SD: 80911.2115

	Titania knelt in the quiet garden, her knees digging into the deep
black earth, her head surrounded by the glory of the flowers.  The dawn
sun had crested the hills, casting a strange red-gold tint over the land. 
She'd been kneeling for so long, staying so perfectly still and quiet that
the animals had slowly crept back into the garden, passing as close as
they dared to her without much terror.

	She had tried, honestly tried, to stay the night in the strange
accomodations carved out of a mountain side.  But, she'd taken one step
into the cave-like apartment and felt the walls pressing in on her.
Yawning before her was the complete black of nothingness, and she'd
whirled back around, towards the light, urging Bishlea out.  It wouldn't
work, her inner mind whispered.  

	And, so, Titania had slept outside, waking long before dawn to
find a place to mediate for the answer.  She was confused, knowing that if
she wanted to make use of the life given to her, she had to make a choice
and begin to live, to cease the wandering which had stolen ten years of
her life.   But, her sense of being, her soul, was straining against the
notion of being in Whiteriver indefinitely.

	There were too many questions unanswered.  Where was Galvin?  Was
he alive?  If so, who had taken him and why?  Adrift on a tumultuous ocean
of doubts and myseteries, Titana lost her direction and found herself
suddenly without purpose.  It was a depression of hopelessness and
worthlessness which threatened to dig deep into her mind.  

	Desperate to stop its progression, she'd found her way to the
fragile beauty of the garden which offered a moment's respite from the
wanderings of her thoughts.  Desiring to be closer to the earth and to the
reality which kept her sane, she'd knelt down, digging her fingers deep
into the rich black earth.  Life itself.
	
	For hours she remained that way, listening to the sounds of the
night, removing herself more and more completely from conscious awareness,
searching for the core of the inner sanctum which held all of the answers
she was seeking.  As the first rays of dawn had caressed her, she emerged
from under her trance enough to speak.

	"Mother, please show me the way to speak with athair," she
intoned, softly.  Next to her was a bowl filled with a milky white liquid
which she'd prepared before commencing her meditation.  Hours had passed
while she let it reach potency, but now, she reached for it, murmuring a
prayer of protection while she sipped at the poisonous mixture.

	It was viscous, thick and frothy with a bitter taste.  But, she
drank all of it, knowing that if she'd mis-measured the ingredients or had
injested it too late, she had just drank a lethal cocktail which would
fragment her mind before scavaging her body.  But, she felt no fear or
worry.  She'd learned well the methods for preparing the liquid, and if
she died because of some error on her part, then, that would be the way of
things.  She did not fear death.

	A tingling feeling began in her fingers and toes, climbing slowly
up her arms and legs to envelope her trunk, reaching with insistant
fingers for her head.  When it finally claimed all of her, she stood,
unsteadily, and looked around.

	In her sight, the ancestors that had gone before swarmed,
gabbering at her, trying to send their messages.  Titania worked to filter
them out; they were the walkers, the athair who had not found satisfaction
in life and refused to move on to another form.  Their ghost fingers
clutched at her arms, never touching,  as they tried to wail their sorrows
to her.

	"Goddess, I seek the athair who can help," Titania prayed, losing
the sense of reality.  Her body was a weight she felt she dragged with
her, staying below in the real world while she walked in the realms
of the spirits, the ancestors, the athair.  

	Time in the land of the athair is strange, and she wandered for
what seemed to be a lifetime before a voice called to her.  A familiar
voice, one which she loved passionately, but did not know.  Titania hoped
against hope as she turned to locate the source of the voice.

	A beautiful woman of long, flowing white-blonde hair and cat-green
eyes roamed forward, holding out her arms.  She was encased in a dress of
billowing white, undulating and shifting with some unseen and unfelt wind.
Titania watched her glide forward, not really surprised, but over-whelmed
as she placed the voice which her memories had known, but her
consciousness had not.

	"Mother," she wept, wanting to reach out and touch the spirit, but
knowing she shouldn't welcome contact.  Melissade moved out of reach, not
wishing to harm the daughter she'd seen only once--a minute after she was
born.  Then, the fatal betrayal by the mid-wife had stolen Melissade's
life.

