Ireland: A Gathering of Sto ries

AWAKIN.COM DIGITAL PUBLISHING IRELAND: A GATHERING OF STORIES • Section 1 • The White Trout

Story By: A strange thing happened to me when I was in California telling stories in school, way up in Liz Weir, Storyteller Northern California. A woman there told me she and Author had Irish relatives and when I asked her she said she was related to Samuel Lover. I went out and got a copy of my CD, the Glen of Stories and showed her on the notes where it said that The White Trout was collected by Samuel Lover!

That’s one of those amazing stories that shows the power of the original world wide web - Storytelling! One of my favourite tales is the White Trout, it’s a legend from County Mayo from Cong which most people know about from The Quiet Man film. It was collected by a man called Samuel Lover in the 1830’s and I first heard it from the telling of Alice Kane. Alice was originally from Belfast and went to Toronto where she became a children’s librarian and then a very well known storyteller.

2 The White Trout the water and popped it into a pan. He cooked it and he cooked it and he cooked it until he thought one side would be done. But when he turned it over, There once was a beautiful lady who lived in a castle there was not a mark on it. He tried the other side. beside a lake. She was engaged to be married to a He cooked it and he cooked it but again there was king’s son, but a month before the wedding her no mark or burn. fiancé was murdered, and his body thrown into the lake. “Aha. Perhaps you taste better than you look, my pretty” he said. He lifted a knife and plunged it into The poor young woman nearly went out of her mind the fish and the squeal that came out of it would with grief. She shut herself up in the castle and was make the blood run cold! There rose up from the not seen, day in, day out. But there appeared in the ground a beautiful young woman in a long white waters of the lake a strange fish, a white trout. dress, with blood running down her arm. Nobody knew where it had come from but the locals said there must be some magic attached to it, so “ Look where you cut me, you villain!” she screamed they left it there to swim in peace, year in, year out. “Look where you cut me!” No hurt nor harm was put on it.

The soldier didn’t know what to say or do. There came to that place an army of strangers, determined to teach the people new ways. One “Oh lady, I didn’t know it was you. I didn’t know it heard the story of the trout and decided to catch it was you!” and cook it and eat it, just for sport. The trout knew no fear and took the bait. The soldier pulled it from

3 “Why couldn’t you leave me alone? I’m there to do As for the soldier, he was changed man. He shut my duty.” himself up in a cave and fasted three times a week. They say he never again ate fish, not even on a “Your duty?” he asked Friday. And he prayed twice a day for the soul of the white trout.

“I’m waiting for my own true love. He’s to come to me by water, and if he comes while I’m gone I’ll turn you into a pinkeen! (a wee fish)”

“What can I do?” begged the soldier.

“Put me back in the water where I belong!

“But how can I put such a fine lady into the water?”

Suddenly, the lady vanished. There, flapping on the ground, lay the white trout. The soldier scooped it up and slipped it into the water. First the water ran red, and then clear. That fish was left to swim those waters and they say its still there to this day.

4 • Section 2 • The Pooka and The Pump Woman

Story By: To put this in to context my grandmother was a fabulous tale teller and had a great skill for keeping John Bustard, Producer, a large number of grandchildren interested and The Irish In Stories enthused on our summer holidays in Donegal. She would basically set up little adventures for us and my Uncle Tommy, who was a fisherman and a farmer at the time would play along because he saw the benefits and richness in the type of experiences we were getting. Who inspired me with stories?

I supposed it was a mixture of my Grandmother, her brother (my Uncle Tommy) and my Father’s passion for history and my mothers memory of family history.

5 The Pooka The second, which was an interesting one in that I suppose stories were sometimes constructed to The Pooka is a very famous old Irish tale about a keep us all safe and away from particular things. nightmare pig, this little dark animal could actually Now Ireland’s full of wells and steep crevices and fly. I can always remember being told stories by the various things so my Uncle Tommy and my fireside in my uncles little thatch cottage in Grandmother used to tell us about the Old Pump Donegal, where my grandmother and her four Woman. siblings were born and raised and their families Her name was Rosanna and she lived down a well before them. I can always remember the story about on Rosanna’s Lane which was a couple of hundred the Pooka because we used to stay in a field up the yards up the lane from our house and in some road camping and everytime that I would hear this sense a boundary as to how far as children we story when I would walk up the very dark road should really be going. There was definitely an old (there were no lights on it at all) back up to the well up which was overgrown and so quite campsite I was in absolute fear and trepidation of dangerous from that perspective. So the story goes this pig flying down between my legs and taking me that the old pump woman had had some very bad of on this nightmarish ride. Now if you’re familiar wranglings and had lost her arm and actually had a with Donegal, particularly southwest Donegal it has metal arm and lived down this well. the highest sea clifs in Europe and I cannot imagine a more scary ride than being taken around Basically she sought the souls of young children the coastal areas there and being (fingers crossed) and if they came too close she would pull them dropped of back at home. So, The Pooka was one down into the well and trap them there for all time. story that put absolute fear in my heart!

