since he had been in the company of the edan, he had forgotten that some of them tended to frighten easily when they saw him. He was big and he was ugly to their minds, a thing to be feared. The truth was that he meant no harm to the edan though. "Speak, honoured guest", he rumbled. "Speak and have no fear, I will not harm you as the kender might".

"Well, you see, this place is only a single tunnel. I came in this way with the Queen, are you now leading me out".

Keteel laughed, the sound of it like rocks crashing down a distant hillside. "Only one tunnel you say? Not all things are as they seem, honoured guest". Very slowly and very deliberately he winked, starting Afin just as much as his earlier sudden movement had. "If this place is only one tunnel, then there are only one set of doors, yes? A set that leads to the Queen's chambers, yes?"

The human nodded silently, his eyes fixed upon the troll's craggy face.

"Then where do those doors lead?"

He watched with some amusement as the edan turned and looked towards the doors away to their right. Keteel could imagine what was going through Afin's mind. Where had the doors come from? Where did they lead? How had he missed them when they had first walked down the tunnel? There was a kind of honest joy to be found in the human's reaction to the doors.

"Where did they come from?" The human moved towards the doors, running his hands over the surface as if he didn't believe that they were real. Yet the doors were real. They were similar to the great doors that led to the Queen's own chambers, but of a much smaller size, only just tall enough for Keteel to get through without needing to duck. "These weren't here before".

"They were and they weren't. You see this place isn't like any other you'll ever have been to, honoured guest. It is one tunnel and many at the same time. It takes time and practise to be able to bend the tunnel to your will and make it go where you want it to. There are many places within this hill and beneath it, all of them connected by this single tunnel".

"Magic?"

"Yes I suppose you could call it that. It's enough to give anyone a headache if they ever tried to map it that's for sure".

The troll set his hands to the doors, pushing them both open at the same time. The weight of the doors was considerable, even for his strength, but all the same they opened without a sound. In the gloom of the tunnel it almost seemed as though they should creak ominously. Instead they opened smoothly, like silk slipping over the skin of a newborn.

Warm light spilled out from within the room on the other side of the doors. It washed over the edan and the troll like a golden sea, touching their skins and tingeing them a slightly warmer shade. Keteel squeezed his eyes shut, narrowing his field of vision as he tried to grow used to the bright radiance. Not that he really needed to see the room in order to walk it. He could manoeuvre most of the chambers below blindfolded. What kind of seneschal would he have been if he hadn't known every inch of his mistress's domain?

After a moment or two he stepped forward, walking into the light. His massive feet easily finding the granite steps that had been carved from the living rock of the isle itself so many years before. Keteel had no idea who had first made those steps or even when. They had been old when he had first arrived at Andraste's court, just like everything else.

The tunnel and the rooms of the court had had a feeling of antiquity about them even when he had been a young thing fresh from turning his back on the Court of the Midday Glade. No one had ever told Keteel how old the dwelling in Medoc were but anyone could sense that it was ancient. The weight of untold ages hung heavily in the air, wrapping itself like a thick blanket upon them all. But no one ever spoke of the age of the Court, no one ever spoke of the rulers of the Court before Andraste. If indeed there had been any ruler before his Queen.

"What is this place?"

The troll turned slowly, remembering the fear that his sudden movements could draw from the edan. Afin was staring with wide eyes at the room within. "This is the Amanturion, the chamber of lights. Do you have nothing like this in your dwelling honoured guest?"

"I don't think that there's anything like this anywhere else in Medoc. There may not be anything like this in the whole isle".

Keteel smiled, basking in the simple admiration of the edan. The chamber that the two of them had entered was vast, far larger than anything that the hill should have been able to house. Though the steps had been carved the rest of the chamber seemed to have almost been formed naturally. It wasn't but whichever artisans had formed it had been clever indeed. The chamber been filled with thousands of stalactites and stalagmites each seeming to reach out for the other. Only a single path through the chamber was unfilled, the floor there smooth and unblemished.

On the tip of each growth of stone a single pin-point of light shone. Each light glowed a different hue of orange and yellow, illuminating the chamber. It almost looked as those dying stars had been drawn down from the heavens to rest in the bowels of Andraste's dwelling. Keteel knew the kind of loyalty that the Queen could draw, if it was possible there were definitely members of the Court who would have sought to bring her the stars if she had expressed even the vaguest of interests in owning them.

It was not a loyalty born of love that Andraste drew from her followers. No, it was the same thing that had drawn him to her. Power. Andraste had it and the members of her Court wanted it. The Queen's favour could bestow a great deal of power upon anyone in the Court. Yet the fairy Queen's favour could also be a dangerous thing, drawing her mercurial attention. A double-edged sword of the sharpest blade.

"This is amazing. I've never, never seen anything quite so beautiful", the edan said in a breathless voice.

"Don't waste all your amazement here, good edan. the Amanturion is most exquisite but the lady's dwelling holds many glories". And horrors, he added silently to himself.

Through the chamber of lights Keteel led the young edan. Then past the room of the starlight river, known in the tongue of the Court as the Tanarátoien. Into and carefully through the Firnavarien, the chamber of thorns. Many were the rooms in the dwelling of Andraste, each one touched by the Queen's magic. Not one was the same as the others, each one an otherworldly delight.

Although Keteel looked upon each one with old eyes still each room's glories were not dulled. The troll could appreciate the beauty and the splendour of each room. Even the oldest members of the Court were unjaded by the chambers of the dwelling. Even so the presence of the edan by his side seemed to bring back all the emotions that he had felt when first seeing the chambers. Back then he had been awe-struck by them, knocked into silence by such exquisite sights. His Queen had always liked to surround herself with beauty, though not with anything that she believed might outshine her own.

Exotic and ethereal, unpredictable and quixotic, capricious and delicate; Andraste ap Tanaith. She could seem as fragile as spider silk and yet be hard as diamond. Cold as ice and hot as fire. It was hardly a surprise that the Queen had never taken a permanent consort really. What male could ever hope to keep her attention for long? Even those who only earned her favour rarely kept it for long. She would be captivated by something for a time and then drop it as soon as something else caught her eye.

