I've done worse things...
     I won't recount them for you now, they really aren't the point, but only to mention it as to put the journey to Wales into some sort of context. I really should have refused her the journey. To raise my hands and say: No, My Lady, you should not dirty yourself with the world on the Other Side of Matter.
     But I didn't...
     Why was I not more gallant? Because she asked it of me. And, well.... if she should happen to see something that she didn't like particularly, like Davydd ...wooing a young woman against the body of a tree, well... maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing...
     For me...
     Our first stop was to pass nearby, but not directly through as I'm not rude and I wasn't asked, the realm of the Oak King, King of Summer. I didn't recognize the place. Trees jutted out from the earth, massive oak, once seemingly dead nemetons were thick with brush and green with leaves. The earth never more fertile. The water never more clear, fast-running straight through to the heart of his kingdom of Avalon.
     The apple trees, once a bramble of thorny nothingness, worse than the thorns of Sleeping Beauty fame, were thick with blossoms, dripping nectar that gave rise to treelings below. The apples were full, smelling of...
     You'd have to be a man to understand...
     Smelling of the perfume of a woman's skin. The breeze was like a sigh, perfumed and heated. The air shivered and the castle stood many-towered and red, the symbolism not at all lost on me.
     Those who had once called this realm home, the warriors of Arthur and magicians and bards, who had in spirit as much as body lain dormant just like all those legends professed had begun to wake from their thousand-year sleep. Just as the legends professed. Boats full of beautiful maidens, flowers in their hair, upon their breath, dangling from their fingertips to float and spin gorgeous on the silver water, winded upon the spiral curve of the river most magical. And stags coursed through the grove.
     Amazing really...
     As I led my Queen to the deepest parts of the oak wood, where her kingdom ran very close to his own, I whispered against her ear: remember my name, I am Hwyll ap Gwyn. An old fairy tale, that. As am I.
     The woods shivered with a large wind (me) and we stood upon fertile ground of a different ... View of Wales, Cymru. The red-towered castle still there, still symbolic, flowers and green grass everywhere. And there he was, the Oak King himself, bending to kiss the slip of a girl....
     Coo, she looks familiar...
     One of his many women, in a whole line of women. But this one is different. Seeing, as we do, lady, you and I could see this child -- and she is a child -- was no ordinary girl, nor was she dead like his last few women. She was vibrant. Their kiss was lightning. The air flashed between them and at their feet.... flowers....
     A king...
     A queen...
     But one queen left unattached...
     There was no point in remaining. Maybe we had seen what we had come to see. Maybe we had seen the reason for all that waking, flowering rutting. With a gallant hand, I bore you away. With a gallant, soothing wind, I returned you to your kingdom.
     And then I hid all of the sharp objects...

     She asked it of him and he gave her that, lead her to that dreadful scene. Perhaps she shouldn't have gone. Perhaps she should have stayed in her Great Hall, waiting... waiting for the news of his oath breaking... the news of his new love... the news that she is nothing in a king's eyes any longer.
     But, could Hafwen have believed it if it were not spied with her own two eyes? There would have been denials and protests... surely the Lord of the Wind merely made it up so that he could finally woo her! Lies! All but lies!!
     Ah, but no... she went, she saw, and she wept silently as her escort bore her back home, to the comforts and the haven of her castle walls... but she could not bear its confines just yet, so she requested to be taken to her grove. Inside the castle, she felt trapped, unable to breathe...
     The Oak Queen wanted to be ill.
     Out here in the peaceful solitude, she wept some more, all the while asking for you to stay... wanting peace and separation from others, but not truly wanting to be alone. Such contradictions. The sun does not shine this day... all is overcast and stormy, reflected within the queen's own being.
     And after some time, the tears cease to fall, like a heavy summer rain finally letting up, leaving the lands thoroughly drenched, even flooded. Sitting upon the grass beneath one of the ancient oaks, Hafwen turns her face upward, toward you and murmurs, "Thank you. For being here. For showing the truth to me. For... for proving that I am... alone, unattached... free?" There is a pause, a moment of silence... the rain has ceased, but there is electricity in the air.. the storm is not over, apparently, but merely changes... A flash of anger passes across her features quickly before she spits out, "Left alone after so many centuries of waiting... all for naught! How could he do this??"