6 Now the descriptions that my grandparents would put into these stories, still to this day when I walk past Rosanna’s Lane, I am still in fear of my life of the pump woman and where she would be. I think its one of the incredible powers of those descriptions that as a 41-year old adult that I still have difculties walking past that very road.

7 • Section 3 • The Fairy and the Snow Song

Story By: a Fairy Thorn Tree and I very, very quickly learned from the very serious noises that my Uncle was Michael Sands, Author making not to go near, look at if possible, certainly not climb or break a branch of a Fairy Thorn Tree or else very bad luck would befall you! So I carry that round with me and it heavily inspires my writing.

My original mythological introduction, if you like, occurred when I was about six. My Grandparents house was on the Ryan Road and Mayo Bridge outside Newry and every summer we would go out and help as best we could with hay and moving cattle. My cousins and I were playing just at the top of the Loanan and and at the top of the Loanan was

8 The Fairy and the Snow Song No others were near the weather too wild

(M Sands ©) But it delivered no fear to this father and child

The crispy night clear as around the snow piled

Deep and down low and dark yet light

Was the night of the snow and oh what a night Footprints times two they left as they walked

When outside they did go and all covered white Words they were few as onward they stalked

Then quietly from view though neither had talked

The snowflakes whipped and speckled his face

His companion tripped in that icy wet place Came an odd sound, small and distressed

“On what have you tripped? An untied shoelace?” No source to be found ‘til both were addressed

From a hole in the ground! What noise did them test? The answer a smile, young eyes danced in awe

Adventure and trial was all that he saw Bent to their knees both looked bemused In each snow pile in air fresh and raw “Was that the breeze?” asked the father confused

9 Then from neither…a sneeze! The child was “A sentence unfair!” said the father at last amused “In a frost bitten lair!” said the youngster aghast

“We’ll help!” said the pair. “Let’s get to work fast.” “Oh dear I’ve the cold this two hundred years.”

“Wow that is old! And he’s got pointy ears.” “I hoped that you might,” sighed the fairy relieved He wings then did fold from his eyes fell four tears “Things look more bright and if all is achieved

I’ll see you alright.” The two him believed. “I’ve waited so long for folks brave and true

I mean you no wrong but I must ask of you “But a song in the snow? Where to begin? To write me a song for I’m long overdue. I mean how does it go? What key is it in?

There’s no way to know! Oh how will we win?” Then I will be free from this wintry hole

Where pixies locked me for stealing their coal “Fear not my two dears, my plan is well laid. To keep warm you see. Ah cursed be their soul.” Let your eyes, nose and ears be the tools of your trade

10 With Mother Nature’s ideas you’ll get the song Their snow bound condition they found hard to made.” swallow

“Of with you now, please return when complete Until came the first. It sounded like ‘tree’

No more time they allow with this ofer to meet.” Both felt they would burst with fright do you see?

He furrowed his brow and stamped frost from his But back came their thirst the little man to set free feet

Then another said ‘stream’. From behind it blew “The melody floats along on the wind…” ‘bird’

Was the last of his quotes as the air on them It felt like a dream. Weren’t wind words absurd? thinned But each helped their scheme to get their song As suddenly came notes and both of them grinned heard

Intently they listened but no words did follow Now to arrange the night air’s selection

The ice on leaves glistened, rivers ran through the With many’s a change they toiled in correction Hollow An evening more strange denied recollection

11 This extraordinary chore had seen trust in them placed With ankle deep pacing they returned to the jail Now they sing all the more since getting the taste! And with hearts racing their song they set sail

The wee man stood facing some end to his tale Deep and down low and dark yet light

Was the night of the snow and oh what a night The snow air so still now moved to the song When outside they did go and all covered white With his to fulfil the fairy sang along

But with dread he was ill for fear all would go wrong

But their song worked all right! A hostage no more

He danced with delight, instead of three wishes gave four

And skipped into the night with wee footprints galore

Back to their door the two stepped in haste

12 • Section 4 • The Last Outpost

Story by: The folktale is only found, as far as I know, in one book because the author was the only one to have Marni Troop, written down this story. In other words this was Author taking strictly from an oral tradition. The book where I found it is Irish Folk and Fairy Tales Omnibus by Michael Scott and it is the last story of the omnibus, called The Last Outpost.

