XXI. Ennyn Faedor ~ The Gates of Fairyland



Sam was torn in two. He wished very much to go with Frodo and his friends in the rescue party, but Rosie had suddenly taken ill. After she had met Mr. Bilbo and talked with him a long while before she and Sam had said good-night, she had swooned in the hallway on her way to bed. The excitement, he supposed, combined with her weariness from the journey, had overtaken her. He knew he needed to stay behind with her in the House of Elrond. Thus, it was a group of eight rescuers and a wrangler that left Rivendell on horseback in the bleak dark of night: Poppy, Jorin, Falco, Legolas, Gimli, Frodo, Merry, and last, but not least, rode Pippin, who openly wore his mail and sword. The wrangler was the elf named Beiadan, who would go with them to their destination and then return to Rivendell with their horses, for the journey in Faedor would have to be done on foot.



They rode quickly and quietly in the night, and Legolas guided them, peering out from his deep hood with his keen elf-eyes. Always they headed south and to the west, following the Bruinen and the overgrown paths that ran the length of the river. It was evening of the next day before they heard the blessed sound of colliding waters. They had reached the parting forks of the Mitheithel River, where the Bruinen separated from those waters to go east, while the Mitheithel continued to the north. This place was called Water-Meet.

Poppy was eager to find the faery mound, but she, like the rest of her rescue party, had rested little, and she desperately fought against the need for sleep. Sleep was winning. The Company decided that it would be best if they took a brief rest, so the Company curled up on the ground under the trees as Beiadan led their horses away into the shadowed forest.

At moonrise, Poppy woke with a start. She had not intended to fall asleep, and she wondered how many hours had gone by and had been wasted. She heard talking and realized that some of her companions had woken as well. They had, and they were preparing food and rousing the others. After they had awakened and eaten a light meal, Legolas guided them again through the darkness. They wove around the great trees that looked like ghostly specters in the moonlight, for their pale bark reflected the moon and their leaves cast dark shadows. It seemed as though they wandered for hours in the woods with little progress in finding the mound. Many times, small hills that looked like mounds provoked their curiosity, and Legolas would only shake his head, explaining that he could sense no magic in the soil at the base of the hills. Poppy's hope was failing. She looked at the map again with Frodo, who could read the First-Age maps with ease and experience.

Frodo suddenly laughed as he looked at the map, and said, "No wonder we've run into so many mounds! See, here it says, 'Emyn I-Pheriannath Dorthar,' 'Hills Where the Halflings Dwell.' This place used to be a hobbit establishment, and they must have had their holes here in these hills years ago. Hmm. I wonder if this is where Sméagol---" Poppy spared him an odd look when he said the strange name. "Never mind," he said, and continued. "As to the Faery Mound....." Frodo measured the distance with his fingers, walking them a short distance over the page with his left hand. He pointed over the trees. "It should be a quarter mile directly south."

And so they walked south in the light of the full moon with Legolas striding ahead of them, drawing back low branches for his friends so that they would not be scathed by the twisted limbs. Suddenly they came to a clearing, and Legolas stopped in his tracks, drawing in a sharp breath and looking around. "Magic," he whispered. "Yes, it is here. Close to us even now."



He knelt swiftly to the ground and drew back his hood, pressing his sensitive ears to the turf so that he could hear the heartbeat of magic pounding in the earth like drums. Yes! Just above them, on the crest of the hill, he could feel and hear the pulse rising to that point. His entire body, all of his flesh that was touched by the mystical blood that made him immortal, was throbbing with heat. He was so close, so dangerously, tantalizingly close to a rift in the earth that poured forth magic like a geyser. Magic. The life-force of the Elves. His essence. Above the rushing of his blood, he also heard sweet voices, unbelievably clear and high and thrilling to the ears.

He was just about to signal to the Company to go forward when Frodo ran ahead of him in a burst of ecstatic energy. "Frodo!" cried Legolas, "Wait for us! Do not rush to the gates!" Legolas bounded after him, his long, swift, silent strides overtaking Frodo easily. When he reached Frodo's side, he caught hold of Frodo's arm and stopped him.

Frodo was breathless, and his eyes shone with an uncanny light. "Legolas! The magic! Can you not feel it? Can you not see it? It is beautiful!" he exclaimed looking all around him, tears inspired by the awe of pure beauty filling his round eyes.

"Yes, yes, Frodo, I can feel it, and I can hear it... But it amazes me that you can ---see ---it!" said Legolas, staring in wonder and concern at his friend. "But stay! We must not rush too eagerly into this magic, for not all magic is good! Be wary, and stay close!"

Thus the Company found Frodo and Legolas, standing amazed at the foot of the hill. The Company was struck with awe as they looked upon the elf and the hobbit before them. Because he was so close to the hill's magic, Legolas' elven light shone in his fair face above his tunic, and he looked tall, powerful, and princely, but still very much like himself. But Frodo's aspect had changed completely, for he was also revealed in power: the light he had earned in his sufferings, the light of his own tortured spirit, shone even brighter, more brilliant than that of Legolas'. Frodo was no longer like a being of flesh, but shone clear, translucent like a glass or a vial filled with pale light that shone brightly, even through his clothes.