     My first inclination is to shrug...
     Awful, isn't it? If only, female creatures say, we could be more like them. To wait for love, to pine, to really and truly attach to another being instead of treating such matters like a handshake, a treaty, or a prolonged affair, even when truly and love and partnered remaining to ourselves first and foremost. Like little islands adrift in a great, female sea.
     But I do not shrug. I do not want to see you cry and so I wipe last teardrops with my fingers and sit through the first of what no doubt shall be many outbursts.
     What to do, what to do...
     For it's not as though I can tell the truth, can I? That men are by their nature inconstant, apart from the Self. That you were foolish to wait for him. He never made such promises to you and if he did you should have held them as dear as most other promises you receive. Or did you think creating a fairy king out of fairy matter and painting dragons on his willy would change his nature?
     No, I can't be that honest. I'll have to say the typical things men say: it'll be alright, you don't need him, he's a fool to ever let you go.
     While at the same time managing not to do a jig of victory too soon...
     So...
     "Davydd ap Owain's never been much on promises, for all his talk of loyalty and honor," I smoothly say, calm breeze of words despite your storm. "Your majesty deserved better, quite frankly, and if I may speak freely. You could have any man in all the worlds of sun and moon and stars and earth. Think of it as a blessing, for all that curse. That you are freed of it while he remains still beholden to it. And... well... immortal as he is by grace, he is a man, Your Majesty, and not fit to love such a queen as you..."

     Ah, and it is a good thing that you, Lord of the Wind, have enough tact to not be so honest and blunt.... for although she favors you over others, gives you more time and attention than many others, even that would not stop her ire. The Queen of Summer is patient and diplomatic, but has a fiery temper once the fuse is lit and burned down. It simmers slowly, bubbling just beneath the surface, until finally it explodes with all the fury of the hottest summer sun.
     But, that honesty is tempered with softer words, thankfully, and she responds in a calmer tone. "You are right, Hwyll.. you are right." Of course you are, you're probably thinking, hm? Reaching out for your hand with one of hers even as tears are swept away for her, she murmurs words that echo your own thoughts, "I've been a fool, Hwyll. A blind, stupid fool." At least -she- said it and not you, right?
     "How could I not see it? He has lived too long with -them-..." Mortals. Vampires. Anything not fae. "He has made false promises... whether he meant to or not. Their taint is on him." This last is spat out as she crinkles her nose, as though catching the scent of a foul odor on the air. Shaking her head, she calms again, releasing a heavy sigh before looking back into your face, "You... you have been too kind to me."

     "He's one of them," Hwyll notes quietly, a gentle hand returning to stroke a touch upon your face, a last tear caught, and then that summer-fire hair. "He never left them. I'm not really sure he could. Or can. At best maybe he can be in-between as he... seems to be these days. What fit companion could he make you? But," Hwyll the handsome smiles a little, leaning in toward you, "...there is nothing foolish about hoping, My Queen. Why, I've been guilty of it for years myself. So... do not call yourself foolish, my ears will not hear it..."
     His hand tilts your chin up, even as he tilts his head to the side. He smiles, the brilliant, storm-flashing Prince of the Winds. "You know what you should do... you should have a party. You should celebrate his return to the Kingdoms, for the return of a king is a monumental thing. Show him, by your strength and by your honor how to act honorably. And besides, what better way to deal with such an unfaithful lover than to be joyous in his presence and not... affected by his acts at all..."
     Hwyll smiles, his hand falling away. He leans back, eyes going to the thick boughs and leaves of your own forest. "Besides, I like parties. And you throw the very best parties in all the kingdoms of all the world... no one serves daisywine with honeycakes the way you do, My Lady. There is no more beautiful court. Do not cry," Hwyll says, turning that blonde-blonde head your way. "For you have too much to celebrate. Beauty, you always had. Grace, you have always been. Now... free to ... freely express it. In truth, my dear Queen, as you have always been..."

