At this a laugh bubbled up from the cradle. “I am old, old, as old as the night and the moon,” said the changeling, “but never has anyone brewed me a draught of beer in an egg before!” Then it gave a terrible scream, for Myrrdin had taken after it with his walking stick. Around and around the cottage it ran, as fleet-footed as any spring hare, that which had never left its cradle for so many long years!
Myrrdin chased it out into the yard, and finally down into the river itself. There it vanished, and Myrrdin cast about, hoping that the widow's son would appear, as is sometimes the case with changelings when they are discovered.
But there was only the lapping water and the sound of the wind in the pines. The widow's true son never returned. She sat upon the rock where the changeling had vanished and cried aloud with grief. Feeling for her, Myrrdin vowed that the Dark Ones among the Faerie would not continue with their wicked amusements.
For long months, as spring shifted into summer, he wandered the land, deep in thought. One night, he found a farmhouse where a woman had set out milk for a cat. He thought to hear the cat, growling and spitting in the yard. He watched from the road and saw one of the Wee Folk, all dressed in waistcoat and top hat, as was their way, vying with the cat for its milk.
A dark rage filled Myrrdin at even so slight an offense, and he moved to charge and drive off the intruder. Only at the last moment did he check himself, deciding to watch the Wee one instead. After a goodly bit of stick waving and hopping about, the tiny Faerie drove off the cat and ate his fill of the sweet milk. When finally he had scampered away, wiping his tiny mouth and beard, Myrrdin watched the spot where he had vanished for a long time.
The next night, he told the farmer to turn out the lights again and had them set out two bowls of milk. The Wee one returned, as he had hoped it would. On the third night two of them appeared, one in crimson and one in green. They fought over the milk for a time, until finally deciding to share it. After that, Myrrdin set out more goods. More Wee ones appeared, and each night he set out even more food. He asked the whole village to help, and they did so, because they were indebted to him for his help in the past. Fresh bread, melons, sweet yellow corn, roast fowl and salted venison heaped upon platters in the moonlight.
On the tenth night, he moved the offering out into the yard, instead of upon the porch. On the twentieth, he placed it in the forest outside, each night moving it further away, into the woods and toward the clearing where the nearest faerie mound was to be found.
As the nights went on, autumn grew stronger, the leaves fell and the air held a hint of the snows to come. Each night he made the offering larger, using his powers and the efforts of the last of his faithful soldiers to aid him. Many of the Battleaxe Folk were among his soldiers. Each night the offering attracted more of the Faerie, including ones of greater power and wisdom. Soon the air shone with the fiery light of sprites and the pale glow of the elves.
On the twenty-ninth night, he placed the offering upon the faerie mound itself, and that night Oberon himself came. From concealment Myrrdin and his soldiers watched the phantom feast. Each of the men and the Kindred, save Myrrdin who was immune, had plugged their ears with beeswax so that they couldn't hear the luring pipes of the Faerie and be enticed to join the dancing ring. Still, it took great efforts of will for them all to keep from coming out into the glade, such was the allure and beauty of the Faerie, even without their sweet music. Heavy smells of spices and wines filled their heads. Shimmering images of fantastic beauty assaulted their eyes. To their great credit, none of them broke. The weak among them had already perished long ago facing the Wild Hunt in the Deepwood.
On the thirtieth night, the feast was repeated. Oberon came again, and all his retinue were on hand. But the food was not. Instead, it was placed at the edge of the forest where Myrrdin and his company waited. When the Faerie approached, the mortals stepped forward and placed themselves before the food.
“What trick is this?” laughed Oberon, bounding forward and halting before Myrrdin with his hands on his hips. He cocked his head and recognized Myrrdin in an instant. “Why do you trouble me again, my changeling?”
“We have fed your people for many nights now,” said Myrrdin, his voice carrying not just to Oberon, but to the others, who were eyeing the food with hunger. “We have been free with our gifts, but now we ask a boon.”
Oberon shouted with laughter and danced away, playing his pipes. “Bring the food to the mound that we all may feast!” he said, speaking to Myrrdin's soldiers. None moved, as they could not hear him nor his magical music. Oberon soon stopped playing and appeared annoyed. He then ushered forth the dryads and the nymphs, hoping to lure them with the bright, unearthly beauties. Myrrdin's company were all veterans of such things, but still they were hard put. They averted their eyes or squeezed them shut. Some chewed at their tongues or stabbed their own hands with their daggers until they bled freely upon the grass of the glade. They moaned aloud and fell to their knees, but none stepped forward.
Again Oberon displayed annoyance. “You hold rein over your mortals well, changeling. It is to your credit. However, it's not our custom to pay for our needs,” he told Myrrdin. “We will take that which we require.”
Oberon ordered forward a wave of goblins and elves with their tiny magic bows. Myrrdin and his company fell back to the woods, without fighting.
With a cry of delight, Oberon was the first to up-end a cask of wine and drink from it. In an instant, he cast the cask aside and screamed in rage. “Vinegar!” he cried. All around him, there were similar cries of dismay among the elves and the other Wee Folk as they bit into rotten fruit and tasted of spoiled milk and maggot-filled meats.
Into this scene, Myrrdin stepped forward once again.
“I should have hunted you down and struck you dead the first time you ran from me!” raged Oberon. He held aloft Lavatis and the Jewel released a brilliant blue radiance which none could look into. “I will summon the rainbow and destroy you all!”
“Then you will have no more feasts, my lord,” pointed out Myrrdin.
“Then so be it!” cried Oberon.
Myrrdin sighed, he had hoped it would not come to this. “Then I have no choice but to check you with Vaul,” he said, producing the Green Jewel of power and holding it aloft. It exuded its own bath of green light, which conflicted with Lavatis and together the Jewels cast a rich eldritch brilliance the blue-green color of the sea. Myrrdin's company and Oberon's retinue both retreated in dismay, shielding their faces from the awful twin glares of raw power.
For once, Oberon was truly at a loss. “How?” he demanded.
Myrrdin shrugged. “In the Deepwood, I was driven into the underworld by Herla. Many of my comrades perished, but we did rediscover this lost power,” he said bravely. Inside, he was nowhere near so calm, as he had only begun to understand the workings of the Jewel. It was all he could do to command Vaul to cast a brilliant glow. He had hoped to keep the Jewel secret from those of power for some years so that he might master it fully.
Oberon had lost his rage, and now had turned thoughtful. The rainbow he had summoned now marched up behind him to stand upon great shimmering legs. It was a terrible sight for mortal eyes, and some perished quietly in the forest that night from sheer fright. “I am certain that I have a better mastery of Lavatis than you do of Vaul. Perhaps it is best that I destroy you now and so become master of two colors.'“
Myrrdin shrugged again. “It is all one to me. Many times tonight I have surprised you. One more time will be enough, should you require it. But…”
“Of what do you think to speak?”