More often than not it was her past-favourites that were the targets of her tempers and displeasures. It still amazed him that the kender Rin had managed to amuse the Queen for as long as he had. The seneschal would have bet all he owned that the jester would have fallen into the Queen's bad book long before now. But still the jester remained one of her favourites, protected by her presence even when he played his cruellest tricks upon members of the Court.

Finally Keteel led Afin into the chamber that served as the Queen's audience room. It had remained silent and unused throughout their long spell of sleep that Isolde had forced upon Andraste's Court. Yet not a speck of dust had fallen in that room, not a scrap of fabric had rotted away. Just as everywhere else in the dwelling it remained as it always had been.

The audience chamber could have come from any castle in the isle. Tall stone walls stretched upwards towards an ornately carved ceiling. Banners in rich colours of red, blue, gold, green, black and silver hung down the walls, the markings of those nobles who held their allegiance to the Court. Opposite the door a stone dais would raise Andraste's throne above the eye level of her people. The throne itself was carved from ebony and obsidian, the joins between the two materials impossible to make out.

To one side of the throne a small wooden stool had been placed and Keteel gestured that Afin should sit himself there. Besides the troll and the human no one else could be seen within the audience chamber yet. They waited on Andraste's pleasure, no one entered the room until the Queen sent word that they were permitted to.

"Excuse me, sir?" The edan looked up nervously at the troll.

"Yes? And please, worthy guest, call me Keteel".

"Keteel. Please Keteel, don't take offence but I always thought, or rather I was always told", the human fell silent. His cheeks seemed to be burning red, a warmer colour than they seemed normally. That meant something in edans, the seneschal was sure of it. "You see in all the old stories they always say that trolls live above ground, eating travellers and the like if you excuse my saying so".

Embarrassment! Yes that was what turned human's cheeks red. "Yes, yes, we do usually live above ground. I used to, long ago, before the great sleep, when I was a member of the Court of the Midday Glade".

"The Court of the Midday Glade?"

"Isolde's Court and her father King Belenus' before her. My family were once part of that Court".

"Why did they leave to serve the Queen instead then?"

Keteel shook his head, kneeling down so as to place his head on a level with the edan's. "They didn't, I did. I was a rash and young troll, intent on grabbing power and making a name for myself". He smiled wanly, thinking back on his younger and more foolish self. "I left Isolde's Court, thought to strike out and grasp what I thought was rightfully mine. That's how I met my Queen, that's how I came to be in her service. She promised me everything I desired, but for a price".

"What was the price?"

"Ah but I had forgotten what a curious race you were", Keteel said with a trace of humour in his gravely voice. "Always so curious, always searching for so many answers".

"But you haven't answered my question", the edan said. There was little fear of the troll in him now. That was always something that had amazed him about the edans, the humans, their ability to come to find the unusual ordinary. They could grow used to the strange and the unexpected, they could adapt. What member of the Courts could do that to the same extent as the humans?

Before Keteel had a change to speak again a peel of silver trumpets sounded. The instruments seemed almost as though they were right next to the two of them but there was no one to be seen. The musicians and their instruments if they existed at all were invisible. The seneschal still had no idea after all his years if the musicians did exist or if the sounds just occurred by the will of the Queen.

The tall double doors that led into the audience room hoped outwards. Keteel drew himself up to his full height, he knew what was coming and knew better than to appear anything but strong. Those members of the Court were constantly on the look out for any sign of weakness in one another. There were many nobles who would be glad to wrest his position of seneschal from him. Seneschal was a position in the Court that gave the holder close access to Andraste herself. Many could see the use in that and covet it.

If Keteel showed weakness and fell to one of the others, it did not bear thinking about. He would die, that was a certainty, the Court of Endless Twilight had little use for a broken down old troll who had failed. Failures and nobodies didn't last long in the fairy Court of Andraste ap Tanaith. Yet it was more than his own possible death that made him stand up tall and appear strong. He did it for the good of his lady as well.

Not one of them understood her. Not one of them could protect her from the very person who would do her most harm; herself. She might seem a creature wholly of her own passions, incapable of anything else, but that was wrong. His Queen was so much more than that and only Keteel could see it. He had to protect her, he had to remain strong so that he would be always by her side.

That was why Keteel remained in the Court that had cost him so much; for the love, loyalty and protection of his liege-lady.

The banners overhead fluttered and danced in a soft breeze as the members of the Court approached. As he had led Afin through the chambers they had not seen a single sign of any of the others. They had remained hidden, safely out of sight. They had been watching though, he was sure of that, they had all wanted to catch a glimpse of the edan that the lady had found. They had only recently woken from the sleep that Isolde had placed them under but that hadn't slowed their curiosity one bit.

There was no more time for thought as the lowest members of the Court flooded in. 'Flooded' was not an excessive description. They poured in; sprites, bogies, brags, redcaps, goblins, fairies no larger than the finger of the edan, brownies and bogles, fir darrig and knockers, all manner of things. Some were tiny, gathering in swarm-like groups, others considerably larger than the edan who sat by the throne. They capered and danced, sidled and sulked, voices twittering and growling, eyes staring at Afin and Keteel. Most kept back, pressing themselves against the wall and away from the strange human creature that had been brought into their midst. A few of the more curious crept forward, whispering behind their hands and shooting fearful glances towards the troll.

Keteel snorted and looked back at them disdainfully. The low members of the Court were little threat to him as seneschal. They feared him, they knew that one word from him could have them carted off to the Firnulmaien. Only Andraste would over-ride his commands and the Queen was hardly likely to be that concerned over the fate of a few phouka or pixies.

A tall dark figure strode through the double doors, muffled in furs even though the audience chamber was pleasantly warm. Shadows seemed to cling to the imposing figure, hiding his features. One feature though could not be hidden; the tall, deer-like set of antlers that sprouted forth from the figure's head. The figure turned towards Keteel and bowed his head, a gesture that the troll returned. That one could be a threat to him if he wished to be, but the dark figure seemed content in his role, unwilling to seek greater power.

