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Description
Inlé sat in his room, preparing to sleep until a small glowing ball appeared in the center of his room. It floated a few feet off of the ground and, if one looked closely enough into the pale blue glow, the eyes could be tricked to see a somewhat humanoid outline.

Inlé asked, "Well, what is her message for me today? Some menial task, no doubt."

The ball responds in a squirrelly, chuckling voice, "Nay, Wanderer. Today our Queen requests a personal audience. Jack here has been sent to collect yourself."

Inlé stood unhurriedly. "Well, Jack, I suppose postponing would put the Queen into a fine fit, huh? She would most likely kill you out of frustration."

A floating ball with no visible anatomy doesn't exactly have the features to show displeasure or unease without words. Nevertheless, the jittery sphere exuded fear at the prospect Inlé had made.

Inlé reached into his sleeve and pulled out a small jar. "Not to worry. I will go. But do not think I go unprepared." He smeared a small amount of the shamrock paste over each eyelid. "Remember that I am more dangerous to you than you are to me."

The Jack bobbed up and down, as if nodding. "Aye. And well it be that yourself are. But Jack here, his Queen is mightier, much more mighty, lest yourself thinks to forget.

"And whilst yourself is remembering not for forgetting, remember too that the Fey Folk are many where the Wanderer is alone."

"As you say," Inlé agreed, returning the jar to his sleeve. "But lest you forget, that makes your target small, while anywhere I attack strikes a foe."

The Jack floated out the window, and Inlé climbed after it. They took the fire escape up to the roof, where the Jack had already opened a door to Otherworld.

The door was a tear in the sky, a six foot snag in the fabric of the sunset, revealing twilight behind. Into this, the Jack floated, and Inlé calmly followed.

Otherworld is a place always in twilight. No sun or moon hangs in the sky. Only the stars twinkle and dance across its vast expanse. Nevertheless, their light is full enough to illuminate the world below, revealing a land impassioned by life.

Grass grows more green in Otherworld, and wildflowers bloom all together. There is no right season in Otherworld, so there is also no wrong season. The trees also follow this, growing large and small, at their whim, flowering and bearing fruit as they see fit, not according to any seasonal influences. Mushrooms spring up all along any paths through the forest, as well as hanging off some of the trees to provide a seat for some and shade--or light--for others.

And all about are faeries. Most are of the smaller varieties, no larger than the squirrels and nightingales they romp about with. They come in every shape, size, color, and disposition, though, and one is as likely to dwarf a house as to be dwarfed itself.

Through this land, the Jack leads Inlé, down a small footpath that shifts behind them as soon as Inlé lifts his feet off of it. The mushrooms pull it away from his foreign footsteps, that the grasses, having leapt the path, can purify the land of his touch.

As the Jack leads, it says, "Truth, Wanderer, many in the courts fear yourself. Mortals are not welcomed in Otherworld, no no. Not welcomed at all. But the Wanderer moves almost freely. Jack here has no power to decide. Jack here has no place to think on it.

"But," it spun behind Inlé as they reached a clearing, and whispered, "those who wander into such lands as these would be wise to ponder deeply such matters as those." And with that warning, the Jack was gone.

The clearing was large and round, and glowed as if flooded by the soft light of some moon that was not in the sky. Within the clearing, a host of faerie averaging much closer to the human averages stood. They were anything but human, though.

Some were aflame, but cast no light. Others were pale mists held within grape skins. Some had wings--singly or in pairs or in larger groupings--where others had none. Horns, tusks, fins, gills, feet, hooves, hands, tails, antlers, all perhaps recognizable, even if placed in a haphazard manner.

Inlé stepped into this clearing, and immediately every eye--from spiraling black pits to more recognizable forms--fell on him. He paused a moment, taking note of every creature in attendance, then took another step into the clearing.

"Inlé, my love!" a voice laughed from behind him as a faerie leapt onto him in an embrace that wrapped both arms and legs about him. "I found you!"

"This is not," Inlé began, peeling the green woman from him, "behavior befitting you station, good Queen. Please, think of your station."

Standing just shorter than he, Queen Titania, puffed her cheeks out and pouted, "Oh, pooh and poppycock to station, Inlé. I'm the Queen, I do what I like."

She stood a moment, hands on hips, waiting for a response from Inlé. He looked down at this woman with green-stained skin, long, pale amethystine hair and eyes a shade slightly darker than her hair. "As you say, Highness."

Satisfied for the moment, Titania turned about and strode toward a throne in the center of the clearing. Her pale, sky-blue gown flowed behind her as she adjusted her holly and moonlight crown.

Inlé followed to stand before her as she sat in her wood and unicorn horn throne. On her right stood a large unicorn, half again the size of a horse, whose horn--while still quite long--had obviously been broken numerous times. On her left stood a--relatively--small ogre. Though he stood only as tall as the throne, he was still easily more than two heads taller than Inlé, and looked to be quite wooden.

Looking bored, Titania continued, "But I did not call you all the way here to cuddle, I suppose." A smile touched her lips. "Today. Yesterday, I did you a favor, and today you must pay. I need your ... other services."

