The Feast of the Fianna
Irish and Celtic myths and legends, Irish folklore and Irish fairy tales from the Fenian Cycle
A man in sheep’s clothing
It was a fine day in Ireland many years ago when Fionn and his Fianna took a fancy to go out hunting. Warm was the sun amid the whispering glades of ancient forests, gentle was the breeze and sweet the scent of summer flowers in its bosom. Sweeter yet was the sight of a mighty deer to the eyes of the hunters, and so they gave chase, howling with delight!
All day and into the darkness of the evening they followed the deer, until twilight purpled the heavens and their quarry was lost in the many glooms around them. Tired and hungry, the Fianna gazed about themselves and realised they had come to a strange place.
Well as the saying goes, if you’re lost walk slowly but don’t stop, so on they went in increasing exhaustion, until at last the forest seemed to open out before them and they beheld a great Dún or strong place ahead.
Greatly puzzled, for none of them had heard tell of a fortress of this size and power in the area, they nonetheless climbed the broad stone steps and passed through the impressive entryway, framed and beamed with hard old black oak.
The mystery only deepened when they found none within and no sign of life or occupation save only a great table bowed and creaking with the very finest food and drink, wine and mead, leek-boiled hams and roasted barley-salmon stuffed with fragrant herbal cheese.
The warrior Cluas le hÉisteacht, whose name meant “the listening ear”, was sent to keep watch while the others wasted no time in settling themselves down on the heavy chairs and getting stuck in to the feast before them!
Pleasant was their merriment and jovial their banter until it was time to leave, when suddenly an unpleasant surprise revealed itself – they found themselves stuck to the chairs upon which they sat and were unable to stand up! Each man first spoke and then shouted to the others, jumping and rattling around, but so heavy were the chairs they couldn’t even overturn one – for all the good that would have done them!
Naturally enough they turned to their leader for counsel, and Fionn bit his thumb to invoke the Imbas Forosnaí, which means the illumination of inspiration, the mystical gift he had gotten from the salmon of knowledge.
He gulped then for he knew the chairs and banquet were the work of something from the old world before the earth-rending flood that had cleansed much evil from the land, a hungry old stoop which should have passed away long ago, but had instead set this trap like a hunter might lay tar upon a branch to catch songbirds.
They sat, he knew then, in Teach Duinn, the House of Darkness.
Through the boundaries it had returned by the mischief-working of sorcery, and with that the answer came to him in a flash!
“Boundary water!” he shouted “fetch water from the boundaries between realms, that will free us!”
Cluas le hÉisteacht heard him well and although he had been feeling glum to have missed the feast, was now only delighted to be hungry, and he took to his heels as fast as he could, urged on by the shouts of the Fianna as the fire guttered low in its place. Fionn eyed it with worry, for he suspected that should it go out, something else would come in!
Cluas le hÉisteacht returned with a vessel full of water from a bubbling spring nearby, speaking of strange signs he had seen upon the rocks, but Fionn waved that aside and told him to wash the hindquarters of each man with the water. This he did, and one by one they stood and stretched, dancing and laughing.
At the very last he came to Conán but the water was all gone, used in freeing his comrades! Fionn began to feel real fear as he looked at the last few darkening coals and knew there was no time left to go back for more water, so he grabbed Conán by the shoulders and just lifted him up by main force.
Well he got poor Conán up alright but such was the strength he had to apply that a wide strip of Conán’s skin was left behind on the seat! They fled the hall but Conán was in a bad way, bleeding heavily, so they happened across a sheep nearby which they killed and skinned, placing a piece of fleece over Conán’s wound.
Soon enough the injury healed and the wool was shorn, but not long after it grew back again in plenty! And from that day onwards, Conán was able to provide enough wool for the Fianna to keep them in gloves and stockings.
Near to the House of Darkness may be found on the map below!
More Legends from the Fenian Cycle
The days of the heroes of the Fianna have captured the imaginations of many throughout the ages, and one such was the ninth century poet Gofraidh Fionn O’Dalaigh, one of the finest poets in all of Killarney and all of Ireland. For it was his pen and none other that first put quill and ink to parchment and recorded the old story of Reicne F ... [more]
It was a fine day in Ireland many years ago when Fionn and his Fianna took a fancy to go out hunting. Warm was the sun amid the whispering glades of ancient forests, gentle was the breeze and sweet the scent of summer flowers in its bosom. Sweeter yet was the sight of a mighty deer to the eyes of the hunters, and so they gave chase, howling with de ... [more]
It was in the days of Fionn and the Fianna, a very long time ago in Ireland, that the people of Ben Edair decided to hold a festival, a Feis or Aonach, to celebrate the season. All of Fionn’s hosts were gathered, the seven ordinary warbands and the seven extraordinary warbands, and they danced and played music merrily with the people. Then ... [more]
There are few these days who have not heard of Fionn Mac Cumhaill, hero and defender of Ireland, or at least might recognise his name. But there were no creatures that Fionn loved amongst his three hundred dogs more than his two favourites, Bran and Sceolan, meaning Raven and Survivor, and though it’s a stranger story than most, this is the t ... [more]
It is not unusual for stories in the Irish legendarium to have more than one meaning besides that of a literal recounting of historical events, whether by accident or by design. Some tales were meant to be understood in the context of the era and culture of the story teller, while others might instruct in certain arts, and yet others contain myster ... [more]
Those monks who recorded the mythologies and folklore of Ireland which had previously been passed down by word of mouth from bard to druid to bard for countless generations were, by their very nature, devout Christians. As Christians they were dedicated to not only God and His Church, but to the people who bore and nurtured them, and everywhere the ... [more]
