She wore a threadbare blue-black cloak. Dark as the back of a stag-beetle was every joint of her, from the top of her head to the ground. Her filleted grey hair fell back over shoulder. And she began prophesying Doom. The victors have their triumph.
Understanding comes to the defeated.
I choose Her sword that I may learn to use its hidden Power with wisdom and compassion. It is well chosen. But the third choice must be made ere you may draw the sword. For the greater contains the lesser. Thou has chosen with true vision, and shall henceforth be known as Son of Lugh of the Long White Arm.