Once the lesser members of the Court were settled the high-born entered. Their entrances were slow and graceful, each seeking to out-do the others. They were a procession of grand clothing and beautiful faces, each one glowing with the power of the glamour within them. Keteel paid them little real attention, those tuatha de danann, the people of his Queen. They were his real enemies in the Court, they were the ones that would seek to supplant him.

Then the trumpets blew a second note, a third and a fourth, each clear as a bell, each greater than the one before it. All looked towards the double doors as a tall, slender figure moved through the doors. The figure was faint, almost invisible, only the palest of impressions in the room. Yet no one failed to move out of its way for it carried the Queen's banner. On a banner of darkest blue velvet a winter black oak had been embroidered with a silver of moon overhead, turned on its side like a sinister smile on the endless sky of the banner.

Again the trumpets sounded three times and all bowed or curtseyed low in their own fashion. The seneschal creaked down on one knee, his head bowed low. As an after thought he reached out with one long arm and grabbed the edan, forcing Afin to his knees as Andraste entered the chamber.

The first to enter the audience chamber were the lowest members of the Court. Such was the way of things, the endless, intricate dance of station within the Court of the Endless Twilight. A place for each, and to each their place. And woe betide those foolish enough to forget such things.

Or at least, those foolish enough to get caught forgetting such things...

Matholwch's expression did not change as the thought flashed through his mind. His sharp, pointed face, with its high, angular cheekbones and slanted eyes wore the same tight, sharp smile as ever as he slipped and danced through the throng of the lesser Court members, leaping gracefully to his perch on a high ledge. None of the lower Court tried to block his dance. None of them dared.

For Matholwch was of the Hunt. Few there were amongst the Lower Court who would risk antagonising the Huntsman himself by interfering with a Hunter ... assuming, of course, that they survived the Hunter's wrath in the first place. In Matholwch's case, those would be - and on occasion, had been - short odds indeed.

Glittering eyes scanned the horde as they surged into the chamber. Brownies, brags, phouka and more, for the Court of the Endless Twlight counted many amongst its ranks. It would, however, have been wrong to say Matholwch hated them, or looked down on them. For the figure who perched above them all, half-hidden in the shadows at the back of the chamber, wasted not his hate on the lower Court.

He settled back against the wall, a sharp, angular figure, never quite seeming relaxed no matter how casually he might sprawl. His form was garbed in tight black leather, overlaid with furs, pelts and scraps of fur tied together with rawhide thongs and held in place against his body with straps and belts. A fox's tail was draped around his neck and a line of squirrel-tails dangled down his left arm.

From the belts that held the furs in place dangled a variety of knives and other small, sharp, pointed weapons. Matholwch slipped a dagger from its sheath as he settled back to watch, casually dirty fingernails with the sharp bronze point.

In appearance, the hunter might be mistaken for one of the nobility, the Tuatha de Dannan themselves, although with his unkempt appearance and twig-tangled knotty hair, he could only ever have been mistaken for a Court noble who had been dragged through a hedge... repeatedly.

Which, in Matholwch's opinion, would be a fairly entertaining way to start hurting one of the nobility. For Matholwch the hunter's Tuatha looks were indeed the result of Tuatha blood.

And as the Court nobles began to parade into the chamber, the outcast bastard halfbreed sat on his perch, and watched, and hated.

Afin risked a quick glance up at the fairy queen as she entered the audience chamber. He was a stranger to the pomp and ceremony that a court involved but still he had the feeling that he was meant to keep his head bowed. Yet even that feeling couldn't stop him from looking up quickly even as the troll's hand pressed down upon his back. When the seneschal had forced him to his knees he had thought for a moment that Keteel would surely kill him. However the troll seemed completely aware of his own considerable strength. Afin wished that he had had longer to speak with the troll, Keteel had seemed to know more than he had spoken of so far.

All thoughts of the troll fled though as the farmhand's eyes fell upon Andraste once more. She had changed from the diaphanous layers of gold that she had worn when they had met in the forest. Instead she wore a dress of purest white, so fragile and so ethereal that it almost seemed to have been spun from spider silk. It clung to her waist and her breasts, flaring out over her hips and falling just short of her bare feet. The dress left her peach-coloured shoulders and arms bare, almost seeming to invite him to lay his kisses upon her flesh. But he couldn't do that could he? Oh no, most definitely not. For him to touch that skin, to even think of pressing his lips to it, it was a sin to think so. She had earlier called his race "dirty creatures, short-lived and messy", such a creature as he was not worthy of touching her.

Lines of gold wound around the Queen's lower arms, starting below her elbow and finishing their twisting path at her wrists. Upon her brow she wore a headdress, also of gold, so intricate and complicated that it almost seemed as though the metal must have grown into that shape, forming itself especially so that Andraste would have a crown. A day before such an idea would have seemed silly to Afin, now it seemed the most perfectly logical thing he had ever thought. Why shouldn't the metal have shaped itself to meet Andraste's pleasure?

Behind the fairy Queen the white-faced kender capered along, now dressed in the more traditional yellow and red of a court jester. On his head he wore a cap that seemed to have sprouted three points, each one with golden bells ringing upon it. He still carried his stick with its bells fastened to it in his right hand and seemed to take great delight in shaking it loudly at the kneeling members of the Court. Some of the lower members of the Court seemed to flinch a little at the jester's passing, others clenched their jaws or fists, clearly wanting to strangle the kender.

No one would move against the jester though, not while he still had the Queen's favour.

Afin ducked his head back down as Rin shot a glance his way, an unpleasant grin stretched across the jester's paper-white features. He was sure that the little man would kill him if he had the chance. Although Keteel might be far larger and obviously stronger than the kender, he did not fear the troll seneschal even half as much as he feared Rin. From all that he had seen and been told he thought his fear well founded.

