Chapter 8

When the Fairies came Lugh himself was with them. Night had only just fallen and there was a little fire burning in the small clearing that the insistent unicorn had lead them to. In the clearing, under the branches of a cedar tree, was a man, well known to them, almost one of them, and in his arms was a small woman with long ash coloured hair that was draped over his arm. The woman, barely more than a girl, was unconscious, although unconscious would probably be too soft a word for her state. Comatose or nearly dead would be more accurate. The man, it could be told by his face, knew that she was slipping away. Lugh, the King of the Fairies of Nova Britannia, approached the fire and knelt. “Who is she, Rowan?” the King asked the Knight.

“My wife,” Rowan answered quietly.

“I mean, what is her name?”

“Her mother, Sulamith, wanted her to be called Rhiannon. I think that is the name that she would have you know her by . . . If she could answer for herself.”

It could be seen now, in Lugh's face, that he understood who she was. He took her hand in his and placed the little ring back on her finger. Then, still holding her hand, he closed his eyes and reached inward. Deep into the forest.