One day Fionn Mac Cumhaill, doughty hero of Ireland, and his friends Goll, Cialta and Oscar, as well as others of the Fianna, were resting after the hunt on a certain long hill now known by a different name. Their meal was being made ready, when what should happen only a girl of the kin of the giants came striding up and sat down among them, a grea ... [more]
Something which often appears in the most ancient tales of Ireland is the grisly vision of heads which speak after being separated from their bodies! This was said to be an art of the druids inherited from the necromancy of the Dé Danann, who were themselves said to be able to raise a whole army from the grave to fight again day after day! ... [more]
There once was a young fellow called Conall, and he lived with his parents in the east of the country. They lived a quiet life, catching fish and digging up oysters for meat and lamps, but one dark day the Fomors came and demanded tribute. Having none to give, his father bid the sea demons begone, but instead they made to take himself and his famil ... [more]
Young Fionn Mac Cumhaill was out walking with his dog Bran one fine morning, and he happened to pass into a deep and thick dark wood of the kind that once covered all of Ireland, for the hunting was better there, when what did he come across but a thousand horses hauling timber and men chopping down the trees and preparing the logs. "What a ... [more]
There was a mighty warrior in the west of Eriu, and Cumhal Mac Art was his name. Feared was his axe and he could skewer two men with a single cast of his feathered war-dart, and yet for all that he lived a lonely life, and a life of fear – for it had been foretold that should he ever marry, he would die in battle the very next day! But all ... [more]
It was in the day of Fionn Mac Cumhaill when he was an old man, yet still hale and hearty, that one of his warriors, whose name was Diarmaid son of Donn and grandson of Duibne, had carried off his young bride-to-be, Gráinne daughter of Cormac! The two had fallen in love and Gráinne, for all of Fionn's fame, wanted nothing to do wi ... [more]
One warm summer's day Fionn and his men were out hunting through the darkling forests of Ballachgowan in Munster, chasing deer and boar through the gloomy glades, when they stopped short all of a sudden and came face to face with a startling sight! For what had stepped between them and their prey but a strange, damp giant of a man. Black wer ... [more]
Fionn Mac Cumhaill stood at the door of his hunting lodge with his fists on his hips, his heart sinking as he realised his intentions to hunt for deer this day were lost in the waves of mist and fog that had rolled in from Dublin bay, although at that time it was known by a different name. It had come as far inland as Gleann na Smol, the Glen of th ... [more]
When Fionn Mac Cumhaill became leader of the Fianna, the fiercest and most warlike of those bands of heroes who lived in the wild places, hunting and acting as champions for their kings, and defending Ireland from evil, he decided that he wished to have only the best warriors to follow him. So he sat down and sucked his thumb to taste the wisdom ... [more]
Close by where Limerick city stands today lie the ruins of an ancient and once mighty fortress called Carrigogunnel, which commanded all the lands about with a stern hand. It was known then as a place of ill omen, and it is known today as the same, for it was once the home of an uncanny hag by the name of Gráinne. Amid the surrounding mar ... [more]
A dark horde of fell-handed warriors approached Ireland, sails gathered off the coast like storm clouds, billowing out in the gusts of uncertain wind, while oars bent to the rolling thunder of drums. Fierce indeed was the host of King Colgan, master of Lochlainn, and he came to make war on Cormac Mac Airt, High King of Ireland! As soon as Fionn ... [more]
Diarmuid the Fair, son of Donn or Duibhne of the Tuatha De Danann was one of the Fianna, the great warriors of ancient Ireland who protected the land from dangers near and far. It was said that no woman could resist his gaze, for he'd been granted the blessing of comeliness by the Ghost Queen Morrigan after he helped her out of a spot of bother ... [more]
Fionn Mac Cumhaill and the rest of the Fianna were resting after a great battle, weary and sore with sorrow at the loss of their fellows, when they spied coming along the shores of Loch Lein in County Kerry a beautiful young woman riding a swift horse, so swift indeed that its hooves scarcely seemed to touch the ground! Now although the women of ... [more]
Now it is known by some that the fairies of Ireland weren't much like the fairies we hear about in these latter days, harmless things of mischief and frolic, but were instead respected and often feared, for their anger was quick and their kindness was whimsical. Some would join men in battle, and some would make war on men, others were omens of ... [more]
It was a fine brisk spring morning in Ireland when Fionn Mac Cumhaill decided to take himself for a stroll along the white sandy beaches of the seashore, the better to breathe the air and enjoy the simple pleasures life had to offer. But that morning, life had more to offer and it didn't look pleasant, for it was a giant bearing down on the bea ... [more]
Fionn MacCumhaill was well known as a fair and handsome man, but his most distinguishing feature was his grey hair - and he was not born with it! Fionn was one time out on the green of Almhuin, and he saw what had the appearance of a grey fawn running across the plain. He called and whistled to his hounds then, but neither hound nor man heard hi ... [more]
After his seven years of training with the poet Finegas were done, Fionn Mac Cumhaill took himself from the river Boyne to the great hall of the High King in Tara, Conn of the Hundred Battles, to present himself there as a member of the Fianna, the very best of the best warriors throughout Ireland. Announcing himself, Conn took him into the band an ... [more]
Here is the story of how Fionn MacCumhaill gained the knowledge of the world. And wouldn't it be a great thing to know it all? Still, knowledge and wisdom must be balanced, and this was known to the young man called Fionn, which means fair and bright. He was fleeing from the warriors who had murdered his father when he came upon the hiding plac ... [more]