Andraste stepped up onto the dais, gracefully sitting down upon the ebony and obsidian throne. The farmhand had thought that she might look a little dwarfed sitting on the vast throne, it looked as though it had been made for someone far larger than the tiny fairy Queen. Yet to his eyes she did not look foolish sitting there, she looked regal, every inch the Queen of her Court. He cursed himself, how could he have thought that she would ever look foolish or ill-suited to the things in her dwelling. The tunnel and chambers below the hill were hers, not one of them existed that was not perfect for her.

"Rise and make yourself known before the presence of Andraste ap Tanaith, Queen of the Court of Endless Twilight". The troll was the first to get to his feet, booming out the formal words that echoed to every part of the audience chamber. Low and high Court rose up from their positions as the pale white figure raised Andraste's banner behind her throne. Afin scrambled to his feet, feeling many strange pairs of eyes upon him. He felt awkward and childish under those intent gazes, a silly, dirty creature that had no place amongst them.

"My beloved subjects", the Queen said, her voice much quieter than Keteel's. Quieter but listened to by all. "My beloved subjects for many long years has Isolde's spell held us below the hill, chained in a dreamless sleep. But no more. The spell is broken, the sleep has ended". Andraste paused as Rin put on a ridiculous impression of what Afin had to presume to be the mysterious Isolde. The Queen favoured her jester with a smile, although whether his actions amused her or the fact that none of her Court would hurt him because of her, Afin couldn't puzzle out. The farmhand couldn't figure out why Andraste would favour the stunted little creature in the first place. Rin didn't strike him as the least bit funny.

Finally Andraste continued. "Yet the world outside this dwelling is not the same world that we left. There have been changes. The greatest of these is that the Court of the Midday Glade is no more". Again she paused, but not this time for Rin. No this time she paused to allow the others to take in the news, letting them mutter and whisper to one another for a moment or two. Then she held her hand up, descending the room into silence once more. "Isolde ap Belenus is no more, though she may have won a battle against us, we have won the war. Medoc is mine finally".

Afin frowned. Medoc was hers? Medoc didn't belong to the fairy Queen, it belonged to the people, to all of them that had spent so long working its fields and caring for its animals. How could Andraste lay claim to all of Medoc?

As full as the audience chamber was no one stood near the Master of the Hunt.

Both low and high members of the Court had their reasons to stay out of his arm's reach. He was strange, even to them, striding the worlds of the greater and lesser members of Andraste's Court. The Hunt was his to command, at his Queen's wishes, and for that he had one foot in their world, in the world of the lower Court. Yet he was also the Queen's right hand in battle, leader of the Hunt, and for that he had a foot in the world of the nobility. The Tuatha de Dannan hated him for it, for being their equal in Andraste's eyes even while he sullied himself with the lower Court. Those of the lower Court did not fear him, no, they obeyed him as if his words were spoken by the Queen herself.

In the swirling chaos of the Hunt, the Horned Hunter was a still figure of calm, almost seeming at times to be little more than a unattached observer, cooly watching all that happened but never really a part of it. When the chase was rapid and the blood was high, he would remain calm, thinking rather than feeling. He left the rage and the hate, all the emotions, to his Hunters and to the lesser creatures that obeyed him. There was no room for emotions within him, he had played the call of the Hunt for too long to risk it by letting himself feel anything.

The Huntmaster's eyes fell for a moment upon the sharp, angular figure of Matholwch on his perch. There was much rage, much hate within the halfbreed and perhaps that was rightly so in his case. He was a good Hunter though, a strong member of the Hunt, one that the Horned Hunter would not wish to do without. However if the young halfbreed was not careful, did not hide his activities carefully, then perhaps he would indeed have to do without Matholwch's considerable skills.

He looked over the audience chamber, noting how the Tuatha de Dannan held themselves together, clustering near the foot of the throne. To them the squabbling over position was everything. Each of them desired the Queen's favour above all else. Well perhaps in the hearts of those ambitious few there was something above Andraste's favour that they longed for; the throne itself. They fooled themselves if they thought they would ever take it from her though. The apparently delicate fay Queen held onto her power tightly. It would be a foolish noble who sought to dipose her.

None of the nobility looked his way, their kept their eyes fixed upon Andraste. Even if the Queen had not been speaking of important news they would not have turned their gazes towards him. He knew what they thought of him. They thought him more beast than fay, but if only they knew... They didn't though and he meant to keep it that way. His woad and mud, sticks and leaves, fur and horns, they were all his armour and his disguise, protecting him more surely than any suit of bronze could.

"Medoc doesn't belong to you. It belongs to my people, mine. It belongs to - "

The unexpected sound of the edan's voice faded into silence as all the eyes of the Court turned towards him. Even the Queen looked at the unfortunate creature, the Horned Hunter was glad that it was not him beneath those hard amber eyes. No one spoke out like that in the presence of the Queen. No one, no one who wanted to keep all their limbs at least, contradicted her. The Master of the Hunt knew more than any other what passions and tempers Andraste's beautiful face hid.

"Medoc is mine". The fay Queen said slowly and deliberately. "You think you edans have a greater claim to this land than me? I walked these lands long before your people set eyes upon it". Andraste sat back in her black throne, her expression set upon her face, as cold and emotionless as his own. Of course with her it was all just an act, a mask to hide her true feelings at the outspoken words of the edan. The edan was brave to have spoken out at all, brave but foolish.

"It is of no matter though. Medoc is mine." Her words were quieter when she spoke again. Suddenly the cold mask was swept away and Andraste smiled down at the edan. The Master of the Hunt could see even from a distance how the edan's expression seemed to go slack under the force of the smile. He might have been both brave and foolish but Andraste had him wound about her little finger, he was little mroe than a puppet to dance upon the strings the she controlled. "My beloved subjects, this edan I found while walking on this first night of freedom that has been given to us. He has my favour."

The Huntermaster, hidden beneath his furs and woad, arched one eyebrow quizzically. So she protected the edan? How curious. Still it probably explained why none had tried to harm the creature yet.