Frodo, seeing the astonishment of his friends, called out to them, "What is it? What's wrong? What do you see?"

Pippin answered, shaking and pale, "Frodo, Legolas, you are almost too bright to look upon. What has happened to you?"

"I do not know," said Legolas, "but we are near the Gates of Magic. Come! Do not be frightened!" He came among them and urged them forward and up, to the top of the hill. At the summit, they found a large, flat, round stone glowing in the moonlight. It was a milky white stone of great mass that shone with hidden colors that teased the eye, for they were there, and yet, not there. The colors could not be described, for they existed outside of the mortal spectrum. On the flat surface of the stone were writ strange gilded embosses that shone gold in the light of Legolas' glowing face. Legolas fretted over the symbols. "Alas! These strange characters are older than even my knowledge! I cannot read them!" he said. "How now shall we enter?"

Poppy studied the carvings. They were written in a great circle on the round stone, and as her eyes followed the curves of the script, she grew more and more bewildered. Strange letters they were: rounded shapes of different sizes, with tiny lines fanning under their lower edges. She had never seen these symbols before in her life, and she felt her hope falling like a pierced bird. But then, in the light of the great pale moon, she realized her folly. The illuminated carvings were not words, but pictures. They were carvings of mushrooms: strange little capped mushrooms engraved on the stone and pitted with gold . . . Mushrooms standing in a ring. Indeed, she thought, it's a fairy-ring.

She cried aloud her revelation out of sheer joy. "Look! It's a ring! A fairy-ring!" she squealed. "We need only stand inside it and it will take us!" She clambered then to the top of the stone, and before any could reach to stop her, she jumped within the circle. In a flash, her world became pale, twisted, eerie, and she felt her insides melting in the great light. She realized that she was spinning, as if caught in a vortex. Her hair whirled around her, and her body felt tight and constricted. She felt like she was being pulled downward with her foot caught in a drain. Her eyes watered and stung in the whirling air. Around, around, and around she spun, faster and faster. At last, she fell to the alien ground with a sickening thump. She trembled where she lay, and her eyes failed her. All light and color was snuffed out like a candle.

XXII. "To the King!"

She did not know how long she lay in the dark silence. When Poppy's eyes felt the warmth of light again, she opened them cautiously, squinted, and raised herself on her hands. The soil shifted under her hands; it was sand. She felt strong arms helping her up, and she looked up to see Frodo, no longer glowing with light, but fully flesh. He helped her to her feet, and she suddenly became aware of the others sprawled on the ground around them. They had followed her lead, and they, too, had jumped into the gate. Now they lay dazed on the sand after spinning in the vortex.

Frodo ran to raise Pippin, who looked a bit green and sick. Poppy attempted to rouse Legolas, who sat on the ground, cradling his pounding head. His soaring elf-senses were reeling about, and he was trying to control himself. Unsteadily, he rose to his feet and pulled his deep hood over his face. He went to Gimli and raised the stout dwarf, who was sputtering and trying to paw sand out of his red beard and mouth. Poppy found Falco already on his feet, and with his aid, she helped Jorin to stand. Jorin had suffered a sprained wrist in the fall, and now he held it to his chest, trying to hide his pain with his wonder. He looked around, and his wide brown eyes saw that they stood on the shores of a sapphire lake that fed a forest so green that the color of the foliage stung and shocked the eyes. He rubbed his eyes and squinted into the distance. In the center of the great emerald woods there rose a great white palace gleaming. Music, ancient, lilting music, beautiful to hear, wound through the trees and around the spires of the castle.

"What is this place?" wondered Jorin, whispering in awe.

"'Where is this place?' Why, Here, of course. Where else would you be? But then, if you want to be specific, you could be in Tir Na Nog, or Avalon, or maybe the Land of the Young, or more likely, the Land Perilous. Any of those four, really. Or all of them at once. What does it matter to you?" answered a cheery high voice.

"Don't toy with me, Poppy. Just give me a straight answer," growled Jorin.

At that moment, a tiny little figure like a dragon fly buzzed in his face. It was humanoid, of female form, though tiny, winged, wet, and obviously very cross with Jorin. "How about you give me an answer first? Hmm?" said the creature, with the same voice he had heard before. A voice which, Jorin realized, was definitely not Poppy's voice. "Who, or what, are you mortals, and wherefore do you come here?"

"We-Well, I am a halfling, named Jorin. Who..what... are you?" he stammered.

"Half--ling? You are half-faery, then?" asked the creature, not answering Jorin's question. By now, most of the Company had noticed the little nixie* and were staring at her in wonder.

"No, my lady, we are Hobbits--called 'Halflings' by Men," said Frodo.

"Ah, I see. You are mortals," she observed, darting on swift wings around the strangers and peering at their anxious faces. She flew by Legolas and pinched his nose with a tiny hand. "Ah, a handsome man you are," she said. She kissed him on the nose and darted off towards the hobbits, leaving Legolas quite shocked. She paused at Poppy, hovering in the air and studying her.

"Hello," said Poppy, softly. She was nervous under the faery's scrutiny.

"Hello to you, too," said the faery. "You're a very pretty Half-bit. What's your name? And can you sing?"