Over my lifetime I have met many people from Ireland and asked them about their cultural heritage, not many of them have many stories about fairies, the Gods, the Goddess, the superstitions or any of that. All of the information I have gained over the years is from reading tons and tons of books.

13 The Last Outpost The night after this large chunk of the mound has been leveled Michael, the Dubliner goes out to the The story is about this small village somewhere in mound and is actually captured by the American Ireland that has a fairy mound and the townspeople foreman and some of his men being accused of believe it to be a fairy mound and refuse to level it trying to sabotage the project but that is as part of a joint American-Irish construction interrupted by the appearance of some strange project. Of course there’s an American in charge figures and lights and sound. Michael wakes up the who doesn’t get ‘it’ and there also an Irishman, next morning in the middle of the field, away from named Michael he’s from Dublin and although he’s this mound and goes back over there and sees that a city man he still has this residual, subconscious the AMerican is gone, the outsiders are gone and belief. the mound is returned whole, grass, ground, everything. Completely undisturbed as if no one While the towns people refuse to do the work there had ever been there. No one knows what has are outsiders brought in to do it and they take a big happened to the American or the other workers but chunk of earth away from this mound. In the there’s a person leaning on the mound and Michael meantime the American who was very frustrated by comes up to him and he knows in his heart who this the locals had gone up on to this mound and is. The stranger tells him that this is the last fairy started pulling out tufts of grass with his hands fort, the last gateway between the fairy world and and cut himself and in the process, unknowingly the upper world and Michael asks what is dripped some blood on to this mound of dirt. happening, why are disappearing. The fairy says “we are dying and the only to save us is faith”

14 • Section 5 • How the Son of the Gobhaun Saor Sold the Sheepskin

Story by: folktales solely about the Wonder Smith and his Son. Fra Gunn, Actor and Storyteller

To quote the backpage:

I have chosen this story for a couple of reasons. "The Gobhán Saor (Gobhán Sáor), whose other Firstly, because of it's combination of wit and name was Cullion the Smith was a great man long, wonder and secondly because of the nature of the long ago. He was a maker of worlds and a shaper of Gobhán Sáor (Gobhaun Saor), who like myself is a universes. It is said the stars were sparks from his bit of a wanderer. anvil. White horses were sacred to him, and Lugh's White Hound, the Sun, knew him as a master." This version is from Ella Young's "Celtic Wonder Tales", a compilation of fourteen folk tales of Celtic magic and legend, two of which are about the Great Smith. Another of Ella Young's books, "The Wonder Smith and his Son: A Tale from the Golden Childhood of the World", is a collection of fourteen

15 The Gobhaun Soar’s Son "Then that's what I'll bring you!" said the son, and he set of on his travels. The Gobhaun Saor was a great person in the old "What do you want for that sheepskin you have?" days, and he looked to his son to be a credit to him. said the first man he met in the fair. He named his He had only one son, and thought the world and all price. of him, but that was nothing to what the son thought of himself. He was growing up every day, "'Tis a good price," said the man, "but the skin is and the more he grew up the more he thought of good, and I have no time for bargaining; here is the himself, till at last the Gobhaun Saor's house was money; give me the skin." too small to hold him, and the Gobhaun said it was time for him to go out and seek his fortune. He gave "I can't agree to that," said the son of the Gobhaun him a sheepskin and his blessing, and said: Saor. "I must have the skin and the price of it too."

"Take this sheepskin and go into the fair and let me "I hope you may get it!" said the man, and he went see what cleverness you have in selling it." away laughing. That was the way with all the men that tried to buy the skin, and at last the son of the "I'll do that," said the son, "and bring you the best Gobhaun Saor was tired of trying to sell it, and when price to be got in the fair." he saw a crowd of people standing around a beggar man he went and stood with the rest. The beggar "That's little," said the Gobhaun Saor, "but if you man was doing tricks and every one was watching were to bring me the skin and the price of it, I'd say him. After a while he called out: you had cleverness."