"Now my dear Afin, I would have you repay my kindness a little. Tell us of the outside world, tell us all of how it has changed".

A simple glamour hid the frown that was developing on his face. Below Matholwch's perch, the Court listened, raptly, to the edan, as it spoke of Medoc, of Isolde's disappearance.

But it was not the tale of Medoc that prompted the frown, or the cold, bitter anger that grew in the knife-juggling Hunter's chest. No, it was the rapt attention of the Upper Court. Andraste ap Tanaith might sit regally upon her throne, but the Tuatha de Danann leaned forward intently, savouring every word and gazing at the Queen's guest.

The icy anger that Matholwch was so careful to hide was directed at those Tuatha, the Upper Court nobles he knew so well. Was there one amongst them who would even pause to consider before dragging the edan - filthy mortal that it was - off to their bedchamber on some fleeting whim?

Of course there was not, for the noble Tuatha cared for little beyond their own amusements, and certainly nothing for any consequences that might arise from such entertainments.

Consequences such as the half-Tuatha bastard perched on the ledge overhead, three bronze knives twirling in a blindingly-fast dance. Matholwch barely even glanced at the blades as he juggled them, each spinning through the air to drop back - point first - into waiting fingers. The juggler's toss was, for all practical purposes, indistinguishable from a knife-thrower's. A fact which suited the unwanted outcast of the de Danann very well indeed.

He sat and watched them fawn over the edan's words. Sat, and watched, and hated them, glorious beyond belief in the glamours they wove around themselves, fair as any flower, their depravities hidden behind their masks.

We're all bastards, here, behind our masks. Some of us are just a little more honest about it.

Afin stared, wide-eyed, at the fairy Queen. She had a grip upon him, he could not deny that. Everytime he wanted to rebel against her, to run away and scream to be let out, she would turn her amber eyes upon him. When that happened he felt as though he was falling, endlessly, hopelessly, into those deep amber eyes. All he could think of then was how best to please her and how he might forever be allowed to look upon her. The priests had once spoken of paradise, of heavenly joy in the presence of the Gods. The farmhand could almost believe that serving Andraste, the beautiful, ethereal fairy Queen, was heaven, a heaven that he could reach without needing to die.

He had thought that Medoc belonged to him and his people, to the humans that had tended it while the fairy Court had slept beneath the land. For a moment it had all seemed so obvious, so clear, that the land belonged to the humans, to his kind. Perhaps the fay had once held it but that was no longer true, they had been imprisoned in enchanted sleep and others had become the keepers of the land. It had all seemed to simple. But then Andraste had spoken and he had felt her words flooding his minds, wrapping him tightly in their version of the truth.

Then nothing had seemed as it had been. How dare he, an unworthy edan, speak against the Queen? How dare he presume to lay claim to the lands that she had seen long before his kind had ever even set eyes upon them? Medoc wasn't the edans', how could it be when another as lovely and as powerful as Andraste had an ages-old claim to it? And he had angered her! He had dared to speak against her and had caused her to rage against him. He felt lower than a worm, dirty and clumsy in the world of the fay. Afin looked down at his calloused hands, filthy and awkward things that they were, the bitten nails thick with encrusted dirt. How could the fay bear to have him near? How could they bear to have such an unworthy creature within their home?

There was only one thing that he could do; obey Andraste. Only by following her will could he somehow redeem himself in her eyes. And she meant everything to him, everything. The light of Intop might set for all time, the rivers might run dry, the sky itself might fall, but so long as Andraste let him bask in her glory all would be well.

The Queen had asked that he repay her kindness and speak of the outside world. How could he refuse her when her glorious eyes were upon him? "The world has changed since you were last awake. Isolde is a name and nothing more. I swear to you, by Darden's light, that I have never heard her mentioned in all my years-"

"Darden?" The Queen frowned delicately. "Who is this 'Darden'?"

"Darden, the youngest God, the carrier of the Bowl and the Demon of Tismad. Surely you have heard of the Gods?" Of course she must have heard of them. The Gods had ruled the lands for countless ages, setting brother against brother and mother against daughter. If the Court had existed before the time of the Divine three, how old were they? How long had they slept within the forests of Medoc?

The frown disappeared from Andraste's face, her beauty once more flawless and unblemished. Her voice however was cold, her eyes staring at him as if he had suddenly become something of great interest to her. Afin felt as though he was an insect caught in the gaze of a child who was still deciding whether to let him live or crush him with her boot. "Humour me, edan Afin, tell me of these 'Gods'".

"Well there are three of them", he answered nervously, holding up the fingers of one hand as he counted them off. "First there was Foret, eldest of them all. And then there's Isonia, beautiful and cold. And then there's Darden, youngest, demon and angel together".

"You tell me these names and yet they mean nothing to me edan. What are 'Gods'? What do they do? What purpose do they serve? Are they rulers of some sort, edan who have gained some measure of power?" Afin was confused, how could Andraste not know what a God was? Had she ruled Medoc so long ago that she did not know of the Divine? Had the region been so cut off from the rest of the world that she had no idea what a God might do? That couldn't be so, everyone knew what the Gods were and what they did. It was foolishness for him to think that one such as Andraste, a Queen of her kind, would not know such things.

Yet apparently she did not. The looks that he was getting from others close to the throne also seemed to suggest that they had no idea what a God might be either. "Gods aren't human, I mean edan. They are, well, they are Divine, they are the Gods. Power is theirs, to give and to receive. Men and women fight for them to try and ensure that one rules over all others. When people die their souls ascend to the heavens and are judged by the Gods. If they have done well then the Gods find them worthy and they are allowed to remain in heaven, sitting at the right hand of their God. If they have been wicked then they are cast out into the eternal darkness, there to watch the righteous and cry out for forgiveness".

Andraste leaned over the side of her great black throne, her eyes lit with curiosity. "Tell me Afin, what is this thing that you speak of, what is a 'soul'?"