"I understand," Inlé said. "Your prices are steep, but I am bound to serve you."

She leaned forward in her seat. "Oh, don't say it like that!" she cried. "You make me sound so mean."

"I merely stated the truth," Inlé replied.

Rolling sideways in the throne, Titania pouted, "But I helped you yesterday soooo fast when you asked me to, and now you don't want to help me at all? I could cry. ..."

Inlé sighed. "Queen, I did not mean to sound reluctant. What is it you ask of me?"

Like a child, Titania's mood shifted quickly. She rolled back over into a more simple position and cheerfully said, "Apology accepted! I'm so nice!

"So, as you know, the Seelie court protects the treasures of the Tuatha dé Danann. They are the prizes left to the descendants of Eire. But Eire has lost its ability to guard them, so we have taken them here, to Otherworld.

"Well," she continued, "normally I check up on them daily. Sometimes. But it's regular.

"But the last time I checked on them, they were ... gone.

"And that's why I need you." Titania finished sulkily, "You have to get them back."

Inlé said, "Huh. Then I will do this thing for you. And my debt will be paid?"

"Paid in full," Titania sang. Then more quietly, she said, "It would also be best if you were ... quiet about this."

Inlé bowed. "Of course. Discretion will be had on the matter, as always, Queen."

"Good."

Finished, Inlé turned to leave, but Titania called after him, "Oh, one more thing!"

Turning back, Inlé saw her upside-down in the throne. "I hear you're going on a date," she sang teasingly.

Inlé asked, "Is that truly of your concern?"

"Of course it is!" she said. "I want to know everything about my Inlé. You are mine, after all.

"I need to know," she said, hugging her sides, "it eats me up when I don't know. That's why I always have someone watch you."

"You mean your spies?" Inlé asked.

"No, no," Titania shook her head vehemently as it hung off the front of the throne. "My gossipers. They just listen, but they don't pry. Just hearsay and common knowledge." She paused, then mischievously added, "And maybe a little more.

"But you're not mad, right?" she begged. "You haven't noticed before, and it's not hurt you. So it's okay, right?"

Inlé turned and began to exit the clearing. "Perhaps, Queen. Perhaps," he called over his shoulder, then finished more quietly to himself, "for now."

The Jack joined him as soon as he exited the clearing and led him back to the door, which Inlé passed through alone this time.

As soon as he was outside Otherworld, Inlé turned, licked his thumb, and ran it down the tear that functioned as a door. His thumb pulled the two sides together until the door was no more. It was late night then, and he quietly returned to his room the same way he had left from it.

Description
Inlé sat in his room, preparing to sleep until a small glowing ball appeared in the center of his room. It floated a few feet off of the ground and, if one looked closely enough into the pale blue glow, the eyes could be tricked to see a somewhat humanoid outline.

Inlé asked, "Well, what is her message for me today? Some menial task, no doubt."

The ball responds in a squirrelly, chuckling voice, "Nay, Wanderer. Today our Queen requests a personal audience. Jack here has been sent to collect yourself."

Inlé stood unhurriedly. "Well, Jack, I suppose postponing would put the Queen into a fine fit, huh? She would most likely kill you out of frustration."

A floating ball with no visible anatomy doesn't exactly have the features to show displeasure or unease without words. Nevertheless, the jittery sphere exuded fear at the prospect Inlé had made.

Inlé reached into his sleeve and pulled out a small jar. "Not to worry. I will go. But do not think I go unprepared." He smeared a small amount of the shamrock paste over each eyelid. "Remember that I am more dangerous to you than you are to me."

The Jack bobbed up and down, as if nodding. "Aye. And well it be that yourself are. But Jack here, his Queen is mightier, much more mighty, lest yourself thinks to forget.

"And whilst yourself is remembering not for forgetting, remember too that the Fey Folk are many where the Wanderer is alone."

"As you say," Inlé agreed, returning the jar to his sleeve. "But lest you forget, that makes your target small, while anywhere I attack strikes a foe."

The Jack floated out the window, and Inlé climbed after it. They took the fire escape up to the roof, where the Jack had already opened a door to Otherworld.

The door was a tear in the sky, a six foot snag in the fabric of the sunset, revealing twilight behind. Into this, the Jack floated, and Inlé calmly followed.

Otherworld is a place always in twilight. No sun or moon hangs in the sky. Only the stars twinkle and dance across its vast expanse. Nevertheless, their light is full enough to illuminate the world below, revealing a land impassioned by life.

Grass grows more green in Otherworld, and wildflowers bloom all together. There is no right season in Otherworld, so there is also no wrong season. The trees also follow this, growing large and small, at their whim, flowering and bearing fruit as they see fit, not according to any seasonal influences. Mushrooms spring up all along any paths through the forest, as well as hanging off some of the trees to provide a seat for some and shade--or light--for others.

And all about are faeries. Most are of the smaller varieties, no larger than the squirrels and nightingales they romp about with. They come in every shape, size, color, and disposition, though, and one is as likely to dwarf a house as to be dwarfed itself.