16 "Lend me that sheepskin of yours and I'll show you "Now I'll never give my father either the skin or the a trick with it! " price of it," he said to himself, "but the least I may do is to take him an apple of the trees." He put out "You needn't ask for the loan of that skin," said one his hand to an apple, and when he touched it he had of the men standing by, "for the owner of it wants to only a bit of wool in his hand. The sheepskin was keep it and sell it at the same time, there's so much before him. He took it up and went out of the fair. cleverness in him!" He was walking along the roads then and it was The son of the Gobhaun Saor was angry when that growing dark and he was feeling sorry for himself, was said, and he flung down the skin to the juggler- when he saw the light of a house. He went toward it, man. and when he came to it the door was open, and in the little room inside he saw the beggar man of the "Do a trick with it if you can," said he. fair and another man stirring a big pot.

The beggar man spread out the skin and blew "Come in," said the beggar man; "this is the house between the wool of it, and a great wood sprang of the Dagda Mor, the World Builder. It isn't much, up--miles and miles of a dark wood--and there as you see, but you may rest here and welcome, and were trees in it with golden apples. The people were maybe the Dagda will give us supper." frightened when they saw it, but the beggar man walked into the wood till the trees hid him. There "Son Angus," said the Dagda to the beggar man, was sorrow on the son of the Gobhaun Saor at that. "you talk as if I had the Cauldron of Plenty, and you know well that it is gone from me. The Fomorians have it now and I have only this pot. Hard enough it

17 is to fill it, and when it is filled I never get a good "I wish I had a piece of gold to give you myself," said meal out of it, for a great, hulking, splay-footed Angus. " 'Tis a bad thing to be a beggar man! The churl of a Fomorian comes in when he smells the next time I disguise myself I'll be a prince." He meat and takes all the best of it from me, and I have laughed at that, but the Dagda stirred the pot and only what remains when he has gorged himself; so I looked gloomy. The son of the Gobhaun Saor felt am always hungry, son Angus." sorry for him and remembered that he had a gold ring his father had given him. He pulled it of his "Your case is hard," said Angus, "but I know how finger and gave it to the Dagda. you can help yourself." "Here," said he, "is a piece of gold and you can be rid "Tell me how," said the Dagda. of the Fomorian."

"Well," said Angus, "get a piece of gold and put it The Dagda thanked him and gave him his blessing into the best part of the meat, and when the and they spent the night in peace and happiness till Fomorian has eaten it up tell him he has swallowed morning reddened the sky. the gold; his heart will burst when he hears that, and you'll be rid of him." When the son of the Gobhaun Saor started to go, Angus set him a bit on the way. "Your plan is good," said the Dagda, "but where am I to get the gold? The Fomorians keep me building all "You are free-handed," he said to him, "and a credit day for them, but they give me nothing." to your father, and now I'll give you a bit of advice-- Say 'Good morrow kindly' to the first woman you can meet on the road, and good luck be with you."

18 It wasn't long till the son of the Gobhaun Saor saw a He wasn't long going, and he was proud when he woman at a little stream washing clothes. "Good gave the Gobhaun the skin and the price of it. luck to the work," he said, "and good morrow kindly." "What man showed you the wise way out of it?" said the Gobhaun Saor. "Good morrow to yourself," said she, "and may your load be light." "No man at all," said the son, "but a woman."

"It would need to be light," said he, "for I'll have far "And you met a woman like that, and hadn't the wit enough to carry it." to bring her with you!" said the Gobhaun Saor. "Away with you now, and don't let the wind that is "Why so? " said she. behind you come up with you. till you ask her to marry you!" "I must carry it till I meet some one to give me the price of it and the skin as well." The son didn't need the second word, and the wind didn't overtake him till he asked the woman to "You need travel no further for that," said she; "give marry him. They came back together, and the me the sheepskin." Gobhaun made a wedding feast for them that was remembered year in and year out for a hundred "With a heart and a half," said he, and he gave her years. the skin. She paid the price, and she plucked the wool from the skin and threw him the skin.

"Now you can go home to your father," she said.

19 • Section 6 • Fairies!

Story By: than material reality; that magic is not just a cheap trick with cards or top hats; and that we are not Orla Melling, Author alone. For there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in most human philosophies.

