In a quiet wood alone with witches,
Aran wed his faithful wife.
Saria cared naught for status or riches.
They wanted a quiet life.
Yet powers beyond had laid design
Upon this humble pair.
Trembling truths both cruel and kind
Were about to be made bare.
Rumors arose of an artifact found
Leftover from the war.
Restore to the fae was Westland bound,
So spoke the Treaty of yore.
And when they came they insisted upon
A single shocking demand
That their escort be a single pawn,
None other than Saria's man.
Black ravens tried to warn the couple.
Brown wrens did their best too.
But when the birds chirp of trouble,
It is heeded by so few.
Thus man and wife traveled the trail,
Fate shrouded in a fog.
What happened thereafter is in this tale,
The Tears of Tír na nÓg.
