Off the Cliffs of Dooneen

Off the Cliffs of Dooneen

By Jacque Palacio

This tale starts many years ago on Shore, or as the humans call it, Ireland.  A red-haired young man, Aedan, from Dooneen would explore the Cliffs when hunting.  He had heard a family legend as he grew up:  That the famous Oisín was a distant relative.  Aedan wished to find proof of his existence and of Tír na n-Óg.



One day, as Aedan was tracking quarry, he saw something mysterious.  Now mind you, he was used to the tricks early morning fog can play on the mind and senses; yet, this was something entirely different.



On the shore of Dooneen was a prancing milk white horse.  Its mane and tail looked like newly wrought silver, Aidan gasped at the sight of such a beautiful creature.  The horse, however, was not the only thing that caught his eye.  Its rider was a breathtaking lass; fair, tall, flowing brown hair, and sea green eyes.



Now Aedan thought he was dreaming for in all of Ireland he had never seen such a woman.  To alleviate his doubt, he called out:  "Aislinge!" meaning dream, vision.



To which he heard a reply:  "Hearken to me, Aedan of Dooneen."



Plucking up courage he said:  "Come forward, maiden.  I will harm neither you nor your steed."



The young lass dismounted her horse and approached him.  "Aedan of Dooneen, I am Aislin."  After beholding her, he withdrew a distance and made a deep bow.



"My lady, is it Tír na n-Óg you come whence?"  He said in a voice quivering with respect.



"Fear not, Aedan of Dooneen, I mean you no harm.  In truth, it is an honor for me to meet a kinsman of the Great Oisín."