Who Made The First Fairy Fort?

It was snowing, snowing so hard that often one could not see the direction in which one was going, simply because the human eye was blinded by the wide spectrum of pure beauty created by the sparkling snow whiteness. I had struggled up the mountain of Toraton, barely surviving the gales that had assailed me on my gruelling journey from BallyKanna. I had my instructions imprinted clearly in my mind, the highest king of the Sidhe people had ordered me on this quest- and that was a thing I have regretted too many times since... I was to make my magic upon the summit of Mount Toraton, and failure in this mission would mean instant exile, I would be shunned by my dearest friends, and banished from my home, in short, I simply had to complete this task.
The wind continued to howl, the very sound of it made my blood run cold, and I was forced to take shelter from the gales. The tree which I chose to use as my anchourage during my magic (being blown away whilst casting my spells would not be an especally respected feat) was a sturdy oak. The tree itself looked old and wise, I am sure it had seen many a magican pass it's way, and mabe not pass back again... The knarled trunk and branches seemed to speak for themselves, and warn me against any attempt at rest in this place, but that was not a message I had the sense to respect, and I mast admit that soon my snores were echoing throughout the valley.
I will not speak of every dream that I was sent in those hours, for to fill you with horror is my last intention, but suffice to say that my visions were not pleasent.In one dream the Tuatha de Danann were my friends, in another my enemies, in one vision I fought using swords of iron, in another tryed my magical powers against the enemy's superior weapon. In my last dream, I stood at the foot of a grassy mound, and knew that this would be my last ever sight of the surface of Eire. I dreamt of the future...
So that, my dear friend, is the story of the fairy forts, where our people live, immortal, and we are sheltered from the iron weapons of wicked man. I put forward my idea to the rest of our kind, and we are now safe, in our forts, from anything and everything. We are the myth of the fairy folk...

This stories was written by the honoured sprite, Nicola Bowerman. You can e-mail her at Toraton Wood, Eire

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Email: nico.b@mailexcite.com