How have these experiences inspired me?

Well, for one thing, they’ve all ended up in my various books which are fairy tales for young adults and adults. More importantly, however, they feed my soul and are a source of personal strength and joy; for they remind me that there is more to life

20 Fairies! They might tolerate a rogue, even a murderer, but never a miser. Perhaps because miserliness is the I have believed in fairies since I was a small child. extreme opposite of their nature? After all, they Like most people who grow up in an Irish family, I certainly have negative traits similar to ours and was told stories about the fairies by my mother, can be quite amoral from our perspective, but they grandmother, and even aunts and uncles, many of are always generous. What I’m saying here is that, whom had had their own experiences with ‘the contrary to the syrupy sweet flower fairy picture Good People.’ Fairies are called ‘the Good People’ created by English Victorians, the fairy world I grew not because they are good, but rather in the hopes up with was terrifying - whether it was the púca, the that they will be, in other words to appease them; ticking death beetle in the wall, the screeching for they are notorious for playing tricks, kidnapping banshee or the death coach. Terrifying … and a lot children, stealing animals, and other even more more interesting and inspiring. I have always nefarious things. The fact is, with some exceptions, described the Land of Faerie as a realm of beauty the fairy folk do not like us. At best we are viewed and terror. as a nuisance, always trying to hunt them out and I would like to tell a story from my own treasure prove their existence; at worst, we are seen as an chest of fairy experiences. Despite what I’ve said intrusion and even a destroyer of their habitat. We above, the fairies have always been kind to me and cut down trees, harm wild animals, pave over the indeed they have directly assisted me in my work. I countryside and produce iron which is deadly to consider myself hugely fortunate in that way and them. Interestingly enough, the greatest sin a I’ve always credited them in my books. human can commit in the eyes of a fairy is miserliness. All the old folk tales make this clear.

21 My story takes place in the 1980s, in Maggie’s window that looked out onto one of the fairy forts Cottage, then part of the Tyrone Guthrie Centre for beyond a field and a narrow road. I woke, not to a the Arts in County Monaghan. The cottage itself sound, but to a feeling: an overwhelming sense that was on the base line of a triangle of fairy forts. If something amazing was happening outside. I you stood at the front door, you looked across a jumped out of bed and ran to the window, kneeling copse of trees at a hill fort in front of you, and then down to look out. It was a moonlit night, filled with one to your right and another to your left, both also that eerie silvery-grey sort of light. A mist atop a hill. I had been told at the time that the whispered over the landscape, almost cloaking the cottage was known to have fairy visitors as it fort which rose out of the mist like a dark mound. bordered on a fairy path, i.e. a route the fairies took when trooping from one fort to the other. There As I knelt there, entranced by the view, I heard were, in fact, doors on either side of the cottage sounds echo in the distance: horns winding, hounds which we were warned to keep unlocked, so that the barking and underneath a kind of music that I can’t fairies could pass through easily. Tales were told of really describe. Beautiful. Ethereal. times when Maggie herself and other inhabitants of Then suddenly and very strangely I was the cottage forgot to keep the doors open and overwhelmed with the sensation that I was being many a bit of crockery was smashed and various watched. And I got this image of myself as a round items of furniture, broken. white face with huge eyes staring out the window.

My experience came in the deep of night. I was fast The scariest part was grasping this other view of asleep in my attic bedroom which had a sloping myself: I was something alien and at the same time roof and a window almost resting on the floor: a … beneath notice. The way we’d spot an ant on the

22 ground and just keep walking. It took my breath about it, unless of course they’re barking mad, away. That my existence was both acknowledged which makes sense.) and irrelevant. And then came the next realisation. That something was about to come out of the fairy What happened? fort. A cavalcade. The fairies were about to troop I chickened out. from one fort to the other and I was going to see them. I was utterly convinced of this: I was about to I raced for the light switch and slapped it on, so that see them in all their beauty and glory. my room was all lit up and the night outside disappeared into a screen of blackness against the I panicked. window. Then I jumped into bed and pulled the

I was overcome with terror. My mind threatened to duvet over me. unhinge. It’s all very well to talk about wanting to Of course I regretted it the next day. Perhaps if see fairies and having magical adventures, but someone else had been with me, I might have had believe me it is an entirely diferent matter to be the courage to stay and see. confronted by something that does not belong in your world, something beyond your reality and your But there have been other times since, when I have understanding of what is real. Something super- managed to stand my ground – shaking and natural. terrified and holding onto myself for dear life – while they moved around me; but that story is for (By the way, this is why I never believe people who another day. say they see fairies if they don’t express any fear

