Forest Nuptial

Forest Nuptial

A Story by Belle Morte

     The wind whispered in the trees. Sunlight streamed through, painting the world with dappled green light. The sound of a nearby stream mingled with the bird song from above. The sound of tiny-winged fey flitting from mound to mound, performing last minute duties for their masters before the ceremony, filled the air constantly until it became one with the stream and birds. It became the most beautiful of musics. It would have been peaceful if I weren't so anxious.

     I spotted Andais' honey-colored skin and blue, green and brown spotted wings fluttering ever closer, slowed slightly by the gown trailing behind.

     "I'm sorry, Lothlórien, please don't be mad. Niceven wouldn't give me the gown!" I could tell she was not lying by the measure of squeak in her voice. Her voice had lost the magic all the winged ones had.

     "Little one, all will be well, as soon as Lady Rozenwyn get her gown. We shall discuss this matter tomorrow with Niceven. Now, go. Prepare yourself for the ceremony." It sounded harsh, even to me, but we were late and Her Ladyship would hate most to be late on this day.

     With dress in hand, I started back to Rozenwyn's palace. The palace was one of the most magnificent creations in the history of faery, in my opinion. It was formed of the tiniest twigs and the finest moss. It was all high towers, spacious rooms. It was even rumored to have secret passageways leading to hidden worlds. We may never know. The only things we do know are that the palace is held together by sheer force of will and the most ancient of magics. It is pure art. The art of nature, of magic, of all that is faery.

     I must have been staring because I came back to myself with Rozenwyn screaming at me using some very un-feylike language, more human, and vulgar enough to make even the militia blush. I stepped up to the door, placed my left hand to it, pushed a small piece of my magic into the wardings and the double door swung inward.

     Upstairs, in her bedchamber, Rozenwyn sat facing the Rain Drop mirror as her ever present handmaidens wove blue morning glories, preserved by magic, into her long, brown hair. She looked beautiful and she didn't even have the gown on yet.

     The gown was pale green, a green so light it would look white to a human. It complimented the brown skin that peeked through where the spider silk was woven thin. She turned to look me in the eyes and the force of her lilac gaze made my breath catch. "My Lady, you look amazing."

     "I do, don't I?" she asked, giggling slightly. She never giggled. I guess getting married will do that to a girl.

     "Yes, My Lady, you do. Shall we go, you really don't want to be late again, do you? You never know when there will be another day like this." I was taunting her and she knew it but it got us out and into the procession line.

     Rozenwyn wore her white ceremonial cloak, hood up, to hold with tradition. We walked slowly to the mouth of the stream, the waterfall. The sunlight streamed through the trees, illuminating The Rock. It was the largest rock this side of the stream. It was cleansed, consecrated and protected by the power of out most beloved Goddess.

     A small flock of winged ones flew over and removed the cloak. Rozenwyn stepped up to The Rock and the High Priest who was to perform the ceremony. As we waited for the groom party, the winged ones sang lightly in their high, bell-like voices. The snap of a twig alerted us to the presence of the men.

     Onilwyn was at the head of the procession, just has Rozenwyn had been the head of hers. He was dressed in a loose tunic cut from the same spider silk as Rozenwyn’s gown, and would later be joined with her gown to form his new cloak. Although, on her it emphasized her skin, on him the fabric emphasized his eyes. They were the exact color of the lunar moth. His curling blond hair was held by a thin gold circlet. He left his men to stand with Rozenwyn and the priest and the ceremony began. We were half-way through the ceremony when something changed. When something went very wrong.

     Humans! Three human men came tromping through the trees opposite of us, in the other bank. There was complete silence from us, including, for once, the winged ones. A voice of reason in the madness! Maybe they wouldn't! Please, dear Goddess, don't let them destroy it all!

     "Yes, Jim, you were right. This would be the perfect spot to build Plantation Mills. We'll dam up this stream and blow out these rocks, clear out the trees. It'll be great!"

     Dam our stream! Blow out our rocks! Clear out our trees! The nerve of these...these...these HUMANS was outrageous! How dare they?! How DARE they?!

