Ivan sat with his back pressed against one of the megaliths that made up Pentre Ifan, up in the Preseli Mountains in West Wales. It was this place that gave him his name. One translation was ‘Village of Ivan’. It was were his parents had met all those years ago, now having buried his mother and his father having long since departed from this realm, he chose this point in his life to go on this personal quest to. He had just turned forty; his once dark hair was slowly being peppered by grey, which only seem to highlight the vivid icy blue of his eyes. Any amount of women past, said his eyes where as cold and unfeeling as he was. He had now buried the only women who truly seemed to understand him; he took this quest upon himself to do some long hard thinking. Somehow, inexplicably, which rankled him, he had an urge to be at this place. He had never walked to the burial ground before, passed it and heard tales of it. But until now he had never been here. He had heard tales of fairies and of the Dolmen being a gateway into another realm. As a cool and logical man, this held no water with him. Where was the evidence of such tales? It was however a calm and relaxing place. The blue sky was scattered with mackerel scale clouds, the sheep bleated in near by fields and over head could be heard the call of a buzzard as he soared the air looking for his prey. Maybe it was the fact this place was sheltered up in this exposed mountainous place that gave it its esoteric appeal. Maybe this is why the ancestors of these hills had chosen to bury their dead here, a solace, with fine commanding views over Cardigan Bay and the Preseli peaks around. Shouldering his pack, he made his way back down the Nevern and the pub where he was staying.
On his way down he came across a rocky pool, there were mossy rocks, with green feathery ferns growing out. Tufts of grass grew between the rocky boulders; scurry creatures could be heard within the secret holes. He sat on a rock by the pool. Taking his boots off his dipped his toes in the water, watching the mountains around him reflected in the water, creating a web of beauty and intrigue. He was lost in the moment of it all, feeling like he could dive into waters and be up in the sky with mountains all at once. Where earth and water seemed to become air. So lost was Ivan in the illusion of it all, he almost failed to see the sun beginning to dip in the sky, between a gap in the mountains, the sky was beginning to get a pink tinge, and the air started to turn quite chill. It was only the chill wind on his bare toes, which brought Ivan out of his reverie and made him aware he was still a long way from warmth and shelter. The wind was picking up and the air smelt faintly of rain to come. Sinking his feet back into warm socks and dry boots he stomped off down and towards the welcome bar and warm fire at the journeys end.