Ceili Murphy winked at her husband as he built Guinness after Guinness. The pints flowed freely from hand to hand as they passed them down to the table reserved for the musicians. One played the fiddle with such bright clarity it stopped her heart. The concertina's soft tones blended in well along with the pan pipe. The ballads tore tears from her as Liam sang.

Grandda and his friends sat together their wizened heads nodding time, thin reedy tenors adding harmony. Children ran freely between the tables as parents clapped and then Gaia stood up, her slender toes tapping in her clogs. The girl was barely out of childhood, in the wondrous stage before knowledge of what her body was becoming could color the gestures of her dance.

Liam's feet flashed through the quick pounding steps as he joined her. His daughter's head was nearly to his shoulder although he towered over most men. Aine stood as well, tiny beside her daughter, and smaller still beside her giant mate.

Still her husband's twin carried an air of grief with him, even with two years gone since the fateful weeks between their return, nothing seemed to ease their nightmares.

As the family danced the jig together, the shadow of deep grief hovered in Liam's eyes, belying the joyful tune.

"Does Cardamon have more stew in the pot?"

Ceili knew there would be calls for meals. No one would want this magical afternoon to end.

Her husband's blue eyes caught hers as they peered out from under strong black brows. He nodded.

"Aye, a stor, he has a fine hand with the kitchen. I can smell his Shepherd's pie as well."

"Are you going to sing a ballad or two?" Ceili asked Tommy, as she swung through the door to the kitchen. She didn't wait for an answer, hoping the lively entertainment in the tavern would be enough to get him to raise his fine bass once more. He hadn't sung a note in the months since he'd come home.

"Here mama, give papa some tea. I've added a few herbs to it, it's good for what ails him," 

Cardamon pushed the steaming cup toward her. A richly buttered scone balanced on the saucer, and her mouth watered as she realized she hadn't eaten since breakfast.

"What would we do without you?" 

 She noted the glowing amulet dangling over the counter as he passed his concoction to her. Her son always hung it from the pan rack above the table where he chopped onions, mushrooms and other vegetables for his soups and stews. The blood stones, with their deep red and flecks of green shimmered throwing their light onto the gleaming copper of the pots surrounding them.

"Starve and suffer with every winter cold. I'll make him well again. I swear. And Uncle Liam, too!"

His voice quivered with determination.

"And mama, send Gaia back. She'll run the plates out for you for a few minutes. You need to eat too."

She nodded, there was no use arguing with Cardamon. He could sense what ailed her before she knew herself. Perhaps he could help her Tommy. Here in the hills of Cork, where the mists clung to the pastures and ancient spirits walked among the living, his talent was appreciated. Even the young doctor had decided not to argue with him.

Ceili strode out onto the floor, put the tea down for Tommy and went to talk to Gaia.

"Come girl, the folk will want their suppers," she jerked her head toward the kitchen.

"Ceili, a spot of stew for us," her Grandda called out.

"I'll find out what they want, let Cardamon know about these three will you?"

The twelve-year-old girl wove her way from one table to the next. The requests came for stew, Shepherd's pie, chicken soup, and if there were roast beef to be had, was there Yorkshire pudding to go along with it?

Most of audience were village folk, distant cousins, or families she'd known all of her life. The cozy comfort of padded benches and chairs had many staying for a meal. One family stood out, two children, a bonny lass, and a curiously short young man. His hair grew over his shoulders black as the finest India ink. His eyes the startling green of thriving shamrock, they followed Gaia's every movement as she wove her way through the tables delivering plates she'd balanced along her arm.

Ceili observed as she placed meals and drinks on their table and Gaia looked the young man right in the eye. They must be visitors, traveling from somewhere distant. Their voices rang strange with a slightly different rhythm, the burr of their R's stronger, their vowels held a twang Ceili didn't often hear.

"You're an odd one," Gaia's voice held a hint of curiosity.

"I can't deny it. My name is Harry. You'd be wise to remember it. We'll meet again, for you are my destiny."

How bold. He's far too short for such a tall lass as my niece.

"Harry, stop your nonsense. You're but a lad," his mother scolded.

"Nay, Sorcha, Harry has it right."

The silver eyed man agreed with his son. The hook at the end of his arm patted Gaia's shoulder.

"But they have a journey ahead, and life to live before. Leave her be, Harry. You will meet again."

Ceili shivered, and the moment passed as Tommy dipped his head by her brother's ear. His robust baritone began the sweet, lonely notes of Cliffs of Dooneen and her brother's fiddle accompanied the heart rending lyrics. Liam joined his tenor to the chorus and the entire crowd sang along.

"Auntie what kind of daft was that?" Gaia slipped into the chair beside her.

"I have no idea, child. But put it from your mind. Sing along and forget his nonsense."

"His eyes though. I saw his soul."

"And if it's destined, you shall see him again."

At that moment her husband was joined by the strange man with a hook for a hand, and Liam as their voices rose in song after song. The three of them brought shouts of more, and again, as they worked their way through all the old Irish favorites.

Ceili listened, grateful for her son's skill as her husband's voice vibrated along the beams of the ceiling and floated out through the thick thatch of the roof.

Cardamon manned the taps, drawing pints as his father sang. He caught his mother's eye and pointed to the empty teacup on the shelf by the whiskey bottles. He called his cousin to him.

"Gaia, this tea, give it to the man with the hook, and to your father. I've already made sure Papa had his. It will help the music heal them."

Ceili noted the exchange between them, nodding when her niece delivered two more cups identical to the one Tommy drained only half an hour ago. She wandered over to the table where the musicians rested. Perhaps she could finally sing again.

Her clear soprano soared over the harmonies the men wove. The evening grew late. Small children crawled into their parent's laps, drifting into dreams as music swirled and the tavern grew smoky from the peat fire. Gaia went to sit with her father, her head resting on his shoulder, and Ceili began to shoo patrons into the cool starry evening.

The coals in the fireplace were dying, and as Harry passed by Gaia, her father played a lively jig as the piper wove his clear notes around his. He bowed to her.

"You are mine, made for me, I'll wait for you as long as it takes."

His voice cracked once, newly changed it seemed to Ceili.

"You're mad!"

Gaia shook her head vehemently.

"But dream on, I cannot keep you from it."

Her words were rife with disbelief.

Harry turned one last time as his sister tugged his arm. An eerie glow peeked between his fingers before he tossed a crystal spear across the room.

"Keep it close to your heart, till we meet again."

Ceili caught it by sheer luck, snagging the silver chain attached to it, and handing the deep purple amethyst to her niece.

Gaia slipped it over her head, pulling her long titian locks free of the chunky links.

"A gift is after all a gift."

Gaia justified her actions, as the necklace settled on her chest as if it had lived there all her life. She stared at the dwarf as he disappeared through the door.

"Perhaps we will meet again," she called after him.

Ceili raised her eyebrow.

"Really, I'll give it back to him then."

Her wink was saucy, but her hand caressed the crystal.