Nil Carborundum Illegitimi

Arwarn, having finally escaped the stifling atmosphere of the court, fled to the fens for solitude and peace. Sick of his pleading and whining, the guards finally allowed him a little time on his own. Since the Queen had made him her favourite, he was rarely alone. Those who were favoured by the Lady were almost always trailed and protected by her own handpicked bodyguards, and it had taken many weeks for Arwarn to finally persuade them to leave him for a few hours. They even slept outside his door, for he was too precious to lose. The Elf Queen was not afraid of his escape, but the actions of others. Her long reign had seen the kidnap of several of those she had designated toll, and she was loathe to let this one, who had such promise and was eagerly awaited by the king, be taken.

Those who were stolen never returned. Often their captors beheaded them, sending their heart and cadaver to the palace and retaining the skull. One of the most notorious outlaws and kidnappers, Renegade, was reputed to have a wall of shrunken heads in the caves from which he stole, took prisoners and ravished beautiful Elven maidens. It had been found, however, that several of the tolls, on their taking, were told exactly why they were favoured. Grateful to their 'enlightener,' they too became outlaws. The Queen had given strict instructions that Arwarn, as the chosen one, was to be protected at all cost.

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The paper, which he had brought back from the human world, crackled as he flattened it with his knuckles. In the Summer Lands writing was rare, but if something was scribed it was placed on parchment made from human skin. Arwarn was glad. Love letters could never be written on something that was made of the same stuff the recipient of the letter was.

Aurella,

You told me to write to you if I needed someone to talk to, so here I am. I'm worried about school and going back and Malfoy. I can cope with being the one that is so disliked that I have no friends as long as I know you are there, but how can I cope with something that feels like it is going to break me? I hate him, I truly hate him, Aurella. He stands for everything I am not, and he abuses his position for the joy of watching another being in agony. Why am I so loathed when he, Mortis Malfoy, is liked - even loved?

Am I such a bad person? If I am not, why am I treated in the way Malfoy treats me? I don't know how to get through this apart from grit my teeth and hope that he has tired of the torture. If you were there everything would be alright, but now I have no one.

I love you Aurella. You are the only person in this entire mess who is kind and sweet and funny and truly good. With you as my friend, I feel like I can do anything. Without you I am nothing - an empty shell.

Please come and visit me in Hogwarts.

All of my love, Arwarn.

Scratching at the paper with an ancient quill, he placed a small cross of adoration after the spidery chaos of what passed, in the Summer Lands, for writing. After it was folded he melted a stick of green wax, which he had liberated from the Queen's writing case, dripping some onto the sheet, and pressed his mother's ring into the pool. The sprinting boarhound appeared in the hardening wax. The Lady Branwyn had given the token to her son when he had become favourite of the Queen.

It was the first present he had ever received off anyone.

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"My child, my love - what am I to do now you are away to school?" The Elf Queen ran a slender finger down Arwarn's equally fair cheek. He made a non-committal noise; even though the Queen had claimed him, he was still afraid of her power and beauty.

She kissed the tip of her finger and pressed it to his lips, watching as his ears pinked with confusion and his eyes darkened nervously. "Ah, my little staghound," she whispered almost lovingly, "I still make fear within you, even though you are mine now. Do not worry, I will never harm you, unless you give me cause to." Her hand slithered to his throat, squeezing his jugular gently.

She turned to a waiting courtier, seizing a long cloak fashioned from black bearskins from his hands. "This is a gift to my son," she whispered in Arwarn's ear as she draped the garment around his shoulders. Gently, avoiding piecing his skin, she fastened it at his throat with an intricate silver brooch that she took from her own gown and smiled, almost predatory. The Elf Queen had also ordered that he be given the finest clothes to accompany him back into the human world.

Finally she called to Gwyn ap Nudd, who had been scowling at the whole performance behind one of the beautifully worked hunting drapes. At her word, he stalked forward, carrying something in his arms.

"A surprise for my favourite, for I know you love the King's hounds." Gwyn ap Nudd handed his burden to the Queen who in turn placed in gently in Arwarn's hands. The little boarhound squeaked, licking a long pink tongue over his lips, and snuggled into the crook of his new master's arm.

"My lady ..." stammered a totally overwhelmed Arwarn. The puppy's collar, silver, tiger's eye and emerald, sparked in the cool sunlight.

"He is the eldest son of Fleet, so will serve you as his sire served our master, the King. Love him, Arwarn. He is our gift to you, and you will be his master always." Fleet was the finest boarhound in the royal pack, and his children were highly prized by the Wild Hunt. "Your headmaster," here the Queen paused, thinking, "Dum..Dum.."

"Dumbledore," finished Arwarn, and was rewarded with a fleeting smile from the Queen's crimson lips.

"Yes, Dumbledore. He has allowed you to take your hound with you. Apparently he says that the Elven possession of a boarhound is culturally significant." LadyLady sniffed in scorn at the suggestion and smoothed the sleeping puppy's head. "You must leave, my child, and return to the human lands." She leaned forward, placing her curving lips onto the icy marble of his cheek. For a moment Arwarn felt heat sear through his body and then die, leaving a tingling afterglow of warmth.

He turned, eyes wide and gleaming with tears, and forced himself to stride towards the travelling circle. His bodyguards waited there for him, tapping their nails with impatience, but he looked back towards the Lady, his mother and the courtiers and waved. "Goodbye. Thank you," he called, trying to walk backwards at the same time. The guard caught his shoulder and pulled him towards the circle.

The Queen and her entourage watched as the bodies of Arwarn and his guard faded to monochrome and into nothing.