"Who goes there?" Syr Ankou barks through the huge oaken door of the tower suite. The booming response of a rhyfelwr announcing his lady is cut short by a loud, raspy squawk. "Cerr!" Nimue and Gwyll cry out in unison to the happy howls of Arwyn greeting an old friend. Springing into action, Gwyll rushes Nimue into her dressing closet. "Quick! We must ready you to receive your first guests. Slip on this fresh leine and...let me see...your sapphire gown with seed pearl trim and matching slippers. Now sit still a moment while I comb your hair. There's no time to braid it up, I'm afraid. We'll have to make do with pulling it back from your face with a few of these pretty silver swan pins," Gwyll chatters on excitedly. "Who are my guests?" Nimue asks, straining to hear the conversation in the outer room. "Were you able to hear a name over Cerr's complaint?" "No, fy Arglwyddes." "You'd best go now and fetch ample refreshments from the king's pantry." "Yes, fy Arglwyddes," Gwyll says excitedly, almost tripping over her bow as she hurries to do her lady's bidding. Nimue follows at a slower pace, allowing herself time to calm her racing heart and curb her unladylike inclination to throw her arms around whoever has returned her errant raven. "Fy Arglwyddes Nimue, daughter of yr Dyonas, Son of the Forest and Arglwyd of the Sea, and Nicevenn, Arglwyddes of the Hunt, presenting yr Arglwyddes Arianwen, daughter of Lot Luwddoc and Lady of the Gododdin, in the company of Syr Morcant and her lady's maid, Llinos" Syr Ankou announces with a graceful reverence before the ladies. "Arglwyddes Arianwen extends her sincerest apologies for calling unnanounced, and at such an early hour of day, but felt it necessary to return your escaped fowl post haste, lest he come to harm whilst in her care," he finishes, stifling an amused cough. "Greetings Arglwyddes Arianwen, Syr Morcant, Maid Llinos," Nimue says with a bow from the waist to show her respect and a radiant smile that lights up her silver-grey eyes. "You are most kind to take such good care of Cerr and return him to me. Few would consider my troublesome misfit worth the bother," she adds, shooting her champion a meaningful look. Noting the wince the Gododdin princess is trying to hide, Nimue holds out her arms to take Cerr and sends Ankou to retrieve his cage. "Please allow me to unburden you of my ill-tempered friend before he decides your lovely hair would make a fine addition to his collection of shiny treasures." Reluctant to let go of his prize, Cerr clutches Arianwen's silver hair in his twisted beak while trying to nip Nimue's fingers. "Naughty bird! I'll turn you into a llyffant tywysog if you don't behave. Now into the cage with you." Syr Ankou holds the cage steady, while Nimue unravels the blanket and thrusts him through the door. He spreads his wings a bit too late, but grabs onto the wire frame and refuses to let go. Gwyll enters at that moment with three kitchen helpers carrying large trays of food and jugs of mead and cider. She orders them to set the table and runs to the window for Cerr's seed ball, which she whacks against the ledge. Hastily gathering up the pieces, she hurries to Ankou's side and tosses them into the cage. The half-starved raven makes a nose dive for the nearest piece and Nimue slams the door behind him. Ankou carries the caged culprit back to the ledge and wires the door shut with several intricate twists. Rather pleased with his handiwork, he doffs his feathered cap and bows with a flourish. "There. I do not think our little pest shall escape again, non?" All present clap and cheer. Even the kitchen staff take a moment from their duties to show their appreciation. Morcant lets out a loud guffaw and gives his fellow knight an appreciative clap on the back, and the ladies wipe away the tears of laughter rolling down their cheeks. When she finally catches her breath, Nimue invites her guests to break fast at her table. "My Gwyll has brought us a veritable feast from the king's kitchen. Won't you please be seated and stay a while? I'll tell you the story of Cerr's demise." Arianwen graciously accepts. When her guests have had their fill, Nimue tells them the tale of her pet's terrible fate. "It was my fault, really. I did a botch job of salvaging Bran's Cauldron of Rebirth and left it on the table by his perch. He died one night, of old age I think, and fell into the basin below. As you can see by his appearance, the cauldron still has the power to resurrect the dead, but the results are frightful. The poor bird has not been the same since, and judging by his temperament of late, I fear he's gone quite mad." "I hope not!" Gywll interjects. All eyes look at her. "Well, he is a strange bird, but he does not seem mad. Not to me." "So! You are wise in the ways of avian madness?" Syr Ankou