Cool light filtered through the leafy, sweet smelling canopy that gave shade to the Queen’s enchanted bower. No two souls that entered it could agree on what it looked like; most agreed that time spent there was as a dream, with details that faded as soon as one left its embrace.
Whenever Titania noted a visitor trying to fix the furnishings in their minds, she smiled to herself.
No sense in telling them that the brilliantly violent violet blooms overhanging the boundaries were from a world that had drawn its last breath a thousand uncountable generations ago that had no name. That the rugs and statuary were the finest works of art ever created by genius long gone to dust.
Here, all of the beauty and wonder remained, alongside a thousand bits of flora and fauna, would go on and on.
Even as did Titania herself. Forward, ever forward, and she grimaced at the bitterness that yet lingered.
Just now that soft light illuminated the small basin of water that served as a refreshing pool to the right hand of the throne. A trickle of water seeping from cold granite kept the natural grotto filled with the clearest water seen by mortal eyes. It could be a soothing counterpoint, or completely silent; like all else in this place, it served the will of the queen.
Two slender, graceful fingers caressed the surface of the water, the forefinger clockwise, then the middle finger counter clockwise. Titania’s gaze was not upon the supplicant at all, but on the ripples that spread from her actions. So many choices to be made, each one with the potential to echo down through generations, centuries, even eons.
As the ripples overlapped each other, each battering against the energy of its counterpart, Titania’s gaze shifted to the wolfkin. She was in her natural form, a lovely elven lass who’s pale blond beauty was well illuminated by the moonlight streaming down and spilling onto the wonders forgotten over eons. Her silvery gilted head was appropriately bowed as she waited, oh so still, so silent, and most of all, so patiently for the wisdom of the queen.
At her left hand, the enormous grey squirrel who served as her seneschal twitched his whiskers precisely once from his perch on the arm of the enormous block of black marble that served as the wide bench of Titania’s throne.
“We are sure that the squabbles to the far north are no concern of ours,” Titania’s voice was pitched low, rich as honey, dark as night. She artfully brushed a twitching tendril of silver hair over her ear, where it continued on its sinuous path to the feet of Scamper. He stepped on to the strand only after genuflecting to his queen for her kindness, then rode it down to the young wolf girl. Reaching out a paw, he drew the girl to her feet (as regally as only a foot and a half tall squirrel could be) as he knew his queen wished.
Titania gave him a small nod of appreciation before continuing on. “We do not choose to take up the standard of the wolfkin,” and she paused to allow the girl a moment to compose herself. “We make no judgment as to the right of your cause, even as our brethren Erdu and Danu will likewise absent themselves from this conflict.” Here the queen glanced at Scamper, who twitched the same whisker as before.
They both noted the supplicant’s quick intake of breath before she lowered her head once more- she had not been aware that her companions’ missions would be nearly as fruitless as her own. It made no matter; there was no action she could take in the meager time that rendered this rare gift of foreknowledge useless, and Titania’s lips curved ever so slightly as she watched that realization dawn.
“However,” the queen went on, a bit more briskly. “We also have had no missive from Naradhurn in this troubled time to call for aid of his old ally. How concerning it is to know naught of what has befallen our friends, and yet.” Titania stared at the girl’s bowed head, drawing out the pause until the child looked up. She knew it was disconcerting for some to meet her gaze, yet Titania did not wish to be misunderstood with what she was and was not committing to.
It took another nudge from Scamper before the wolfkin looked up, startled.
If looking upon the Queen’s bower was like a dream, to look upon the goddess herself was delirium. Never was anyone so still and so ever changing- her eyes moved as did waves upon the sea, brimming with too many emotions to name. In stark contrast, her form was eerily at peace, long slender limbs that composed themselves to unearthly grace.
Only did her hair seem unrestrained, with dozens of colors playing against one another, tendrils and tentacles, strands and locks aflow with life all their own. As with most folk who were granted a private audience, the girl didn’t seem to know where to look once permitted to raise her eyes and ended up trying to watch all the queen at once.
After a patiently pregnant pause, “The weather in the north is so very terrible this year, we have heard. How unfortunate that messengers to the south are so seldom seen.” The kaleidoscopic eyes narrowed, finding and meeting the wolf girl’s for the first time. “For one cannot respond to a message one has not received.”
