"In a time between Worlds there was a man and a woman. They had not
been long in the passage of Times, and believed their love to be the
first and greatest Love that could be. Now, there can be no perfect
Love without the seed of discontent, for how can we judge love with
nothing to compare it to? And so it was that there was another couple,
of similar age and station, who also proclaimed their Love the truest
that had ever been, and ever could be.

A subtle rivalry began to grow between the two pairs, perhaps
unacknowledged anywhere but in the deepest of hearts. But our man and
our woman began to feel that their Love was not what it could be, and
sought to perfect even further what cannot be measured. Each strived
to create an ideal Love to forever eclipse any other Love, and so
began the machinations of their own doom.

If one man sang to his lady in the starlight, the other must sing to
his in the moonlight. If one woman presented her man with a crimson
rose, the other must pluck one as pale as alabaster. This continued,
slowly mounting, until all watched with bated breath for the outcome.
If one lady was dressed in silks that shone like silver, the other
soon was dressed in silks that shimmered like gold. The time came when
the couples found a stalemate- neither could advance further, none
could truly place their love above the other.

And so our man turned his thoughts to the perfect embodiment of Love.
What could it be? What would forever set the Love he and his lady
shared above any other? And with this thought in mind, he set to work.

Deep in tomes of magical lore he searched, seeking to create
artifically what nature had designed. Taking an ignot of purest gold,
he cast varied spells, contrived of ingredients gathered from paths
who would not allow his lady to tread. Slowly, slowly, his skill grew
and he came to approach his goal, but long hours in the dark places of
the world had changed him. His lady love no longer knew him, and
despaired that he now pursued alone the quest that they had begun
together.

Finally, the day came when he emerged from his closed room to present
his gift, a golden ring, the sign of Ultimate Love, to his lady.
Wandering the byways to her home, he found the streets strangely
silent, and none shared his journey. At her door, he found it closed,
but not barred, and he strode up the staircase to her room. But this
door he did find closed to him, and a stranger stood before it.

'Do you not know who I am?' he demanded, but the stranger would not
let him pass. Again and again he tried to force his way past the
silent figure, but he could not gain entry. He raged, he wailed, he
beat his fists futilely against this immovable block. Finally,
exhausted, he sank to the stones before her door and begged
plaintively 'Why will you not let me enter?' For the first time the
figure stirred, and spoke: 'You and she are no longer of the same
world. She has set out on her own journey. Not in this Time will you
met again.'

In despair, the man threw the golden ring he had crafted from him, and
it fell through Time and was lost to him. He began a new journey,
through Worlds and Times, seeking his Love, finally understanding what
such a word could mean. Each passed down many roads, but those are
tales for other nights than this one."

Chance stared fixedly at a point somewhere beyond the room. Her right
hand lifted the glass from which she had been drinking and held it
before her. Cupping her left hand, she slowly poured a stream of
liquid from her glass into her left palm. It flowed strangely, moving
like mercury, but was perfectly clear. The liquid poured slowly down
into her hand- an impossible stream coming from nowhere, and yet not a
drop slipped over the edge of her cupped hand. Slowly the glass
tipped until it was fully inverted and the flow stopped. No final drop
fell.

Chance carefully placed the glass on the table, still looking at a
place beyond distance, reached her right hand into her left, and
slowly withdrew a golden ring. Placing the ring on the table she
sighed. Her hands were empty and dry. Turning to the dancefloor she
said quietly, "It is time for the dance to begin."

~elisabeth