My toiseach carved my exquisite oaken cruit in the cairn at Rí Cruin. The body is adorned with intricate figures depicting the arrival of the Brude in Dunadd and the Gorm's heroic rescue of me and my sisters from the sídhe wolves. Mounted on the box is a bronze triskele of three golden calves, which he explained is his family's standard. His father received it as Áth-Caomhnóir for Mánannan mac Lir. The strings are made of ram's gut entwining a hair from each of my sisters' heads. I'll never forget the sweet words he chanted when he proudly presented it to me: the strands of sunshine will imbue every song you create and recreate with a familial spirit that, despite the subject of my songs, will be an honorary dindsencha to Dunadd and praise poem to the MacRoth. Is it any wonder I hold him in such high regard? He has become as beloved an older brother to me as Conall. Saying goodbye to him today is one of the hardest things I've ever had to do - almost as hard as the first time Conall left for Éire. This parting is different. I knew Conall would eventually come home. I have no idea if I'll ever see Amlaidh again. Though we've all been saying goodbye for weeks now, I must say it one last time. I finally have a parting gift that will mean as much to my toiseach as my cruit means to me. Finding time alone with Amlaidh proves almost impossible. His diplomacy, good nature and gift for words attract people to him like bees to honey. Now in our broch as he says his final farewells to me and my family, my mind gallops wildly with excuses to pull him aside. When Siofra pokes her head in to tell him their supplies are ready, I practically leap out of his arms to accompany her to the kitchen. "I'll be along in a moment," I sing and dash to my room. Hidden in a rowan wood box is my first sgian dubh. Conall made it for me years ago. I slip it from its cowhide sheath and admire it's elegance one last time. The smooth, solid stag horn handle is embossed with a wolf, symbol of our tuath. The blade seldom needs oiling or sharpening and the balance is true. Though it will be hard to part with, it seems the perfect gift to give someone who has given so much of himself to me and my family. Laiden with bundles of food, I follow Amlaidh to the river and help him load them on his currach. I wait until the very last minute to give him my treasured hunting knife. I sing its praises and wish him well. His eyes light up at the sight of the splendid blade. I can tell it will be as special for him as it has been for me. We hug one last time before I run up the hill waving as I go. I climb the old birch tree and watch him drift down the River Add with Scathach, Queen of Shadows. "Yes, I will sing your praises until you shimmer as brightly as Lugh!" I call after him and laugh at our private joke.