Elven World Book I Preface – Meet the Tuatha de Danann

Read the Preface below to introduce yourself to the characters. To begin reading the story go directly to Chapter 1, Magical War. Enjoy, Tara Preface: Warriors of Right & Sisters of Illusion  stared at the ceiling and let out a frustrated sigh. All eyes around the table looked up, curious to see if her temper would grow hotter. She glared at Lugh with eyebrows raised. “Let me get this straight. We’re going to free the Otherworld from this curse by battling the Fomorian on the Hill of Tara, Earth. The Upper World of Earth?” Lugh winced, sour from the lemon he’d been tasting and the conversation’s turn for the worse.  “OK, maybe it sounds crazy to you … but it will work.” Bechuille’s ruby earrings danced through the tresses of her thick, auburn hair. Her fiery beauty matched her disposition. Tiny gasps from around the table accompanied her every move. Each face slowly stopped chewing and stared.  Bechuille glared at them all then looked down her nose and squinted an eye at Lugh. She knew him since he was a child prince, and they were as close as any brother and sister could be.  She could hardly take him seriously. But then again, it might be fun. So she challenged him. “You actually plan to do this in the Upper World… of Earth?” She asked again, with a bit of a bite in her voice and just the tiniest laugh at the idea as if Lugh could not possibly understand the consequences of such a battle.  “And you plan to do this completely against Council orders?  And you plan to do it tomorrow?” You would think that one so skilled as  might be proud or stern or even arrogant. Instead, he was a quiet one, very shy… and very mellow. Luckily he’d found that smiling seemed to work the best with people when he couldn’t possibly explain anything. So Lugh was always smiling, very relaxed and accepting the foibles of others. He could be often found dream-sailing (pleasure time travel out of the physical body), which gave him great wisdom, it seems, like a philosopher or a teacher. Everyone called him Lugh of the Longarm because he was so skilled with bow and arrow, not to mention carpentry, fishing and poetry. All was well for him except when he was rushed, like now. It was times like these Lugh’s words tumbled over themselves and made clumsy mistakes as if he were walking into walls and tripping into streams or nipping his fingers in a prickly bush. He tried to explain his plans to Bechuille, “Yes, well, right, but, uh…. Look, we simply go to the Hill of Tara, conquer the Fomorian in battle while it is nighttime and we possess the power of flight in the Earthly dimension. The Fomorian, even with their flaming tongues, cannot reach us.  They will tire, we will win and that will be that.” BeChuille rolled her eyes at the ceiling. He had to do better than that. Fortunately, Ogma interrupted Lugh’s stammering with his resonant voice. The rich and tender sound cooled the nerves of everyone present. His crystal eyes shown brightly beneath his long hair and furrowed brow - Ogma, the eloquent, whose every word was carefully chosen, expressed what they all knew in their hearts. “The Council forbids flight on Earth, Lugh, because the human race is blind to us and there has been so much confusion about our presence.  Whether it is day or night, the Council has decided the penalty for showing ourselves in the Upper World, is banishment. You know this, Lugh.” Now, Angus interrupted the conversation between them by gently stroking his lyre and humming a song. He’d found that music solved more problems than words.  Besides, ’ honey-lipped songs and boyish demeanor could charm anyone. He knew it, too, and wasn’t short on mischief.  “I could convince the Council to let us go to Earth for one day...” he looked up with his deep brown eyes, underneath that deep brown curl that fell in the center of his forehead.  He smiled mischievously at Bechuille, and sang; “Hey, hey, hey… do, do, doooo, hmmm... Blame it on the Fomorian… Otherworld’s loss of magic … is no longer tragic… because we blame it on the Fomorian…. Just convince the Council, and just this once we’ll… go to Earth for a day… hey, hey, hey…” His song caught the breeze like a lullaby for the Warriors of Right and Sisters of Illusion who sat at the round table. The drain of magic power from the Earth’s Otherworld of Elven and magical people had become the concern in everyone’s hearts, in their minds and on their lips, in every Elven home, since the flowers had begun to die and the spring waters began turning grey.  Magical people had been shrinking - some had reduced to less than half their size. The loss of magical powers in the Otherworld could upset the balance of the entire universe. Something had to be done, and everyone who watched knew it was true. And it was time to do something – now. A cacophony of voices began, everyone responding at once to Lugh’s idea of traveling to Earth, facing the Fomorian and ending the curse on the Otherworld.  Scota stood up be heard above the din. “Listen!” she called out, her golden tunic sparkling and topaz earrings dancing in yellow hair. She shimmered like the sun sparkling on a woodland stream. “I’ve mastered the magic to turn the negative into positive. If this loss of power could have been resolved within my ability, it would be done by now…. Not one of us can do it alone and even together it is a difficult task…it is wise to take action now, and not wait, even if we do not know certainly that our actions are correct. It is better to take the most right action possible, unified as Tuatha de Danann, children of Gaia, children of the Earth planet. We will not become more sure with time…” At that moment, BeChuille’s chair fell to the earth with a furious crash. She snapped at Scota. “Rahh!  I can’t believe you’re taking him seriously!” She turned to Lugh, determined to be stubborn; raising her chin and pursing her lips.  