The woodland surrounding the Hill of Morrigan is entirely silent on this third night of the Mean Geimhridh.
The white blanket that covers all the forest floor is luminous under halfmoon. I stand at the entrance to the hill with my bride Muirin at my right, dressed in her finest of violet leines, with a gold torc about her neck. My mischievous captain Iubdan stands to my left, his bare chest proudly emblazoned with the bright orange signature of the Ildanach.

Behind us stand the great host of the Daoine Sídhe: chieftains, druids, bards, bean-sídhe and their cup-bearers. Our argent steeds of red ear and hoof are painted with ceremonial woad, as are the young warriors who gather with them to pay respect to our winter guest.

An owl breaks the silence with a hoot and a ruffle of feathers, as it launches itself from a birch branch, into a dense thicket. The noises of its flight are soon replaced by the sweet song of our distinguished honoree. He approaches our hill, wafting the sound of voice and harpstring past our ears. Muirin joins her voice with his, and their duet is suddenly made an ensemble when my nine Bards chime in.

"Welcome to the Morrigan's Hill, Home of Conaglin Rí!" I shout. My voice booms, shaking snow from branches overhead. Pulling back the hood of his travelling cloak, our guest appears as young as he ever did. I clap my hands together and laugh from the sight of him! He wears a great gold brooch on his cloak, the pattern of which signifies his noble blood. He is the heir of Dána, Master of Bards and Lovers: Angus Og!

"Go raibh maith agat," Angus Og answers mirthfully, over the sweet harp-song. "I have exhausted every note and tune on countless laments written for the loss of my beloved ward, Diarmait of the Love-Spot. I wish to put my efforts to merrier music, Conaglin, and I have never been wanting for mirth in your halls." The youthful ancient and I embrace, and I introduce him to my consort, Muirin Beag.

"Thank you for your hospitality this Mean Geimhridh," Angus Og continues. "I am intrigued by the tidings I have received, that the two sons of my lost daughter Geruith are reunited at Inver Colpa." The Danann Bard raises an eyebrow. "I trust, Conaglin, this is a development you will expound upon at supper?"