"And what do you mean, face it? I should die for what I did."

Harry studied the speaker. Pippin's face was ashen. His eyes haunted. He decided to wait silently.

"Don't you have anything to say? No curiosity?" Pippin's mouth turned down, as he shook his head. "Love gone wrong. And it's my fault. They won't forgive me."

"Running won't help," Harry repeated.

"At least I'll still be alive," Pippin insisted.

"Aye," Harry agreed.

"Don't you want to know what happened?"

"None of my business. I'm looking for the love of my life. She disappeared from the stones, I'm sure of it. Where to is the question, and I have a single boot print on the path to tell she came this way."

"Tall, slender and glorious titian hair? Blue eyes, a giant of a woman?" Pippin asked.

"That would be my Gaia."

"She went willingly. Oberon took her into our realm."

"Why?" Harry asked.

Lightening struck as thunder clapped rumbling into silence. Harry turned to follow Pippin's gaze.

"Running away to hide again?" The fairy had hair the same shade as his own, waving down over his shoulders. He wore a delicate circlet crown, which bit into his forehead above flashing black eyes.

"I told him it would go worse for him," Harry interjected.

"And who are you?"

"Harold Niall O'Connor. Wizard. And you?" Harry squared his shoulders and planted his feet a shoulder's width apart.

"Oberon. Prince of the Fairies." The winged Prince met his eyes with steady purpose.

"And what have you done with my Gaia?" Harry was suspicious. Fairies rarely kept their word.

"She has my protection, but it's Pippin we need."

"And there he goes," Harry pointed as the object of Oberon's search flitted away toward the dense grove of oaks to the west.

Lightening struck again, and Pippin dropped to the ground. Motionless.

Harry raced toward the felled fugitive. Stunned as Pippin shrank to the length of his forearm. He dropped to his knees and scooped him up, noting the rise and fall of Pippin's chest.

"Well at least you didn't kill him," he shouted back to Oberon.

"Give me some credit. Follow me, you could be useful too." Oberon moved toward an arched root at the bottom the biggest oak Harry had ever seen.

"Immunity, Oberon. I'll come willingly. I sense you have a problem. A dire one at that," Harry said as Oberon stopped.

"I'm sorry, man. Immunity you have, but I cannot allow you to see the the door."

Harry's world went black.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Harry squinted through gritty eyes. Rubbing them clear, he swung his legs over the edge of a sumptuous bed. A knock on the door brought a quick inspection of himself and he realized he was undressed. He hopped back into bed and pulled the covers over his bottom half.

Casting protection, he blocked the door.

Now what? Can I bring my clothes from outside to here? I don't want their fancy shirts. I can't move in hose and ballooned out shorts. How am I to help here if I am not as I always am?

He heard frantic shouts in the hallway. He had to try.

Where is my wand?

Scanning the room his eyes dropped to the table beside his bed, and the wand he crafted and blessed in an Ostara rite. It leapt into his hand and he closed his eyes. A rapid succession of soft pops brought his clothes to him. He hoped they were from home.

Stuffing his legs into the pants, he found the handkerchief he used to wipe up spilled milk and a broken egg, a hardened lump in his pocket. So, from here, wherever they were. He couldn't reach the outside.

The pounding on the door grew louder, and the planks bent inward.

"Give a man a moment, here!" Harry shouted. He waved a lazy zig-zag with his wand, and the door banged open.

He buttoned his shirt as Oberon entered. Dragging Pippin behind him.

"Do you know what this, this foul coward has done?"

Harry pulled socks over his bare feet, as he shook his head.

"Nothing good, I expect. His foolish heart has cost you dearly, am I right?" he asked.

"Wise man. Pippin made a pact with the devil's own spawn. He traded Tatia and her knowledge, for the passing whim of a fair human maid. Besotted she was, our Aumia. Not her fault either. He wooed her with baubles, jewels, and flattery, forgetting his betrothal here at home." Oberon's words were clipped, a scathing torrent.

Harry watched as Pippin seemed to shrink into himself, withering like a plant left too long without water. He pulled his boots on and tucked his wand into his waistband under his belt.

"So how do we undo his misdeeds?" he asked.

"First, we clear the passage, the rubble from the earthquake caused when Tatia was taken so long ago. We need help. Our best builders cannot budge the rock pile." Oberon shoved Pippin onto the bed. "What kept your door closed against us?"

"I asked it to stay shut, a spell," Harry replied.

"Can you build Pippin a gentle prison here? The same spell?" Oberon asked.

"Aye, he'll be safe here."

Pippin's eyes bulged out as he shook his head from side to side, his hair whipping around in wild disarray. His voice a squeaky whisper he spoke, "He said if I told, he'd come for me. I'm a dead man already you see."

"Who, Pippin. We need to know if we're to get Tatia and the Scrolls back." Oberon shook the fairy's shoulders until his wings trembled.

"The great God Lugh's priest, Draoi. The trickster wizard himself."

Oberon's wings drooped, and Harry's heart thundered wild. The legend was true then. The books his father insisted he read were not just a fairy tale to entertain before bed.

"By all we hold dear, why him?" Oberon asked.

"Because he wanted Tatia, and I wanted Aumia. A simple trade, or so I thought." Pippin's face turned cherry red. "And now our children will never wake to their magic, for the scrolls and Tatia's shadow book are buried, gone." He buried his face in his hands. His body shivered as if he was caught in the icy winds of Yule.