But she kept her eyes on the floor: it was true, she did not know what to do either, and BeChuille was not the type to admit it. She sighed and spoke to end the conversation. “I heard you. But the best I can do is to consider this whole matter an error in judgment. Yours.” She smiled insincerely, nodded at the others around the large table and fastened her cloak brooch, preparing to leave, even though her eyes never looked up from the table. Beneath those eyes, she held a thread of hope that somehow, an answer would come. Never before had the Elven people been faced with the insidious drain of magic power. It was a slow death and the Council had grown into a stupor over it. Nothing was being done and truthfully, she did not know what to do either. Ogma penetrated the silence. He also knew there were no immediate answers because Ogma was wise. He knew words had vibrations and could be used. He was well trained in swordsmanship and magic.  His eyes wore the creases of many views into the suns of many worlds and the eyes of many women. And he knew that BeChuille was mad in frustration.  He knew action must be taken, even imperfect action was better than none. “Though we don’t know the cause of this loss of power from the Otherworld…” “Really?” Bechuille’s voice stung, “We have been searching for the ‘cause’ for more than 500 years!  What makes you suddenly think…” “…the Fomorian are not the cause?” now Micher, one of reason and fair judgment, spoke.  His flaming red and most disheveled hair made him look so funny, but no one told him that it made it hard not to laugh. Lips closed to hide the smiles at his appearance and attentive ears listened. Micher was stocky, not as tall as the others with thick muscular arms and legs and a voice that rose and fell as he smiled, which he did often. Now, however, he was angry. His voice fell like the growl of tumbling stones.   “The Fomorian’s flaming tongues have burnt everything we hold dear in the Otherworld. No sooner do we create gardens and palaces than the Fomorian leave them in smoke and ashes with their fiery breath. Justice is deserved.” As if he’d put out his hand to end the avalanche, Ogma spoke. “You are right.” His green eyes captured the soft light and turned it back upon them; crisp, clear and bright as moon on an icy lake. His tall, graceful physique, resonant voice and diplomatic words, quieted their whispers. “The Fomorian are far from blameless. We don’t know that rash actions are the answer.” Fionn had been sitting crossed legged with eyes closed, listening to each side of the argument. His wild black hair and beard were set from his face, like a wildcat. His wolf eyes were hot and amber. One would never think of Fionn as handsome because his look was fierce. Yet the charisma of Fionn would melt the gaze of woman or man, Elven or of any race. He could be defined by the size of his army; half a million horned men, replete with sharpened hoofs and determination to uphold the traditions and ways of magic, who trusted and stood behind this word of leadership.  Fionn lifted his chin. His eyes took the strength of his millions, but his compassion would protect them from a battle with so much unknown. “My army would be pressed to battle against the Council, who is compromised in ways I know not. Our families are already holding children slowly wilting. Our plants are dying grey from poisons that seep through the waters of our world. Our animals are suffering, weak and tired. I could not ask this of my army.” Fionn closed his eyes. “But I will go with you, Lugh.” He sighed and explained, “The Fomorian are half human, their race has embraced the human, magnifying their stupidity and disconnection from their home. Grim has turned the Fomorian race away from the magical realms with his fiery breath. They are Fomorian no longer, but lost and easily broken. I will help you restore the balance by this act of defiance against the Council.” “As will I.”  It was Dermot who spoke now, pushing back one sleek lock of his black hair, showing off the rose shaped mark on his forehead. “We have all known greater hardship than one day on the battlefield with the Fomorian.  Freedom means nothing without the ability to go where we will and do as we wish. We are not free here, we are trapped in this curse, losing power as each moment passes, set here with rules from a Council claiming to protect us. From what? From the foolishness of humankind? From the wickedness of the Fomorian clan? Aren’t we then prisoners? These orders not visit the Earthly dimension have done nothing except prevent us from discovering the truth. If we battle in the Upper World, we will win, and the Fomorian will be leaderless.  Below, their women will fold into our ways, our children will recover some of their loss.  I cannot understand the human comedy. I must meet one face to face. “ There was a long silence. Angus continued to strum his tune on his lyre. Flidias spoke softly, ending the silence, “You are right, there is no question the Fomorian are weakened, but so are we. In the Upper World they have limited magic in the daylight hours and so do we.” Her tender voice matched the delicate grace of her slender limbs. With deep brown eyes and braided locks about her face, she moved with the grace of a doe. Her dark complexion looked almost iridescent against her earrings of blue saffire against a sea green tunic. “Meet them in the darker hours, just before the dawn. You will conquer them with ease, and minimal loss. We will come to your call.  They will fight for pure pleasure of it. We will banish them from the Upper World and carry out our work there. Challenge them thus: the loser is banished from the Upper World. This will hold their leaders for a while. I do not know the response of the Council they are so weak. I also believe some of them can be turned to our cause. It is doubtful the Council will follow through with action either way.” “There is no fear that would be worthy of a failure to try; there is among us none who do not know the future of our ways are lost unless we restore the Otherworld and restore the Elven ways on Earth once again. You forget, we were here on Earth almost 100 thousand moons ago. It was our home until the humans came with their closed hearts, wars and ignorance. You forget, do you  - that we retired away from humanity and its foolishness.  