I composed this last week as a gift for a friend, and now offer it here:

There was a lad of the Tuatha, Alain, who loved a mortal girl of the Milesians, Siobhan. Although the two peoples were enemies after the Milesians defeated the Tuatha, sending them to dwell forever in the realms of the Sidhe, Alain was curious and unafraid of the conquering mortals, and often clothed himself with the look of a mortal man to walk among them, as one of them.

He gained the favor of Eochaid Airem, the High King of all Erin, for his deeds of valor and gifts of song and poetry. He was ever greeted with the ringing of trumpets at the city gates of Tara, and many a maiden spent hours at her dressing-table when it was rumoured that Alain was to arrive, cloaked in the colors of King Eochaid and riding proudly on Midir, his horse of the shining black mane.

Yet none pleased his eye more than Siobhan, and although she was merely a lady in waiting to Emer, Eochaid's daughter, there was none that seemed more noble in Alain's eye than she. Posessed of the six gifts she was; for she outshone the decorated royal ladies around her, and could sing so sweetly the birds of Tara held their tongues for shame. Her sweet words had the power to calm the heart's tempest, and from her hands came the most delicate embroidery ever seen. But above all she was respected for her wisdom, and many men and women of the house of Eochaid would ask her thoughts on even the smallest matter.

Alain's love grew within his heart, but he could never speak a word to his beloved; for he knew that Eochaid wished for him to take his daughter, Muirne, to wife, and feared that Siobhan would be killed if any knew his love.

He sent her messages in secret, using the grace of the Sidhe to send songs of love to her heart with the slightest look from across the room. She soon perceived from whence came these new songs, and sang them often before the guests in the hall of Eochaid, enriching them and sending her love and the message back to the heart that created them, only now thrice fifty times stronger.

Eochaid was pleased by the songs, for he saw how Alain marked them. Hoping that they would turn his thoughts toward marriage with his daughter, he bade Siobhan sing nightly in the great hall, where she poured her heart into her music. Alain and Siobhan's love grew thus, but in secret.

After time, Alain knew that he could no longer weave his love into music, for music must end, but yet his love continued. The last song he made for her told her of a plan by which he would take her away to the people of the Tuatha, even to Brug na Bóinne, to live forever among the people of the Sidhe, and the ale of Goibhniu and the boar's meat of the Dagda's Cauldron would keep her with him forever.

Siobhan's heart sang at these news, but yet she kept the song in her heart, to keep those of Eochaid's house from knowing of the lover's plan. She ran to her room, where she packed what few things she had, singing the song freely in her privacy. But Muirne, who passed by in the hall, listened to the song and grew sorely wroth, for she wished to rule Alain's heart for her own.

Muirne sent guards whose favor she held to await Alain outside the city walls, at the place and time that Siobhan sang of. As the sun slipped beyong the hills, Alain arrived, singing his song of love clearly and with joy, for he knew he and his love would be happy forever.

As Siobhan came from the city gates, she saw her love and ran to him. But as they touched, a poisoned dart from the hand of Muirne's guards pierced Alain, even in his heart. He fell into Siobhan's arms for the first and the last time, and she held him as the life fled from his body. A smile was on his face as he took his last breath, and tears fell from her eyes.

As Siobhan's tears fell upon Alain's face, they were turned to emeralds, capturing forever the vivid green of her eyes, and the vibrant green of their love, as a young tree in springtime. The guards saw what they had done, and grieved, for they knew that forever the wrath of the Tuatha and the gods of men would be on them for their fell deed.

Siobhan gathered the emeralds and made the journey to the hall of the Dagda, with the guards bearing behind her the body of Alain, as a means of some penance for their evil deed. After putting the jewels into the hand of Alain's father, Siobhan lay down upon the earth and died.

The Tuatha tended her body and that of her lover, and the pair lay side by side in a golden hall at Brug na Bóinne, ever young, ever lovely, with the griefs of the world smoothed from their faces.

The emeralds were treasured by the Tuatha, and given only very rarely to those who have loved and lost, for they have the power to bring comfort and make the memory of a loved one gone stay ever fresh and sweet. They remain to this day a means of reminding the world that though great tragedy may cut off love like a rosebud severed from the branch, nothing can compare with or defeat the memory of true love.