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Miles refilled the glasses of the guests as Arielle tuned her harp. As he was refilling Bri's glass, he smiled at her. She had been a guest at the house many times, and Miles had grown quite fond of her. "A most excellent suggestion, madam Bri," he said.

As the bard began singing, Miles stood off to the side and listened. He had never heard it before, and he let the melody and the words flow through him. Master Barlow would indeed be sorry to have missed that, but he was sure there would be plenty of time for songs and stories later, or perhaps the next day.

"A most stirring performance, madam," he said appreciatively once Arielle had finished. "Thank you."

"I humbly serve, as any of my art would."

Despite the words, spots of color in her cheeks gave away her pleasure at the complements. Setting the instrument back in it's case with methodical care, the bard returned to the meal in front of her and attacked it with a vengeance. She was starved. Still, even as she ate, she wondered to herself just where the mysterious Lord Barlow had gone...

((Uh.....I think he has lost interest....))

Bri finnished the salad and leaned back in her chair taking in the familiar dinning room.

"How about another story," Bri grinned sitting straighter, "I have one of the ethreal beasts you call fayries."

((Yeah, that's what I'm thinking. I'll leave it undefined at the moment, and we can ret-con it later if needs be.))

Miles was just about to announce the second course when he paused and looked in the direction of the Hall. A moment later, footsteps could be heard on the stairs. Barlow entered the dining room, looking a little worn around the edges

"Please excuse my absence," he said as Miles pulled his chair out for him and he sat down. "Thank you, Miles," he said with a smile to his butler, then he addressed the room as a whole. "One of the other guests was rather... lost outside the house. Happily, I have managed to find him and bring him back. He is resting in one of the guest rooms now. Still, I do apologize for abandoning you in so abrupt a manner."

Miles returned from the kitchen with a salad for Barlow, and soup for everybody at the table. "The second course is a light cream potato and leek soup," he announced. "And Eva has requested I pass on that the main course is ready whenever desired."

"Ah, thank you, Miles," said Barlow, his mood brightening a bit. "Good to see that everybody has been well taken care of in my absence." With that, he started in on his salad.

A Lord leaving in the middle of the night to find a lost guest himself, rather than send a servant? Arielle forked more lettuce into her mouth slowly, watching Lord Barlow as he sat and turned his attention to Bri. Such a strange man, who seemed to fit none of the precedents she'd experienced of nobility. It unnerved her slightly, and she wondered if he was truly as good-hearted as he seemed.

When Bri's tale drew to a close, Arielle almost spat out her soup on a chortle. It was an amusing image, that of self-possessed Bri stumbling drunkenly to a Lord's door in the middle of the night.

"I have never been drunk, but you make it sound almost like fun..."

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she wished them back. What kind of foolish statement was that to make at a Lord's table? The bard twisted her napkin in her hands under the table as he cheeks colored, trying vainly not to look like a fool.

"Ah, I....I did however, have the opportunity to meet a faerie once. Perhaps...perhaps my lord would not object if I regaled his table with the tale?"

((Insert longest post in Guild History...now! xp ))

His acceptance made her smile slightly. Reaching for her cup, she sipped her tea lightly, then leaned back in her chair to warm her hands around the china while she spoke. Though quietly spoken, her words were designed to capture the hearts and attentions of the whole audience. Her smile continued to play about her lips as she gave her tale to them.

"Far to the West, in the lands beyond the Ogre's Teeth ranges, lie rolling sprawls of tough wild grasses and moss. These windswept and lonely moors defiantly push up greenery in the face of terrible storms and gales, never succumbing to the elements but instead thriving in them. Great tall stones and boulders are scattered throughout every hillock and dip, and legend states that they were once wicked giants, turned to stone by magic and cursed to stand guard over the moors for all time."

She sipped again, marking a pause as she gaged her audience to be suitably intent. Good. That built her confidence, so the bard continued:

"I found myself crossing this land on my way to Ichbar, to trade some songs for the valuable spiced perfumes of that land. Now, in lands like that, where the view that spans to the horizon looks as much the same from one direction as the other, travel is troublesome without a guide. My own guide was hired from the last town before the moors began, and he and had come some distance in half a days travel. Night began to fall, and we agreed to make camp. As I sat warming supper at the fire I'd built, the guide--who's name was Ukeul--stood up and began to toss a strange brown powder around our camp in a broad circle. I thought it a strange custom, but thought little of it when he came to share the meal.

"For three nights he did this same thing, each time insisting we make camp before full dark, and throwing down his strange powder. My curiosity finally over came me, and I asked why he did this. An odd look came over his face, but he finished his ritual and began to speak as he sat by the fire. He told me: 'This land, it is the home of the Moergun, the powerful Elder-Fae. He is a crafty creature who steals unwary folk away to his kingdom beneath the moors to be his servants.' I laughed at his tale, telling him that it sounded like silly superstition. But he leaned in, his eyes serious. 'Beware, Bard of Ancar.'"

Here she leaned in to set her cup down, voice low and filled with intensity.

" 'Beware Bard of Ancar, for only three things do the Fae fear: Holy magic, running water, and cold iron.' I shook my head to myself, and kept my opinions to myself as we turned in. At least I had my answer: it was iron he'd spread 'round our camp.

"That night, the winds howled about my tent like a wounded beast stalking the night, tearing at the canvas walls with furious claws. I knew Ukeul slept, for I could hear him snoring in his tent even through the wind. But as I lay there awake, something else came on the wind, soft at first, then louder. I sat up, straining to hear what it was, then started to realize it was music!"