What has happened since?” Micher answered with his characteristic word of thoughtful reason; he was putting the pieces together in his mind: it was true, battle on the Upper World it was the only logical answer, despite the danger diplomacy would have allowed, despite the unknowns, despite anything. “We know little so we can be responsible for nothing while we are subject to orders from the Council, let alone resolution from any quarter.” “Yes, I believe even the Fomorian pride would be puffed for a battle.” Said Ogma, “Present it to them as a contest, since the Fomorian are a warlike race. If they win they take the Upper World of Earth and we will prepare to move quickly, taking the animal races, plants and life forms to another Earth, never to fly in Earth’s sky again, never to enjoy our mountain and cavern homes here.  If we win, all Earth above and below is open to us without Fomorian intervention. It will shatter their human connection and give us time.” “Right.” Dermot was inspired: an outlaw’s contempt revealing itself in his sideways glance and mouth forming words in disgust.  “I have faced them before in small skirmishes. The wretched Fomorian will damn the orders of the Council, since they revolt against all containment in the Otherworld. And they are rushing for battle at every occasion. Such a bored crowd is always up for a challenge. There is no question they will agree to this battle. Those of us in this room are the chosen ones for this battle for Earth, since we the integrity of our magic power and stature.” Segomos, who had been quiet and brooding, the fur of his giant hands and feet protruding from his boots and his breath was hot with overconsumption of wine and cakes. Lumbering Segomos barely fit sideways through the Elven portals of the Otherworld, but his gentle statement of the oblivious obvious was known by all to lighten the load of solemnity.  “Such a battle would change the course of Earth. And our dimension, too.” “That’s right, the sound that holds the placement of these anchoring points of the wicked who poison and harm will be let loose by the very act of battle,” Scota pressed.  “This change on Earth may end the disintegration of our world. It may restore our dimension and turn our graying world back to vibrant color. It may also save humanity, though this is far from my concern.” “Humanity is expendable,” Fionn stated flatly. Dermot nodded in agreement. “Do you wish to remain here forever, your powers dwindling as each year passes?” Eocho was so angry he reared up from his seat as a horse. Eocho the master of animals spoke so furiously his words rose and fell like hooves against the table. “Have you not seen the great Manannan, god of sea and waterways, growing smaller each year, turning greyer, being worn? What is the cause of this? If our world is a mirror of Earth’s plant and animal life, we are at risk. “We know little of the causes that may be present in humankind… we don’t know how if we do not face them; if they are as slow and detached as rumors have told, then we are at great risk not to breech the orders of the Council, and return to Earth.  Do you not end each day in frustration? Do you wish to fly again freely in the skies of Earth’s atmosphere and be present in the teardrops of her rain? Do you not wish to feel the sun touch your skin and her water’s song fill your heart? Do you not wish to see our fellows the bear, the heron and the eagle, once again? I no longer care for my life.  The horses we left to the wild, your horse, Lugh, Nair, she still lives, she waits for you in the Upper World.  She is suffering and she would let them take her life for you, Lugh, if it meant her life was even part of breaking down these walls between our worlds and bringing our ways for the one last chance to save Earth. There is no sacrifice of any one of us too great to make sure we win this chance.” Heads around the table bowed and nodded, knowing every word Eocho spoke was the feeling they had held and only whispered as a passing apprehension as the Otherworld turned cold and greyer with each season and their dreams filled with suffering of the races of the Upper world such as the bear, fox, snake, tiger, elephant, oak, salmon and dolphin. BeChuille softened and as she did so, her beauty nestled in her beautiful shape and her lips parted in a wide smile. “You know the penalty for showing ourselves on Hill of Tara for such a battle, is banishment…complete exile from the Otherworld, the land of forever youth.” Ogma’s eyes were steadfast as he looked into each face at the table in turn. “The penalty for failing to live is slow death.” “I would rather be free to fly for one night than to live an eternity without the power that made me,” spoke Flidais. “I agree,” said Scota, “I cannot change anything effectively while I am trapped here, and my abilities are also trapped. There is no reason to stay.” Bechuille undid her brooch and cloak. “A cause and a reason for your madness was all I needed. There is no need for formal vote; we are agreed. We go, and with all my heart, Lugh, I go too, just before the dawn.” “Let it be done!” Lugh’s eyes brightened, hope lifted him as he anticipated flight in the starlight of Earth. “We will fight on the Hill of Tara, Upper World, Earth, before dawn.  The winner will earn the right to presence in the Upper World of Earth, the loser must face banishment from the Otherworldly dimension. Let no magical race, whether Elven or Fomorian, be the loser for revolting against orders of confinement of the Council. Let none be afraid in the face of the source of the cruelties set upon our kind; our strength will restore our dimension and our ways to Earth. Let justice be in the hands of the mighty one who generates all things, let it be done.” Angus’ lyre and honey sweet voice filled the room. He sang: Freedom to chase the earth’s blue skies Freedom as we lift and fly Freedom as we touch upon the ground Freedom will surround us give us grace Freedom to put out our hand to our kin and race Above and below, known and unknowable We face the truth, we face our own madness In the eyes of our enemy And turn it into gold Continue reading the book  Chapter 1, Magical War.
BéChuille: (pronounced Bay KIL-a) Tuatha dé Danann warrior princess.
Lugh, the Shining One: (pronounced Lu) Prince of the Tuatha dé Dannan, leader of the Warriors of Right, master of magic and all the arts. He is an accomplished carpenter, smith, warrior, harpist and poet. Lugh is the son of Tuatha king and Fomorian giantess.
Angus: Tuatha dé Danann God of art and beauty. It has been said that his kisses turn to singing birds and that the music on his lyre draws all who hear it to his side.

