You asked me whether it is real, this place where joy lives. Where the darkness gives way to the light. Where the princes sought each other, as the Others mocked and warned of despair and tore at their flesh until hope was nearly vanquished. 

          It may well have been. Save the remnants of two pieces of silver, made separate but meant to be one. If it were not for that magical place…

         For it is there, dear child, across the great divide, deep in the valley of  of Tir na nÓg, where the Silence died, and  two young warriors met after many moons had crossed the midnight sky…

        One was called  Ivadd, who heralded from a land far to the north, where the winter winds blew early and the great waters became like molten glass upon which faeries danced and cast their spells as night descended.

        The other was called  Darchir, and he rode a black stallion whose hooves were said to be of silver. They glistened as he galloped across the barren desert of the land  far to the west.

        It is in that special place by a babbling brook, where  their hearts found solace and they shed the armor of loneliness. For in this life, no man, or warrior walks the Path alone. He who is blessed with courage will never be alone…

      There, they embraced and the magical pieces of carefully forged silver were joined together once again. As they had meant to be. And then, the amulets were carefully hidden by that brook in the hope that eternity would bless that land, so that none who found their way there would ever feel that hunger again.

       And so it shall remain, in the hearts of all who live with hope. Forever young. 

       Never alone… 

love, tman

 

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