**Content warning pertaining  to Non Consensual physical interaction. My apologies if it upsets  anyone. It most definitely upset me. ** 
 War.

It's all they seemed to want to talk about. The gathering of chieftains had been in session since the days dawning and now it approached its dusk.
Word had come from the Fomorians offering hospitality and so the chieftains had been called to have their say, and what say there was had spoke of warriors, weapons, battles and glory.

He had sat for the full day in quiet watching his people, listening to their words and reading the truth of their hearts.
The truth which made the sadness come heavy upon him.

The Rath was filled with its usual comforting peace, the only sound in the space given by the hearths fire, where the wood was consumed with faint crackling noises.

The chieftain sat in his big seat, eyes lost to the dance and flicker of the flames, basking in their heat, grateful again for the warmth the wood gave.

He sat a long while, at his ease, turning something over and over in his big hands. It was a round of wood, looking to be cut from some tree, dried and smooth. His rough fingers traced the lines of the rings upon the trees heartwood. Solid and strong, the drying of the wood had not split nor cracked it.