I never thought I would return again to this accursed plain. Two times before, I trod this beautiful and dangerous land. I swore I would never return, not for love nor for money.

Now I stand surrounded by the outlaws of Magh Croimor, reciting a love poem. I feel ridiculous. I may be killed. Is it worth the risk to have the geis that was upon me since birth finally lifted? If I live to tell about it, it will be the best story ever.

The princess Moriath promised me that if I compose and recite the love poem to Labraid, and return with his reply, she will banish the burden I've carried since birth. I have never been allowed to carry a weapon. If I do, it is promised that my hands will fall off and I will drop dead, in that order. It has been a challenge to survive under that geis. I am eager to know what it feels like to hold a sword or a dagger in my hands. I believe the princess Moriath is quite mad but I also believe she does have the power to lift a geis.

There must be a thousand men named Labraid on this Isle. I have tracked down ten of them, and recited this poem to each one. Some laughed at me, others merely frowned, one gave me a bag of silver, another gave me a swift kick. Moriath said I will know the right one when I find him because he will entrust me with his reply.

When I passed through Inver Colpa on Samhain, someone told me that a man named Labraid had been there. He was a mercenary warrior who abandoned the stolen bull he was paid to retrieve and ran off with the outlaws of Magh Croimor at the end of the summer.

And that's how I came here, once again.

I've recited the poem. The man named Labraid coughs and blushes like a woman. I pray that it means he is the one. Surrounded by rough and ragged renegades, I wait hopefully for an answer.