Behrn was pulling at a tuft of herbage with what was left of his yellowed teeth when he heard the sound of weeping; it was a delicate, tinkling sort of sound, but definitely weeping.
Curious, he slowly made his way over to the source of the sound, his hooves silent in the long grass. Soon he found a fairy girl, her soft pink dress muddied at the hems, her delicate blue and orange wings shaking as she sobbed into her hands.
“Hey, er…hello” mumbled Behrn as he approached. The girl took up some of the fabric draped over her legs and wiped her face with it before looking up at the horse, her eyes red.
“Hello” she replied, smiling weakly.
“I don’t mean to be nosey, but why are you crying?”
Tears welled up in the girls eyes as she spoke. “I’ve run out of magic powder to sprinkle on children’s eyelids as they sleep. Now they won’t have any nice dreams, and I can’t find any magic toadstools to make more powder…”
“Magic toadstools eh?” said the horse slowly. “I might I know a fellow…there’s a magic carpet stowed in my saddle, we could go now. I’m Behrne by the way, and you?”
“Nimue” she replied, smiling as she wiped her eyes, now gleaming.
So it was that Nimue and Behrn glided up from the meadow to mist shrouded mountains. Eventually, they stopped outside a door which stood upright in mid-air on a bare mountain ledge, no edifice surrounded it. The face of an old bearded man set into the centre of the portal opened its eyes; its voice boomed.
“Berhn, it’s been too long! Enter the garden of Lug Bran Llew, old friend.”
The door slowly opened, revealing a dead tree surrounded by fungi of every hue and a man, wearing a pointy hat, sitting at a desk.