"A soul? Well we all have one. It's the part of us that goes on after we die, the part that gets to go to see the Gods and lives eternally".

The fairy Queen sat back, her questions apparently satisfied. "A soul, a piece that lives on eternally. How interesting. I have never heard of such a thing before."

"But you must have, everyone has a soul".

Her amber eyes narrowed, "I would not be so quick to claim that edan. I do not think I have a soul, but I think I should very much like one. You shall tell me more of these 'souls' and these 'Gods'. You shall speak of this further as we travel further down into my dwelling so that I may give you what you desired, your edan wench Mala. You do still want her back don't you?"

The breath caught in her throat. Did he want Mala back? Or did he want to simply bask in the reflected light of Andraste's glory? It was so tempting to simply throw himself at Andraste's feet and simple beg her to allow him to serve her. Yet he couldn't leave Mala alone within the fay Court could he. Could he? No, no, he remembered Rin's antics all too well. The Court was very fair seeming, but there was darkness and corruption just beneath it's surface.

Afin nodded wordlessly, not trusting his voice. He would find Mala and he would answer Andraste's questions. All else would have to wait.

Slowly, lower and higher Court alike filed out of the chamber, dismissed silently. Afin did not want to think about what amusements or tasks they returned to. The fairies that had once been nothing more than a drunkard's tale to him were now painfully real. What had seemed so beautiful and ethereal in the stories now had a terrible, fearful reality to it. They were beautiful, there was no doubt about that, but they were also inhuman and alien, not at all like anything that the farmhand had ever seen before. They reacted differently, finding the commonplace to be sources of fascination while the bizarre and extraordinary - to his mind at least - were nothing more than everyday happenings to them.

Andraste herself, with her unspeakable beauty and her clear amber eyes, was evidence enough of the differences. The fairy queen found nothing unusual in the strange and eerily wonderful world of her dwelling, but at the same time knew nothing of Gods or souls. When he thought of her he knew that although they lived in one land and breathed of the same air, they were as different as the earth and the sky. He would never be able to understand her and she would forever be above him, just as the sky was eternally kept from the earth's grip. Afin felt like a worm trying to grasp what it meant to be an eagle, what it meant to soar in the unknown heights while he only knew of the low world of dirt and decay.

He wrung his hands as Andraste spoke quietly to the tall, rugged troll, her words kept from his ears. But why shouldn't they be kept from him? Like the worm, he should never hear the eagle's cry, its glorious song of freedom and power beyond his imagination.

Keteel bowed low to his liege lady and then hurried off to one side, disappearing through a doorway that Afin would have sworn had not been there a mere moment beforehand. The chambers and tunnels of Andraste's dwelling were more confusing than anything he had ever heard of. If what he had been told was true, there was only a single tunnel, one that connected all places if the will of the individual was strong enough to shape it. Afin had not delusions that he might be able to turn the tunnel to his own will in order to get out again. The fay might do so effortlessly but he hadn't even the beginnings of an idea of how it might be done. He could imagine himself standing in the tunnel, attempting to force it to his wishes, more a fool than the white-faced jester Rin would ever be.

After a few moments the troll seneschal returned, this time with a small ragged figure pottering in his wake. Afin stole a glance at the creature, meaning to look away after a moment, but instead his gaze became caught upon the pathetic looking creature that followed Keteel's footsteps. It was a man. Or at least it looked exactly like one, a human male, ragged and wrinkled, easily as old as any that lived in the region of Medoc. But a man nonetheless. His heart leapt within him, he was not alone, there was another human besides himself within the borders of Andraste's dwelling.

The old man slumped into a heap at the foot of Andraste's throne, his eyes firmly fixed upon the floor, his head bowed deeply. He was dressed in rages and scraps of what might have once been white cloth, but it was long stained by use to a dirty grey. If anything the old man looked more out of place next to Andraste's glory than even Afin felt he did. From what little of his face that the farmhand could see it seemed as though the old man was speaking, but there was no sound. His lips moved but the words were silent. over and over he repeated something, some short phrase that Afin could not make out.

"Ah my little Donkey", Andraste said, descending from her black throne and patting the old man on the head. There was some kind of affection in her gesture, but it was not that of a woman trying to comfort an equal. No, Andraste petted the man as if he was a favoured dog or toy, something far, far below her. He could imagine her putting him away on a shelf, forgotten and gathering dust save for when it suited the fairy to take him out and play with him once more. Despite the pleasant warmth of the hall, Afin shivered. "Donkey meet Afin, Afin meet Donkey. Before you stepped within these halls Donkey was the only edan to have ever walked here. You kind may be unpleasant and filthy but Donkey has proved to have his uses, don't you Donkey?"

The Queen didn't wait for an answer, already walking past the withered old man and back towards the main entrance to the hall. "Come along", she said crisply.

As Afin rose to his feet the old man, Donkey, looked up at him. The old man had eyes of icy blue, clearer and sharper than any that the farmhand had ever seen. There was sorrow reflected within those eyes, the sorrow of a lost and sad soul, the sorrow of one who had seen far more than he was ever meant to. Donkey got up and plucked at Afin's sleeve as if to reassure himself that the younger man was indeed real. He still mouthed silently his unheard words, his lips moving endlessly without ever making a sound.

"What is it?" Afin asked, whispering.

"She won't", the old man spoke, his voice paper dry, his lips cracked and broken as if he had spent many days walking through a desert.

"Won't what?"

"She won't", Donkey repeated, his voice filled with a growing horror as if the words were being spoken through him rather than by him. It was as if they contained a dreadful truth, one that he himself was only learning as he spoke them out loud. "She won't let me die".

She wouldn't let him die.

He knew he should be dead. Long dead. Long gone to the embrace of the earth. Long gone to be a feast for the worms. Sometimes he fancied he could imagine it. Laying in the earth, wrapped in the winding cloth, feeling the worms threading their way through his bones that had long since been picked clean. Long dead. Long dead. Long since forgotten.