"I'm Poppy Fairgoold-Took. And yes, I have been told that I can sing," Poppy answered, her voice softer yet. The faery, a nixie of the water, smiled a conspiring smile. She suddenly gave a series of shrill whistles, and a swarm of pixies*, nixies, fauns*, and nymphs* appeared out of nowhere and circled the Company with curiosity in their exquisite faces. They settled into a semi-circle, like an audience waiting for a performance. They looked up at Poppy and smiled, with beautiful faces of colors and hues unnatural to all other races.

"Now," said the nixie, "Sing something for us- -about 'Hobbits.'"

The faeries eyed her expectantly. They wanted her to sing. What could she do but give into their wishes? So Poppy lifted her voice in an old ballad:

"The land of the Shire,

That is our home.

Where laughter flows fast,

And stories told slow.

There's food on each table,

The people are small,

But in our own land,

We Hobbits walk tall!"

She would have continued to the next verse, but the faeries were by now in such a frenzy that she found herself growing fearful. She stopped the song there, and she shrank back behind her companions in terror. But the faeries begged her to continue in a chorus of chiming voices:

"Don't stop!"

"Oh, how pretty!"

"More! Sing more!"

And then suddenly, one of their voices rose above all and said, "She should sing for the King!"

"The King!" said one.

"The King!" a second echoed.

"Let's take her to the King!" another declared.

"Yes! Yes!" agreed a chorus of little voices.

Poppy was both relieved and frightened: relieved that the faeries had liked her song, but afraid to perform for their king. Her face turned deathly pale when the faeries suddenly began to sing:

"Her dress we'll make of spider's silk,

We'll bathe her in pink roses' milk,

Her shoes be made of robin's skin

Made to slip a princess in!

O! With jewels bedeck

Her pretty neck!

And 'round her drape

A gossamer cape!

To Oberon! Sad, Seelie King!

For him, for joy, a song you'll sing!"

And as the faeries sang, they came and coaxed her out from her hiding place behind Legolas' cloak. They lifted her from the ground, beating their little faery wings and commanding the air to their wills, and they bore her swiftly away to the gleaming palace in the distance.

The Company stood in amazement. They felt completely and utterly overwhelmed by the magic that the faeries used. There was nothing that they could have done to stop the faeries from taking Poppy away, for they possessed no power to match that of the faeries'.

"Well, that was strange, and that's a fact," said Merry. "What should we do now? Rescue her, or rescue her brother?"

Legolas' brow furrowed. "We will rescue both. But first, we should make our way to the palace of the King of the Faeries, and there we may learn of Faysal's fate, and also rescue Poppy if she needs it."

* * *

They took Poppy to the tall tower near the castle: high, and overlooking the strange, beautiful green world that was fading in the sunset. The walls were clear as glass, and Poppy was extremely self-conscious of her nakedness as the nixies stripped and bathed her quickly with tiny little sponges. They sang a merry song in their ancient tongue as they scrubbed. Poppy was growing angry. She wanted to find her brother, but these faeries, these horribly powerful, willful little creatures held her in bondage that she could not escape. She feared their magic, for she had heard many stories of the evil of which faery magic was capable. The faeries finished, and laughing, they lifted her out of the tub and summoned a whirlwind of hot air to dry her. Poppy squealed in a panic as the winds surrounded her, but as soon as they had come, they had gone, and she stood on the fine pearl floor swaying on her feet.

Quick as a wink, two nixies* came in and brought her a dress. The fabric of the dress was pale, silvery white, and unbelievably thin and light. It was indeed made of spider's silk. The brownies flung the dress over her and it fluttered onto her slender form like a whisper. Two brownies brought her slippers, of some pale hide, delicately beaded and etched--probably by tiny, loving hands. And though she was wearing shoes for the first time in her life, Poppy barely noticed them at all, for so soft and light were the slippers. She walked in them a bit, and she stared out the glass walls, trying to assimilate all that had just happened to her. As she watched the sun sink behind the hills with wonder, a tall Sidhe* faery suddenly came into the room bearing a carved box. The Sidhe opened the box and brought out a necklace of jade, to be worn with, as she said, "the blessing of the Tengu* of the East." She slipped it around Poppy's neck, and then she led her out of the room.

The Sidhe led her down a spiral staircase, ever so carefully guiding her feet, lest Poppy break the branches of the white tree that formed the staircase. Whispers and murmurs from the branches of the tree made Poppy nervous as she made her way down into the courtyard. The gardens of the courtyard were lush beyond compare, and though the sun was setting in Avalon, the plants showed no shadow, but glowed cheerily with tiny lights that moved and whispered among the flowers. She wished that she could stay, linger there and see more of the beautiful plants and peoples of the land, but the silver-haired Sidhe led her on into the palace walls. Here, light and music poured from the palace. She went through a dark doorway that led into an empty hall that had no floor, just an incredible black shadow like a pit. Poppy nearly fell into it, and the Sidhe laughed. "Here," she said. She took Poppy's hand and the two of them drifted into the pit like falling feathers, and gradually Poppy saw light below them. A great floor bustling with faeries stretched beneath her, and the faeries looked up as she and the Sidhe descended. This was the King's Hall, and the people were his Seelie Court.