23 • Section 7 • The Magpie Curse

Story By: Now this is one I’ve never heard back here in American but I’ve heard it several times since I’ve Liam Hughes, host of the been back in Ireland. This story is about the Irish Fireside Podcast and magpies, which are the black and white birds you Blog see all over Ireland. If you ever notice, and I’ve made a point to look out for this, you rarely will see magpies in groups you will pretty much see them as individuals on the road or in the hedges rows or in a field.

One of my neighbours, she was the sweetest woman, Katie Madden she was in her eighties and I I remember going out with her and driving down was going to take her lunch one day. I was going to the road and there was a magpie in the road and take her to a hotel in Templemore or Thurles of her dentures kind of slipped and she said “ah, ah, somewhere, I’m not sure where. She agreed to it ah, ah, ah, maybe, maybe we should turn around, and she put on her coat and her scarf and of we there’s ah, ah, ah, magpies, there’s more than one, went. there’s three of them, there’s three of them!” In her very heavy Tipperary accent and her loose

24 dentures. I was kind of confused by it, we continued on but I could tell that the day had changed some Well it dawned on me then what happened, there things had changed, she was no longer looking were three magpies; one was on one side of the forward to the outing. We went on and had our road, one was in a tree and the other was lunch I said shall we stop for ice-cream, which is somewhere else but they were just close enough something she wouldn’t have had often but she that she noticed it. I didn’t notice the three together would have loved it. She did it but everything was but I have since this, and this is years now because reluctant, all she wanted to do was get back to her Katie’s been gone for quite a few years, but that cottage. So we were gone for say two hours and I story always comes to me whenever I see any remember being confused by it but we went on and number of magpies - whether it’s one or three. it wasn’t until later when I was talking to my cousin, Mehaul and I was relaying the story about Katie and the magpies. He said there’s a saying about magpies. Now I’m paraphrasing here, I’m not I have relayed that story, and that’s what I think quoting it exactly and I’ve heard diferent versions happens. It’s a story that I find fascinating and I of it but basically it comes like this: have passed that on to my guests many times. It’s really funny because I’ve even had other people One magpie is for Joy, over with Irish American backgrounds and I remember one woman who was from Louisiana and Two is for Sorrow, she said, “Oh no, I know that but it’s not a magpie it’s a crow or a raven.” Well it made me realise that Three you might never see The Morrow this story was obviously brought from her family

25 but she was never raised around magpies so that bird became a crow and that’s how she relayed that story. So these stories are just so rich and so full of tradition.

26 • Section 8 • The Story of Tuan mac Cairill

Story By: The Story of Tuan Mac Cairill

Roy Arbuckle, Singer, "I was alone," said Tuan. "I was so alone that my songwriter own shadow frightened me. I was so alone that the sound of a bird in flight, or the creaking of a dew- drenched bough, whipped me to cover as a rabbit is scared to his burrow.

"The creatures of the forest scented me and knew I was alone. They stole with silken pad behind my back and snarled when I faced them; the long, grey About Roy: wolves with hanging tongues and staring eyes chased me to my cleft rock; there was no creature People with long memories will remember Roy from so weak but it might hunt me, there was no his early days with showbands and in the 70's with creature so timid but it might outface me. And so I folk band Chaf. He moved to North America in 1978 lived for two tens of years and two years, until I and toured extensively with Fiddlers Elbow and knew all that a beast surmises and had forgotten all later The Rambling Boys of Pleasure. that a man had known.

27 "I could pad as gently as any; I could run as "I saw that I was hairy and tufty and bristled as a tirelessly. I could be invisible and patient as a wild savage boar; that I was lean as a stripped bush; that cat crouching among leaves; I could smell danger in I was greyer than a badger; withered and wrinkled my sleep and leap at it with wakeful claws; I could like an empty sack; naked as a fish; wretched as a bark and growl and clash with my teeth and tear starving crow in winter; and on my fingers and toes with them." there were great curving claws, so that I looked like nothing that was known, like nothing that was "Tell on, my beloved," said Finnian, "you shall rest in animal or divine. And I sat by the pool weeping my God, dear heart." loneliness and wildness and my stern old age; and I could do no more than cry and lament between the "At the end of that time," said Tuan, "Nemed the son earth and the sky, while the beasts that tracked me of Agnoman came to Ireland with a fleet of thirty- listened from behind the trees, or crouched among four barques, and in each barque there were thirty bushes to stare at me from their drowsy covert. couples of people."

