Airmid the Healer and Miach the Alchemist

The herald came with urgency
Dawn bore their father away
To battlefield ever swiftly
Full out gallop, half a day

Our King lie in pieces
For his arm was rent asunder
His surgeon found him fallen
Death couldn’t take him under

From silver an arm was made
Untarnished, fitting of our King
Our father Dian, would repair
Nuada’s severance with this thing

Miach made his arm from flesh
The brothers alchemy being strong
Airmid did attach this arm
Their father’s ego they had wronged

Upon the revelation of
His son and daughter’s deed
His rage became untethered
He vowed to make the culprit bleed

He murdered Miach on the field
Buried him in mound
Airmid rushed to brother’s grave
Raining tears upon the ground

From the tears herbs did grow
A year the barrow was alive
For every sinew, bone, and joint
They numbered three hundred sixty five

Amongst the garden Airmid sat
And to it Airmid spoke
Nurtured and protected them
Beneath her gentle cloak

Dian being twice enraged
Herb from mound he tore
Casting them across the earth
We lost their secrets evermore

To this day, they remain lost
Healing plants are long forgot
Such pride does come at such a cost
May Awen guide us and our lot