Poppy and the Sidhe touched down on the flagstones, and the Sidhe parted the crowd of beautiful fae to reach the King's dais. There before them, on a great carven throne covered with vines, sat Oberon himself. Poppy was stunned at his appearance, for he looked so young and fair and sad that her heart went out to him. His age was indeterminable, as it was with most immortals, for he appeared to be a youth, just new in manhood, yet his eyes revealed that they had seen years beyond any mortal understanding. She curtsied low before him, and she feared him no longer. King Oberon turned his young face, and his wizened green eyes spied Poppy. "Sib," he asked the Sidhe, "who is this maiden that you have brought to me?"

* * *

Legolas led the rescue party through the tall whispering trees. The great castle was not far from them now, and he was eager to reach it. The way seemed to be suspiciously left unguarded, and so he bade his companions to stay in the forest so that he could investigate. He went out of the trees and onto the path that led to the drawbridge of the castle. Legolas walked onto the drawbridge and looked around. 'How strangely empty this place seems!' he thought to himself. Suddenly, he sensed eyes watching him, and he spun around to see an unclad nereid* of great beauty sitting behind him on the bridge. Her pale skin glowed rosy in the dusk of the fading sun. She was dipping her bare feet in the water, and singing softly, not caring or ashamed that she was naked. She caught his gaze and smiled coyly. "Hello, young mortal," she said, and her watery voice made Legolas blush.

Ashamed for looking at her so openly, he lowered his eyes and bowed. "Good evening, my lady," he returned.

"Good evening to you! My, what a courtly greeting, and from such a handsome fellow," said the nereid, her voice like silk. She rose from the bridge and stretched luxuriously, arching her naked chest. Again Legolas felt suddenly hot and terribly ashamed, and he tore his gaze from her and looked at the ground. "What's wrong?" asked the Nereid. "Did I say something that offended you?"

"Nay, lady," said Legolas, "it is just that I have never seen a maiden so beautiful," then he added, "or one so...unclothed."

She laughed musically at his shyness, and Legolas flushed crimson. "When it is warm, I like to be naked," she said. "I swim here often under the bridge--alone." She sauntered over to him with her pale hair undulating with her movement. She stopped just inches in front of him, clasping her hands together behind her back in a thoughtful manner. She met his eyes, saw the beauty of their dark beguiling blue, and looked into his face, which had the features of a god. She saw at once that he was fair beyond any mortal she could recall. "What is your name, my fair lord?" she asked.

"I am called Legolas by my friends," he said.

"Legolas..." she whispered, tasting the name on her tongue. She found the name exquisite, and she savored it in her mouth. She looked again at his handsome face, and she touched his strong jaw with her soft fingers. She caught his eyes, and she said, "That is a name as fair as its bearer. Truly, you bear a face and form more beautiful than any mortal man that I have seen." She traced her fingertip down his jaw and to his chin, worshiping his chiseled features. She ran her thumb over his lips, and then, to his surprise, she cupped his chin and kissed him with her soft red lips. She pulled away playfully, and she asked, "Legolas...would you care to come swim with me? The water is so very cool."

Legolas smiled, for he was tempted, but he remembered that his friends were waiting for him. "Nay, Lady, though you honor me by asking, but my friends--" he gestured vaguely towards the trees, "are waiting for me. Perhaps later?"

The nereid, a princess, was not so easily put aside. "Ah, but, Legolas," she said, putting a hand to his chest. She unclasped his cloak and pushed back his hood, "I want you to come with me-- now." The cloak dropped from his shoulders and the Nereid could see now that he was indeed handsomely built: tall, powerful--and, her mind added, virile, yet graceful. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him, pressing her body against the solid length of him while trailing her fingers through his lovely golden hair. It was then that she felt them-- the ears. They were pointed, like that of a faery's--or an elf's. The thought shook her horribly....Legolas. That name! It was Sindar-Elven, and it was three words meshed into one name: Leg-o-las. Her ancient mind recalled what it meant: The Green of the Leaves. She pulled away from him violently. He was an Elf! "Legolas!" she exclaimed, recoiling. "You are--You're an Elf!" Legolas paled. He did not know what to do, for if his secret was revealed to the other faeries, their wrath would surely doom himself and his companions. In his panic, he reached out to the Nereid, locking her in his strong arms, and he clamped his hand over her mouth. She squealed and thrashed, and then, in her turmoil, she unleashed her power.

Legolas was knocked backwards, and he fell off the bridge and plunged into the watery moat below. The livid nereid gave a cry of rage, and she summoned the once-calm water to form powerful surges and swells that tossed Legolas violently, burying him under great rolling waves. Legolas managed to struggle to the surface and he gasped and gave a sharp cry for help. "GIMLI! FRODO!" he managed to shout before he was again assailed by a torrent of water and was pulled beneath the angry foaming surface.

* * *

NOTES:

A nixie is a water-faery, like a nereid. Legends are confusing as to how big nixies are and whether or not they can fly. (I chose to make mine small and air-maneuverable.) Always, they are said to have blonde hair and blue eyes.

A pixie is a small faery belonging to a subclass from the extremely old days of faery lore. They are about the size of a human hand, have red hair and small eyes, and often wear green clothes for camouflage.