"A storm arose, and when I looked again from my "I have heard it," said Finnian. tall clif I saw that great fleet rolling as in a giant's

"My heart leaped for joy when I saw the great fleet hand. At times they were pitched against the sky rounding the land, and I followed them along and staggered aloft, spinning gustily there like scarped clifs, leaping from rock to rock like a wild wind-blown leaves. Then they were hurled from goat, while the ships tacked and swung seeking a these dizzy tops to the flat, moaning gulf, to the harbour. There I stooped to drink at a pool, and I glassy, inky horror that swirled and whirled saw myself in the chill water. between ten waves. At times a wave leaped howling

28 under a ship, and with a bufet dashed it into air, "And at times, from the moaning and yelping and chased it upwards with thunder stroke on blackness of the sea, there came a sound--thin- stroke, and followed again, close as a chasing wolf, drawn as from millions of miles away, distinct as trying with hammering on hammering to beat in the though uttered in the ear like a whisper of wide-wombed bottom and suck out the frightened confidence--and I knew that a drowning man was lives through one black gape. A wave fell on a ship calling on his God as he thrashed and was battered and sunk it down with a thrust, stern as though a into silence, and that a blue-lipped woman was whole sky had tumbled at it, and the barque did not calling on her man as her hair whipped round her cease to go down until it crashed and sank in the brows and she whirled about like a top. sand at the bottom of the sea. "Around me the trees were dragged from earth with "The night came, and with it a thousand darknesses dying groans; they leaped into the air and flew like fell from the screeching sky. Not a round-eyed birds. Great waves whizzed from the sea: spinning creature of the night might pierce an inch of that across the clifs and hurtling to the earth in multiplied gloom. Not a creature dared creep or monstrous clots of foam; the very rocks came stand. For a great wind strode the world lashing its trundling and sidling and grinding among the trees; league-long whips in cracks of thunder, and and in that rage, and in that horror of blackness I singing to itself, now in a world-wide yell, now in an fell asleep, or I was beaten into slumber." ear-dizzying hum and buzz; or with a long snarl and whine it hovered over the world searching for "THERE I dreamed, and I saw myself changing into a life to destroy. stag in dream, and I felt in dream the beating of a

29 new heart within me, and in dream I arched my neck and braced my powerful limbs.

"I awoke from the dream, and I was that which I had dreamed.

*This story was taken from James Stephens, Irish Fairy Tales. Source - http://www.sacred-texts.com/ neu/celt/ift/ift01.htm

30 • CHAPTE R 1 • CONTRIBUTO R S • Section 1 • John Bustard

John Bustard, Awakin Learn more about John: Digital Publishing www.awakin.com Producer, The Irish In Stories To learn more about his storytelling project, The Irish In Stories:

visit - www.theirishinstories.com

or My name is John Bustard, I’m the producer of The Irish in Stories. I’ve had a long standing interest in Click here to subscribe to the Irish In Stories mythology and stories and storytelling. newsletter

I’ve worked on diferent historical projects from the -- kingdom of Dalriada to the Titanic and most recently I’ve really enjoyed working on the Irish In The Irish In Stories iBook is now available on iPad - Stories. click here to download!

32 • Section 2 • Liz Weir

Liz Weir that’s why I’ve loved working on The Irish In Stories Project. Storyteller and Author Learn More About Liz

To learn more about liz’s storytelling project’s:

Hello my name is Liz Weir visit - www.lizweir.net and I’m a storyteller living here in the Glens of or Antrim, near Cushendall in the North East corner of Ireland. to visit her Tourist Hostel, where you can enjoy the beautiful scenery of the Glens of Antrim and even As an Irish storyteller, of course my favourite tales hear a story of two from the woman herself are those set in Ireland. Though I travel all over the world and have a collection of stories from many Click here - www.ballyeamonbarn.com diferent countries.