The girl bowed again, her forehead pressed to the mossy floor. “I hear the words of the Queen of the South, and appreciate each as a pearl to be held and treasured.”
Titania laughed, a startling sound that found musicality within the rust of disuse. “Ah, my lass, should there be more such as you that wish to come to our service, pray send them. We should be pleased to receive others of quick tongues and quicker wit.” The queen returned to contemplation of her scrying pool, an ethereally gentle curve to her smile that caused the messenger’s breath to catch in her throat.
Dismissed, the girl backed away as court protocol dictated, but the queen paid her no mind. “And more ripples against the ripples are set into motion,” she murmured. This time, she let the waters carry her where they would, and saw the bitter cold fighting. Red blood steamed against the churned snow and mud, and the end would be a stalemate. The girl she had just dismissed would live, one of her companions would not. But forward, ever forward would they all go.
Scamper, having shown the girl to the winding exit path, came back to his perch. He cheekily caught up one of the ever moving tresses to rub his face against in homage. “You approve, then?”
“My fairest lady, I do. As the twins hold their silence, it is only meet that you follow their lead.” He laid one of his furry fingers alongside his nose, dark eyes glittering for all that he dare not put into words, even in as safe a place as this.
It brought another, cooler smile to her pale lips as she raised a finger to rub him behind the ear. “Have you word of Puck’s return?” While she enjoyed the company of her furry confidante, Scamper wasn’t the same as the attentions of her consort.
“Three days by the road, dearest mistress. It was a profitable search by all accounts; two lost ones to join your household.”
“Two? Have we the space for them?” It was a shocking number- some decades could go by between foundlings, to have two from the same quest was most unusual.
“We do, with Angin having left on his quest a fortnight ago and Mellina awaiting only your blessing that she may depart.”
Titania brought the child to mind easily enough, a dark rangy girl who had received the gift of height without the flesh so that she looked crude and unfinished. Her desire was to find knowledge of healing that she might commit it to written word and available to all peoples. “One is displeased by this. Knowledge is one thing, her thoughts of late stray from trust in the goodness of the gods to offer compassion where it is needed. I do not like these doubts being put forth so vocally. We care of our people and we always will.”
Scamper gave his queen a deep, reverent bow, bringing the hem of her robe to his lips. “As you always have, dearest queen.”
“Yes,” Titania’s voice trailed off and she shook her head, reaching down to pat Scamper on the head and moving on with a brisk tone. “You have learned well as my left hand, my lord Scamper. Take a boon for yourself, and know that I am pleased with you.”
“And Mellina?” The squirrel asked after a deep genuflection.
The loving stroking down the squirrel’s spine stopped abruptly, and a sudden chill draft fluttered the branches overhead.
“You may dismiss her, that she seek her fortunes elsewhere. This dream is not shared, therefore we have no blessings to offer.”
“As the mistress of air and darkness wishes,” Scamper bowed again before living up to his name and removing himself from her presence that her will be obeyed.
Without the seneschal to stroke, the long tapering white fingers stroked the marble armrest instead. An oversized bench that was emptier without Puck beside her. In recent years, the news of foundlings had come more and more frequently. As it was her own prophetic vision that had told her that dreamers required her guidance, and it was imperative that each one be sought out. Her dearest Puck had taken up the task with a will, for only he could see as she did which ones could be left to live our their little lives where they were, of no concern to anyone, really.
But a few.
A very small few had both the natural abilities granted to them by the virtue of being born Myskarian along with the curious turn of mind or perhaps it was spirit- that created a hero.
“We have no quarrel with heroes,” Titania murmured, almost as though she spoke to herself. “Fine folk they are, with wondrous tales to enjoy on a winter’s night.”
She paused, ear cocked to the winds before rising and gliding across the soft rugs spread over the mossy floor of the audience chamber to her private couch. Drawing back the antechamber’s diaphanous draperies with a thought, the queen lay herself down upon the fantastically carved couch and closed her eyes, nodding along with a conversation only she heard.
“Precisely. And now, mayhap, we dream.”
And, as she had willed it, they did come, showing her more of the day than she’d been able to glimpse in that quick flash from the scrying pool. Details of the other wolfkin emissaries that would be turned away from gods they would come to the conclusion were uncaring, indifferent to the suffering of their people. Oh, how bitter they would be, sent forth as failures, their pleas unheard, their cause unknown.
