The bronze ring on my middle finger was a gift from my father, a Dubh Sith, a Black Elf who begot me on my mother’s journey. When I was born, all on Skye shunned her as a redhead witch whose son was a dark changling, a terrifying thing to the 3rd Generation Strawheads on Skye, cousins to the Men of my boat. My black hair, dark skin, and brilliant blue eyes will always set me apart. And those fools on Skye lost the healing and herbs she knew, but their women visited her in secret.

The ring is wound with the spells of my father’s Undying Lands, making me not only a weather maker, a seer, and tinkerer of fates, but also capable of effortlessly knocking a man out with my left hand if the ring graces it. It’s saved me a couple of times in close quarters skirmish. So the Men name me Blackelven since they cannot wrap their tongues around the Gaelic. Just like they can’t find the door to the Undying, as I will soon and lose my aching joints. They hope to die in battle berserk to the last. Not the fate of a canny Sith, born of a mother among the red headed Gaels, whose love is fire and whose hate is ice.

The bronze ring on my middle finger was a gift from my father, a Dubh Sith, a Black Elf who begot me on my mother’s journey. When I was born, all on Skye shunned her as a redhead witch whose son was a dark changling, a terrifying thing to the 3rd Generation Strawheads on Skye, cousins to the Men of my boat. My black hair, dark skin, and brilliant blue eyes will always set me apart. And those fools on Skye lost the healing and herbs she knew, but their women visited her in secret.

The ring is wound with the spells of my father’s Undying Lands, making me not only a weather maker, a seer, and tinkerer of fates, but also capable of effortlessly knocking a man out with my left hand if the ring graces it. It’s saved me a couple of times in close quarters skirmish. So the Men name me Blackelven since they cannot wrap their tongues around the Gaelic. Just like they can’t find the door to the Undying, as I will soon and lose my aching joints. They hope to die in battle berserk to the last. Not the fate of a canny Sith, born of a mother among the red headed Gaels, whose love is fire and whose hate is ice.