He shivered with the cold, drew his cloak closer about him and opened his eyes. The rock studded hills around him lay cloaked in a heavy fog. The fire had died down to coals, steaming in the morning dew. He stood, stretched, hefted the scabbard containing his short sword and fastened it around his waist, then he shoved dirt over the remains of the fire with the side of his boot, making sure to smother the coals. He shouldered his pack then and started to pick his way out of the little copse where he'd spent the night. As the light of day increased, he surveyed the foreign landscape, rocks, verdant green hillocks, gentle mountains before him, behind him, in the distance, the wild waters of the ocean where he had first stepped onto the island.

Before he had held up the Uruz and spoken the name, he had visited the palace library and spread the maps of Midgard out before him. Tir Na Nog, he found, was a large island shrouded in mist off the coast of Eire. He had wondered where exactly he would have to go when he arrived, how he would even find her provided Astrid had told him the truth and hadn't become feeble minded in her old age.

His questions had remained unanswered as he trudged into the interior of the island from the rocky coast and now as midday approached and hunger began to creep into his belly, he thought again about the futility of such an effort as this. He fingered his crossbow hooked to his pack. He would have to hunt again before long.

His shoulders were beginning to ache. He dropped the pack down onto the ground and turned his back to stretch out the muscles and ligaments and scanned the horizon with perhaps just a modicum of hope that he would see the way clear to her. It was then that he heard the singing. A low voice, decidedly male, and in a language that took his breath away. It was the secret language of the Alfari, Gaelic. He turned his head back and forth to determine the direction the singing was coming from but wasn't sure, he waited for a moment longer, the wind ruffling his hair, and he found the singing louder to his right. He could see a low hill sloping downward to the valley he'd been descending into that entire morning. He headed in that direction, carefully picking his way around a rocky outcrop, stopping to listen. The singing appeared to be coming from the low side of the hill coupled with the sound of digging. He patted the hilt of his short sword and slowed his forward progress, keeping his eyes trained to his right as he continued downward and finally caught a glimpse of the owner of the song.

It was a man of middling height, he looked to be about the same age as himself, perhaps a bit older. His long brown hair was tied into a pony tail that swayed as he shoved his spade into the side of a hill, cutting square blocks of solid earth and setting them to the side on a little pile he was creating. He had a pleasant face, high cheekbones much like his own but squarer in the jaw. He wore a long tan tunic tied at the waist with a brown rope belt, a pair of dark brown long breeches and short boots, all of which were splattered with dirt. He continued toward the stranger, never taking his eyes off him until he was standing above him on the hill which he was digging into. The man dug his spade into the dirt once more and stopped, looking up at him with a hand on his hip. "Another pair of strong hands would be well appreciated. D'ya think you can lend one to help me load that there cart?"

He looked to where the man gestured. There stood a wagon, half loaded with blocks of grassy earth, a shaggy brown pony between the traces, who seemed to know he was being given the once over and glanced back at the two men.

He dropped his pack on the ground and walked around the edge of the hill until he was standing even with the man. "Over there now, you might start with that little pile I've been working on." He tossed his head to his left at the pile Loki had first spied. He then dug his spade into the earth once again to cut another block free. Loki began to load the blocks into the back of the wagon, feeling a peculiar tightening in his chest, as if he had crossed over to another level of existence, he put the block of earth down on the wagon bed with a thud, stopping to catch his breath, contain the vertigo that threatened to pitch him to the ground.

A hand on his shoulder caused him to whirl around, facing the man with the spade. "Lad, is it sick ye are?" Loki shrugged off his hand and stepped back. "Please, I am searching for a place and I know not where to find it." Finally his legs gave way and he sat down hard on the damp ground, holding his head, the vertigo worsening.

The man knelt beside him, "Are ye an outlander?" he put a hand to Loki's cheek, causing him to flinch and recoil from the unfamiliar man's touch. "Ah 'twould seem so. It will pass, trust me." He stood, offered his hand to Loki and after a moment he took it, hauling himself up though he kept the other hand on the bed of the wagon to steady himself.

"I know not of the word outlander. I seek a place called Tír na nÓg." The vertigo was starting to abate but he still felt unsteady.

"If 'tis Tír na nÓg ye seek than look no further for it is where ye now rest your feet, more's the pity." The man waved his hand in a grand gesture, "We've not had an outlander in our midst for many seasons. The world outside has become inured to the old ways, how is it ye have crossed our borders?"

Loki shook his head, unwilling as of yet to show this stranger the Uruz, "I was told to come here to find someone."

The man smiled then, "Unless ye plan to die 'tis the only other reason to step foot on this island." He stuck out his hand, "The name's Colum Brinn," Loki hesitated, then offered his in return, receiving a hard shake. "And whom might you be?"

"Loki Odin..." He cut himself short. He had stricken that name from his own long ago. "Loki."

