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Lost are the hills and valleys. Lost are the frozen moors. Lost are the jagged mountains. Lost is the glowing shore. Lost is the golden palace. Lost is the endless sea. Lost is the land of the spirits. Lost is Faerphilly.-author unknownfrom Douglas Waldegrave’s Traditional Celtic Poems and Folklore (1891) S even years ago, I went to Wales. Not too incredible, right? But what if I told you that while I was there I found a lost message from another world where nymphs, dragons, unicorns, elves, and other magical creatures still exist? You would probably log off this website right now. I wouldn't blame you. To be honest, I wouldn't believe me either. That is precisely why I will not tell you. I will not tell you about how I was in Wales on a missions trip with my church's youth group. ( See pictures here. ) I will not tell you how one afternoon we went to a beach in southern Wales, near Swansea, where the wind was so harsh and the water so cold that I had little else to do but wander into a nearby small cave on the edge of the water. I would tell you if I thought you would believe me, that in that cave was a little boat which may or may not have changed my world forever. Inside that possibly non-existant little boat were many possibly non-existant little scrolls, each scroll filled with stories written in a language unknown to this world, the faer language, a language in which you may or may not, depending on your taste, choose to believe. I have spent these past years translating, through magic no less, these supposed scrolls, (I wonder what else you think that I was doing with my time?) and have been absolutely captivated by the tale they, imaginary or otherwise, tell. I f you are believing me thus far, then perhaps you would listen when I do not tell you that they were written by an unnamed poet who lives in the land of Faerphilly. Assuming that Faerphilly is, in fact, real, then we must also go so far as to assume that it is a nation that was once a part of this world but fell out of space and time during a catastrophe referred to by the unnamed poet as "the Fall" and now exists in a universe apart from us. However, if we are assuming that Faerphilly is not real, which does seem to be the logical conclusion, then I am sorry to say that legendary heroes such as Fiere of the Black Blade, Freth the Strong, Lord Danon, Shaava of the Oakwood Druids, Brunengang the Beardless, Akitta the Lady of Light, and Laduin the Young must also not be real, and that is a very discouraging thought. N ow, if you're still with me after all that, I feel it safe to say that we've established that you, I, and our friend Douglas Waldegrave (see poem above) are hypothetically lunatics, and also that the unnamed poet has hypothetically put a lot of time and effort into getting his tales into our world, and it is my hypothetical duty to share them with you. I have compiled a volume of forty of his stories, (there are more, but I am still translating them), which I have titled "The Travels of Fiere," because of all the mythological heroes in Faerphilly, she is the one he most fixates on. Go above to my blog and you may read a select tale from the collection, of which you are completely free to believe or disbelieve at your own leisure. S o come all you lunatics and dreamers! If you can still see your monitor when your head's stuck up in the clouds, then have a thought about the (possibly) lost land of Faerphilly, and help bring it to life by showing your support. Let's show Faerphilly to this world just as the (maybe non-existant) poet intended!