I work with people of all ages and I find that the thirst for Irish stories is keen all over the world, so

33 • Section 3 • Michael Sands

Michael Sands traditional but obviously borrowing heavily on what went before. Author, Learn More About Michael Nut Hollow

To learn more about Michael’s book - Nut Hollow

visit - www.nuthollow.com

Hello my name is Michael Sands, I’m originally from Newry in County Down but living these days in the beautiful Glens of Antrim. Looking down each day over Kenbane Head and Rathlin Island and it’s hard not to be moved by the many legends in the area, so much so that as well as drawing on older legends I’m very much inclined to add some of my own versions and give some new ones to the

34 • Section 4 • Marni Troop

Marni Troop four cats, as well as a few fiercely cherished friends and family members. I also enjoy cooking, reading, Author gardening, staring at mountains and hugging trees.

Learn more about Marni

Visit:

Marni’s Website www.marnilbtroop.com

Follow Marni on Twitter: TirNanOgSaga I am originally from Washington, D. C. but spent most of my adult life in Los Angeles, California, Link to Marni’s book, Tir Na n'Og: Journal One: where I worked for film and television, and then in http://goo.gl/cxvI7 the Phoenix, Arizona ara, where I have since become a proficient college professor of English language arts. I have always been a writer and story teller, and I have been professionally doing so for twenty years. I have a wonderful spouse, two brilliant (I'm really not kidding) kids, two dogs and

35 • Section 5 • Fra Gunn

Fra Gunn Fra can be contacted

Actor, Storyteller by phone: +44 (0) 7969 848967 or

by email: [email protected]

Learn more about Fra

For more information about Fra and his past work Fra Gunn is a Belfast born but internationally please visit: available award-winning actor and storyteller. www.inbetweenagency.co.uk/portfolio/fra-gunn/ He is a member and former board member of Aos Scéal Éireann/Storytellers of Ireland.

36 • Section 6 • Orla Melling

Orla Melling Great Journey, will be published by Hay House UK and USA in November 2013. Author Learn more about Orla

See her website at www.ormelling.com

Born in Ireland, O.R. Melling grew up in Canada with her seven sisters and two brothers and now lives back in her home town of Bray, Co. Wicklow. She has a B.A. in Celtic Studies and an M.A. in Mediaeval Irish History. Her award-winning books for adults and young adults have been published world-wide and translated into many languages. Her newest work of mythic fiction for adults, People of the

37 • Section 7 • Liam Hughes

Liam Hughes Meanwhile in my guided tours, I devote a significant amounts of time visiting places, sharing Host of the Irish Fireside tales associated with specific locations, and Podcast and Blog, Tour introducing visitors to people who love sharing the Guide at Knockahopple tales as much as I do. Cottage.

Learn more about Liam:

My interest in Irish stories began while sitting on www.IrishFireside.com my father's knee, and my passion has only grown as www.Knockahopple.com I've studied and traveled Ireland. At the Irish Fireside Podcast and Blog I encourage visitors to step of the tourist trail and enjoy experiences that introduce them to the island's rich history and stories.

38 • Section 8 • Roy Arbuckle

Roy Arbuckle and toured extensively with Fiddlers Elbow and later The Rambling Boys of Pleasure. Singer, Songwriter Roy returned to his native Derry in 1985 and as well as performing solo became involved with many community arts and community development projects around the North West of Ireland. After spending some time at the Findhorn Foundation in Scotland he became a founder member of the Meitheal Trust, a holistic community based in Donegal. He conceived and founded Diferent Drums in 1991 as a community relations project and has led its About Roy: development since. The group has performed for Presidents Clinton, Mary Robinson and Mary People with long memories will remember Roy from McAleese and has taken their music and message his early days with showbands and in the 70's with to China, Japan, Israel, Poland , France and the folk band Chaf. He moved to North America in 1978 USA. In 2008 he wrote and recorded "Songs of the Fountain" a CD of songs based on peoples

39 memories of the Fountain district of Derry- Learn More About Roy Londonderry. This became part of the award winning BBC TV Documentary 'Paradiso'

He was member of the N.Ireland Advisory board of Find Roy on Facebook BBC Children in Need and is involved with several Click Here community projects in the area of Community Relations, Integrated Education and Peace Building.

He also worked with the Holos Project, a healing Diferent Drums of Ireland and personal development training organisation operating in the border counties. Click Here

In 2003 he graduated from the University of Ulster with an M.Sc. in Professional Development Within Get Songs for the Soul by Roy Arbuckle and Anne the Community. Tracey

Click Here

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