Scota, Tuatha de Danann, Invocation for Our Times

Scota  is the Tuatha de Danann Goddess of passion, positive magic; she who can slip through the surface of things and restore balanceElven World, T.E. Pelton Scota: An Invocation for Our Times I call upon Scota in these times when we are looking for the way These times when we are asking for peace and end to suffering      To carry away the mind of fear, judgment, trauma, perceptions of the past As leaves that fall and blow, as lifting a burden of material world I call upon Scota for the energy of the heart that changes the past, That heals the sick and lost and for whom she gives Sight to any student asking to know from the heart I ask Scota for the chance to change the darkness to light within my heart To find the way to love by any means She who I call to see love, to walk the path of love By which beats the wisdom of now. My heart sings the same song as the sun Sounds the same vibration as the moon I call Scota who walks the path of the wolf Who waits, silent and hungry Who dances in the water of the rivers Who flies above the cool of the mountain top Who designs this universe in perfect form and geometry I ask you teach me to turn in the way of the heart The way of light And in my view to see kindred instead of loneliness To see abundance without lack To see perfection in every movement of the grain as she stands Swaying in the wind And from this place, outside of the slavery to this dimension, I am not alone but watching I am not rejected but unheard I am not ignored but beyond the ability of mind to perceive From here in your way, I can also learn The changing mind to heart, hate to love, ignorance to compassion And lies to truth. Blessings      