     Eyes as blue as a clear summer sky close briefly at the touches upon her face and hair, then reopen as her chin is tilted upward, seeking out the face of the one who comforts and consoles her so easily, so graciously.
     "A... a party?" she asks incredulously. You must be joking. But then she listens to what you have to say. Others might suggest completely ignoring the Oak King and his kingdom... or to go to war with it... but what would either of these accomplish? Not much. But a party...
     "Are you suggesting I throw one... and invite him? And her?" There is a pause. She doesn't entirely like this thought, that much is evident from the face she makes at you. Once more, she wrinkles up her nose in disgust. "I... Hwyll, I don't know if I have the strength to do this..." Though, she knows it would be The Thing To Do. Be the better person. Celebrate his return and his happiness... then move on.
     Besides, having a party would give you an excuse to kick up your heels without looking conspicuous, right?
     "I will... give it some thought, Hwyll. It's rather...soon still." Perhaps she meant to say it was too raw.
     Attempting to lighten things a little, trying to prevent herself from crying again, she chuckles a little, then asks, "You have been guilty of hoping for years, dear Hwyll? Tell me... if I am not prying... what is it the Wind could hope for?"

     Hwyll laughs and lighting flashes. "Oh... you slay me. No... not invite him and least of all her. But... simply a celebration. You do not have to have him present to celebrate the waking of a world. Or don't call it a celebration. Call it a feast because you damn well want one. Another party for the quickening of summer..." His hand makes a gallant wave: or any number of other things one could make up.
      He gives you a mischievous look, Hwyll ap Gwyn, eyes moving side to side. "It is only a suggestion, of course. But you might want to make sure only the most beautiful sorts are there... maybe a certain amount of... or should I say instead lack of apparel..."
     Well, May Day is approaching...
     As to his hope? He seems rather startled you asked, maybe he's acting, but he leans back again, and now he shrugs. "There is this woman," he exhales. "I've been trying... unsuccessfully, I might add... to woo her. She is, naturally, beautiful. But I have been unable to convince her that I'd make a good partner..."

     The relief in her expression is as plain as writing on a wall. Oh. She's being too serious... she has that bad habit. Heat and colour rise to her pale cheeks as she flushes and lowers her gaze a bit. "Oh... well, okay, I see... you had me going, Hwyll. But... a celebration or a feast for any reason would be good..." There is no need for her kingdom to be in mourning, after all, right?
     All this talk of lack of apparel and beautiful people causes the Oak Queen to laugh... it is a hearty one, full of relief and release... it has been many hours since she last laughed, and she was even sure for a time that she would not laugh again. "My Lord, you are so... inspiring." Was that the word you expecting? Perhaps you were expecting 'naughty' or 'terrible'? But were you expecting her to actually -like- your teasing suggestion?
     Glancing off at the mighty oaks which surround the two of you, keeping you both from prying eyes, she adds with a grin, "I guess... I can do what I want..." This causes her to blink a bit, as though her own words startled and surprised her. But... the corners of her mouth curl up a bit... yes, there is a small smile there as the knowledge of that statement strikes home.
     But now she glances back and sees the shock on your face, hears words about this woman... "Oh, but who could possibly vex you so, Lord of the Wind, Hwyll, the man who could have any of thousands of women? I would believe that there was no woman in existence who could cause you to want to settle down with just one... Is it even possible? Has the world stopped revolving?"
     Now she teases, perhaps, for her smile grows into something much more mischievous. Her sadness is still there... the image of a king with his new queen firmly branded into her brain... but she is trying to move past that, to distract herself, now that the tears are gone.

     "Well, it's true, I've always had a thing for gardens full of the wild flowers of womankind," Hwyll rolls out. "And it's not proper that the wind should ever truly settle down, this is probably what gives my lady pause, for of all inconstant men I am the most inconstant. I go where I go, as all winds go."
     Lightning eyes look to you again and he smirks, that Hwyll ap Gwyn. "But does not every creature deserve love? Bees find mates. Flowers too and trees. Water has the earth, sky has the clouds. I look to be no woman's 'husband'... but... Favorite. Maybe even consort one day."
     Consort? Then he speaks of a queen...
     "But," he exhales, lying back on the soft grass beneath the great oak, "... she has no equal this one, but she has forever loved another man. So, there is perhaps no hope for me. But I hope nonetheless, My Queen." He turns his head against the grass.
     Then, rather remarkably, he changes the subject. "Would you like to play a few games of cards? Cups and Knives?" he wonders. "I won't even ask to play for money. We play for fun. Maybe some daisywine... a few snacks...maybe a few servants to tend us as we loiter beneath the leaves..."
     He is full of sighs as he looks to you. The wind can't be held, maybe he is doomed to be forever a blowhard. Alone.

