[piosenniel]

Now were those gathered affrighted, and a great dread came upon them. And they drew together in the center of the Glade, huddled near the fire, seeking the safety of its light and heat. Chill gripped each heart as the fog flowed over the flames and dwindled them to sodden embers.

The trees pressed forward, slow and relentless. And the ancient rage of all their Ages went before them like a great howl. All within the Glade cowered now, and closed their eyes against the terrible shadow now approaching. Leaves rustled furiously, like the sound of myriad fell knives. Branches snapped in the air dangerously, cold whips to sting the flesh and spirit. 'We are doomed! All is lost!' came cries from the once merry guests.

Then did Lassiël step forth and a great Light shown in her face. And extending her arm, hand palm outward toward the trees, she turned full circle, and bade them stop. She tapped her foot once upon the ground, and their roots sank deep into the soil.

'Stay!' she bade the trees, in a voice that pierced the darkness of their hearts. 'Stay, and listen with me! I would have the story of this Glade and Forest, the justness of your long anger made clear to me. Then shall we see what doom appoints.'

A great silence, electric with expectancy, flowed then from the halted Forest. And Lassiël, held out her hand now to Bethberry, and said again:

'Tell us the story of this place!'

[ September 29, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]