West Irish Folk-Tales and Romances. Anonymous
He was travelling ever till he found out the house; and he went into it. He asked if that was the house of young Gobaun. The woman said it was.
“He said to me there was a woman with one hand, and a child with one eye in the house, and a stack of corn at the door.”
“Don’t you see,” said she, “that I have only one hand, and don’t you see this stick in the hand of the child? I don’t know what moment he won’t put it in his eye and take the eye out of himself; and don’t you see the stack of corn outside at the door?”
He asked then for the three tools.
“What three tools?” said she.
“They are Corner against Corner, Crooked against Crooked, and Engine against deceit.”
She understood then that they (i.e. her husband and his father) would never come home, if she did not understand these words.
“The three tools that are called Crooked against Crooked, Corner against Corner, and Engine against deceit, they are down in this chest.”
She went then and opened the chest, and told him to stoop down to the bottom, that she was not tall enough. He stooped, and when she got him bent down, she threw him into the chest and closed it, and told him he should stay there till young Gobaun and old Gobaun came home and their pay for their service with them.
She sent word to Balar Beimann that she had his son in confinement, till young Gobaun and old Gobaun came home. He gave them a ship and sent them home with their pay; and she let Balar Beimann’s son back to him again. When they were going home, Balar asked Gobaun what smith would he get to put irons on his palace.
“There is no smith in Erin better than Gavidjeen Go.”
When the old Gobaun came home he told Gavidjeen Go to take no pay from him for putting the irons on his palace, except the Gloss:
“If twenty barrels were put under her, she would fill the twenty barrels.”
Balar Beimann then wrote to the Gavidjeen Go that he would give him the Gloss if he would make irons for his palace. But when he sent the Gloss, he did not give the byre-rope, and he knew that when he did not give that, she would go from him.
This is the bargain that Gavidjeen Go made then with every champion that came to him:—to mind the cow and bring her safe home to him at evening; he would make a sword for every champion who would mind her. She would pasture in the daytime at Cruahawn, of Connaught, and drink at Loch Ayachir-a-Guigalu, in Ulster, in the evening.
Kian, the son of Contje, came to him to have a sword made. He told him he would make it, but that the bargain would be to mind the Gloss that day.
“If she is not home with you to me in the evening, you must lay down your head on the anvil, that I may cut it off with your own sword.”
Kian, the son of Contje, went then and took hold of her by the tail. When he came home in the evening, “Here is the Gloss outside,” said he to Gavidjeen Go. There was a champion inside in the forge, whose name was the Laughing Knight. He ran out and said to Kian:
“The smith is about to put tempering on your sword, and unless you have hold of it, there will be no power in it when you wield it.”
When Kian, the son of Contje, went in, he forgot to drive in the Gloss. Gavidjeen Go asked him, “Where is the Gloss?”
“There she is, outside the door.”
“Put her in,” said he.
When he went out she was gone.
“Lay down your head upon the anvil, that I may cut it off you.”
“I am asking of you the favour of three days, to go and seek her.”
“I will give you that,” said he.
He went with himself then, and was following her tracks till he came to the sea. He was up and down on the shore, plucking his hair from his head, in trouble after the Gloss. There was a man out on the sea in a currach. He rowed in to him. It was the tawny Mananaun, the son of Lir. He asked him—
“What is the matter with you to-day?”
He told him.
“How much will you give to any one who will leave you in the place where the Gloss is?”
“I have nothing to give him.”
“I will ask nothing of you, but the half of all you gain till you come back.”
“I will give you that,” said Kian, son of Contje.
“Be into the currach.”
In the winking of an eye he left him over in the kingdoms of the cold; nor on that island was a morsel cooked ever, but they ate every kind of food raw. Kian, son of Contje, made a fire, and began to cook his food. When Balar Beimann heard the like was there, he took him to be his cook, his story-teller, and his fireman. Well, Balar Beimann had one daughter, and a prediction was made that she would have a son, who would kill his grandfather. He then put her into prison for fear a man would come near her; and it was he himself who would go to her with food, and the companion with her was a dummy woman. Mananaun left this enchantment with Kian, son of Contje, that any lock he laid his hand on would open and shut after him. He was looking at Balar Beimann going to this house, to his daughter, with food for her, and he went himself after him to the house, and he laid his hand on the lock and opened the door, and found none but the two women there. He made a fire for them. He was coming there ever, till a child happened to her. He was then going to depart, when the boy was born. He went to the king and told him he must depart.
“Why are you going?” said he.
“It is because accidents have happened to me since I came into this island. I must go.”
“What is the accident?” said he.
“A child has happened to me.”
Balar had two sons on another island learning druidism. They came home to the palace to their father.
“Father,” said a man of them, “your story-teller, your cook, and your fireman will give you your sufficiency of trouble.”
Kian, son of Contje, was listening to them speaking. He went to the daughter of Balar Beimann, and told her what her brother said.
“Well,” said she, “it is now time for you to be going. That is the byre-rope of the Gloss, hanging on the wall. She will be as quick as you; and take with you the boy.”
He went then till he came to the place where Mananaun put him out. Mananaun told him, when he was in difficulty, to think of him and he would come. He now came on the instant.
“Be in the currach,” said Mananaun, “and make haste, or Balar Beimann will drown us, if he can. But greater is my druidism than his,” said the tawny Mananaun, the son of Lir.
He jumped into the currach, and the Gloss jumped in as soon as he. Balar Beimann followed them, and raised the sea in a storm before them and behind them, nor did Mananaun aught but stretch out his hand and make the sea calm. Balar then set fire to the sea before them in hopes of burning them, but Mananaun threw out a stone, and extinguished the sea.
“Now, Kian, son of Contje, you are safe and sound home, and what will you give me for it?”
“I have nothing but the boy, and we will not go to make two halves of him, but I will give him to you entirely.”
“I am thankful to you. That is what I was wanting. There will be no champion in the world as good as he,” said Mananaun.
This is the name that Mananaun baptized him with—the Dul Dauna. He brought him up with feats of activity and championship. He and Mananaun were out one day on the sea, and they saw the fleet of Balar Beimann sailing. The Dul Dauna put a ring to his eye, and he