Chapter 3.

It has occasionally been remarked upon that it is as easy to overlook something large and obvious as it is to overlook something small and niggling, and that the large things one overlooks can often cause problems. – Stardust, Neil Gaiman

That afternoon, Gwen helped her brother by critiquing his poetry. She got along well with him, since they were only a little more than a year apart and were of the same temperament. He twisted his fingers into the curls of floppy hairdo and frowned. John was very popular at school, and his hair was a separate character, looking pitifully bad no matter what haircut he got. His passion was as much for writing and acting as hers was for reading, although sometimes his poetry was a disaster. He was trying, though.

"Okay." John frowned, creating the dimple that girls at school giggled over. "How about this:" he assumed the position he usually took when he was acting and said in a serious voice - "My heart is yawning/a gaping chasm/ I step to the brink/ and then into the abyss." Gwen looked up from her reading and frowned.

"My heart is yawning? What is it, going to sleep?"

"Oh." He sounded downhearted. "I meant, like – yawning, like a chasm yawns. I didn't think of that." Gwen smiled and looked back down at the pages of her book, but lost interest, putting it away and wandering out to the hammock. Lying down on it, the evening sun warm against her, she closed her eyes, mind drifting away to other worlds. Even though the nature around Gwen made her content she realized that she never felt satisfied with the regular, predictable pattern of college, grad school, then an office job and perhaps marriage. Ordinary, really. Wanting something more drove her into the worlds of her books, worlds she could escape to, but never touch. She sighed, her gut wrenching with anxiety when she thought about her essay for too long, and, feeling restless again, she got up to read more of her book.

Dinner was eggs and salad, an acceptable combination for Brienne. Brienne Her father eyed the combination with distrust. "I'm not sure this constitutes a meal, hun."

Their mother smiled sheepishly. "I was busy reading." and leaned over, kissing him. As she looked at them around the table, Gwen felt a sudden contentment. As much as her family gave her grief, she loved them. She didn't want to leave them. She wanted to watch and help Brienne grow up, to help her navigate the awkwardness of middle school, and to keep helping her brother with his lines for the school plays. She didn't want this to end, to go to some new place with new faces where no one cared about her.

That night, she lay on her bed, unable to sleep. Her father was snoring one room over, and Brienne's small form was still on the couch nearby. But Gwen wasn't caught in that sleepy state between waking and dreaming - no, she lay wide awake, listening to every sound in the woods outside. Her mind kept replaying her earlier conversation, and she imagined different versions, different arguments with her parents in her head.

I know you want me to go, Mom, but I want to stay and be here with my family, her imaginary self said, confident, sitting tall in her seat.

Her father would likely interject. You have to go and learn to be your own person, he would say. You can't always stay with us, we can't be your crutch.

Then her mother would likely interpret this to support her position. That's right, hun, you have to go out there and learn more about the world. You can't just put your nose in your books and ignore real life.

But Mom! I love you! She protested silently, then realized this was still her imagination. She groaned. What time is it? she thought, shifting to look out at the forest. The moon had not yet risen, but the stars were incredibly bright behind the nets of shifting leaves.

Gwen pulled at her jeans. They were stiff and confining to sleep in. She sat up, alert, placing her finger on what might have kept her awake. She couldn't hear the lake. There was no wind; it was absolutely silent outside, and quite dark. She got out of her bed, her bare toes curling, repulsed by the icy floorboards, and gently, quietly slunk to the screen door, successfully keeping the floorboards from squeaking. She opened it slowly, hoping it would not give its usual jangle, and managed to shut it without incident. As Gwen stepped onto the damp, needle-covered ground, the smell of the previous rain assailed her. Wet, damp earth, green leaves and growing things. Even though everything's still, she thought, the trees are growing, and even the earth is turning inexorably towards the sun. Time takes its toll.

She turned towards the pier, and her heart nearly stopped. The lake was so smooth that the stars were reflected off of its surface and, if not for the dark trees lining the horizon, it would have been undistinguishable from the sky. But it was not the grandeur of what lay before her that startled her, but rather one of the last things in the world she would have expected to see - a person on the dock, looking as surprised as she was.

