(no subject)

[pisum_sativum]

There is a certain herb, deep in the wood, with leaves so dark and glossy that the dew forms on them the first of all the forest's greenery, and of such virtue that if the dew be collected therefrom and drunk or bathed in, it is wondrously refreshing to the heart and spirit.

Collecting the dew is a painstaking task: it must be done after midnight and before dawn, drop by drop, and stored in acorn cups until ready to use.

The Queen has people to do such things.

Comments

[midsummer_npcs]

"To me, to all of us who desire to ease our Queen's mind."

(Yeah, you lot aren't getting out of helping.)

[longleggedspinner]

"Then you speak of all who are gathered here," Cobweb says, glancing between them.

If the Queen wishes their help, it is hers even if they must obey by bowing to her intermediary.

"But I am sure none could wish our Queen's mind at ease and her subjects united in her court more than you, sir."

[pisum_sativum]

"So tell us, sir," and Peaseblossom takes one flitting step forward, "how may such as ourselves aid you in the cause of lightening our Lady's spirits?"

[midsummer_npcs]

"Our lost one has strayed very far, even for one who could flit over all the Earth on a whim."

Whim is really the guiding force of that one, after all.

"Many eyes may find him faster than one pair alone, so I'd send you on together."

Were it up to Hellebore, he would go ahead quite alone and seize the creature single-handed - but he knows full well that his presence might only cause flight. Not desirable when the one they seek was always faster than he; not stronger, never that - but fast enough that he has to admit the unlikelihood of catching him if he fled.

[pisum_sativum]

The slightest hesitation -- long enough for him to be sure none of his comrades are going to speak.

"Send us on whither, pray?"

[midsummer_npcs]

"He fled very far; to the end of all things, and there he remains."

Hellebore remains contemptous of such cowardice.

And annoyed that the place has been so long out of his reach.

"The way is tricksy, but I have something that may be of help to you."

In more ways than one.

From a fold in the air he produced a thin coil of rope - gossamer woven with just a strand of something else.

[midsummer_npcs]

"Our Lady is generous, as always," Mustardseed says, cautiously diplomatic. Titania has many eyes and ears that do not belong to anyone involved in this scene.

"Er. How are we to get there?"

[pisum_sativum]

... oh. Oh now.

Mustardseed may or may not recognize that cord for what it is, but Peaseblossom certainly does, and it's all he can do to keep a look of naked covetousness off his face.

The Lady's own hair. Oak and ash, that's a powerful thing -- and her willingness to offer it says something about just how important this task is to her.

(And, just by the way, does a great deal to confirm that Hellebore really is acting in her name.)

"Yes, good sir," he says lightly, "pray tell us."

[and_i]

"'Tis a bright place," comes a soft voice from the branches over Hellebore's head. "And no great trial to find, through the woods."

[midsummer_npcs]

Hellebore lets the rope run through him fingers, a little too smooth and quick for any ordinary rope, and smiles slowly at the sound of the quiet little voice overhead.

"Just so. Magic burns strong there, and with our Lady's will to guide you all I have no doubt you shall find it."

[pisum_sativum]

Peaseblossom schools his face to show no sign of startlement at that voice from overhead. Has she been there all -- ?

-- of course she's been there all along.

"Ah, there she speaks at last," he says pleasantly. "Give you good even, Moth."

[and_i]

Moth gives them a little waggle of her fingers.

"Send us on, sirrah. We'll find him for the Queen."

[pisum_sativum]

He exchanges a swift glance with Cobweb, and another with Mustardseed.

If Moth knows where they're going already ... well.

This may be a merry night after all.