A faun is a faery that appears, in the face and torso, to have the likeness of a child. However, the legs, ears, eyes, and tail of a faun are deer-like. Fauns love the land and, according to the Greeks, their close proximity to a civilization is beneficial to the fertility of crops and women.

A nymph is a nature spirit that may be life-bound to a certain part of nature, such as to a tree, a lake, or a specific forest or mountain range; bound thus, the nymph may only live as long as her respective tree, forest, or lake exists. Nymphs have the appearance of beautiful mortal women, and they have enchanting voices. They love to dance and sing, and are often chased by mortal men who unwittingly fall under their spell.

A brownie is usually a male earth elemental spirit with tanned, wrinkly skin and shaggy beards. In general, brownies are hard workers that bind themselves to specific houses or families. With long, clever fingers and humble hearts, they help in household and farm chores. They are usually around two feet tall, but are quite athletic and can jump and run with great agility.

A tengu is a faery of air, Japanese in origin, that looks like a bird with a human face.

A Sidhe fairy, pronounced "Shee", is from one of the most famous fairy lines. Sidhes are the tallest, most noticeable faeries that at one time had an alliance with humans. In my story, these faeries have the ability to use their glamour (or glamyr, their 'faery powers') to change their skin color. Any faery that I might mention to have unnaturally colored skin is probably a Sidhe...and some with normal tones might also be Sidhe, they just don't want to change their skin color.

A nereid is a malicious type of nymph that lives in water. According to the Greeks, nereids had a tendency to seduce handsome men into water, and then steal them or, in some legends, drown them (Poor Legolas!).

Extra Note -*--Most of this info came from a few helpful Internet sources that you can find yourself if you are interested. Just type in "Faeries" on any search engine and you'll find tons of sites. A lot of the information for those sites came from Brian Froud's books: FAERIES, and GOOD FAERIES, BAD FAERIES. I highly recommend them-- the art and the research are spectacular.

XXIII. The Grieving King

In the throne room of King Oberon, Poppy sang and danced for the King until her voice and legs began to fail her. It was then that the King of the Faeries rose and gave her permission to rest.

"Rest now, child. You have done well," said Oberon, and his voice shook with joy and weariness. He had indeed enjoyed her performance and he had laughed and smiled the entire time at her entertaining lyrics, as many in his hall had likewise done. The faeries in his hall clapped and cheered until the musicians began to play again, and then the faeries lifted their own fair voices and began to sing and dance, much to Poppy's delight. During the dancing, Oberon's face suddenly looked grieved, as though he were overcome by some unstoppable wave of emotion. He quickly slipped from his dais and retreated to an inner chamber of his castle. Only Poppy noticed his leaving, and she was suddenly filled with concern for this boyish King of the Faeries. What had troubled him?

* * *

Hearing Legolas' cry, the Company roused from their resting spot in the quiet woods and raced towards the castle. They called for him. "Legolas?" "What is it?" "Are you hurt?" "Where are you?!"

"Here! The drawbridge! Help!" came Legolas' frantic voice. They turned and saw the Nereid Princess on the drawbridge of the castle, glowing blue with pure magic energy. Several other faeries had joined her now, and they flew from the bridge and pulled Legolas from the water. When they reached the shore, they violently tossed him to the ground and bound him with strong glowing cords of light.

"What's this?" bellowed Gimli. "No one---not even some dainty glowing fairy--- captures my friend!" He called to his stunned companions, "Onward! Rescue Legolas!"

And so they drew their elven weapons and charged the fae. But the faeries were fast beyond descriptive words, and the comparatively huge elven weapons swung at them clumsily, and missed them by great distances. When the fae struck back with their stunning magic, the Rescue Party was flung back, and soon the battle was over, and the faeries had more captives to be judged by King Oberon.

* * *

The King returned to the Great Hall with his face carefully composed. His silver crown sat intimidatingly tall and grand on his fair golden head as he came and sat again upon his throne. Poppy eyed him carefully. Indeed, he had been crying. His green eyes had red rims and his face looked pitifully young and distraught. She timidly approached his throne and curtsied to him as the music played on and none of the fae were watching her.

"Your Majesty looks troubled," she said softly. The King's face again looked pained, and she was suddenly afraid for her life. "Have I offended my Lord?"

"No, child," said the King. "You have done nothing..." He stood and rose from his throne and descended from the dais. He stood before Poppy, a head and crown taller than she was. He looked into her face with his green eyes shining. "It is only that, you, you so resemble one I have lost, so long ago, that my heart breaks anew."

Poppy was shocked. The King had openly made her party to his most private grief. She drew in a breath, thinking of what she should say.

Tears, shining pure like diamonds, began to slip down the King's cheeks. Poppy held her breath as the mighty Oberon, the King of the Fae and Lord of the Gates of Magic, began to weep. His face, so seemingly young just a moment ago, seemed older and grayer. He reached out a trembling hand and gently cupped her chin, and he tilted her face with a tender touch as he looked at her carefully. He studied her face for a long moment, and then he sighed hollowly with the weariness of many years of despair as he dropped his hand from her chin. In a shaking tone, he finally said, "Yes, the likeness of Leelinau is written on every feature of your face. How it grieves me to be reminded of how she once was..."

