I am sidhe dreams in the mound.
I am a warm breeze in summer.
I am the radiant harvest sun.
I am a shimmering sword unsheathed...
Who roams the lands in false colours?
Where does the earth cry tears of blood?
Who took the blade from the trusting MacRoth?
Who has broken the law of our brehons three times?
Who has called Cormac mac Airt to battle?
The Morrigan's children!

This song I have sung to myself for days now. Its meaning eludes me. I have heard rumours of pirates and thieves roaming the lands. Might it be they who took the blade and broke the law? Is it they who have called King Cormac to battle?

The grim-faced Connachtmen I travel with give no direct answers when I ask after their quest except to say they search for the notorious pirate Cuinn Dubh Cumhaill. A few whispered slips of the tongue suggest he may have stolen something precious, or possibly assaulted a man of noble birth. Other unrelated whisperings tell of troubles at Tara and beyond.

No matter. I have not been called upon to bear witness. The king's court poet rides with his warriors today to sing of their brave deeds. I merely tag along as an itinerant fili, free to part company as I wish. It is one of the privileges of my profession. They in turn think it unwise to question one of Danu's children of the Crúachu sidhe mound.

Tall and proud I ride. My long red hair and red embroidered cape flutter gently behind me. My small harp is strapped securely to my back. I spot a branch in the road ahead that leads to my cousin's inn and bid the Connachtmen good day.

Cathaoir needs but a gentle nudge with my soft white doeskin boots. Soon wee are flying toward our destiny. The feel of the warm summer wind on my face is sheer delight and the powerhouse beneath me a heady elixir after the long winter months underground. I allow my mount his head and succumb to the thrill of the ride. He knows his way to An Caidreamh Suiri, a place we both call our home away from home.