The person was not dark and shadowy like the surrounding forest; on the contrary, the light of the stars seemed to lend him a faint glow, so that there was nary a shadow about him. He had long silver hair, down to his shoulders, and old-fashioned robes that, while beautiful, looked like they had seen better days. He was holding a pole, and behind him a strange boat glimmered white under the light of the stars, a smooth leaf-shaped boat that didn't stir from where it was docked, for there was no wave to rock it.

The man gripped the pole tighter, showing that he wasn't just some figment of her imagination, a dream from one of her stories. She took a step, and when she saw he was not frightened of her, she took a few more, careful not to stub her toes on any exposed roots. More of the lake came into view, and she saw yet another strange sight - the island on the water, closest to their cabin, was festooned with strange and unearthly lights, somehow suspended like stars at varying heights amongst the thick trees.

As she reached the edge of the dock, the man bowed to her slightly, his body still, to her eyes, tense, and she approached him, frowning. He looked at her steadily, then motioned subtly for her to get in the boat. Gwen didn't move. Who was this stranger? Would he cart her off to who knows where, subjected to some horrible fate like those she read about in the papers? Visions of her body, bloodied and desolate by the side of some road fled through her mind as she flinched and took a step backwards. The man shrugged and stepped into the boat, making ripples in the surface of the lake. As he leaned over, his hair shifted, and his ears became visible.

They were pointed.

It was at that moment that her body acted, despite her cautious mind screaming for her to wait, wait, what was she doing? And she ran onto the dock, leaping into the boat with him.

It rocked, unsteadied by the force of her impact, and she reached desperately for the sides as her adrenaline kicked in and her mind began to take over again, her heart beating fast. She decided to ignore it, losing herself in the moment. The man - no, she didn't know exactly what he was - dipped the pole into the water and pushed them off, poling towards the island like a Venetian gondola. Water droplets slipped off of the pole when the man lifted it up out of the water, making ripples in the still pond.

As they drew away from shore and Gwen looked out over the starry waters, she realized they were not alone, as other boats were also being poled to the island, like leaves floating down a stream. As they got closer, Gwen's heart raced faster, for the unearthly lights glittered off the ripples of the water as they floated among the trees like lanterns for a party. They were different colors, different sizes, but created an amazing effect. There was a general golden glow about the base of the trees, and she knew something was going on. Looking carefully as they drew closer to the island, she studied the faces of the people in the boats - tall and glimmering, fair, but sad and worn, like a rock that has been beaten by the ocean into a shadow of its former self.

Then they were at the island. Her…escort leapt nimbly out of the boat onto a rock, his body betraying his excitement, and he reached down to steady the boat, holding out a hand to help her out. She took it, stepping onto the rock and then the island itself. Her escort had chosen this spot, no doubt, because it was one of the only places where the thick trees parted enough to step foot onto land. Her heart beat even faster as she stepped up onto the island. There were more wonders to see - more beautiful even than the stars spangling the lake. No - this was nothing less than a party (if the word could even describe it, for no party that Gwen had ever been to compared with this one.) There were both men and women feasting at long tables, flowers and leaves entwined in their long hair, laughing and drinking from sparkling goblets. The table was covered with fruits and breads, as well as fresh cream, and there was joy in their chatter but danger in their eyes. Gwen felt that at any moment they could run her through, or strike her down, or plunge her into the icy cold lake until the stars wove through her hair as in the vacuum of space.

She shivered unknowingly, for not only were these thoughts passing through her mind, but also achingly beautiful music - a clear voice raised over the murmur of the feast-goers, of harp and flute and drum and fiddle, so haunting that she could barely breathe. Some of the…beings, she didn't know what they were, were dancing, turning their radiant faces towards one another, entwining their arms and whirling around. She turned towards her escort, noticing that he looked no longer weary and ancient as the weathered hills, but rather like a young tree, spry and full of life. He turned to meet her gaze and smiled, walking to where the others were dancing and then, to Gwen's delight, joined them in the fray.

