A Touch Of The Fey

Music rose from the depths of the glen. A beautiful, soft sort of music like the gentle patter of rain on summer leaves.

This music calls to those who wander by, drawing them into the glen if they, as my mamo used to say, have a touch of the fey about them. Calling them into the gentle shade of the overhanging trees where the music will speak to them, if they can hear it.

Lucy Ryan heard the music calling to her, one clear summer's night. A smile like the sunrise overspread her face and she danced through the trees to a tune only she could hear, into the gentle shade of the glen.

Hands over her head, she stood atop a rise in the centre of the circle. The music swelled as the full moon crested the sky and shone down on her, setting her copper hair aflame.

"Níl sé'n lá, níl a ghrá, níl sé'n lá bheidh go maidin..."

She kicked up her heels and danced the ancient, forgotten dance, with only the music to guide her steps. Around her dancing feet, bright flowers bloomed. Her laugh carried on a wind that danced with her, teasing her flaming hair and billowing her dress around her legs.

Bells appeared on her ankles, adding their music to the dance and her dress turned a spotless white.

The song and Lucy Ryan faded away, leaving only her joyful laugh lingering on the wind as the singers made her welcome among them.