A mournful cry ripped through the peace of a summer's night.

Beads of sweat fell from Ja-Lien's brow, and dripped meticulously down her face onto her breast. Waves of pain wrought her upright as steady hands met her shoulders and forced her back down. A sliver of a baritone voice, which surprisingly came from the stout man holding Ja-Lien's shoulders pinned to the straw cot, caught her attention, and instilled in her a sense of reassurance, and an awkward feeling of euphoria. "Stay steady my love, you've lost much blood, and thrashing around like a women on the stake will do you, nor the child any good..." T'Allien whispered.

Blood, in seemingly massive proportions; for Ja-Lien was a petite woman, even by her lineage; flowed affluent from her loins. With despair, pointing his finger hidden from Ja-Lien's view, T’Allan, their eldest son, began the 2 mile walk from Piet to the court of King Bruce for the Master Healer.

"Concentrate, Ja-Lien," the words slipped with the skill of a bard through T'allien's lips, toned and rhythmic, set to relax. Moans emanated from the delicate creature that was trying to assume a fetal position; on the bed as the birthing ran its course.

Delegates of the Fae danced on the sill, their illuminated forms accenting the scene that was taking place on the other side of the glass. It was not uncommon for the Fae, in this season, to appear at birthing, but never more than a few. Yet, outside gathered many Fae, and this normally heralded as a message of death; the death of the mother, by childbirth.

Oblivious to all but his writhing wife on the bed of coarse straw, T'allien soothed her cries with whispered reassurances. Push, followed by push, in a syncopated rhythm, kept Ja-Lien alive through birthing.

The birthing had begun hours ago, and had began normally as most births near the summer solstice did. As T'allien peered down at his struggling wife, he knew she wouldn't survive long after the baby breached her womb. He chided himself for not sending for the Healer sooner. After the rains that the farmlands of Piet had recently sustained, T’Allan would not soon return with the Healer. Time was running out, and within a few moments, all the years the bard and his love, daughter of the Fae, would end abruptly, with no proper time to say good-bye.

Ja-Lien's torment ended shortly thereafter, as their second son breached the threshold of the womb-bound, to the realm of the living. Tears streaked Ja-Lien's face as she gazed at her crying newborn son. Then noticing all the blood as it lay in a growing pool upon the ground. T'Allien, aggrieved by the impenitent loss of his life-partner, gave Ja-Lien the last right of their love, the right of naming the new-borne son, which by tradition was the right of the father.

"Ask the Fae what this child is called my love..." came the soft baritone of T'allien, with a soft smile, a dry trill replied, "They call him Steihl...." With an embrace meant to hold off all ailments of mind, body, and soul, Ja-Lien forever departed the realm of the living, for the sacred resting-place of Grinneal.

A half hour later T'allan and the Master Healer burst through the door, their private thoughts confirmed at the sight of the blood-stained sheet lain over the departed Ja-Lien's body. "My son T’Allan, Master Healer A'touk, meet the last of my children...the Fae call him Steihl." A tear toppled from T'allien and T'allans eyes as slowly, as is the ritual of the second-borne mail child, was bequeathed into the custody of the Master Healer of Loures, bound into service of Lord King Bruce.

It is said in Piet that T'allien, and T’Allan were discovered by the blacksmith, whom was on his way to delivered T’Allan's repaired bow, that they both hung from the rafters of the one-room wooden house. No note, no scroll, were left to tell why they had committed suicide; none were needed, they had fulfilled their right of departure.

The child was raised in the Court of the Tyrant King of Loures, Lord Bruce. He attended class with all fosterlings, and quickly became akin to many of the Master Path Walkers, whom took base at Mileth. There he met Fascinum, who taught him the secrets of the path of the Elementalist, the wizard. And so Steihl served in the court of Loures, under King Bruce.

Shortly after the night of Steihl's birth, Bruce's mid-wife gave birth to a daughter Mauve, one who the Fae ordained with the abilities of a rogue. Day after day, as Steihl entertained guests of Bruce, with small gushes of elemental magic, he began to feel drawn to Mauve. He had reached the age of a man, and began to feel the sacred desires that had been a'donned to him.

One day, after the Baron of Piet had visited Bruce's court to pay homage, and to receive the blessing of his first borne. Steihl was sent to Bruce's inner-chamber to collect the treatises sent by Fascinum on the Chamber of the Veil, Steihl had secured the document, and was rushing down the steps when he heard an angelic voice, or so he had dubbed it. He walked slowly to the door from which the voice emanated, and watched as Mauve spoke to a Raven; Steihl knew, from his teachings, immediately that the form of the raven was none-other than Dagda, the god of shifting-shapes.

As Mauve, blessed with the reflexes of a rogue, turned to meet Steihl's gaze, a bond was forever formed, a bond of love. Steihl turned around quickly, and was met by Bruce, whose face was contorted, with rage.

After a whipping, which Mauve ended by herself abandoning her father, Steihl was exiled from service of King Bruce, and ordered to remain in the custody of his new master, Lord Fascinum of Mileth.

Shortly thereafter, Steihl having learned as much lore as Fascinum thought prudent of a novice, Steihl and Mauve met in the newly discovered Love-Glade, and became the first of the Tuatha de Dannan, to be wed by the race of Fae. And so a legend begins anew, that of Temuairs' first Faerie love; that of Mauve and Steihl.