Faeries are a peculiar bunch. No one ever really finds them; in fact it is usually the opposite. The Fey tends to come around when not wanted, but a meeting with one will always leave you changed; whether for the better none can truly say. One such meeting was when an Elven prince stumbled into the Feywild due to a miscalculation in his transport spell.
Knowing the time magics of this realm he decided it best to rest up prior to setting out again. During his rest, he dreamt of a beautiful being who seemed to have elfish features, from at least what he could see of her. Staring for too long blurred the vision and gave pain to the eyes. A blink and she was gone, another and she was standing behind him, sniffing at him in curiousness.
“What brings you to my realm of the Prism Meadow?”, asked the woman with a voice that if listened to hard enough could detect at least 3 distinct vocals. Taken aback by her forwardness, nothing like the elves back in his kingdom, he coughed to gather his thoughts before interacting with this — thing? Being? What was she?
“I am High Prince Lah’ lanithil, son of the King of the Forest and Weaver of the Stars; and I offer my humblest apology if I in anyway barged into your realm. I happened upon this place when I was working on a new transport spell. If you’ll have me for the day, I will leave once I recover my energy and not bother you anymore.”
She tilts her head in thought and stares hard at the little Elf prince with her cat-like slits. A small, ever so subtle, grin appears on her delicate featured face. “Grand Mr. High elf, you mean to tell me that one of your stature comes into my home unannounced and asks to stay awhile all while presenting me with no gift to give my favor? You wound me.” She feigns distress and trying her best to hide that grin of hers.
Flushed the prince bows, “I offer my deepest and sincere apology, but I have not on me save for the clothes I wear. I have no gift to give.” A quick flash in her eye and that sly grin barely showing now. She puts her hand over her mouth to hide it and feign contemplation.
“I believe there is a gift you can give and gain my favor to rest here until you regain your magic once more. All I ask is for a simple offering. You see I don’t get many visitors here in my realm of the Wilds and I do so love company. I happen to dabble in magics as well and have recently finished a formula for a ritual to create what you would consider a person of company……. A friend some say? But to complete my spell I need something not of this realm; it requires a vial of blood, a lock of hair, and a single thing of importance from the same person.”
The prince ponders for a moment, “I see no reason not to aid you if it will allow me safe passage until my leave, but I have nothing of importance on me.”
“Nonsense, you silly Elf.” Her eyes begin to light up a hint of yellow not seen before, “You could give me your title. What’s a little title to a elf prince? I’m sure you’ll get more down the line. Weaver of Stars does sound so pretty too.”
Thinking that this woman must be mildly out of her mind, what could a title do for a spell anyway? Believing he got the better end of the deal he agrees; filling up the vial, cutting a small bundle of hair, and “I offer up to you my title of Weaver of Stars in accordance to our deal.”
The feint sounds of laughter can be heard before sight is brought back to him. Standing next to his father, the King of the Forest; but there seems to be something wrong. Why are guards surrounding me? He goes to speak but no good, his voice is gone. “Take this failure of a son away. I must start my line again….. He has no magic.” No magic? That’s impossible, he is the Weaver of Stars; a title given to those who are strong in high magics……… But wait, he gave up his title to that woman didn’t he? Did she somehow take his magic as well?
Darkness consumes him once more.
Finishing up her ritual the mistress of the meadow speaks the final word and winds begin to sweep up around her, covering her sight of the magic circle. After a few moments the wind dies down revealing what appears to be a baby half-elf. Picking up the child, “It is done then. My son has been born and I shall soon walk among the material plane once again. You’re name shall be Berry Meadowgem.”