But then he would wake and the winding cloth would just be a blanket. He would take a breath and know that he was alive. Not dead at all, still bound to live by his mistress' will. She wanted him to live and so he lived, forced to. He had planed once, so long, so long ago, to take his own life. Yes, that was what he had done, he'd planned to die, to take his own life away. It had seemed simple, so simple, so very simple.

Taking life was easy. Yes, men did it every day, took one another's lives upon the battlefield. It was easy, so very easy, all he had needed was something sharp. Something sharp to pierce the skin, something sharp enough to reach his heart. Easy, easy, so very easy in the den of demons that wore such pleasing faces. Plenty of sharp things around, plenty of things to hurt and kill. He'd taken one, a bronze sharp thing, sharp enough to hurt, sharp enough to kill.

But it hadn't worked, had it? He had tried, hadn't he? Yes, yes, yes, he had tried, tried to hard to take his own life. Tried so hard to die and finally be free of his oh so beautiful mistress. So beautiful, so treacherous, so dangerous. Beautiful like a serpent, beautiful to look at but capable of killing in a lightning strike. Lightning fast, she could kill if she wanted, kill another so fast that they didn't have the chance to look surprised.

He'd wanted to be free of her, to escape into death, to be free of her beauty. And he'd tried, tried so hard. But he hadn't been able to. Had that been his own fault? His own weakness stopping from being being free. Or had it been her? Had her magic stopped from him using the blade? She had stopped him from dying naturally why shouldn't she be able to stop him from using the blade? Beautiful, treacherous, dangerous Andraste. He hated her, loved her, tried to escape her and yet be near her. If he lived, he was hers, if he died, he was free.

Donkey she called him, her own dear Donkey. Dear, dear Donkey. That hadn't been his name though had it? No, not his name, not his real name. he'd had a name, a name whispered by his mother in his ear when he had been born. A name, a name, a name that had been his and no one else's. A name, his name, his own true name. But what had it been? The old man searched his jumbled memories but could not find an answer. He'd had a name but it was gone now.

"She took it from me", he whispered like a conspirator to the young man beside him. "Took it from me and won't give it back. It's mine though, mine, mine, mine. But she took it and now I will never get it back". The young man peered at him with a look of worry on his face. Young people, strange people, didn't understand the wisdom of their elders. He'd been young once, long ago, so long, long before he should have died. He hadn't listened to his elders either. Otherwise he wouldn't have snuck into Medoc.

Wouldn't have snuck into Medoc where the fairies roamed and made war upon one another. Wouldn't have wandered into the forests where the fairies played. Wouldn't have walked too deep to find his way out. Wouldn't have seen Andraste and fallen under her spell. But he'd been too young, too young to listen to the elders when they had warned him, told him, shouted at him. They had told him not to go, told him that that fairies would get him, that he'd become their play thing. Laughed at them, he had, laughed at their ideas. What did the elders know after all? They'd known, they'd known and he's not listened.

"Run. Run you should, run far, run fast". But what if Andraste, his beautiful, terrible Andraste, had tired of her old Donkey and planned to replace him with the younger man? Old Donkey could die then, couldn't he? FInally die and go to peace, go to the worms who had been waiting so long.

A spark of hope kindled within the old man as the two humans trailed in the fairy Queen's wake. The young man couldn't run, couldn't be allowed to run. "No, no, no, don't run, don't flee, stay close, stay nearby. Good boy, such a good boy. Stay here, yes stay here". Yes the young man would stay, would become the new Donkey. Then he would die and would finally lay down in the earth for the worms to feast.

"Good boy", the old man crooned and fawned over the young man as they walked out of the audience chamber. "Such a very good boy".

Afin flinched away from the old man's touch, all the relief that he had felt at seeing another human gone. It hadn't really been all that long since he had wrapped Mala up in his embrace, drawn her close to him and heard her sweet, sweet laughter. But suddenly it seemed as though that had all happened a lifetime ago or was just a story about someone else that he had heard. Back then fairies had been nothing more than children's tales and trolls things to frighten wayward children off to bed. The farmhand could hardly believe that he had ever doubted their existence now though, in the heart of Andraste's dwelling they were all far too horribly real. As beautiful and cunning as they seemed, the fairy Queen and her Court were more alien and strange than any human from a distant land could ever be.

The farmhand tried to close the distance between Andraste and himself, hoping to leave the old man Donkey behind him a little. The old man had not stopped muttering to Afin since he had whispered those first fateful words 'She won't let me die'. What could the old man possibly mean? Certainly Andraste was powerful, only a fool couldn't see that, but to hold enough power to stop a man from dying? No that was pure fantasy. And yet, hadn't the fay Queen told him that her entire Court had been bound in a spell of sleep for so long that they had been forgotten by all outside? Afin couldn't begin to guess how many years or even centuries the Court had slept for.

Too many for a human to survive that was for sure.

But Donkey was human, or else some clever fay trick. Afin prided himself on knowing all those that lived in his village and the old man wasn't one of them. Was it really possible that the old man had slept in the dwelling with the Court for all those years? And if that was true then Andraste must have had some way to extend his life, or at least prevent him from finding death. He risked a quick look over his shoulder; just how old was Donkey? Long enough that his need for death had broken his mind as it appeared to have done?

A human wasn't meant to live for much more than three score years and ten, or at least that was what the local wise woman had always said. Humans were born, they lived their span of years and then they died in their time. That was how it was meant to be and that was how it was except in those cases where magic or something similar interfered. But at least as nature would have it, men had their span of years and were meant to be satisfied with it. What would happen though if a man went past that span? He looked over his shoulder again at Donkey's wrinkled features; far, far past that span.

"Come along, my edan, there is somewhere we must stop before we descend any further into my dwelling", Andraste said sweetly. "And we must descend if you are to be reunited with your Mala creature". Creature? Andraste spoke of the milkmaid as if she were a dog or some similar pet, not a person at all. Was that how the fay folk viewed the humans? Amusing pets that could learn clever tricks? Vermin that needed to be removed like rats? He shuddered and hurried his steps until he stood just behind Andraste's shoulder.

