By Oak, Ash and Thorn

She gives a real laugh now, like the trill of a flute. "Now we talk, and I answer any questions you have not found answers for yourself." She glances at me. "Though I think your question your own heart will answer, if you listen."
I stare at her, shaking my head slightly, my brow furrowed. I can barely believe what she has told me. The emotions I’ve given have always been more real to my listeners, more true. That is true enough.. but...but that’s because they are real, I think, my eyes widening. I feel my emotions more like a human and always have, powerful emotions that are sharp as glass and bright as fire. Human inspiration, mixed together with Dratsie magic. The human half of me, the human emotion, hasn’t been holding my magic back. It’s what makes my music powerful. It’s what makes me the bard that I am! I draw a breath, shocked, amazed at the realization, then amazed that I’ve never made the connection before. My mother gave me magic. But my father, he gave me the passion. Linhahn Sidhe smiles, looking into my eyes. “You understand now.” She looks at Djhuety. “And you, my Benedict? Do you have questions still?”

"What of the men that have been hunting me these last years... They captured us not two days ago, which lead us so far as you. And I believe that they're still intent on me." I shrug... "And what do I call you now?"

Lihnahn laughs. "Call me what you will. Call me Lihnahn, most do. And yes..." She stands. "To business. Those men have often tried to catch me out. I am sorry to say, my boy, that they hoped to tempt me into your world and into traps by taking you. They dare to think of taking one of the Sidhe Doan, take me and force me to change things as they would wish it to be. And I have had enough of that." She turns and her green eyes are hot now, her face set, less human. "Grandson. Our enemies have harried us enough. Will you work with me? Together, it would not be difficult."

"If I may. You just said that his humanity is part of his strength?" I am trying to wrap my mind around this "yet now you are asking him to give up said humanity is search of revenge. which as I know it is a blade that bites back kindred and human alike. now I am all for action. but i do like to go into a battle of any sort with my eyes open."

"I must say I agree with my friend. I try not to effect changes of that magnitude, particularly when human lives are in the balance. To change a beings nature is beyond cruelty and it can have lasting effects within the community. I thought I had irrevocably altered you, and it brought much grief. Why would I do it again?" I shake my head and meet her eyes. "We'll deal with them in our own manner; we just need to know who it is that we do battle with."

For a long moment, Lihnahn stares at her grandson, her face softening. " You may have a point." she says quietly. "But I would not wish to see you rush into danger. Not again. I would rather deal with them, than send you into peril." She smiles slightly. "I have very few grandchildren, my boy."

"I've taken care of myself with occasional help for nye on thirty years; Sylus will help, as will those I hold close, I'm sure." I take her hands, "And you will be there watch and aid as well. But now, our concerns are few. We'll find them; its part of the story." I see her smile at this. "Inspire us to succeed, as you did my grand sire, and we can't fail."

Lihnahn smiles, shakes her head, and kisses her grandson's brow. "Well spoken, Ben-" She pauses. "Well spoken, Djhuety. You are a man indeed." She takes her seat once more. "Well then, stay the day with me, sleep here tonight. And we shall plan your strategies."

i pick myself up from the floor and steady myself on my sword for a moment i notice a silver thread hanging in the air, i look around for the source and see a tiny shining being on the kitchen table, i level my eyes with the table and examine this creature, its a spider let me rephrase that its a construct shaped like a spider.

it is about the size of my palm with eight legs and eight lenses apparently functioning as eyes, it looks at me "oh hello there my good chum how nice of you to finally wake up" i blink twice wondering if im still passed out "you are a spider" it says "yes" i state "you are a talking spider" it repeats in a bored manner "yes".

i feel something move in my pockets and two more of the creatures appear crawling up my body, "am i dreaming?" the spider says "no" i reach for the two crawling up my coat and put them on the table "how long have you been in my pockets?" it looks at me and says "long enough to know that you are a pyromaniac who doesnt like giants".

i say "ok whatever" and start brewing some coffe.

as i come back from my room with a cup of coffe ive picked up a cigar and a stock of cards, they are eating on a fork i just shrug and ask them "do you guys know how to play poker?" they look up on me and and in various ways say yes, i sit down and start shuffling the cards.

