(This was originally a post to the message boards, yet it seemed appropriate to relate it here as well.)

 Lady Dremerie and Lady Ionica organized a celebration of Cholen's Eve; when it began, the four participants were myself, my First Guard Jacinto, Lady Dremerie, and Lady Ionica. Perceiving the secluded location to be an impediment to attendance (we were meeting in Lady Ionica's home) I suggested that we reconvene in Helga's Tavern, a suggestion met with approval.

 Having arrived in Helga's Tavern, we saluted the Bard in song and sat down with good spirits to an evening of drinking and merriment. While the customary residents of the establishment were initially horrified to find themselves descended upon by a group of professional and amateur Bards, our good cheer and high spirits won many over. Before long, we were swapping songs and stories; Ionica commenced the exchange, Macsari followed, I tailed on Macsari, Jacinto came after me, and then Lady Dremerie spun a tale of a kobold in Helga's Tavern, following up my rendition of the kobold-plentiful song "Lord Tolwynn's Worst Nightmare". (As the esteemed Lord entered, invisible, partway through, my life will doubtlessly become more interesting-- but not too much more so, as he is my fiance.)

 Partway through Dremerie's tale, we were joined by an elven woman none of us had seen before. She was dressed in ornate purple robes and also in the raiment of a jester, and she gave her name as Celiwyn. When Dremerie ended her tale, there was a general call for the jester to practice her art; she did so gladly, transforming several gems into gems of other sorts, turning a simple stick into a magical wand, and transforming a boomerang into a beautiful eagle feather. I first wondered as to her true identity when Lady Ionica asked Celiwyn to perform her art upon a white flask. Celiwyn caused the flask to vanish wonderously; upon reappearing, the flask bore the symbol of Lord Cholen repeated across its surface. Celiwyn winked at Dremerie, then, and I saw the face of a laughing male youth materialize briefly beneath the jester's facade-- but I shrugged it off at the time, thinking it was a trick of the light in the dark room.

 Then Tolwynn offered his cittern to Celiwyn, and cries went up all about the room for the jester to play. The music the jester wrought was wonderous-- but equally wonderous was the change wrought upon the simple instrument by the touch of the Master's hand. Before entering Celiwyn's hands, the cittern was a common instrument bought in a common musical shop; when it returned to Tolwynn's hands, a deep indigo dye had entered the wood, and the frets had transformed to storm grey vaalin.

 The aura of the occasion filled the tavern, it truly seemed, for several in the room were known to be normally at odds or hostility, yet they jostled shoulders and shared drinks without malice. A denizen of Sheru's Realm (whose company I have little taste for these days, as I have found him to be utterly unpredictable) entered as well, yet the touch of the Jackal seemed to fade away in the aura of our visitor, and he became as shy and wistful and as joyful in Celiwyn's tricks as a child would be. As the night grew on, more gathered, and even our respected town guard left his post briefly to accompany us in our celebration. Some within the establishment remained oblivious to Celiwyn's true identity (one insisted firmly that the Arkati did not exist, multiple times) and some sought only the benefits of Celiwyn's touch to enhance the value of their possessions, yet general merriment prevailed, and good will. At one point, Celiwyn insisted that all should dance; hardly being one to refuse any excuse, I took Tolwynn's hand, and we joined in the dancing that soon swirled throughout the room.

 As the night continued, Celiwyn blessed many an instrument by the grace of her touch, transforming them from common items into true masterworks. The only other instrument besides Tolwynn's cittern that Celiwyn chose to play (besides her own lysard, which was exquisite) was Dremerie's lute, and I would deem both Tolwynn's and Dremerie's instruments to be artifacts, after such a touch. When she handled instruments, she asked oft about the meaning of the instrument to the owner and about the training of the owner. When she took my flute into her hands, I answered her questions honestly and truly, though not, I will confess, without a touch of fear. If her true identity was unclear before, it became more clear when Phingolpharione (known to many as Sithias) asked that she place her signature upon his cittern-- he tried initially to convince her to sign a scroll, but she laughed him off, saying that tonight was a night of music and celebration, and she was merely celebrating as the others were. When he proffered the cittern, Celiwyn took the cittern from Phingolpharione and borrowed a quill from Dremerie; the jester used no ink, and the lines she drew were only dancing musical notes, but they melded into the rosewood of the cittern and glittered with a sheen akin to gold.

 When the time drew on two hours past midnight by the Elven standard, the jester informed us that she would take her leave shortly. I invited her to accompany us when Jacinto and I honored Lord Cholen later that night atop the roof of the Wehnimer's Museum, but the jester declined the invitation, adding cryptically that she would certainly watch from afar.  Celiwyn promised the dismayed gathering that she would return next year upon the same night, and bid us all end the night in revelry and joyous celebration. With that, she faded away-- but, for a very brief moment, the image of a sun-haired male youth lingered in the air where she had stood, smiling upon us all and blessing us with His favor.

By my hand, heart, and soul, I swear that all the things I have recorded here are true, and true as I have experienced them.

 Tanager Skydancing