Elven Song: Prayer to Elven Goddesss Anya

Prayer of Elven Goddess Anya, Goddess of Love in the Druidic tradition Lift me Up
When I am afraid
I hold the hand of Love
To lift me
When I languish in my sorrow
The memory of Love
Cools my tears
When I can't understand
Love pulls me
To that magical place
Where anything can be

Blessings from the Elven Masters: March 9, 2011

Blessings; May you feel the Elven song within, hear the voice who speak from your heart-space. We are Tuatha de Danann, the children of Nature and the stars, the love that made all. In the Druidic tradition of poetry adn song, we speak–T.E. Pelton, author Elven World mythologies The intensity of the Earth’s spinning is such a magnificent influence on our lives, there is no choice at this time but to attempt to communicate in words the unspeakable, to attempt to define the wave of physical and non physical in an eternal dance; the rapture of which poets sing. The movement of the Earth mother is a living force expression not separate from ourselves. Every pang upon the heart of your beloved is a pang upon your own heart, no matter how far away and no matter how small the beat. Birth and death come and flow within the river of all life where time is not; where past, present or future are not, where there is only an ocean of love-making between the physical and non physical worlds. This is why you feel deep passionate emotion for which there is no direct tangible or viewable source as humanity and animal kind suffers. Even as you feel the weight of these passions, know that in death we are all freed and that the only cause of fear is death. Yes, you are being compelled to put aside your heart/mind to make sacred each day’s experience, allowing the magical, the miraculous to enter your life.  Throw wide the gates to heaven and put yourself into the hands of energies and meaning beyond the ability of merely five sense to comprehend. We have no choice whether to see beauty in the eyes of humanity, passion in the volcanic explosion and the enlightenment of death.  We have no choice but to raise our eyes and feel the whispers of the bird in flight, and attune our bodies to the natural world from where we come and where we will return. In a swirl of love that created all the cosmos and our Earth; Love that assumes form as desired and communicates not across space but as a listening from within, being one with the communicator, receiver and the message. T.E. Locke, author of the Elven World mythologies, Elven World, Restoration of the Tuatha de Danann Kingdom and author of this blog, can be reached by posting a response, or by visiting our community at www.elvenworld.ning.com

Nature: How 3 White Heron Grace The Elven

Blessings; May you feel the Elven song within, hear the voice who speak from your heart space. We are Tuatha de Danann, the children of Nature and the stars. –T.E. Pelton A quick note to commemorate one of the most beautiful things I have seen lately, or even ever so far in my life: On the morning of 1.11.11 I walked out by the river under the San Gabriel mountains where I saw 3 great white heron sitting at the top of the tree, taking in the expanse with their vivid curiosity and divine wisdom. They were so mesmerizing I stopped for a long while just to drink in their beauty. I felt the their golden light fill me with radiance, compassion; My heart opened. Ah, One is becoming a new person moment by moment.

Elven World Blessing: Lugh, The Shining One

Blessings. May you feel the Elven spirit within you, the magical infinite space of divinity and from which all that appears to be, takes form.–T.E. Pelton We may call upon the Elven Gods and Goddesses, the Tuatha de Danann, Children of the Earth Mother, evolved souls. Today I call upon Lugh, the Shining One, for Courage, Discipline and Strength. Lugh, The Shining One: God of Courage, Discipline, Strength Strong and radiant, Lugh is the God of the Sun, master of all skills including carpentry, masonry, Druidry and poetry. He is a smith of precious metals and a doctor of healing. There are many memorable ancient tales of Lugh and his adventures.  Then, of course, there is Elven World: Restoration of the Tuatha de Danann Kingdom – the tale of Lugh returning to our Earth at this time.   He is the archetypal and quintessential hero of universal protection. We call in Lugh’s Name for the gathering of forces: wind, fire, water and earth to bless upon us now, the characteristics of strength, discipline and courage. I ask the universal forces to summon the power of the Great Spirit, Lugh, to my side in this moment and shed upon me his powerful light of courage, strength and discipline to guide me. Lugh, I call upon your strength Your powerful arms to lift me From rejection From grief that tries to swallow my heart Lift me and let me fly with you Soaring as we meet the Eagle, the Raven and the Hawk Lugh, I call upon you for courage To jump the wide canyon With faith the wind will lift us Courage to speak the words That are forbidden–and yet necessary Courage to give life to ideas Knowing they are blessed From a higher Source than myself. I ask for your guidance in discipline To know and follow the Way To press out through the briars and thorns Knowing I will reach the fine sweet meadow. For dedicated Practice to hone my skills To perfection And Pride that I have done so. Blessings .