The day swirls into night as we talk; the information, the history that Lehnahn has built with those that would attempt to control her, spans generations.

It seems to date back to William. He did not monopolize the creative genius of his day, and many contemporaries arose, inspired by the masters of the previous generation and fueled by the new demand for performers as the arts were lifted from their despised state. Among these, Thomas Morley, prodigy of William Byrde, rose; his arts held mostly to the secular music of his era, and he found the queen to be a great patron of his work, but he never received the recognition of the people in the same manner as Shakespeare; he was but a man while his contemporary fell in among legend.

Morley did not directly resent Shakespeare's success, though many in the royal court believed that his genius in music was overshadowed by the wordsmith. In truth, the two collaborated more then once, though few recognized it. Then a boon came to Morley's career; the bard's only son died, causing the play-write to retreat from the world. The globe still featured plays, but they did not receive the same acclaim as prior and Morley was elevated in the public eye, if only for a brief time. His glory was short lived, however, as Shakespeare seemingly recovered and once again blessed the stage with works that, if anything, surpassed all that he had written before. Morley once again fell from the public eye, to the dismay of his supporters.

Through this dismay, an angry subgroup arose to establish and remove the source of Shakespeare's success; they studied his plays, trailed him in his daily affairs and sought any means to ruin him permanently. They failed, as history is evidence; yet in their searching, they discovered Shakespeare's mistress and determined her true nature.

The supporters believed that one such as Shakespeare was of less worthy of the gifts of the Lady then the greater education and training in Morley; it came to follow that they commissioned 'hunters' to bring the Lady to Morley and force her to bestow her gifts on him. Their plan faltered upon the death of Morley, and the interest of the court diminished.

The hunters were not called back, and in time reevaluated their entrusted mission; they began to included patrons of the arts in their number, and with each generation selected an unknown to whom they would force the Lady to serve. Always failing, as she elusively slipped through their fingers. And then they discovered the Bard's Line. Realizing the familial ties that their quarry would have with her descendants, they began to play the line, attempting to draw her from the shadows. It worked a number of times, but each she managed to escape and retreat to beyond their reach. They sought powerful allies, both magical and mundane, attempting to break through and follow her, and in doing so found the crossroads that is the Nightside and even more allies, and enemies as well.

The capture of her grandchild after the unfortunate events that lead to the dismissal of his parents was a project spanning a century and a half; after observing the target, they concluded that he possessed much of his ancestor's talents and adapted their strategy accordingly... and then he was gone. They lost track of him for years at a stretch and many only saw him twice in their living memories. When they finally ran him down while he was attending university, they evaluated his association with the girl, Leanan, and determined that the time was right to alert their quarry. He ran for years, but the file on his habits made it easier to find him with each successive 'jump' facilitated by his grandmother. Finally, they managed to stop him, and confined him under scrutiny, awaiting the arrival of the Lady.

The events after were... confused, as my escape forced them to begin the hunt again.

The story raises numerous questions, many of which had no clear answer. I showed her the books, to which she takes an interest, but soon dismisses, though I see her stare longingly as I return them to my pocket. She rises shortly after and escorts us to a long hall, empty of all save a table with a bench on either side and furs, blankets and pillows piled in the corners; biding us eat, she smiles, "I'll see you when you rise and depart. Sleep well," and with that vanishes through the door.

We eat in near silence, and with the meal done, retreat to corners of the room as the lights dimmed in the lamps on the walls. Wrapping myself in a large blanket, I turn over and attempt to close my eyes, but they refuse as the events as words of the last few days swirl in my mind. I am a hunted man, and so much the worse, it's starting to effect my friends. Shaking my head, I try to dispel the thoughts, but they only return like the clouds of gnats off a stagnant pool. Restlessly, sleep finds me, enveloping me in black.