Thank those of you who have read the first part of this work for your kind reviews. Sorry if I am running a little late with part two...but muses cannot be rushed...and, hell, I am just plain lazy sometimes. Hope you enjoy...for that, after all, is the point, hey? The picture is one of John Waterhouse's wonderful works...the man was a genuis.

She stood within the moonlit shadow,
Her eyes emerald jaded green,
Her ears listening for the Lord of Mallow,
And what of his plans she might have seen.
She knew he had crossed the veil,
She knew he was't not far away,
That he now feared his venture fail,
In the shining light of day.
She called to the wind in soft refrain,
To signal to the Faery lord,
That he might only once again,
Her wisdom to his need afford.
For hard times had upon them come,
And though she would still the world of Man defend,
To their advisaries for now be mum,
For it was on their soft graces to depend,
To try and reverse the sickening pall,
The lack of reason in her world,
That had overtaken them all,
And its savage darkness so unfurled.
If the Fey Noir could persuade,
If they could make the mortals see,
The awful mess that they had made,
That now would let none of them be free,
Then she could hope to appease them all,
Fey and human kind each ,
And prevent the apocalyptic fall,
That now threatened their live's to breach.
She raised her arms and called upon the breeze,
To carry her message to those newly arrived,
And to them have her message seize,
And all its soft words easily contrived,
To direct them to her place of being,
So they might parlay a while,
And in those moments seeing,
That there was reason yet to smile.

Lord of Mallow heard her call,
His lips they curled slightly,
To smile against the pall,
And his eyes shined more brightly,
As he listened on the air,
As he understood the calling,
And the parlay that was fair,
And the effort at forstalling,
A catastrophe too deep,
That should ne'er have come,
But now was rising steep,
And no escaping from.
And so he turned to Lugh Dir,
And gave a soft command,
That all but they two not stir,
From this place and land,
Until they speak with the wizard woman,
Isadora from the world of Man,
And then decide what omen,
That they might trace again.

She sat within her chamber dark,
And waited for their coming,
She sat and watched the moon so stark,
And 'neath her breath was humming.
For long it was she had been,
And long since she had seen the Fey,
And long and long and long again,
Since she had spoke with they.
She was of none, not Fey nor Man,
She was from places far and away,
Nor Tir Na Og nor Earth that can,
Her birth claim to their sway.
And this drawing curl of whispered dark,
She knew was't her's to amend,
And in this world of Men so stark,
Their being to defend.
And yet she knew must they to change,
Their ways on track to doom,
And hoping that the Faery range,
Might add wool upon the loom.
That immortal minds yet might persuade,
Those lesser to understand,
That there are things divinely made,
They must not foul upon the land.
The Fey had taken Nature's delight,
Their magic learned within Her sight,
While Man had taken Machine's blight,
And now it threatened eternal night.

"Come with me, my loyal friend,"
Lord of Mallow loudly did call,
To Lugh Dir he did depend,
While leaving behind the others all.
"To Isadora we will ride,
To see what she hath to add,
What wisdom she may provide,
In these time so bad."

"And trust this witch you will?"
Lugh Dir asked in disgust.
"For now it suits me still,"
Lord of Mallow laughed robust.
"And yet I know her leanings well,
And trust her only fair,
And only in that time can tell,
Which witch be laying bare."

Isadora smiled, she heard his flip reply,
And knew his heart was pure,
And trusted in him with a sigh,
For her love for him was sure...