" 'Tis an odd name. From where do ye hail?"

"I hail from Asgard."

Colum smiled, "Ye are indeed an Outlander." he waved a hand at the earth bricks, "Come now, help me to load the rest o' this peat. I needs must get it to the village to be put up to dry."

Loki leaned over and picked up another brick, "Do you use them to build with?"

Colum tossed another brick upon the wagon, "No, they are used to burn, for our hearths."

"You burn the earth for warmth?" Loki stared at the bricks closely.

"Aye, for cooking too. Look closer at them, they are not earth but moss and grasses. They make a fine fire when dried out."

They soon made short work of the pile and Colum wiped his hands on his tunic, "A little bit o' extra dirt will make nary a difference. Go fetch yer pack, Loki, we will return to my village and see if we cannot find who ye seek."

Loki trudged up the hill to fetch his pack but when he returned down to the peat bank, the vertigo returned again, strong and he had to lean against the wagon until it passed. "It is this place makes me unable to walk a straight line. Strong magic."

"Indeed." Colum nodded, "Come sit on the buckboard with me, 'tis a sight more comfortable than the blocks o' peat."

Loki climbed up beside him, tossing his pack in the rear of the wagon, atop the peat bricks. Colum glanced at the pack, the crossbow hanging from it. "Ye seem armed to the teeth, me friend."

Loki placed a hand on the hilt of his short sword. "It was necessary to ready myself for any encounters."

"And did ye have any such encounters?"

"None."

Colum looked about the landscape. "And ye will likely have no others here."

The path to the peat bank widened into a rutted track, emptying out onto another rutted road that seemed better traveled. Colum steered the pony to his left and continued on.

Soon they began to pass little huts, cottages. People would be outdoors, sweeping the doorstep or hanging wash out to dry, weeding in a garden and they would wave at the two of them as they passed. Colum noticed the puzzled look on Loki's face as they continued on. "What troubles ye, outlander?"

"I am not sure, I do not believe I was sent where I should be."

"A curious predicament." Colum nodded to a man on a horse who passed them going in the opposite direction. "Perhaps I can make sense of it for ye."

Loki paused, how could he give voice to his confusion when he was unsure of what he was supposed to be seeing? "I do not ken, these people we see, they too are denizens of Tír na nÓg?"

Colum smiled, "They are that."

"They are peasants, families. Were the land a bit different, I would think I was traveling through my kingdom."

"Kingdom? Ye are a king then?"

"I am a prince." Loki closed his eyes, rubbed them, he was getting tired and hungry.

"Ah, ye expected fanfare and trumpets to greet ye here. Does the legend of this realm not exist in your land of Asgard?"

He shook his head, "It does not. Perhaps it holds true for the Alfari seeing as this is where I was told I would find her."

Colum sat up straight, "Her? Ye look for a maiden?"

"Yes," Up ahead of them a large village was fast coming into view.

"What was her name?"

"Eidra."

Colum's laughter startled him and he stared as Colum held his stomach, "Ye seek the woman who is between worlds. She is fiery, a fine woman."

Loki's hand was on Colum's arm, "You know her?"

"Aye, I do."

"Where is she?"

Colum pulled the pony up short beside a small cottage and jumped down from the wagon. Loki followed suit. "Colum, please, where is she?"

He rubbed his head, hand on his hip, "Tell me first how ye knew her."

Loki was trembling, every muscle twitching, "What does it matter how I know her?"

"Listen, me friend, each person, be they humble peasant, high King, prince, elf, dwarf, when they come to Tír na nÓg, they find life sweeter than that they had known..."

Loki was not listening, he began to walk down the lane past cottages of different shapes and sizes, straining to hear conversation, to hear her voice which was securely lodged in his memory. Colum trotted after him. "I've talked to Eidra many times, mayhap ye should listen to me afore ye.."

Loki stopped short, his boots squelching in the mud of the lane. Outside a small cottage, painted ivory white with a high thatched roof, the door was open and laughter was drifting out of it. Laughter he had not heard in five seasons. He turned and strode through the doorway, Colum at his heels.

She had her back to him, bent forward over the fire. There were two other women sitting in chairs beside the hearth, older ladies, their plump faces contorted in wide smiles. Their laughter abated as they looked at Loki. He had stopped just behind her, waiting for her to stand and turn around, his mind reeling, hunger, exhaustion forgotten. He found he could barely breathe as she stood and turned to face the room, smiling.

He reached out and caught her in his arms, crushing her to him with cry of anguish that made one of the ladies cry out with him in surprise. He planted a kiss on her forehead, his hand cradling the back of her head, barely able to comprehend that she was there before him, real, solid, then stepped back and held her at arms length to look at her which freed her from his embrace and gave her room to put her forearms to his chest, shoving him from her.

"How dare you touch me!" She cried, "Who in Freyr's name are you that you assume to take liberty with my person?"

