Prologue.
The tale I’m about to spin was told to me by the Fairy Queen Ooaagh in her private chamber over a bottle of strong dandelion wine, so I can only vouch for the authenticity of the story. I pray your indulgence.
Chapter One.
Ancient folklore has it that, back in the antiquity of time, off the coast off southern Ireland, was a large island called Ionia that was populated by fairies, goblins, gnomes, centaurs and other strange beasts. There were even flying dragons. Presiding over this strange miscellany of inhabitants were their Excellencies King Oberon and his beautiful wife Queen Titania. But the real unspoken authority was Prospero, whose magic transcends that of the fairy kingdom.
As if this were not enough to contend with, there was also Neptune, god of the sea, who ruled his domain with an iron fist. Woe betide anyone who dared to transgress his laws – they’d find themselves paying a visit to Davy Jones’s locker. But in spite of it all, tranquility permeated the island. The fairy kingdom was ruled by strict mores and adoration for their king and queen. The realm enjoyed various festivals and holy rites throughout the year, with the full moon as the pinnacle of their adoration. This was a very cultured society. The arts, poetry, the written verse, and the spoken word were all held in high regard. Throughout the year there were various competitions in each genre. It was not so much the prize that mattered as the prestige that accompanied winning it.
Some of the ladies worked on tapestries which were works of art and highly sought after by fairies of other communities. But the real competition was in producing the most delectable wine, and this was the highlight at all the festivals.
The palace was cut into the side of a mountain, with a river and a waterfall that fell into the palace and provided sustenance for the entire island. The interior of the palace was a profusion of the imagination at its most sublime: the walls and ceilings were of a translucent material, and everything seemed to be held together by magic. The beds and seats were a composition of water. To sit was to sink waist-deep into this composition; to sleep at night was to be undulated into a dreamy state of oblivion. Plants, shrubbery, and small trees lined the walls. In the lounge area, by some feat of the imagination, the sea lined the whole of one wall from floor to ceiling. Here one could experience the ocean depths. Some of the most grotesque creatures imaginable courted those waters.
A pride of lions roamed at will throughout the palace, as did a twenty-foot snake called Celeborn that loved nothing better than to stand and chew your ear. This monstrosity of creation was the pride and joy of the queen. When she was seated, it wrapped itself around her and tried to second guess what she would say to visitors. The queen was a patient soul, bemused by it all.
The day-to-day administration of the palace was under the auspices of the centaurs who organized the king and queen’s schedules and the running of the palace. The gardens attached to the palace would be any botanist’s dream, with the most exquisite floral arrangements imaginable, and were home to a variety of tropical birds. Attached to the palace was a monastery that housed priests and priestesses whose responsibility was the observance of the holy rites throughout the year. They possessed a mystic that bordered on the miraculous, even the king and queen were loathe to cross them. To spend time in their abode was to be metamorphosed. They were councilors, physicians, and advisors on matters of the heart, and their advice was much sought.
