And it was done.
"In that year Cairill met Emar of the Birds that are one white, one red, and one black--and they loved, and from that love sprang Ailill their son.

And when Ailill was born he took a reed flute and first he played slumber on Cairill, and then he played old age so that Cairill grew white and withered; then Ailill played again and Cairill became a shadow--then a shadow of a shadow--then a breath; and the breath went out upon the wind!" He shivered.

"Like the old gnome," he whispered, "that they called Songar of the Lower Waters!" He shook his head as though he cast a dream from him.

Then, all alert-- "But that was in Iceland ages agone.

And there's nothing like that here, Doc!" He laughed.