     Lips quirk into a smirk. "Ah, but a woman who wanted to chain down the wind would find herself holding nothing, certainly... she would be a fool to think of imprisoning that which cannot be," comes Hafwen's response.
     Consort? Loved another forever? Ah, that seals it.
     She has long experienced and staved off the advances... but she had to be sure. Softly, glancing away from you, she whispers, "No... no cards." She'll have no distractions. Yes, she's being serious again. "I would not think the Wind would still want such a woman... even if she were to be free of that which locked up her heart for so long. She would no doubt fear he would discard her for treating him as the 'second fiddle', even if she never meant to."
     Finally, her head turns, sending locks the colour of the red setting sun cascading over her shoulder. "Hwyll... perhaps some daisywine and food might be good... I can call..." It will take the servants a few minutes to hear and respond anyway, so she may as well signal them now.

     "That is the lie always told about the wind," Hwyll quips, "... for though it is true that wind may never stay in one place, is not the air that comprises it everywhere? Where the sun goes, so goes the wind. Even they," humans, "... say as much with their insistence on science and facts."
     How boring!
     "Do you not believe it, too!" he insists, then he smiles a little. "My Queen, the wind could have no better companion than the sun," Hwyll ap Gwyn sits up to plead his case. "I do not ask more than what Your Majesty would be willing to part withal. I only wish your affection and your favor. For shall you not have many others asking such of you? I would never require singularity -- for we know that nature abhors such. But rather prefers worlds in the multiple, beasts in the multiple and beings in the myriad. But that I am your Favored, Chosen, Particular Consort... I might rest secure in the knowledge that None come before Me in Your Esteem..."
     Is that so much to ask? Really?
     "Have as many lovers as it please you. That is a Queen's prerogative... one single person should not have the whole of your heart... other than you yourself, yes? I only wish, for the bits you give away, to have the biggest part," he grins.

     ou don't want much, do you, Hwyll? But, if she did not wish to hear your answer, she would not have asked who you hoped for. You have made it quite clear where your interests have lain when it came to her -- but always (presumably) held back, or were pushed back, by the knowledge that she was Taken... Spoken For. But now she is not, is she? Is this the chance you had been hoping for?
     "The sun... and the wind..." Hafwen begins softly, placing her hands in her lap, focusing her attentions there momentarily, "...do well together, it seems."
     Like the dawn, her face rises up again to look at you. Speaking plainly, she replies quietly, "I will admit... I have thought fondly of you all these long years. I even fancied that if things were different, perhaps it would be so. But it never was. But now...?" Everything is different. Everything has changed. Where pain is now, it will fade and be replaced with something new. A new outlook.. a new freedom.. a new sense of love?
     Somewhere within the castle, servants bustle preparing the daisywine and platters of food. Organized chaos. Out here, everything seems calm. It remains overcast, but lighter... a glimmer of hope? A slender hand reaches out to you, perhaps seeking out your own. Focusing her gaze on the so-blonde locks that frame your face, she murmurs, "I should braid your hair properly now... I rushed it earlier."

     "Oh," Hwyll grins, moving to lay his head on your lap, "... if you insist..." Twisted his arm right off, didn't you. Can't you just hear him yelping: oh the horror, the horror, the queen ripped my arm off she twisted it so hard!
     "Think of it, My Queen," Hwyll says softly from his new perch. "When summer returns this year, your halls will be full, you will be adored. You will have any number of new champions proving themselves for you. What a grand time to be Queen, isn't it? And to be free? I do not mean to belittle your sorrow, for I know it is a wound to the pride as much as to the heart to have seen that, but do you not think that you had been likewise cursed? To dwell in the darkness of loneliness? And now... you have thrown the doors and windows wide to let the light back in. This is why I say you should have a party. To rejoice your freedom..."
     Hwyll smiles gloriously, "Maybe put a few of your favorite ribbons in it," he suggests, "... even summer flowers, if you like. I will wear your badge with honor..."