Through this land, the Jack leads Inlé, down a small footpath that shifts behind them as soon as Inlé lifts his feet off of it. The mushrooms pull it away from his foreign footsteps, that the grasses, having leapt the path, can purify the land of his touch.

As the Jack leads, it says, "Truth, Wanderer, many in the courts fear yourself. Mortals are not welcomed in Otherworld, no no. Not welcomed at all. But the Wanderer moves almost freely. Jack here has no power to decide. Jack here has no place to think on it.

"But," it spun behind Inlé as they reached a clearing, and whispered, "those who wander into such lands as these would be wise to ponder deeply such matters as those." And with that warning, the Jack was gone.

The clearing was large and round, and glowed as if flooded by the soft light of some moon that was not in the sky. Within the clearing, a host of faerie averaging much closer to the human averages stood. They were anything but human, though.

Some were aflame, but cast no light. Others were pale mists held within grape skins. Some had wings--singly or in pairs or in larger groupings--where others had none. Horns, tusks, fins, gills, feet, hooves, hands, tails, antlers, all perhaps recognizable, even if placed in a haphazard manner.

Inlé stepped into this clearing, and immediately every eye--from spiraling black pits to more recognizable forms--fell on him. He paused a moment, taking note of every creature in attendance, then took another step into the clearing.

"Inlé, my love!" a voice laughed from behind him as a faerie leapt onto him in an embrace that wrapped both arms and legs about him. "I found you!"

"This is not," Inlé began, peeling the green woman from him, "behavior befitting you station, good Queen. Please, think of your station."

Standing just shorter than he, Queen Titania, puffed her cheeks out and pouted, "Oh, pooh and poppycock to station, Inlé. I'm the Queen, I do what I like."

She stood a moment, hands on hips, waiting for a response from Inlé. He looked down at this woman with green-stained skin, long, pale amethystine hair and eyes a shade slightly darker than her hair. "As you say, Highness."

Satisfied for the moment, Titania turned about and strode toward a throne in the center of the clearing. Her pale, sky-blue gown flowed behind her as she adjusted her holly and moonlight crown.

Inlé followed to stand before her as she sat in her wood and unicorn horn throne. On her right stood a large unicorn, half again the size of a horse, whose horn--while still quite long--had obviously been broken numerous times. On her left stood a--relatively--small ogre. Though he stood only as tall as the throne, he was still easily more than two heads taller than Inlé, and looked to be quite wooden.

Looking bored, Titania continued, "But I did not call you all the way here to cuddle, I suppose." A smile touched her lips. "Today. Yesterday, I did you a favor, and today you must pay. I need your ... other services."

"I understand," Inlé said. "Your prices are steep, but I am bound to serve you."

She leaned forward in her seat. "Oh, don't say it like that!" she cried. "You make me sound so mean."

"I merely stated the truth," Inlé replied.

Rolling sideways in the throne, Titania pouted, "But I helped you yesterday soooo fast when you asked me to, and now you don't want to help me at all? I could cry. ..."

Inlé sighed. "Queen, I did not mean to sound reluctant. What is it you ask of me?"

Like a child, Titania's mood shifted quickly. She rolled back over into a more simple position and cheerfully said, "Apology accepted! I'm so nice!

"So, as you know, the Seelie court protects the treasures of the Tuatha dé Danann. They are the prizes left to the descendants of Eire. But Eire has lost its ability to guard them, so we have taken them here, to Otherworld.

"Well," she continued, "normally I check up on them daily. Sometimes. But it's regular.

"But the last time I checked on them, they were ... gone.

"And that's why I need you." Titania finished sulkily, "You have to get them back."

Inlé said, "Huh. Then I will do this thing for you. And my debt will be paid?"

"Paid in full," Titania sang. Then more quietly, she said, "It would also be best if you were ... quiet about this."

Inlé bowed. "Of course. Discretion will be had on the matter, as always, Queen."

"Good."

Finished, Inlé turned to leave, but Titania called after him, "Oh, one more thing!"

Turning back, Inlé saw her upside-down in the throne. "I hear you're going on a date," she sang teasingly.

Inlé asked, "Is that truly of your concern?"

"Of course it is!" she said. "I want to know everything about my Inlé. You are mine, after all.

"I need to know," she said, hugging her sides, "it eats me up when I don't know. That's why I always have someone watch you."

"You mean your spies?" Inlé asked.

"No, no," Titania shook her head vehemently as it hung off the front of the throne. "My gossipers. They just listen, but they don't pry. Just hearsay and common knowledge." She paused, then mischievously added, "And maybe a little more.

"But you're not mad, right?" she begged. "You haven't noticed before, and it's not hurt you. So it's okay, right?"

Inlé turned and began to exit the clearing. "Perhaps, Queen. Perhaps," he called over his shoulder, then finished more quietly to himself, "for now."

The Jack joined him as soon as he exited the clearing and led him back to the door, which Inlé passed through alone this time.

As soon as he was outside Otherworld, Inlé turned, licked his thumb, and ran it down the tear that functioned as a door. His thumb pulled the two sides together until the door was no more. It was late night then, and he quietly returned to his room the same way he had left from it.