Recognition dawned on Gwen as she realized what she was seeing, leaping straight out of the pages of her storybooks. Fairies. The Fair Folk. Fay. Sidhe. Elves. Here the starlight didn't glimmer off them, instead the torches, candles and bonfires made them fiery angels, golden-bright in glory with eyes like the sun. Beauty and danger in one. The beat of the music thrummed through her, and she smiled, tapping a finger against her jeans to the rhythm. The trees enfolded them, standing as silent watchers, forming a golden mead-hall greater than any of the kings of old. Someone stepped from the cold shore behind her into the light, moving quietly to stand beside her. She turned to look at him, and though he still reflected the fiery brilliance of the spectacle before her, he seemed more... tangible, somehow. His eyes were not sun-bright, rather, they were cornflower blue. His hair less resembled flame than the coppery fur of a fox, and it was shorter than the others', pulled back in a ponytail so that his delicately pointed ears were all the more present in contrast to his fine features.

He gave a slight bow to her - more a nod of acknowledgement of her presence - and murmured, "Greetings."

Gwen didn't know what to say, her adrenaline still high, for thus far none of the Fair Folk had spoken to her. His voice was as a stream, but far more fluid were his movements as he turned to survey the scene, then turned back to look at her. He gave her an amused smile and asked, "Who are you?"

As enamored as Gwen was by the sights before her, she had not lost her mind completely. Having read far more fairy-stories than, perhaps, was good for her, sitting on the carpeted floor of the library, hidden behind shelves with stacks of books to read where no one could find her, she knew one of the most important, the most cardinal rule in dealing with the Folk - never give them your real name. So, she fell back on an old nickname.

"Cilantro," she said, falling back to her favorite spice. The fairy man frowned. "That can't be your name. If it is, then it's most unusual - " Then he smiled. "Ah, you nearly fooled me. You know your stories well." Gwen nodded, smiling sheepishly. "More likely," he continued, "you own one of the camps onshore. The Treharne camp, perhaps?" Something in her manner gave it away - perhaps a slight flinch at the name, and he smiled even broader. "Ah. It was only logical." Noting her tension, he laughed, rolling his eyes slightly. "I'm not going to tell everyone, so relax. My name, and this is my real name, is Finrod."

Gwen stifled a laugh. Finrod? What kind of a name was that? She was surprised at how congenially and casually he spoke, something one wouldn't expect of a fairy. Then again, nothing there was as she would have expected. He offered her his arm and she took it, strolling alongside him into the clearing. Finrod leaned over and whispered, "You're shaking," and cocked an eyebrow. She laughed nervously, "Adrenaline," she said haltingly, and he smiled even more broadly. "Well, little Treharne girl, you seem to know your fairy stories, but is this your first time among my fair people?"

"You're not human?" she asked, surprised, and he chuckled quietly. "What?" she demanded , suddenly indignant.

"Sorry, it's just… you seemed surprised."

"Well yes," she said, suddenly defensive. "How am I supposed to know?"

His face grew mockingly serious. "Well, you do seem to know your fairy stories quite well." Gwen squinted her eyes, trying to read him better. "But we're not like the stories , really," he said, trying to divert the conversation.

"That much is obvious. How so?" she asked pointedly

He hesitated, thinking. "For example, when we're here, we're not in our true form."

"Oh? What are your other forms, then?" Gwen asked, looking around at the festivities.

"Well, you can just barely see aspects of it while we're in a revel, as you can see…" he stopped, glancing around. "See that girl, there?" He gestured and she followed his line of sight to a young woman with brownish hair and a gentle green gown. "She has leaves in her hair. Away from this gathering, she's a tree."

"A dryad?" Gwen asked.

Finrod frowned. "No. A dryad is a tree spirit. Greek mythology, if I'm not mistaken. We didn't have a hand in that."

"What? I don't understand." She sighed.

"Look. That girl, she has feathers for a cloak? She's a kingfisher out in the world. If you were driving by, you wouldn't even notice. And over there, that man with the helmet? He's a centaur. You'd probably notice him, if he wasn't hidden away in the deepest depths of the woods."

"Then what about him?' Gwen asked pointing at a young one clad in white.

"Well, he looks like that outside, too."

"What?" She screwed her eyes shut and tried to concentrate through the scintillating threads of music. It was a lot to take in.

"You don't understand?" Finrod sounded amused.

"It's just difficult to concentrate – there's so much going on."

"If you have any questions, I'm willing to answer…"

"Why?" she asked bluntly, rubbing her temples.

He seemed startled by this. "Why what?"

