The stars glimmered brightly in the night sky, but their faint lights could not penetrate the mists that were heavy on the surface of the river Brue, which gently lapped at the base of Glastonbury Tor.
The town and infamous hill that were responsible for the area's wide repute could not be seen, for the mists were thick, and seemed to broil over the surface of the waters, like steam from a cooking pan. There were no birds, nor beasts of the dark out on this night. The only sound was the constant washing of the water on stone shores. Some of the villagers claimed that if one listened closely, the water whispered about the secrets it kept.
Most of the villagers ignored what knowledge the water offered; most were right to do so.
In the middle of the river, in the place that the villagers said was enchanted and thus always sailed around the small spick of land that emerged from the glassy water, a voice began to speak, and was answered.
"I begin to forget already; how did it start?" asks the first voice; a younger voice, but one that, beneath its surface, has the authority of one who has witnessed much. "Why do I forget all ready?"
The second voice answers. This one is deep and melodic, almost as if the very speech is a song waiting to be set to music. There is much wisdom in the voice, and compassion as well.
"You are yet new to this place. In time, it will come back - you must be patient, but you will also need a guide to help you remember. That is why I am here."
There was silence as the mists continued to spin around the Tor.
Finally, the first voice asked, "You did not answer my question - how did it start?"
There came a soft laugh from the second voice - a laugh that was rich in sympathy. "The way it started for me. The way it always starts. With a dream," here the voice paused, and then spoke again, emotion thick in the words. "And with a love."
-->