	"My daughter," the vision replied in a sing-song voice that
sounded more beautiful than any music on the mortal level.  "You have
forgotten me."

	"Never," Titania replied, vehemently, feeling guilt and remorse.
She had forgotten.  "I will never forget."

	"You have given up trying to put right what once was wronged, my
Anya," Melissade said, hovering above the ground, sorrow deep in her
voice.  "You have let fear win you from your path."

	"How can I put it right, Mother?  I don't know where to begin!"
Titania asked, feeling a sharp tug.  The potion was wearing off and her
body was growing heavy.

	"Begin with your other creator."
	
	"My other...?" Titania was confused, then, asked, tentatively,
"Father?  But, he's dead."

	A pause followed, during which Titania thought her mother sighed,
a sound which reminded her of the lonely wind rushing through the weeping
willows before a storm.  It was heavy, almost tangible in its grief and
agony.

	"He never crossed to the athair."

	Titania gasped, struggling against her body's insistant calls.
The mortal realm was pulling her back, while the spirits were just
beginning their revelations.

	"He's alive?  By the Goddess, how?  Where?"

	"Go to his place of life, my daughter.  His roots.  They do not
know of you.  He does not know of you.  You must find him to set right
what once was wronged," the spirit said, fading slowly.  Her voice was
losing volume and her form is solidity.  

	"Please! Mother," Titania reached out, desperately, her fingers
sliding through the space where her mother had been as if nothing were
there.  The athair-mother had vanished, leaving only a faint echo of her
final words.  "Set right what once was wronged."

	"Mother!" She screamed, losing the fight with the mortal realm.
She slammed back into her body and the light of consciousness winked out.

			*****************

	"Mother!"
	
	Titania sat up, quickly, blinking her eyes to adjust to the
semi-darkness of the room she was in.  After a moment of disorientation,
she realized she was in the Whiteriver infirmary.

	"Titania?"

	Titania turned to see Thorin standing next to the bed, staring
down at her with concern.

	"Thorin?  What am I doing here?" Titania asked, putting a hand to
her head as if to ease the aching she felt there.  Her mother's words were
imprinted in front of her eyes, and she was overcome by the desperate need
to leave.  It shook her badly, and she reached out instinctively for the
being which filled the emptiness.

	*Bishlea?*

	*I am returning now, Anya.  Your mother looks well,* Bishlea
replied.  While Titania had performed her religious ritual, the dragon had
gone hunting.  Now, she returned.  She had never worried about her rider,
having felt every step of the vision quest.  But, now that Titania had
awakened, Bishlea took to wing.

	*I wish I had known her,* Titania sighed, turning her attention
back to Thorin who was speaking.

	"...I found you in the garden yesterday afternoon.  No one could
rouse you, and we knew Bishlea was out hunting, but she refused to come
in," Thorin said, revealing that she'd been out for at least a day.  It
wasn't unusual, considering the potential deadliness of the potion she'd
drunk.

	Titania smiled, replying, "She wouldn't.  There is nothing wrong
with me."

	Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, Titania stood up,
placing a hand on the wall to steady herself when her head swam in protest
to the sudden movement.

	"You should rest.  We don't know what happened to you."

	"I know, Thorin," Titania said, shaking her head.  "And, I have to
go.  I can remain no longer."

	Thorin was going to protest, but she was already gone.

	
			*****************

	It was already sunset when she exited the infirmary.  She found
the kitchens and asked around until she found paper to write on and some
ink.  Then, she sat next to the cooking fire and wrote two short letters
and one longer one.  An hour later, she emerged from the kitchens, having
left her letters with Glynda, who promised to deliver them.

	From there, she went to the waterfall, standing next to it and
watching it fade in the growing darkness.  The roar of the water pounded
through the ground and into her stomach, reminding her, in a strange way,
that she was alive and well.

	Bishlea alighted next to her, lifted her huge head to bring it
close to Titania's shoulder.  

	*You are certain?* She asked, sniffing at her rider.

