Gwen Woods stood shyly in the doorway of her cousin's bedroom. It was like peering into Aladdin's cave. The walls and windows were draped with gauzy veils that cast dappled color into the room. Posters of The Lord of the Rings shared space with dreamlike landscapes of other worlds. Shelves were crowded with books, dragon figurines, seashells, crystals, and jeweled photographs of friends and family. Gwen had to grin. The clutter of curios and fantasy was like her own room back home.
"Finn? I mean, Findabhair?" she called. "It's me. Gwen. I'm here."
At first there was no response from the humped shape in the bed. Then came a grumble followed by a groan. Suddenly the duvet flew into the air.
"What's this?" cried Findabhair. "What am I doing here? I'm supposed to be at the airport meeting you!"
They screeched and hugged and laughed, talking at the same time, exclaiming over each other's appearance. Three years had passed since they were last together, and both were now sixteen.
"Your dad said he gave up calling. I've unpacked and everything."
Findabhair looked ashamed for almost a second, then hurried to get dressed.
Though they were first cousins there was little resemblance between them, except for the golden-brown color of their hair. While Findabhair was tall and slender with a long mane that flowed over her shoulders, Gwen was short and plump with a head of cropped curls.
"You look amazing," Gwen said enviously. She flung herself on the bed. "And here's me. Blimp City."
Findabhair frowned as she pulled on black jeans, black T-shirt, and heavy black boots.
"Everyone in America wants to be skinny, don't they? It's daft. You shouldn't knock yourself so much. You look brilliant."
"Thanks." Gwen grinned at her cousin's clothes. "Do you work in a funeral home or what?"
Findabhair surveyed the loud pink shirt Gwen was wearing over denims and running shoes. "Does that top come with a battery?"
"I promised my mom we wouldn't fight."
"Me too."
They snickered.
It was easy to slip into their old banter. Despite living on opposite sides of the Atlantic, they had been best friends since they could walk and talk. As well as holidays spent together, they did their best to stay in touch through letters and e-mails.
"Don't you just love The Return of the King?" said Gwen. "I watch it constantly."
She was rummaging through her cousin's books, CDs, and DVDs. So many were identical to her own.
"To die for!" Findabhair agreed. She sat at her dressing table and put on her makeup. "I can't believe I'm in love with a man over forty. When he sang at the end, I nearly swooned. My king, my king."
"I thought you preferred Legolas?"
"I did at first. The elves are fabulous, so like my idea of the fairy folk. But doesn't he seem kind of sexless to you?"
Gwen didn't answer. There were many ways she was not like her cousin.
"I brought you an album of the Dropkick Murphys," she said instead. "I think you'll like them, especially their cover of 'The Rocky Road to Dublin.'"
"Great name, shame about the music. You know I hate folk."
"It's not. They're Irish-American punk-trad-grunge."
Gwen moved to the window to gaze out at the Irish Sea. She loved this old house in Bray that overlooked the seafront, sheltered by the Wicklow Mountains. Below her was the garden with its lilac and apple trees, enclosed by a stone wall. Past the wall was the road and a stretch of green lawn that lay before the promenade and the beach. Some things had changed since her last visit. The old-style lampposts were gone, replaced with wooden fixtures like the masts of tall sailing ships. The wrought-iron railings had been painted dark-blue. Beyond the promenade was the seashore, with a spread of gray-blue stones, patches of wet sand, and tangles of seaweed like knotted hair. The sea itself shone in the sunlight, with summery waves charging to the strand like white horses. So many childhood memories belonged to this place. So many secret hopes and dreams.
"Right, I'm human," Findabhair declared.
She admired herself in the mirror, pleased with the contrast of black kohl and pale powder.
Gwen looked worried.
"Have you changed utterly?" she blurted out.
"What do you mean?"
"Are you crazy about boys, shopping, makeup?"
Findabhair nodded. "Yes, to all of the above."
Gwen's heart sank. Then she caught the mischief in her cousin's eyes, followed by a wicked grin.
"Don't panic, I haven't gone shallow altogether. I still seek the Faraway Country."
Findabhair spoke the last sentence grandly. It was a password between them, referring to their love of fantasy in every form—books, music, movies, art. Even the last time they had met, though both were almost thirteen, they had resumed their search for a door or passageway that might lead to other worlds.
The two stared at each other now without speaking. Gwen's silhouette glowed in the window, haloed by the light behind her. Findabhair was a double image, reflected in her looking glass like a shadowy Alice.
"Isn't that why you're here?" Findabhair said. "Aren't we heading off on a magical mystery tour?"
Gwen felt as if she might burst with happiness. Despite outward appearances, it seemed nothing had really changed. She had been so careful in her correspondence, afraid that Findabhair would think her childish. They had talked about traveling and various places to visit, but never about the true heart of their journey. Yet here, all along, her cousin had taken for granted what Gwen had been nursing as a secret dream.
Findabhair spread a map of Ireland over the floor.
"Listen, we've got to get our story down pat. I've promised the parents we're taking bus tours all the way and staying in An óige youth hostels. But no way are we doing this. We haven't the hope of an adventure if we stick to the straight and narrow. We've got to go the road less traveled."
Gwen did her best to hide her anxiety. She was not at all happy about lying to her aunt and uncle. She was also wondering just how far from the path they would have to go. The map of the Thirty-Two Counties shimmered before her like the green-and-gold flag of an enchanted land. A thrill ran through her. What her cousin said was true. If they played it safe, how could they possibly find what they were looking for?
"Our first stop is Tara," Findabhair announced. "Loads of buses go there. Da will be happy to put us on one. After that, we can thumb our way around."
Gwen was dumbfounded. "I thought we were going to start at Newgrange? Didn't we agree to leave Tara till the end? Save the best for the last?"
"I know what's best, I'm the one who lives here," her cousin stated. "All roads lead to Tara, the royal center of Ireland. The sooner we get there, the better."
"I can't believe you're doing this!" Gwen spluttered. "It's not fair. The trip belongs to both of us. You're not the boss of it!"
A major fight seemed inevitable, with every possibility that the journey might end before it began. Though Gwen rarely stood up to her strong-willed cousin, she could stand her ground when pushed too far.
Suddenly confused and uncertain, Findabhair relented. Something nagged at the back of her mind, something she needed to tell Gwen if only she could remember. Her cousin was right. It was unfair to change their plans and insist on her own way. And yet…
She rubbed her forehead.
"Sorry," she conceded at last. "I'm being Ms. Bossy-Boots. Fine, then, no need to come to blows. We'll leave Tara to the last. But we're not doing the tourist trail. Agreed?"
"Agreed," said Gwen with relief.
They bent over the map once more.
"Newgrange it is," Findabhair said, tapping the ancient site on the River Boyne. "The Brugh na Bóinne."
"The fairy palace of Aengus óg," Gwen said dreamily.
"The young god of love," her cousin sighed.
They both giggled.
"We're hopeless romantics," said Findabhair.
"Hopeful," Gwen corrected her.