He stumbled back, nearly tripping over a chair pulled out at a table behind him, "Eidra?"

"It is my name, how is it known to you?"

The strength nearly left his legs, "Do you not recognize me?"

Eidra reached up beside the mantel and took down a cast iron pan, brandishing it at him, "I have never seen the likes of you before. Get out of my house!" She swung the pan back as if ready to make a swipe at him and he advanced towards her, suddenly enraged.

"How can you not know me?" He grabbed the hand holding the pan, "How can you not know the man who shared your bed so many nights, who gave you a child?" The shock of what he'd said struck him and he looked about the room wondering if Cait had been brought here as well. His inattention was his undoing as she leaned over to his arm and bit into the flesh at his wrist. He yelped in pain and let her hand go, leaning backwards as she swung the pan around at him.

"Get out!" She shouted, "Get out!" She swung the pan again, missing him by inches. He vaguely heard one of the women yell, "Eidra, wait." but by that time he was at the doorway. Another step backwards and his heel caught the threshold tumbling him backwards into the dooryard. He looked up just in time to see the underside of the pan and he rolled clear, the bottom of the pan slapping the mud with a sharp smack. He pushed himself to his knees, gasping for breath with just enough time to register one thought, "She does not remember me." before he felt a blinding pain at the back of his skull and the world went dark.

He felt himself being lifted from somewhere high and he groaned, began to struggle, to free himself from the hands upon him, going so far as to grope for his dagger at his thigh but could not make his own hand obey his command. He forced himself to open his eyes and take in his surroundings. He was being carried into a cottage, he watched the sky disappear in favor of the post and beam ceiling as he was lowered to the floor before a fireplace in which sat a roaring fire. He tried to rise to his elbows, another surge of pain from the back of his head bade him give up the effort. Then he heard the voices, one was Colum, another voice, he did not recognize. "Ah, Col, you should have stopped him while you had the chance."

"And how do ye think I shoulda gone about that, now?"

The stranger's voice sounded exasperated, "I know not, lied to him, tackled him."

"He would not be put off."

"He's well put off now, I think."

Loki struggled to raise his head again, eliciting another groan. A heavy face with white whiskers floated before him. "My boy, are you able to sit up?"

A hand slipped beneath his back and pushed. He allowed it to raise him until he was sitting with his head in his hands. He felt fingers at the back of his head and he winced.

"She caught you a right good one, the wench."

Loki felt bile rising in his throat, grateful that he hadn't already eaten, "I feel sick."

"Basin, Col," the stranger called.

A ceramic bowl was set before him just in time to catch the contents of his stomach, as meager as they were.

"That'll be from the blow to the head, I'll warrant ye." Colum turned away, "Ah I should've made tracks outside, I cannot endure watching someone purge themselves."

The stranger laughed, "What a woman you are, Col, get the man a cup of water from the well."

Loki raised his head and watched Colum trot out the door of the cottage, then tried to take in his surroundings. The stranger was a short rotund man with a ruddy complexion, watery blue eyes, long silver hair done in a ponytail at his back and a long white beard. He wore a wide tunic with a loosely done rope belt about where his waist should have been, a pair of leather breeches and tall boots. He seemed to be waiting for Colum to return with the water. Another wave of nausea caught him and he retched again. The stranger picked up his hand and wrapped his fingers around the cup, "There, drink that, rinse your mouth." The water was shocking cold but sweet. He put the cup on the floor and pushed the basin from in front of him, then made an effort to stand.

Colum caught him as he pitched forward, "Boyo, ye might want to stay closer to the floor."

The stranger gestured towards a small cot, "Deposit him right here, I will tend to him." He made to unfasten the scabbard at Loki's waist but Loki shoved his hand away. "There now, son, I'll not take it from you. I only wish to set it on the ground so that you might be a bit more comfortable when you lie down." He made another attempt, Loki letting him loosen the belt and remove the scabbard from him. The stranger lifted Loki's legs and set them on the cot, his head sinking to a pillow though the pain pinched again as he moved to make himself more comfortable.

"Ye will have to watch him. I have seen greater men stricken so only to fall asleep forever."

The stranger stopped in the middle of removing Loki's boots. "Is he not of this realm already?"

Colum chuckled, "Ah no, he is like ye, Chris."

"An outlander? What brings him here to this realm?"

Colum patted Chris's back, "What brought ye here? Love was it?"

Chris gave the tall dark stranger the once over, "The poor boy then. Leave him with me and I will set him straight, maybe for him there's hope."

"As there was for ye, I'll not hold my breath."

Colum patted him once more, "I'll see ye in town, me portly friend."

Chris watched him climb into his wagon and head off back down the path towards the village, then he turned to Loki who had closed his eyes, an arm slung over his face.

"It would seem I will have my work cut out for me." He sighed.