Chapter Text
Gwydion found himself on a shallow beach, looking up the gentle slop to a a meadow full of emerald green grass and wild flowers. The sound of fluttering caused him to turn and see the fairy he had spoken to flying towards him, over the surf. She was just as beautiful in person, with long flowing gold hair woven with bright flowers, large green eyes, and soft shapely lips. Her dress was a light floaty white fabric he thought had to been fairy spun silk. In one hand she carried a wand with a glittering star on the end. Despite how silly it should have looked, the feeling of power which flowed from it made it look almost deadly. Flying with the human sized fairy were two tiny ones, one dressed in red, one in blue. These fairies, Gwydion knew from his studies, were more normal sized. Only the oldest, most powerful fairies ever grew larger then his palm, vaguely like a tree’s continued growth compared to a flower’s short bright life.
The large fairy landed on the beach in front of Gwydion and spoke. "I am the fairy, Genesta, ruler of this land. Welcome to Tamir!"
Gwydion looked slightly suspicious at the the fairy. She really was stunningly beautiful, almost too much. Medusa had taught him that some races could enchant the senses, so he would not be able to see what they really looked like, or would feel things about their appearance, be it attraction or fear, that they wanted him to feel. But a certain sadness around her made Gwydion think that she wasn’t trying to trick him. Realising he was meant to say something, “I know you would like me to help you in some way, but I don't know how I could help such a powerful fairy."
Genesta looked even sadder. "You're wrong, Gwydion. You see, I'm losing my magical powers. Yesterday as I was strolling through the woods, Lolotte, the evil fairy, caught me unawares and stole my magic talisman." The fairy sighed, "She yanked it from my neck and raced away screeching with laughter. Immediately I felt my powers diminishing and my body weakening. I will die in 24 hours if my talisman is not returned. Further, I can not send you home without my talisman." Intently, Genesta looked at Gwydion. "Lolotte is very evil and will use the talisman to bring more evil to Tamir. Now I fear it will contaminate my whole country!"
Gwydion was still unsure what Genesta wanted him to do. Meekly, he asked, "I want to help you, but how?" He thought of his potion belt. He only had a poison cure, a minor cut balm, a tiny amount of flying potion, some shrinking solution which he had altered to last an hour per drop, a fresh pot of sleeping powder and the stasis jar with the spider he had taken to carrying when he found Manannan batting it around when he had returned one day. He couldn't release the spider, as it would immediate grow in size again. After the first hunk of pork it hadn't even need to be feed again. He didn't have any of his other potions on him. He hadn't thought he would need his normal arsenal for a trip to Daventry. He only had the sleep and shrinking potions because he had wanted to show his teachers how he had improved the recipes.
“You can do more than you think, Gwydion,” Genesta assured him. "I believe you will be able to penetrate Lolotte's domain. Lolotte's castle overlooks Tamir from the great mountains."
Why do bad guys alway live on the top of mountains? Gwydion thought. “Wait, you want me to deal with Lolotte?”
“You are a great wizard! I’m sure you will be able to return my talisman.”
Suddenly, Gwydion remembered the tiny tree, the one which would save Graham. "Can you tell me where to find the magic fruit?"
Remorsefully, Genesta looked at Gwydion. "It will not be easy to reach the tree. It grows on a tiny island within a vast swamp on the other side of the great mountains."
The great mountain, which of course, Lolotte lived at the top of. Gwydion remembered, long ago, Medusa’s voice, ‘It is not the place of children to deal with evil wizards.’ But he was more powerful now, wasn’t he? And it wasn’t like he had a choice, if he wanted to go home. “I will help you in any way I can, Genesta. How can I defeat Lolotte?"
Genesta looked weaker as she said, "There is not much more I can do, Gwydion. As it is, it will be difficult for me to fly home again. One thing I must do for you, though. I shall disguise you as a peasant so as not to attract attention."
And before he could protest, Gwydion’s clothes changed into a brown long skirt and purple vest over a white blouse. Thankfully, his potion belt remained in place. “Genesta these are girls clothes!”
“You don’t like them? I’m sorry if they aren’t your colour, but sadly I don’t have the magic to change them again.”
“The colour isn’t the problem.” Gwydion muttered angrily, “Next time maybe ask first.”
"It will be better for you, no one will know who you are,“ the fairy said pompously. "Well, I must be off while I can still fly. I KNOW you can do it! Good bye, good luck." And, without hearing another word from Gwydion, Genesta turned and fluttered back out to sea.
Well, you're on your own now, Gwydion. He thought to himself. He didn’t want to start towards Lolotte, not while he had no idea what kind of power she had. What he needed was information. It annoyed him more then slightly that Genesta had just dumped him here and left. He decided to walk along the beach, looking for a town or Port. Surly there and to be one around here somewhere.
After about 30 minutes walking along with the the featureless beach on his left and the what he was starting to think of as an endless meadow to his right, he heard the sound of music carried on the wind. Looking inland he could just make a man sitting on a large tree stump, surrounded by blooming wild pansy. Making his way to the jaunty-looking musician, he tried to gauge how dangerous he could be. With his puffy sleeves, much too tight leggings and long hair, he looked more like a flop then a thug. His off key singing and poorly strummed lute playing didn’t help his image.
Gwydion greeted the minstrel who looked at up in surprise. "Well, well. Who do we have here?" he asked.