Poppy gasped, and she took King Oberon's hand on an impulse out of the desire to console him. "Then, you know that I am her great-grandchild?" she asked, not daring to tear her gaze away from the eyes of the King.

"I do not," he said, "but I would believe it if you were to tell me so."

"Then I do say so, Sire. For I cannot lie to you."

Oberon's eyes filled with tears again, and he said, "And I cannot lie to you, either. Know, child, that Leelinau was my daughter, and therefore, since you are of her blood, you are also of mine." Oberon squeezed her hand very gently as he watched Poppy's face as she grasped the fullness of what he had just told her.

Softly he bade to her, "Tell me, does Leelinau yet live in the mortal world?" His voice was pleading, begging to know any news of his daughter, the daughter who fell in love with a mortal and abandoned the Land of the Young to go to the land of age and death.

Poppy felt his heart's silent cry, and it pierced her deeply. She stood rooted to the floor, feeling a lump rise in her throat. "Nay, Lord," she choked out at last. "She lived a long life of joy and happiness, but she fell into darkness long before I was born."

"So it is as I had feared," said the King, his voice breaking. "My beautiful daughter, my dove, my youngest child, the most loved ... She is gone forever. How the people of Tir Na Nog shall weep, and the waves of Avalon's shore sigh for her! Alas! And my wife Titania knows not of this news!" The King sighed, and he took Poppy's trembling hand and pressed it to his heart. "But though the message you have brought me is grave to hear, I am glad you have brought it. For many long years I have wondered, wished, and waited. But now that I know the truth, I will no longer await her return..." He looked longingly into her heart-shaped face again, and he saw her delicate features, her expressive eyes, and her soft red lips that smiled sadly in understanding, and his heart suddenly ached no longer. "Perhaps, though," he said, "in you, the spirit of Leelinau has returned."

King Oberon kissed her hand and released it. Then he ascended his dais again, and he turned and stood tall in front of his court. "My Lords and Noble Ladies," he called above the music, "Let us begin the feast!"

The faery ladies and gentlemen gathered at the great table, talking amongst themselves with their bright faces shining. Those that had wings on their back fluttered them to fan themselves after the dancing they had done, and their gossamer appendages shone with glorious colors in the glow of their own faery light. Poppy was seated to Oberon's left, a seat of honor. She noticed that the seat to Oberon's right was empty. Oberon noticed the empty chair as well. "Where is Titania?" he muttered.

"I am here, my husband," answered a silken voice above him. Titania descended into the Great Hall with her garments flowing angelically around her. Her pale cerulean skin shone in the light, and all of the faeries in the hall held their breath in the sight of her great beauty. When she finally settled in the chair next to Oberon, Poppy could see that Queen Titania was indeed very fair, and she also noticed that, like herself, Titania had long red hair. Oberon leaned over to Titania and whispered in her ear, and Poppy suddenly felt Titania's gaze. She turned her eyes to Titania again, and she gave the Queen of the Faeries a warm, yet sad smile.

The feast then began in earnest, and plates of strange, rich, delicate foods bounced around the table as the Fair Folk's appetites willed them. Poppy, though she was hungry, ate nothing, for once a mortal eats faery food, their body will never be satisfied by any other sustenance. All around her, the beautiful faeries laughed and drank, and Poppy was content to watch them, for they were a strange and wonderful people to see: The silly little gnomes with their long beards and their big noses, the lovely little sprites with their squinty little eyes and red hair, the blue-skinned Sidhe tribe with their silvery hair and their delicate laughs, and of course, the sweet fauns- - the little doe-eared and round-eyed people who ate and laughed and danced like furry hobbits. Poppy felt strangely at home among them all.

Oberon turned to her and he smiled warmly. "Are you happy here?" he asked.

"Yes, my Lord, though I fear that my heart still longs for the land of my birth," she said.

"I wish that you would consider living here, my child. Here, you would not age, nor experience death, for I would freely give you the gift of immortality."

"Oh, my Lord, that is a great gift, but there is only one thing that my heart truly desires," said Poppy, wistfully.

"You may ask of me anything," said the King.

"I wish, my King, to know the whereabouts of the mortal, Faysal of the Farlands."

The King's face darkened. "Faysal. Ah, he is no longer here."

"He is not?"

"No, child. He was executed after---"

Poppy gasped and blanched whiter than her dress. The King noticed her distress immediately.

"Far-Child of my daughter, this news injures you?" he asked, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

Poppy tried several times to form a reply with her trembling voice and lips, but she felt as though she had been hit in the stomach, and no air was in her lungs. She looked as though she could faint. By now, the court in its entirety had noticed her distress. The music stopped, and the faeries were looking at her with concern.

Poppy finally managed to take a breath and she said, "Why-?" with a raw voice.

The King put a gentle hand on her shoulder, and called for Lars, his record keeper. The tiny gnome almost tripped over his white beard in his hurry to reach the King. "What were the crimes of the mortal, Faysal?" Oberon asked in a dark tone.

Lars recognized the King's tone and stuttered his reply, "S-Sire, he interrupted the Primaver-Lirnae ceremony of magic, and fought with an Enemy blade when we attempted capture. He killed Wirnane with an Elven blade."