"Why would you be so willing to answer my questions? Aren't the Fair Folk supposed to be mysterious? I was practically invited hereby that guy on my dock."

He cocked his head, a bemused smile flitting across his face. "Well, you might have more to do with us than you realize."

She looked up at him suspiciously. Suddenly he turned, changing the subject. "See the person at the head of the table?" The person had a golden circlet, laughing and drinking from his goblet as he talked with some women. "That is our king," Finrod's voice was uncharacteristically dripping with scorn. "It is he who punishes disobedience with the sullying of our bodies."

Gwen tried to not make it obvious that she was staring. "So the others weren't like that before?"

He shook his head. "No, we weren't. Before we came here, we were all the same."

"Who gave him the authority to do that?"

"A good question." Finrod smiled drily. He picked up a loaf of bread and broke it, eating a piece, and the offered her some.

Ah. Another cardinal rule when dealing with the Folk - never eat their food, or you could be 'fairy-struck.' "Um…no thank you," she said, rejecting it, which made him smile again and give an appreciative nod. He continued walking with her. "To answer your question would require a great deal of time – more than we have right now, at least." He glanced around, seemingly scanning the crowds. He seemed to become a little nervous. "Suffice it to say that he is our king."

Gwen frowned and turned towards him, trying to discern what his sullied form was. There were no leaves, no feathers, no outward trace that would indicate what it was. "What are you all, then? You all look like the same kind of race."

"Elves. We're all Elves."

"Oh." She shivered again, this time from the cold. Walking around in jeans made her feel naked next to all of the finery, but no one seemed to care. In fact, the Elves that glanced her way only looked for a moment. It wasn't that they didn't care, but, Gwen sensed that she was somehow inferior and thus unworthy of notice.

One of the elves turned to address Finrod with a jeer. "What's with the Only?" Finrod ignored him. One of the Elves' companions nodded at Gwen, addressing Finrod. "Why is that one here?"

"Time for you to go," he murmured, and gently pushed her in the direction of the shore. He walked quickly and quietly behind her until they reached the rock where the boats lay waiting. He picked up a pole and jumped into the nearest one. Gwen hesitated, looking back at the glow of the trees, fully aware of the starlight and cold darkness behind her. This glimpse of the beautiful and fantastic made her hate the idea of returning to her dull existence, to school and work and chores and tightly defined roles. Finrod hissed, "Come on! You're fairy-struck!" and she turned away from the splendor, stepping into the unsteady boat.

The island slowly shrank behind them and she stuck her hand into the frigid water to remind herself of the real world around her. Then she mustered the courage to look at Finrod, who was busy looking at the shore. The warm glow of the fires had diminished, and it was replaced by the gentle silver of the stars. Finrod looked weary, perhaps even wearier than her first escort, and then they were at her dock, the boat thumping against the wood. She stepped out - Finrod did as well - and walked along the rough boards to the shore. He gave her a wan smile, saying "I'll bet you were wondering what my form was."

She smiled sheepishly. "Yes. But I figured you didn't have one."

"No, I do." He looked down, and stepped off the dock onto the shore. Instantly the star-glow vanished, and his pointed ears shrank to rounded forms, his skin acquiring a few moles and blemishes. He stood before her astonished eyes, looking wholly human.

Gwen raised her eyebrows in surprise.

Did that really surprise you? There are a fair number of us who look human," Finrod said with a laugh.

"Yes, well – I guess it makes sense. He smiled and jerked a thumb towards the cabin - "You'd better get going. Get some sleep before first light." She didn't move, she didn't want to wake up and find out this was all a dream.

Finrod turned towards the forest, then stopped, reaching into his pocket as he turned around. "Here – take this." He held out a white business card, which Gwen took, studying it closely.

Embossed in silver modern script were the words:

Finn Rhydderch

Chief Executive Officer

Whitethorn, Ltd.

Phone: 729-430-9980

Email: Finnr

"You have an email?" she asked jokingly.

"I only give this business card to the people I want to see again without an appointment," he said, laughing. "Sleep well, young one. Our paths will cross again, I'm sure of it."

Nodding, feeling tired after her encounter, she held the card close to her chest. She moved slowly towards the cabin as Finrod – Finn - walked towards the road. She turned to get a glimpse of him before he vanished into the trees.