     You're basking in this, aren't you? She knows it, but says naught a word for it. She allows you to have your moment of kicking up your heels and shouting triumphantly, so to speak... for in truth, there is a little part of her doing the same. That part is just held quietly within her, leaving just a quiet little smile upon her lips, always looking as though they were recently stained with berries.
     Coppery eyebrows arch upward as she laughs gently, finding a head within her lap. "New champions... ugh, so long as one of them isn't the King of the Outer Plains!" she groans, rolling her eyes. Gentle fingers already rake through the blonde hair, carefully pulling out hastily-made braids to be replaced with new ones. Within moments, she already begins to twist strands together with expert deftness. "I don't think I could possibly stand yet another proposal from that man.. he's.. he already has enough wives! He doesn't need me!"
     Once more, her laughter fades, but the smile doesn't completely follow suit. "You are not making light of my sorrow, Hwyll... I know. But... you do have a point. I have, perhaps, been caged or trapped, myself. All these centuries, I've referred to his Curse... but, I suppose I suffered from it, as well." A ribbon appears in her hand, and she twists it it into the plait she works on... perhaps you've seen this green ribbon in her own hair before.
     She falls silent for a moment, as though giving something some thought, then finds her voice again. "A feast... we shall do it. We shall have a feast... for May Day." May Day. Beltaine. Yes, Hwyll, you will get your wish. This shall be a feast that this kingdom has not seen in a good many years... for the queen has detached herself from it for so long. This year, she will not be an observer. "We will invite those who we suspect will enjoy it..." Ooh, a closed party. "And we will live a little."

      I was aiming just before Smug but somewhere after self-satisfied. Looks like I overshot it a bit. Oh well, live and learn I always say. Another man's defeat is my victory. And even if she doesn't choose me, at least she didn't choose him. Oh sure, Davydd ap Owain may revive Belief and Inspiration in the world, gods bless him if it works, I don't hate him for it. As I said, gods bless him. But he's a Man, first and foremost. And he belongs to that world...
     He should leave the other Queens to Real Men...
     "I'll make sure his ships can't leave the port," Hwyll grins. "See... it pays to be the not-so-secret admirer of the Prince of Winds. And you thought only I was getting something out of the bargain..."
     Beltaine. The fire festival. Bonfires, bel-fires, honeycakes, daisywine, daffodils made out of sugar. O! I love that holiday.
     "Live a lot, Your Majesty," Hwyll murmurs. "Live a lot...."

     She's given you one of her ribbons... that's a one-up on the Oak King, is it not? Hafwen has accepted the proposal, but just give her some time to get over the rawness of the day's events and sights.
     So, revel as you want, Lord of the Wind... for patience has won out on this day, it seems.
     Grinning, the Queen of Summer adds, "Oh perfect... make sure he doesn't... ahem, get wind of the party, if you can." There's a wink offered with this. Oh, a terrible pun, she knows... but forgive her, she's had a trying day.
     As her mood improves, some of the clouds above part a bit, letting filtered sunshine to slip between the leaves of the ancient oaks, lighting up both your own hair and hers. She warms beneath it, a bit of colour returning to her cheeks.
     Fingers finish the first braid starting at your temple just as servants arrive bearing platters of food and drink. They set them wordlessly nearby, then quickly vanish once more... this is the Queen's private space and others come here only by invitation.
     "Ah, let's get some refreshment before I braid the other side," she suggests, pointing out that not only is their daisywine, but also honeywine, as well as honeycakes and various fruits.
     You are welcome in this space with her, and so far no one else is other than a servant delivering a meal. Maybe now, she can stop trying to live like a mortal woman pining over a husband that was never meant to be... and begin to live like the faery queen that she is.

Posted by rowan at April 15, 2004 08:11 PM