[ IP ] A tricky deal .

The green hills and mountains stretched on forever, pristine and unmarred by human hands. Beneath the surface of the land, the country teemed with life and the magic of old. A powerful and mysterious magic that drove away the humans, leaving the land in peace. 
 
 All the humans that is, except for Conall and his daughter Maureen. They had been trekking through the wilds for three days now. They had narrowly escaped the pillaging of their village of Penicuik. 
 
 At first, Conall tried to entertain young Maureen with the old songs his father had passed on to him in his youth, melodies of comfort and sunshine. 
 
 `` We be walking on and tillin' the hills, 
 
 We be singing merry a noon, 
 
 And though we be longin' to have our fill, 
 
 We shall wait to have our boon.'' 
 
 
 The tunes possessed their own subtle magic, but it was n't enough to keep their fatigue or hunger at bay for long. By the end of the second day their singing decrescendoed into murmurs, and died altogether by the third. 
 
 All Maureen could think about was food and her mother. All Conall could think about was putting a smile back on her face. His shoulders sagged under Maureen's weight. 
 
 The rain battered Conall and Maureen in the late morning. His boots and bones were soaked to the core. They could not last much longer like this. 
 
 In the distance, Conall could make out a little hut melded into a hillside. It bore an earthy aura. It looks as though Mother nature had carved it herself. The cottage frightened Conall, but the soft whimpering of Maureen was enough to convince him to approach. 
 
 Within half an hour they were outside the rotten wooden door. Conall knocked, but no answer came. Hesitantly, he pushed open the door. There was a flurry of motion inside the dingy cottage and a cacophony of chirps filled the cottage. Conall put his daughter down and stared around the cottage in awe. 
 
 `` Papa,'' Maureen said in awe. `` Look at all the pretty birds.'' 
 
 And pretty they were. The cottage looked like an ancient antique shop, filled with an assortment of enigmatic objects, herbs, and jars of unknown liquids. But the truly fantastical aspect of the hut were the birds. 
 
 All throughout the room were birds of all shapes and sizes. Conall saw some exotic colors he did not know existed before. Some birds fluttered about, others sat still watching the duo with their beady, intelligent eyes. Scattered around the cottage and shelves were signs. 
 
 DO N'T FEED THE BIRDS 
 
 `` Careful, lass. We do n't know who lives here,'' Conall instructed. `` Do n't touch anything.'' 
 
 Conall searched for the occupant of the cottage but found no one. He sighed and shuffled over to the fireplace. He kindled a fire and set Maureen down beside it. He would have to explain the situation later. Conall was sure they would n't mind. 
 
 Sitting by the fire, Conall was lulled to sleep by the song of the birds. 
 
 He woke up a few hours later and looked around. Maureen had moved from the fire. He got up and searched for her, panic increasing each passing moment. 
 
 `` Maureen?!'' he called. 
 
 `` Over here, Papa,'' he heard. He ran to his daughter's voice. He found her on her tip toes holding up a handful of bird food to an old, bony bird. 
 
 `` Maureen! Stop!'' Conall yelled. He did not see the owner of the hut, but this place held a secret power he could n't quite place. 
 
 Maureen turned to him. `` But the bird is starving... he's so skinny.'' 
 
 Before Conall could respond, he heard the flutter of wings and all the birds screamed around them in rage. A large red and white bird soared down from the rafters and enveloped Maureen in its wings. 
 
 The bird morphed into an elderly, stooped man. He wore a worn crimson royal cape covered in bird stains. His eyes held a madness brought on by time. His nose had a birdlike curve and he mashed his pointed crooked teeth as he cackled at Conall. 
 
 `` The child is not wise to break the rules of the Lord of Fowl,'' he said with glee. He shook himself and a few loose feathers fell from his frame. Some exotic birds landed on his head. Conall could n't see his daughter anywhere. 
 
 `` Please,'' Conall begged. `` Just give me back my daughter. She was only trying to be kind to the bird.'' 
 
 The Lord of Fowl smiled, revealing his inhuman teeth. `` T'was a naughty bird. Very naughty. Did n't earn food. You humans! Even more naughty. Barging into my home without permission, *stealing* my food.'' 
 
 `` We were desperate, m'lord. We just needed some shelter until the weather got better. Please, do n't hurt her.'' 
 
 The birds on the lord cocked their heads in curiosity. The Lord of Fowl sniffed the air. 
 
 `` You smell of the men of old. The ones that used to dwell here,'' he said almost to himself. `` Very interesting....'' 
 
 `` Please,'' Conall begged. `` There has to be something I can do to amend my wrongs, m'lord.'' 
 
 The lord looked thoughtful and began to pace on his bird legs, bobbing across the floor like a pigeon. He clapped his hands together and grinned mischievously. 
 
 `` I know!'' He turned to Conall with enthusiasm, sending more feathers across the floor and startling the birds on his shoulders and head. `` A challenge! Answer right and I'll help you and your child. Answer wrong, and you join my collection.'' 
 
 `` Collection, m'lord?'' asked Conall, puzzled. 
 
 The Lord of Fowl gestured around the room. `` One of the harem you see before you.'' 
 
 Conall thought about the lord's proposal. If he did not agree, he would never see Maureen again, and would presumably die in the wild without the lord's help. 
 
 `` I agree to your challenge.'' 
 
 `` Good! Good, good, good!'' The Lord of Fowl said. He twirled about, sending the birds to their perches. His cape flared out, and when he had settled, two dozen white doves were before Conall. 
 
 `` Pick out which dove is your darling daughter, and I shall help you back to safety in the human realm.'' 
 
 Conall's heart sank. He examined each of the birds for several minutes. Each looked identical to one another. He stood there for eternity examining the birds, until an idea struck him. 
 
 `` We be walking on and tillin' the hills...'' Conall sang softly. 
 
 None of the birds reacted or responded. 
 
 `` We be singing merry a noon.'' He sang, more loudly. Again, the birds were completely indifferent to his song. 
 
 `` And though we be longin' to have our fill...'' Conall sang in a last attempt. 
 
 The birds did nothing but continue their normal coos. Conall sank to the ground in defeat, shaking his head. He looked up at the Lord of Fowl, who gazed at him wickedly. 
 
 `` I do n't know...'' Conall despaired. `` I do n't think any of them are Maureen.'' 
 
 A flicker of emotion crossed the lord's face. Conall was struck with a thought. 
 
 `` None of them are my daughter!'' he said with certainty. The Lord of Fowl pouted and tittered. He raised his billowing cloak and Maureen ran out of the darkness. 
 
 `` We shall wait to have our boon!'' She finished the song for Conall, running into his arms. `` Papa!'' she cried. 
 
 He held Maureen close and buried his face into her hair. `` It's going to be okay, love.'' 
 