Angus/Aengus: God of Love & Beauty

Spring is here and the best time to dream of Love and Romance. So this is the story of Aengus/Angus, the god of love and beauty and his lover, Caer. Angus, (Celtic, English) Aengus in modern Irish/Gaelic, (pronounce “een-ghus”) is the god of love, beauty, and dreams.  The name Angus means “exceptional strength.” So we can imagine him with a physique and charm so mesmerizing as to make us dream of love. “It has been said that Angus’ kisses turn to singing birds, and the music on his lyre draws all who hear it to his side.”Elven World: Restoration of the Tuatha de Danann Kingdom The story goes that Aengus was born in Ireland, NewGrange, County Meath near the river Boyne. There he lived with the Tuatha de Danann. The details of his life seem to change as the centuries have passed.  (That’s understandable since his story has been told for as long as 5,000 years.)  The kingdom of the Tuatha de Danann and its great gods and goddesses were thriving long before the great pyramids were built in Egypt.  This was before the Celts in Ireland, long before the coming of Saint Patrick or before any of us had heard of Catholicism let alone seen its stronghold in any part of Europe. There are many stories of Aengus/Angus and his love affairs, some of which are rather grisly. But there is one that best shows the aspect of Angus as a healer in loving relationships.  Even today, many still call upon Aengus to enhance relationships and resolve lover’s quarrels. This is the story of Angus and Caer, one of the most beautiful and romantic stories of Irish Mythology. Love Story of Aengus/Angus and Caer Each night as he slept, Angus dreamt of a beautiful woman. She had creamy, fair skin, dark eyes, a long graceful neck and corn-colored hair that fell below her knees. In his dream, she beckoned to him, then she vanished.  Each night he dreamt of her and his love grew stronger, but each day, though he searched, he never found her. He grew weary and eventually he fell ill from the pain in his heart. At last, Angus became too ill to search any longer.  But with the help of Tuatha de Danann Kings, after three years of searching the countryside, the lovely woman was found living beside a lake. The Kings sent a messenger to tell Angus to tell him where she lived. Overcome with desire, Angus regained his spirit and rode at a great speed to reach her and declare his love. But when he finally arrived, he found she’d been put under a spell: she was bound to the flock of swan. She was transformed into a swan each day and a woman only at night. It was then that Angus saw he could never be with her in his human form.  Only if he would transform with her, could he know her love fully. So it came to be that Angus transformed himself into a swan by day and only a man at night, to be with Caer.  As a swan he saw the lake as it spread out before his eyes, glistening in the sunlight and reflecting the changing skies.  He held his lover very close and near his heart and they were together always. Perhaps this is why we so often remember Aengus and Caer when we see the swan with this heart-shaped lovers embrace. Legends of Aengus/Angus As with every mythological hero, god or creature, the mythology is created as the story is told.  So you will find many versions of the tales of Aengus.  Most agree: Around his head four tiny wren fly, each of whom may become a kiss. It is said he carries dreams in his bag and may give you one at night while you sleep. His story of love with Caer symbolizes the dedication of twin lovers, souls who are happiest when they are together. About Elven World:  For thousands of years the Elven people have been bound to another dimension. In the battle for their freedom, they travel in time to arrive on Earth in our modern age. Follow their adventures and you will discover the mystical powers of the Elven that live within your heart. TE Locke is a writer and lover of all things beautiful.  You can reach her at www.elvenworld.ning.com">www.elvenworld.ning.com or www.twitter.com/elvenworld or on Facebook.

Elven, Crystal, Indigo and Highly Sensitive Persons (HSP)

Crystal, Indigo and Highly Sensitive Persons (HSP) will  particularly enjoy “Elven World: Restoration of the Tuatha de Danann Kingdom”. Why? Because as Elven we understand the depth of our relationship to Nature. Because as Crystal, Indigo and HSP we embody the vibration that will restore harmony between humankind and Nature Because we are an embodiment of the divine in human form. Because we can easily and readily communicate across dimensional realities or beyond the third dimension into other realities. Because we are far from being strange – we are connected to a higher reality and Because I receive guidance to say these words. Because it can provide solace when we are out here on our own, not to feel lonely, different or strange, but instead .... To feel welcome and brilliant and meaningful and proud to be here as ourselves in the fabric of life.