It would take time, all things did.
As happened too frequently, the sight shifted away from what Titania wished to know to the darkened mirrors that refused to serve. She shook her head upon the silken pillow in annoyance, her hair fanning out into wild gyrations as though troubled by the turbulent thoughts roiling within. With a frustrated sigh, the queen sat upright, shaking her head and drawing her hands into the forms of banishment and negation that the vision be pent once more.
To aid her, the queen placed the soles of her bare feet upon the damp earth, feeling the immediate relief of the power of the leyline. It tossed and surged beneath her, full of raw magic that beckoned her to temptation and folly. Titania crooned to it soothingly, stroking the air before her, singing airs that could calm far more violent tempests than this. Another balance, another careful step of the dance, more and more patience to be called upon. So many times, the call had been too powerful to resist.
This time would be different. Time was moving forward, and Titania, Queen of the South, Goddess of Magic and Ether and Wonder guided those that came to her as only she could. She curled her bare toes into the soft warmth of the earth to feel the thrumming while stretching her hands to the sky, as though to wrap her arms around the whole of the world.
Patience was the hardest lesson to learn, yet she would keep moving forward.
“It’s not fair, Scamper. You know it’s not!” Mellina was engaged in angrily wadding up a glorious array of clothing; such was considered necessities for a life spent attending the queen. She stalked around the room, snatching items and wringing them in her hands before shoving them into a leather sack, and Scamper winced at each circuit. Before she could ruin any of the truly valuable articles, Scamper took control of the situation, shooing her away and carefully shaking the garments seemingly of moonbeams and silk.
“Does fair have so much to do with life in the wilds, mistress? Where is this fairness you speak of that I am here, folding your clothing for you that you may travel securely with mementos to treasure for your time whilst my wild kin scurry to store nuts and fear the owls?” The seneschal’s voice remained even and calm, and when Mellina turned to stare at him, only the stiffness of his back and the cant of his whiskers betrayed any emotion but compliance.
She sank to the forest floor gracelessly, flopping into a heap of long limbs in a way that made the particular squirrel raise an eyebrow at her. After a moment of silence that indicated Scamper had said all he intended to, Mellina sighed and started helping to pack properly. “I’m sorry, truly, I never thought of what it has to be like for you to be Chosen.”
Not looking up from his task, the squirrel gave a slight shrug. “Nothing I didn’t sign up for, to be sure, and don’t fret yourself over me, love.” He flung his little arms out to show off the tiny vest embroidered with tiny slivered moons in silver and stars of semiprecious stones. “It’s not as though I’m dressed in rags and fed table scraps.” His bright dark eyes caught Mellina’s and he walked over, laying a paw against her face. “You’re a good child, Mellina, and your dream is a worthy one. There’s no fault to any that the queen does not share it; there are many that come and stay for a time only to wander onwards. I wish you wouldn’t take it so ill- I would like to remember our parting fondly, and hope that someday you may wander back to see an old squirrel. Maybe even remember him as kindly as he will remember you.”
Mellina, as she had always wanted to but never quite dared, picked Scamper up and cuddled him close, her tears falling into his fur. “You’re a good friend, Scamper, and helped me so many ways to be more comfortable during my time here. I’m glad to have been able to know you.”
In his turn, Scamper drew away, patting her hair gently, head cocked with a smile. “And so it is that I feel the same way, my dear.” He drew out his miniscule handkerchief and started mopping up her tears, first from her face, then from himself with quick, darting motions that spoke to a fastidious nature. “Fairness was never part of the equation for either of us, but I also want to remind you that there are other places you may go.” He glanced meaningfully to the northwest.
“The city. With all the peoples, all the chaos.” Mellina’s long, elegant nose wrinkled, and she turned to look out from her little glade. Beyond the sweet smelling flowered vines that served as her curtain, the silvery elms and golden beeches stood, branches framing the sky, swaying in elegance. From another alcove much like her own, soft whispers of song emerged, complimenting the sighs of the breeze that came and went on cue. To consider leaving this place of order and calm contemplation was wrenching enough, the idea of stepping into a whole new world such as that was more than a little daunting.
“Tcha!” Scamper said, tugging a log of her hair. “So rarefied as you have become! Your home was not so very different, in its time.”