     "Bob, I don't know. Look at those butterflies! I've never seen anything like it. They could be a new species or even an endangered one. We can't just kill them."

     A voice of reason in the madness! Maybe they wouldn't! Please, dear Goddess, don't let them destroy it all!

     "Carl, get a grip. They're just damn bugs. This is the only place left, we have to buy this land. We have a deadline. Bob, we'll come by tomorrow after the papers are signed and start clearing."

     The humans froze in mid-step. My twin brother, Lothor, must have stopped mortal time. Our militia appeared to have arrived from training in the nick of time, so to speak. I spotted Lothor and he gave me a nod and a smile before he went back to work. It must be hard to hold back the “hands of time”, as the humans would say.

     The moment the humans were frozen, the nine council members gathered together. We waited. Onilwyn rejoined his men and they melded into the guard surrounding us all now. Onilwyn is a captain in the faery army. He was released a week early from training when the news was sent that he was to be married today. Rozenwyn was being held in the arms of three handmaidens. She shed three tears, three roses sprouted and blossomed. This was her third try at marrying him. It might not ever happen now.

     Fifteen minutes later, the council called for Azazeal and Usna. Azazeal is known for having the power of opening the veils between our world and the mortal world, along with the ability to wield our most powerful weapon, Mortal Death. Any wound caused by this blade would kill any creature, sidhe or mortal. Very scary weapon. Usna carried only two note-worthy powers. He could transform himself into a leopard and he can change any objects size, large or small.

     Azazeal parted the veils and Usna shrunk the men to the size of the winged ones. The only sound was the trickle of water and Lothor’s exhale when he relinquished his hold on time.

     Council Member Adair was the first to speak. “Welcome to the Land of Faery. You have been brought here to be made to pay for your interruption of our ceremony and the talk of making war against us and our land. How plead you?” Her voice was dripping with disdain and extreme distaste.

     “Please, my name is Carl-”

     “We know EXACTLY who you are. Now get on with it.” I had never heard her like this.

     “Please, I meant you know harm. I’ll do anything, anything! Please! You have to believe me!” He dropped to his knees and begged.

     Council Member Nicca asked the other two men, “What do you have to say for yourselves?” They didn’t answer. Nicca repeated the question. They stood as if struck dumb. And maybe they were. Humans are such simple creatures after all. And we’ll never know. Council Member Nerys sentenced them to death.



     Those who were not there wonder why the men were punished so harshly but for those of us that were there, we understand. The thought of what they were going to, was terrifying.

     Barinthus, the Commander of the Faery army, and Azazeal, with Mortal Death unsheathed, led the two men farther down the stream. The bodies were never found.

     Rozenwyn and Onilwyn did, in fact, marry after two more tries and they live together in “The Palace”. The magic is beginning to fade. Two weeks ago a twig fell off the North Tower. The failing magic worries me but the Council says it is nothing. I will trust their good judgment.

     Oh! I almost forgot. Carl was allowed to remain in faery, the size of the winged ones, until he died a year later. According to Andais, he actually married Siobhan, her cousin. The Council forbade them to have any children.



     The sunlight still streams through the trees, dappling everything green. The wind blows, the birds sing, the stream flows on and the sound of the winged fey fluttering by or singing a bell-like tune still melds together like the most beautiful music. It is peaceful.


Pronunciation Guide


1) Azazeal: as-a-ZEAL

2) Barinthus: BA-rinth-US

3) Lothor: LOW-thor

4) Nicca: NICK-uh

5) Onilwyn: ON-ill-win

6) Usna: OOSH-na


1) Adair: a-DARE

2) Andais: ON-dee-ay-us

3) Lothlórien: loth-LORE-ee-an

4) Nerys: NER-is

5) Niceven: NIS-ah-ven

6) Rozenwyn: roh-ZEN-win

7) Siobhan: SHE-a-vin



© 2008 Belle Morte

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Added on November 12, 2008


Belle Morte
Belle Morte

Athens, GA

My passion is writing but I don't have all that much time to transfer my stuff from paper to the computer. Some of my stories also go along with other, already published books, but only loosely, eit.. more..

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