asks with an air of scepticism. Gwyll closes her mouth and turns several shades of scarlet. "Ignore his teasing, Gwyll." Nimue glares at Ankou and offers her maid an encouraging smile. "I know how attached you've become to Cerr. Now where was I?" She studies her guests for a moment to be sure she isn't boring them. Her gaze lingers on Arianwen's argent tresses. Where have I seen this moon beauty before? I feel I know her from somewhere. Just then a glimmer in the periphery of her vision captures her attention. She glances down at her hands. The moonstone in the ornately wrought silver ring her mother gave her is glowing. A woman's voice that only she can hear commands her to give the ring to the Gododdin princess. "Gwyll, please have your helpers clear the table and return to their kitchen duties." Nimue waits until they have left to proceed. "Arglwyddes Arianwen, I wish you to have this ring for returning Cerr." Arianwen politely declines. "It would not glow in your presence if you were not meant to have it," Nimue persists and slips the ring on Arianwen's finger. The moonstone brightens as the band adjusts to her size, and her eyes widen in surprise as its power surges through her. "Come with me to my dressing closet that I may tell you more about the ring." Intrigued, Arianwen follows. *************** "It was you I saw by my fountain the night I arrived in Camelot! You were with the young hero who slew the Red Knight. I have an important message for him, but first I must initiate you in the Mysteries of Nicevenn, Lady of the Wild Hunt. Her lunar light shines in you and is part of your birthright. Her ring allows all who wear it to create such illusions as disguising their appearance and melding with the shadows." "Might I appear as a boy?" Arianwen asks guardedly. "Yes, if you wish it." "How convincing would my guise be to others?" "You would appear as a boy in every aspect, even were you to be seen naked. You may also transform your attire and the colour of your eyes, hair and skin. The illusion will remain intact so long as you are wearing the ring." Having no further questions, Arianwen nods for Nimue to continue. "When immortals such as you or I wear the Ring of Nicevenn, our magical abilities are enhanced. The longer you wear the ring, the more you will learn about your powers, and the more powerful you will become. Never remove it from your finger, for the moment you do, it will return to its owner. Also know that some day Nicevenn may reclaim her ring. Until then, it is yours. Now close your eyes and concentrate on the moonstone to receive the key to unlock its secrets." Nimue barely breathes while Arianwen allows herself to sink into a trance. The heady scent of wildflowers fills the air around her and her heart sings with joy. A woman veiled in indigo parts the mists and drifts toward her. She lowers her eyes in reverence, but then she feels a gentle touch on her head and looks up. There is no sound, until the woman chants a single word that resonates crystal clear deep inside her being. A floodgate opens and awen flows through her thick and sweet as honey. When Arianwen emerges from her trance, her hair and eyes are shimmering in the dim light of the small room as though they've been sprinkled with moon dust. "Take three deep breaths and draw the energy you are irradiating back into yourself, lest those around you take notice of how you glow." "I'm glowing?" Arianwen asks, mystified by the experience. "Yes dear," Nimue says, suppresing a slight giggle. "Now when you wish to draw on the ring's power, you need only think the word Nicevenn chanted in your ear and its awen will be yours to manipulate as you will." Once Arianwhen has collected herself, Nimue delivers the news that Amangons is in Dyfneint searching for Percival. "You must warn your friend that his life is in peril. Amangons will stop at nothing to find him. Tell Percival he is always welcome to take refuge in my lake caer in Domnonée. You only need ask the ring to guide you there, for Nicevenn is my mother." Presently the ladies join the others in the outer room. Anxious to be on her way, Arianwen bids Nimue farewell, and they thank each other profusely before parting company. Cerr emits a plaintive caw as if to say, "Take me with you!" Though they laugh, it is plain to see that Syr Morcant and Llinos are visibly relieved to be rid of him. "May Nicevenn protect you," Nimue whispers as her new friend disappears down the spiraling tower steps. _______ arglwyddes - lady awen - poetic or divine inspiration llyffant tywysog - toad prince to make a reverence, or revere a lady - to draw back your left foot and bend your knees slightly, being sure to point your toes toward the person to whom you revere and to not point one foot north and the other south rhyfelwr = knight; warrior