The Maestro of Whimsy

Growing up in the Twelveswood the maestro was but a tone-deaf orphan. Tried as she may to play beautiful sounds from her hand-carved pipe. She practiced, she prayed; she screamed and she blew--Nothing but shrills and shrieks. One day she woke to a flute make of Yew. She prepared herself for the worst to come out; but instead whimsical music did play from the spout. Thus the maestro was born to continually flourish under the guidance of whom gifted her the flute of yew.