	*Yes, Bishlea, I am.  You are right; I do need to settle down and
learn to live.  But, I cannot do that before I satisfy this.  It will
consume me and burn anything I try to do to cinders.  I had to re-create
my life once already.  I don't know if I have the strength to do it
again,* Titania replied, turning to hug the neck of the dragon.

	*Do you really believe he's alive?*

	Titania sent a non-verbal message which amounted to a shrug.  'I
don't know,' it said.

	*But, even if he's dead, Mother was right.  Father's family is the
best place to start.* Titania pulled back and checked the dragon pack on
the ground.  Out of habit, she always kept their supplies filled,
even though she had thought she'd be staying in Whiteriver.  So, as she
checked, she found nothing lacking and her possessions where they should
be.  Hefting it up, she worked on attaching it.

	Then, she ran her hands over herself, making certain that she had
everything she carried.  Pleased that she was prepared, she swung onto
Bishlea's back.  From that position, Titania let her eyes roam over the
warren, the dim outlines of the buildings and the glows of the fires
dotting the countryside.  

	She closed her eyes and imagined the people who belonged there. 

			**************

	Merissa would find a letter waiting for her.  It read:

	"Merissa,

	The Mother Goddess teaches us that strength lies in faith.  I
	believe you will succeed as a Queenrider simply because you want
	to do so.

	In my parting, I regret only that I had not the opportunity to
	examine more closely the strangness which connects us.  Perhaps it
	is a riddle for the future.

	Good journey,
	Titania."

			***************

	Saul received one as well.

	"Dear Saul,

	When you read this, I will be gone, having found new purpose to my
	quest.  And, for that, I must thank you.

	You reminded me that my quest is a companion to my life, not its
	owner, a fact which I had forgotten.  I had lost my direction, but
	found it again.

	Tell Fayloth that Bishlea wishes him well on his next hunt.

	Good Journey,
	Anya."

			****************

	The final letter was to the Queenrider.

	"Dear Trinale,

	My wish is that I could stay in your warren and find the happiness
	which you have offered me.  But, I cannot.  I was a fool to
	believe that my past had gone; it will not leave me to live in the 
	present until I have conquered it.  And, that I have not done.

	I have learned that my father still lives, and I go to Tasetirim
	to speak with his family.  Perhaps I will find him, but more
	likely, I will not.  If I do not, I must still find the answers
	enough to abandon the past to its proper place.  I wish I could do
	so and remain at Whiteriver, but I know it to be impossible.

	I will never forget you or the warmth with which you opened your
	warren to a pair of wanderers, scorned by others.  I hope that the
	Goddess will grant me the chance to repay your kindness, but I 
	fear that I never shall.

	May the Goddess grant you peace, my lady Queenrider.

	Good journey,
	Titania."

			******************

	Casting one last look at the warren which had welcomed them with
open arms, Titania turned away, symbolically shutting the door--gently--on
a short spell of stability and the concept of 'home'.

	*Perhaps one day, we'll return,* Titania commented, as Bishlea
bunched up her muscles and took to the air.  The wind tugged at Titania's
long black hair.

	*Perhaps.* Bishlea agreed, but knowing, just as her rider did,
that it was unlikely.

	"May the Goddess grant you peace," Titania murmured to the wind,
just as the night swallowed the black rider and dragon, dissolving them
completely from view.

	Engulfing them in a world away from Whiteriver Warren.

			******************

Titania Hestiani
Wild Dragonrider
&
Bishlea
Wild Dragon

NRPG:

I really enjoyed writing in DL-W and I wish I didn't have to pull out, but
RL tells me that I must.   

Please remove myself AND Adam Brown from your mailing lists.
<gmbst15@pitt.edu> and <atb@acs.bu.edu>

Arlene:  When you are ready to explore Merissa's father, email me.  :)


|Gwendolyn Brophy       http://www.pitt.edu/~gmbst15    gmbst15+@pitt.edu|
|------------------------------------------------------------------------|
|"Should I try to be a straight 'A' student? 'If you are, then you think |
| too much.'"--It's Still Rock n' Roll To Me, Billy Joel                 |