Poppy swallowed the painful lump in her throat.

"Yes," said the King, "I remember." He dismissed Lars.

Poppy shrugged the King's hand off her shoulder in disgust. "You--You--you sentenced one of your own blood to death!"

"My blood?" exclaimed the King.

"He was my brother!" she hissed quietly, suddenly riled to anger. Her voice once again became full. "He was taken here to this land by enchantment! It was not his fault---he was afraid, that is the only reason why he fought you!" she cried in her brother's defense. And then she realized that it was too late to defend him. The fullness of his death swathed her like a shroud. She wanted to cry, she wanted to scream, she wanted---she wanted her brother back. But she also realized that even with all the magic in the Land of the Faeries, she could never retrieve him from the Land of the Dead.

She mastered her mind with a steely will. When she spoke again, she spoke in a toneless, hollow voice. "I have offended my King," she said, "and I beg of his pardon. My grief overwhelmed me then, and it does still. I beg of your Highness his forgiveness."

"And you shall have it, surely," said the King, trembling, "though I am afraid that it is I who should be asking for yours."

It was just when Poppy had closed her eyes against the pain of her stinging tears that the Nereid Princess, still nude, burst into the hall followed by several angry nixies. The nixies, with their surprising strength, drug behind them a bound, frightened line of mortal-looking prisoners. The prisoners, Poppy realized with shock, were her companions.

"My Great Lord Oberon!" said the Nereid. "These mortals have committed a grievous crime and should be judged, rightly, by Your Majesty's court!"

Oberon began to rise from his seat, but Poppy stood more quickly than he did. "And what, pray tell, was their 'grievous crime?'" she asked, her voice shrill with emotion.

"Dare you speak before my father, the King?" growled the Nereid, narrowing her eyes at Poppy. "Indeed, who are you that you should speak thus and sit at the left hand of my Lord Oberon?" The Nereid, then seeing the resemblance that Oberon had also observed, suddenly stepped back. She said in a wild, breathless tone, "Why, you look like--Is it really you...?"

"She is not Leelinau, though her resemblance to her great grandmother shines in her face," said Oberon, tenderly motioning to Poppy to sit down. She sat obediently, but her blood boiled. The King continued, "Though, it is little matter to you that she should speak before me, for it was you, Helana, who interrupted the feasting of my court with these outrageous accusations."

"'Outrageous!'" scoffed the Nereid, Helana. "Would you think that an ELF walking the shores of Avalon is not cause for actions to be taken? And moreover, is it not a crime that his companions, yea, these mortal companions, fight with him against the Royal Guard with Elvish weapons?"

Oberon sighed, looking over the frightened prisoners bound up in their glowing bonds. Then he turned to Poppy looked into her troubled, grieving face. Her delicate features were cruelly seized with the heat of anger, the pain of fear for her friends, and the coldness of mourning for her brother. He was amazed by her strength--indeed, would not any other lady in the world weep and wail at a moment such as this? He was greatly moved by her plight. "These are your friends, I see," he observed. "Ah, now I am torn by my own laws, my Child. By my own hand, I have written that Elves are an enemy race, to be tried as criminals for trespassing in Tir Na Nog. Any allies of the Elves are also enemies. . . But, I do not wish to take more of your friends and family from you because of an unfair trail. I would ask you, for their safety, to speak for them to win the favor of the Court. The Lords of my court will listen to your petition, for they know now that you are of Faery blood and spirit. Do you believe, in your state of suffering, that you are capable of the task?"

Poppy bit her lip, and she looked from the stormy face of the Nereid to the kind, concerned face of the King. She looked to the noblemen and ladies of the Court, already shifting in their seats to look at the captives who had invaded their court, and their faces seemed to view the hobbits, the dwarf, and particularly the elf, with bitterness and even hatred. She realized that if she did not speak for them, then no one would.

XXIV. Trial and Errors

"I must collect myself," Poppy thought. Already the faeries of the Seelie Court were readying for trial; they were milling about the Great Hall on silent wings and feet. They had left the feast, still warm on the table, and had gathered before the throne. Some of them looked angry, for the very idea of an Elf in Faeryland sickened them; others were merely suspicious, and these fae eyed the prisoners in the tall cage with sharp glints in their eyes.

She did not hear King Oberon address the court, nor did she listen as Lars announced the charges against the prisoners. She was trying to push Faysal out of her mind. She was trying to bury the pain, and trying to focus her thoughts on her friends; she was also trying to remember to breathe as her emotions threatened to choke her. Distantly, she heard Oberon beckon to her. She closed her eyes and swallowed. 'This is their only chance!' she thought, 'And I---I am so woefully unprepared!'

She rose from her seat and turned towards the Court. The room fell into a black silence. She prayed to the God of the Elves for guidance, and to the Valar in her mind as she began to speak.

