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Danaan Rade
Not far from the king's hill of Emain Macha lies a stream in a quiet, ancient wood. Beside the stream, cold and clear, is the dwelling of a woman alone, young and old, beauteous and hideous, kind and dangerous, a Maker of music and poetry. There, they do say, the fae folk gather of an evening. Carried fleet and graceful upon the backs of their tall steeds of the wind, they ride and pause to listen and sing and dance to the wild music of the stars and the trees. Some say the woman is their changeling, others that she is just ensorcelled by them with a fearsome and nightly enchantment. But without doubt, there is faery music in that wood where the Danaan ride.
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