Post by spitfire on Jan 5, 2010 18:01:12 GMT -5
music to inspire: www.youtube.com/watch?v=2R69nV4HOaE
A mile off the tip of Dalmally Isle stands an island, rocky crags rising from the swirling mists, austere and uninviting.
Should one glide over the still loch waters and venture deeper into the murky brume, they travel through the veil between two words. One can lose themselves forever, with only the company of the sea serpant protecting the isle or you might find yourself hard aground amidst rocks or shoals waiting to snag your boat if the mists choose not to reveal their secrets.
Should the mists part, one would glide through granite canyons, deeper into the heart of the isle and slowly the scenery changes, becoming more welcoming.
By the time you reach the inner shores, you are surrounded by trees and the faint glimmer of sun or moonlight through the thinning fog. An island inhabitant will greet you, waiting like a sentinel until you disembark and step foot into the unknown lands where time and space mean nothing and your life is not yours to keep.
Welcome to Faoch Eilean, the hidden jewel of the aes sídhe, The Tuatha Da Danann, the fae.
"The mountain surfaces descend precipitously, forming the deep valley known as the Pass of Awe. Yet though exposed to the rude Borean blasts which sweep in fury down the loch from this spot, Fraoch-Eilean has ever maintained its fertile appearance.
The verdant trees which cluster round the ruins of the ancient cemetary, convent and chapel effectually screen them from the view; and few save those who care to explore the recesses of the wood are conscious of its existence. But the venturous spirit who threads the weedy maze by which it is encompassed will be repaid for his labour.
The green isle, against whose shores the waters of the loch were fretting into foam, had long been famous as the natural orchard in which grew apples of gold fitted to charm the life of the possessor, and to confer unimagined blessings. "
A mile off the tip of Dalmally Isle stands an island, rocky crags rising from the swirling mists, austere and uninviting.
Should one glide over the still loch waters and venture deeper into the murky brume, they travel through the veil between two words. One can lose themselves forever, with only the company of the sea serpant protecting the isle or you might find yourself hard aground amidst rocks or shoals waiting to snag your boat if the mists choose not to reveal their secrets.
Should the mists part, one would glide through granite canyons, deeper into the heart of the isle and slowly the scenery changes, becoming more welcoming.
By the time you reach the inner shores, you are surrounded by trees and the faint glimmer of sun or moonlight through the thinning fog. An island inhabitant will greet you, waiting like a sentinel until you disembark and step foot into the unknown lands where time and space mean nothing and your life is not yours to keep.
Welcome to Faoch Eilean, the hidden jewel of the aes sídhe, The Tuatha Da Danann, the fae.
"The mountain surfaces descend precipitously, forming the deep valley known as the Pass of Awe. Yet though exposed to the rude Borean blasts which sweep in fury down the loch from this spot, Fraoch-Eilean has ever maintained its fertile appearance.
The verdant trees which cluster round the ruins of the ancient cemetary, convent and chapel effectually screen them from the view; and few save those who care to explore the recesses of the wood are conscious of its existence. But the venturous spirit who threads the weedy maze by which it is encompassed will be repaid for his labour.
The green isle, against whose shores the waters of the loch were fretting into foam, had long been famous as the natural orchard in which grew apples of gold fitted to charm the life of the possessor, and to confer unimagined blessings. "