"Noble Lords and Ladies," she said, "I speak in the defense of the accused, for they are my friends, though my faery blood would call them my enemies." She walked to the great cage raised with solid black mahogany poles. She reached into the bars and clasped the hands of Legolas that were bound at the wrist, trying to reassure him. The court gasped, amazed that she would touch an Elf. Still holding Legolas' shaking hand, she said to the court, "He is as you have feared: an Elf, made your opponent by an argument between a handful of immortals a millennia ago. He is the prince of a land called Mirkwood; he is royalty, and yet..." She released his hand and moved towards the seated Court. "He barely knew me, yet he helped me to come to this land to find my brother, though he knew that the journey would prove perilous. He came--and trespassed your land-- only because I asked him to come. Indeed, if blame need be placed, let it lie with --me. Legolas' only crime is that he had pity for me, and he wished to help." Poppy stepped away from the bars and hoped with all her might that the faeries would accept her bargain.

The members of the court began to whisper among themselves and fell into debate within their own minds, trying to discern the truth in Poppy's declaration.

Poppy turned again to the cage and caught the dark eyes of Gimli the dwarf from where he stood next to Legolas. She saw that Gimli was afraid, something rare for him, and she continued boldly, "As for these others, who were accused of aiding Legolas as he resisted arrest, they also acted only because they wished to help a friend in danger. Consider that they would not have needed to fight for Legolas at all if he had not come to this land by my bidding in the first place. Indeed---the only guilty party here is I. I realize now that this mission was not only fruitless---for my brother is already dead---but also that in my recklessness and haste, I put my own friends in danger.

"I beg of the Court not to judge my companions, for they are innocent of evil. Place my actions instead under your scrutiny. Judge me alone, and let me pay for this grievous crime against my friends."

King Oberon felt his heart lurch as he looked at the sincere, resigned face of Poppy. The Court was struck silent by her selfless plea. To take willingly the punishment for these crimes onto herself meant death.

Poppy stared at the floor, unmoving. The Lords and Ladies of the court began to whisper among themselves, and King Oberon spoke from his throne. "Has the Court decided to accept the plea bargain?"

A faery lady, called Sib, answered him for the Court, "Yes, my Lord. We believe the words of the defense. If it pleases the King, let the prisoners be released, and the mortal, Poppy, receive judgement in their stead."

"Release the prisoners!" commanded Oberon, "They have been found innocent!" The imprisoned Fellowship members were immediately released from their glowing bonds and the door of their prison swung open, obeying the King's command. The Company, free from their prison, bowed low to the King in thanks, but their eyes strayed worriedly to Poppy, on whom the Court would pass judgement.

Oberon eyed the court carefully. "And does the Court have a verdict for the accused, Poppy Fairgoold-Took?" he asked.

The Seelie Court shifted in their seats and began to whisper again. Their representative, Sib, clasped her dainty white hands behind her back as she waited for the consensus. She waited a long time. The faeries argued quietly among themselves for some time, then they slowly died down, and Sib stepped forward. "Your Majesty," she said at last, when the Court settled into an uncomfortable silence. Poppy lifted her face and watched Sib, preparing herself for her doom.

"We . . ." Sib began, suddenly uncomfortable, "we cannot reach a verdict, and therefore, we yield our powers to thy judgement."

"You concede?"

"Aye, we do," said Sib, with a delicate sigh.

Oberon was relieved. Poppy's fate was in his hands now, and he knew exactly what to do. "Then I say," he began, "that this mortal child of Leelinau has already suffered enough in the death of her brother. I give to her the boon of my pardon. And I invite her and her friends---after their weapons have been confiscated, to join us in the feast that has been interrupted by this trial."

The Seelie Court (with the exception of Helana, the Nereid who was still angry that Legolas had unwittingly deceived her) seemed pleased with Oberon's wise rulings. A few of them that passed Poppy on the way back to the great feasting table spoke to her and said that they gave her their sympathy.

When all in the hall had been ushered out to the feast, Poppy was left alone with the King, who still sat on his throne, watching her with concern. Poppy curtsied low to him. "Thank you for your mercy, my Lord," she said.

Oberon waved his hand dismissively. "This entire trial was nonsense. Even the Court of the Wise could not make sense of it. I only know that you did a very selfless thing in placing yourself at fault. You may have lost your life, had the Court passed their ruling. When you offered yourself so freely, I knew that your companions must be of great worth to you."

"Yes," said Poppy. "I have met no nobler or kinder folk in my life." Poppy looked out the door to the lights from the dining hall. She knew that her companions were there, and she wondered if they would be safe. "Sire, you do not believe that they are still in danger here, do you?"

Oberon smiled at her concern, and he rose from his throne and walked down to the floor before her. "No, for they are my guests. Any who would attempt to harm them would face my wrath." King Oberon took her arm comfortingly, and he led her to the passageway to the Dining Hall. But when they reached the great curtained doorway, Poppy stopped.

"Forgive me, your Highness, but I feel that---I don't think that I can go in there just yet. I-- I think I need a minute alone..."

"Of course," said the King, compassion in his voice. Indeed, why had he not thought of that before! What a dreadful strain this whole evening must have been on her: the death of her brother, the capture of her friends, and her petition to the Court. All of this she managed without so much as a tear.

He kissed her hand, and then she parted from him. She walked gracefully away from the entrance to the Dining Hall and glided out of the Throne Room, but she broke into a run as soon as the chamber doors were behind her. She ran, up, then down the stairs, and did not stop until she reached the garden. And there, under the cover of a willow tree by the edge of the pool, her grief overwhelmed her and she wept.