“Time!” Mellina said in sudden alarm, her dark eyes shooting to the sky has her hands searched her face. “How long as it been that I have tarried here?”
The squirrel gulped, thinking to himself that this was the truly difficult part for their visitors to accept. The queen did not accept change around here gracefully; and so it was that any that came to her service agreed to remain at her pleasure in this little land of enchantments and beguilement. In return, members of the queen’s court were given leave to learn all manner of crafts, magics, and skills within their affinities, all without aging as much as a single day.
Most of the longer lived races accepted this as a matter of course, without undue fuss. What’s a hundred years spent studying with the goddess of magic herself against a span of a thousand years they could expect to live, if they were cautious?
Mellina, however, was a human, with all of the violent emotions of that group of short, bright lived sparks. When the queen was in a more talkative mood, Scamper had heard her speak of humans in a tone of mild annoyance. “They are constantly darting from idea to idea, unsettled and unsettling creatures; I wish Puck would bring fewer of them. Their incessant wants and yearnings are exhausting- no wonder Erdu and Danu spend so much time in renewal.”
Still, a question was a question, and Scamper had avoided it as long as he could by knotting the laces of the girl’s bag. “You have served for just over a hundred years, child.” He raised a paw at her as he saw her mouth shoot open. “One hundred years, one month, one week, and one day, if you must be precise about it.”
The dark skinned girl sank bonelessly down to the forest floor. “Everyone I ever knew is gone.” She lowered her head into her hands, her mind reeling. It had seemed so simple to accept at the beginning, bedazzled as one was to be asked to be a part of this shining paradise that called to so few. A cold pit began to grow within her stomach as the enormity of all she had lost… one hundred years, a month, a week, and a day!
Scamper scoffed, knowing from experience that this despair had to be dispersed with delicacy. “Hardly! Certainly, the humans from your village, yes. But those you served with, they are still seeking out their truths. In fact, you might seek out the Grey Dragon Inn at the main crossroads to the north, I understand it’s quite the spot for our graduates to gather and share the lore they’ve learned.”
Lifting her head, Melinna sniffled and scrubbed her hands over her face. “I could… ride up there, talk to the others, and get a lay of the land. See what the next best step is.”
The squirrel gave her an approving nod and a pat. “That’s exactly what you ought to do, love. And if what I’m hearing is correct, you may happen across Puck there.”
“Oh! How it would have torn at me to have not said goodbye to him, too. He’s been such a great friend, even as you have, Scamper.”
So it was that Mellina’s exit was at great speed and no fuss out of the ordinary, just as the queen preferred it.
For his promised boon, Lord Scamper, Seneschal to Queen Titania took himself off to the single black oak tree that stood within the great audience hall. He, well, even he had to admit it, scampered up the vast trunk higher, and then higher still to the small burrow he had magicked all for himself. It was only there, in his armchair by the fire, divested of his finery and with a tiny dram of good halfing made wine in his paw that he heaved a sigh of relief.
It had been a tricky eviction, to be sure, but Puck’s name worked magic beyond any of Scamper’s paws. It had used to irk him, truly, it was still as itchy a thought as a flea within one’s ear, that Puck was so beloved of all. Of the queen herself, it was understandable, he was her Prince Consort, after all. Even though he flitted off and about into the world all while Scamper himself remained behind and handled all of the matters of the realm.
Swirling his wine meditatively, Scamper wished for the thousandth time that Puck would one day go and stay gone, that he himself be more appreciated for all he did. When he remembered the obnoxious little ditty Puck had written about him, Scamper felt his ears grow warm. As a satire it was no crueler than most, but it had been written in a less refined time, when humor was somewhat cruder. The queen herself had asked Puck to lay the tune aside, but every now and again, Scamper still heard it. He was convinced Puck taught it to any new servitor that could carry a tune as he ushered them to court.
Rubbing the back of his neck and ears with both paws, Scamper sighed and finished off the wine with a haste that would have been unseemingly in company. If he had learned anything at all in his time of service, Scamper had learned that all things were in motion at all times, and that opportunities arose with enough patience and cleverness to seize them.
High in the tree, listening only to the music of the breeze in the branches, Scamper dreamed as did his mistress.
Curiouser and Curiouser 