Again they walked the strange single tunnel that seemed to connect everywhere and nowhere within the fay dwelling. A few gaudily dressed Tuatha passed them as they walked, each one gracefully bowing or curtseying to their Queen, lowering their glittering eyes to the ground. Andraste rarely bothered to acknowledge them, floating onwards until her small group reached a set of double doors that had been carefully decorated in swirling bronze knotwork. The patterns on the doors were enough to set his mind reeling when he looked at them for a moment or two. It was as though he could discern a pattern in their chaotic nature, a pattern that would make sense of everything if he could just pin it down. But at every turn the pattern escaped him.

The doors were thrown open by a pair of bronze armoured guards before Andraste reached them. Within was a grey stone room that looked almost as though it had been carved from the living rock itself. There was no sign of the join of brickwork, nothing that suggested that it was a natural yet perfect formation. On every wall save for the back hung dusty banners. Some were frayed, others stained, yet others in absolutely perfect condition as if they had been set there by their makers without ever being used. "This is the Lintesirien, the hall of the fallen", Andraste declared with something akin to pride in her voice. "Here is where the banners of those who we have met in battle and defeated are hung".

Afin stared at the multitude of strange banners that were hung upon the walls and was in doubt that the banners had belonged to those loyal to the mysterious Isolde and her vanished Court. He was so caught up in the sight of it all that he failed to notice Keteel entering, a bundle of heavy green velvet in his massive hands. Only when the troll spoke was Afin shaken from his viewing of the banners. "I have it my Queen".

"Then hang it in its rightful place, the place that has been barren and empty for so long in anticipation of this day".

The troll moved towards the empty wall at the back of the hall. He unfolded the thick cloth and attached it by some unknown means to the wall before stepping back. Andraste smiled fiercely at the newly hung banner upon the previously empty back wall. Upon the green background an oak tree had been sewn in brilliant golden thread. Over the tree a sun shone down, embroidered as carefully as the tree. "The last banner", the fay Queen breathed, brushing the velvet with one hand. "The banner of Isolde and the Court of the Midday Glade".

Afin could not think of a single thing to say for the banner of vanished Isolde was one that he knew well.

He knew the banner, he knew it so well, though he had never heard it attributed to one called Isolde ap Belenus or anything called the Court of the Midday Glade. Afin stood still as if he had been turned to stone, unable to move, unable to do anything but stare in wide-eyed surprise at the banner. He stood and stared, unable to tear his eyes from the banner that was so familiar and yet so strange. Never in all his days would he have expected to see it within Andraste's dwelling and certainly never displayed as the banner of a fallen foe. Was it possible that he was dreaming? No, it was all too real, the reality of it sharp and bitter within his mind.

Afin couldn't remember making a sound, he had thought his voice silenced as surely as his movements had been stunned. But yet he had to have made some sound, even the briefest murmur of surprise perhaps for Andraste turned suddenly and regarded him intently. The fay Queen glided towards him, the soft white silk of her dress holding tightly to her upper body and flaring out below her waist. She looked almost like some fantastic ghost, one that would tempt him with kisses and make death a pleasure. The majority of his mind still wanted to fall at her feet and bask forever in her glory. But still there was a a tiny part of him, a small voice within his own head that screamed out warnings.

"You know this banner", it wasn't a question, it was a statement. "You've seen it somewhere before, somewhere in your world of edan". Andraste drew so close Afin could have sworn he could have just reached out and taken her in his arms. Could have done so, but didn't. Too much of his mind was clouded by her presence, too much that baulked at such an idea and whispered that it would be sacrilege for him to touch such a beauty. "Not all trace of Isolde has gone it seems. Tell me Afin, tell me my edan. where do you know this banner from?"

"It's the symbol of the holy day". He'd forgotten all about it in the strange events that had happened since he had woken up to find Mala gone. It was the holy day, that was the whole reason he'd been able to escape from the usual grind of working in the fields. Everyone had gone to the festivities save for Mala and himself. "The priests take the banner out and parade it through Medoc while the people sing and dance the old songs".

"The old songs?"

"They've been handed down from one generation to the next. Old, old songs that we sing though no one really knows the worlds any more".

The look on Andraste's face was almost hungry for the information that the farmhand relayed to her. "Sing me one of the songs Afin, sing to me". Her voice was a whisper, a desperate, hungry whisper, filled with more longing and desire than he had ever known. His heart longed to sing for her, it ached within him as if it wished to burst from his body and fly free, singing itself till the Queen's wishes were fulfilled.

"Latha lathamin. Qul eta. Qul camina. Qul camina ten s netow lie omen ta. Lle ann ta set. Lle ann ta came. Qul eta. Qul camina". Afin had always fancied that he had a fair voice, nothing special, but still capable of holding a note and taking a song in the right direction. But singing under the gaze of the fay Queen his voice cracked and faded. The tune was one that he had known since childhood, everyone in Medoc was taught to for the holy day celebrations, and yet with Andraste's amber eyes upon him it seemed to escape him at every turn.

Finally the Queen laughed and waved him into silence, "Enough, enough, the years have mangled the words quite enough without you stretching them further". She looked beyond him, motioning forth Keteel. At the troll's heels Rin capered in, leering at both Afin and the old man called Donkey. "So my seneschal, it would seem that Isolde left her work in the hands of edan. Isn't that truly amusing? She went to all that effort to force the spell of sleep upon us and yet left the guardianship of it to edan. These songs and dances, this 'holy' day of theirs, it is no more than the spell that Isolde taught to their ancestors, the one that was meant to hold us down in deathless sleep.

"But the edan forgot the words, or corrupted them", the troll rumbled. "What would you have me do, my Queen?"

"Do? Nothing, my dear seneschal, nothing. The edan have corrupted the words of the spell to the point where they are barely understandable. What were once words of power, no longer have any hold. Let them dance and sing for now, the spell is broken".