Gwydion almost introduced himself by name, but realised that if he was meant to be a girl, he might as well actually try. Getting caught would be worse then just going along with it. So Gwydion introduced himself as Rosella, the name of the Daventry princess, the only young girl he really knew.
"Hello, Rosella," the minstrel said. “Let me play for you one of my favourite tunes," as he began to play an old ballad. Unfortunately, it appeared that his musical skills were quite limited, as he plunked and pinged his way through an otherwise beautiful song.
As the minstrel finished he looked to Gwydion, as if expecting praise. Unsure what to say he settled on, “That was certainly memorable.”
Medusa would be so proud of how far his diplomacy had come.
The minstrel seemed quite pleased that Gwydion appreciated his music so much. He obviously loved the attention as starts to strum another out-of-tune song. Before he can open his mouth Gwydion interrupts.
“I’m sorry, but I was looking for the town. You don’t know where it is do you?”
Slightly put out by not being able to play, the minstrel looks a little bemused at Gwydion, “There’s no town around here. The closest human settlement is Aberdyfi, but that is a good moon’s travel away to the south.”
Gwydion’s voice was distinctly flat when he questioned, “What.”
“Yes the wild magic of the Fae doesn’t allow human settlements. The old Prince learned that the hard way.”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, you don’t know the tale? Well let me enlighten you!” And with that the minstrel put down the lute to one side and jumped up on the stump excited. He clearly was enjoying himself, much more then when he had sung. “About 30 years ago, Prince Casimir was the third son of the King of Reynes. As his father aged and started to plan his succession Casimir realised that he would never inherit the throne, despite believing he was the greatest son, and decided to make his own kingdom to rule. So he set out to find an area where no human claimed. Eventually he came here, and looked upon the Great Mountains and thought it was fit for a King of his standing. He looked upon the fields of flowers and thought of great farms. He looked upon the sea and saw trade routes to all of Sierra. This land, he decided, would be his.
So he went home a bought many slaves. He returned an ordered them to build a castle on the highest peak. The Fae of the mountains, the stone skinned pixies protested, ‘The Great Mountain is sacred! You can not build here!’ But the Prince ignored them.
He set the slaves to make farms, plowing the fields and cutting down trees, and the Fae of the fields, the colourful winged fairies protested, ‘The fields are our homes, you can not plow them! The trees are our lives, you can not cut them down!’ But the Prince ignored them.
Finally, the Prince set the slaves to build a dock, cutting through the offshore reefs, and the Fae of the sea, the nereid with their melodious voices sang protests, ‘The sea is wild, it can not be tamed! You have angered Fae of the air, of the land and now of the sea. You will find no joy in these lands. Magic turns against you.’
But the Prince just laughed, ‘What do I have to fear from pixies, fairies and nereid? Bugs beneath my might as King!’
But his slaves heard and feared, and under cover of night tried to escape, for they were not a Prince to laugh in the face of magic. They who had split stone, and field and reef. When the Prince awoke to only a handful of slaves who had been locked in the castle, he raged and demanded they swear to never leave. And fearing their lives they did. But that meant there was none to work the field, none to crew the boats. And the Prince strode out into the field and raged, ‘Return my property! Return my slaves!’
But the Fae said nothing.
The Prince raged and cursed at the land. In his anger he gathered up the Fae and started to destroy them. He pulled the wings off fairies and pixies, the fins off nereid. And Magic seeing her children in pain and dying, surged forth, and in retuned rage, and the Prince was surround by a blinding light, and in an instance was gone, never to be heard from again.”
Gwydion was sitting on the ground, totally enthralled by the storytelling. “Wow! If you don’t mind me saying, you are much better at story telling then music.”
The minstrel beamed then slumped, “I know. But I know so few tales, and there are none around here to tell me more. Pan at least will play new songs I can learn. How can I be a storyteller without tales to tell?”
Gwydion nodded in understanding. “So no one knows what happened to the Prince?”
“No. Not even his slaves, who were stuck in the castle. The sad thing is they had hardly a moment of peace before Lolotte came and claimed the castle for herself. As she is part or full Fae herself, the curse of the land can not touch her. The slaves she twisted into monsters, the forest has grown dark under her influence, and evil spirits roam freely at night. But Genesta, that’s the Fairy Queen around here, does nothing.”
“Why doesn’t she?”
“She claims that there is nothing wrong. That Lolotte wouldn’t dare go against the magic of the land. That’s all well and good for her to say, living out on her island, away from all of this.”
Gwydion thought about his interactions with the Fairy Queen. She didn’t seem malicious, more ignorant. But could it have all been an act?
“Hey, Lass.” The Minstrel glanced around nervously, “You are a good girl. You should go to the dwarves and ask about the ‘housekeeping job.’”
Gwydion looked at him as if he was crazy. It was clear that ‘housekeeping job’ didn’t actually mean ‘housekeeping job’. He could almost see the quotes around the words. “Why?”
“If anyone without a job or a reason to be here is found by Lolotte they end up in the dungeons. Just be careful, OK?”
Oh, that did make sense he guessed. Feeling slightly less suspicious Gwydion smiled and said, “Where can I find the dwarves?”
“Go east to the pond, then head south until you find the stone bridge. From there, you should be able to see the dwarves house.”
“Thank you.” And with a nod, Gwydion started to walk. Behind him, he heard the minstrel start to strum again. Just before he was out of the sight the minstrel called after him, “And if you see Pan, don’t run, but walk away as fast as you can!”
Because that isn’t worrying at all. Gwydion thought sarcastically.