She tumbled from the sky like a falling star, trailing fiery dust behind her. Old as the world, young and beautiful as the day, she was one of that tribe who herd the shining spheres across the heavens. Spéirbhean. Sky-Woman. As she fell to the earth, she clutched her light in her hands.
When she landed by the bonfire on the mountain she stared around her, dazed. She had journeyed far to reach him, through paths of light and shadow, suffering much upon the way.
"Are you the King of Evening?" she say'd.
"If you are the Queen of Night," he replied.
"Are you the Morning Lord?" she bade.
"If you be the Lady of the Day," he sighed.
"Will we dance all summer long?"
"We would pass the time in pleasure."
"Will your love hold true and strong?"
"You would be my treasure."
Oh how different they were! He was as brown as the amber rivers that flowed through the mountains; as steadfast as the ancient rock. She was as pale and glimmering as the moonlight that played upon the foam of the sea. His eyes were green like the hills in springtime; his hair black as the peat in the deepest bogs. Her eyes were a starry cerulean blue, and her hair flowed around her like living flame.
She was a daughter of Slua na h'Aeir. The Fairy Host of the Air. One of the Sídhe na Spéire. The People of the Sky. He was a son of Na Daoine Uaisle Na Gnoic. The Gentry of the Hills. One of the Sídhe Slua na Sliabh. The Fairy Host of the Mountain.
There were those of his Court who proclaimed their union doomed to fail, yet he would not hear it. He knew she was more than a dream of love, and the one for whom he had yearned since time began.
Three gifts did the Mountain King offer to woo his Sky Bride.
A crystal crown carved in the shape of doves' wings.
A pendant of blue light gathered from a mountain lake in the morning.
A golden ring fashioned in the image of two swans entwined.
As he knelt before her, he sang the song of his heart.
Siúil liomsa, a chara dhil, suas fá na hardaín,
Ar thuras na háilleacht' is an ghileacht amuigh,
Le go ndeánfaimid bogán de chreagán a' tsléibhe,
Is le páideoga lasfaimid dorchadas oích'.
Rise up, my love, and come along with me,
On a journey of beauty in nature's sunlight,
To smooth every stone as we walk on the hillside
And with rush candles light up the dark of the night.
Ní laoithe an bhróin a cheolfainnse duitse,
Ná ní caoineadh donóige nó doghrainn daoi,
Ach le silleadh a mhillfinnse méala an chumha
Sa phluais sin go maidin ar shliabh na caillí.
No sighing of sorrow I'd ever sing for you
Nor wild lamentation, or sad foolish song;
With a glance I'd disperse the dark clouds of longing
In the cairn on the mountain, from dusk to dawn.
And when the Mountain King asked would she consent to marry him and be his wife forevermore, this is the answer the Sky-Woman gave him.
I do.