Arielle swung her hand, and the way she moved with it painted a picture with her words till they could almost see the tent flap she acted pushing aside.

"I rose, thinking to investigate; after all, who would be playing music in the middle of nowhere on such a blustery night? The dark was thick, and I moved several paces from the tents before I made out a form. A few steps closer and, three feet from Ukeul's iron ring, I saw him."

She sighed softly.

"I don't embellish to tell you he was the most beautiful creature I'd ever beheld. His physique was lean and disciplined with hard muscle, his limbs long and graceful. Glossy brown locks flowed into a dark braid that swung down his back, held back from his face by a circlet of silver that banded across his forehead. He wore sandles, and nothing more than a loin-cloth of white linen beneath the robes that hung loosely about his wide shoulders; but the robes themselves were exquisite, woven of spider-silk and spun-gold, and dyed a deep green that matched his eyes. Those eyes were watching my approach intently while his fingers stroked over the harp in his hands.

"And oh, what a harp! What an instrument!"

Wistful regret colored her tone till she shook her head.

"It was perfectly carved, strung with utmost care; it was a masterpiece, created by a great patron of the musical craft. And the sound! Like angels sighs and phoenix cries...it was simply the most wonderful creation I had ever seen or heard. And under his hands, it rivaled the stars in the heavens for beauty.

"He ceased playing, and I a gave a cry of protest, urging him to continue. It felt like seeing the color go out of the world; life just felt so much duller and dismal without that wondrous music. He smiled at me, baring very white teeth. Then he spoke, and his voice was almost as melodious and delightful as the harp had been: 'Sweet Arielle, gentle player from far away...won't you come play for me?'

"Well, you can imagine my surprise, not only that he knew my name, but that he should want me to play for him. I took a single step closer, then hesitated. This man was a stranger, and Ukeul's cautionary tale still lingered in the back of my mind; I decided it wouldn't do any harm to be wary. So I called back to him: 'I fear I am too tired to play, and my skills would surely not do your harp justice.' He shook his head, with laughter like birdsong: 'No, sweet bard, you must play! Your divine skill and fair, beautiful face would be well welcome in Court. Perhaps you would come play for me there?' Then he held out the harp towards me, offering; tempting.

"Well, my astonishment doubled. And I will admit, I was flattered that a Lord thought me talented and fair. I took another step. But Ukeul's words of caution still murmured in my mind, and I hesitated once again, stopping to call out: 'Who are you, my Lord? And whence came you?'

"His warm tones answered: 'I am the Lord Moergun, ruler of the Underdark Kingdom.' You can imagine how my heart thundered to hear this, though I was not as afraid as perhaps I should have been. 'Please,' he invited again, moving closer to the circle with the harp held out before him. 'I would take you to my kingdom, and dress you in the finest silks. You would drink honeyed wine at my side, and want for nothing. Come with me. Be my Queen, and we shall play together forever.'

"His eyes were hypnotizing, and his words so tenderly imploring. He held out his hand, his fingertips just beyond the edge of the circle. I felt as though in a daze, my hand lifting towards his without my having instructed it to. I took another step toward him, and free of the circle. Triumph lit his features as he drew me into his arms, wrapping me in his robes while his fingers seized my hair, pulling my head back with a gentle tug. His head lowered, and he made to press his lips against mine, to seal me under his power for all eternity..."

She stopped speaking, taking her tea back up to sip quietly. The pause and suspense drew out as the bard drank, apparently unconcerned with the stories conclusion.

(( Wow, that post was truly impressive in both length and quality! ))

As the bard spoke, Barlow listened intently, his eyes half closed. As she spoke of the raging blustery wind, it seemed as though the winter storm raging outside amplified its fervor to match. When she described the music drifting on the wind, it was as if the notes of a ghostly harp were drifting through the room, barely to be heard as they were carried away by the sound of the wind. Barlow smiled to hear the ghosts of the bard's story carrying on the air. Those of strong imagination were always his favorite guests. In fact, it was that very trait coupled with her amazingly good nature that made Barlow so fond of Bri. He found himself hoping that this bard, Arielle, would become a regular guest at his house as well.

When the bard paused and Bri cried out, Barlow laughed softly. "I do believe I echo your sentiments, Bri. Although I would never dictate the pace at which an artist produces a work of art." He turned his gaze to Arielle. "Please, continue at the the instant of your choosing, and not a moment before. I must confess that I am savoring the suspense." He smiled as he sipped his soup.

As the bard's tale concluded, Barlow applauded lightly. "A magnificent tale," he said. After a moment, his small smile widened and he added, "Although now I must confess I feel somewhat embarrassed. I offered commentary on the nature of the fae, but now I see that your command of their lore far exceeds my own. I marvel at your ability to withstand the temptation of the such enchanted food and drink." He paused to finish his own cup of tea, then added thoughtfully, "I wonder if I might persuade you to play your harp later. After dinner, of course. I would very much like to hear it."

"Ah, thank you Miles," he said as the butler brought fresh drinks for everybody at the table. He breathed deeply of the steam rising from his hot cup of tea and listened to the house creak slightly from the fury of the winter gale outside. "It seems that the passion of your tale has roused the very heavens themselves," he said wistfully. The tone of his voice was difficult to read. Was it simple complimentary speech, or did he actually mean what he said? After a moment, he roused himself from his thoughts and finished the last of his soup.

"They say that good things come in threes, and I note that it is once again my turn to tell a story. If you would lend me indulgence, I have a minor one in mind: The story of Alexander and the Stone Circle. It is also a tale of the Fae, although it is not my own. It was told to me by an old friend a number of years ago... I do believe we will have time for it while Miles serves the main course."