Boyish Exploits of Finn Mac Cumhaill#
I first came across the tales relating to the childhood of Fionn Mac Cumhaill in James Stephens’ Irish Fairy Tales (1920).
So what, then, was the childhood of this mighty warrior like?
He was a king, a seer, and a poet. He was a lord with a manifold and great train. He was our magician, our knowledgeable one, our soothsayer. All that he did was sweet with him. And, however ye deem my testimony of Fionn excessive, and, although ye hold my praising overstrained, nevertheless, and by the King that is above me, he was three times better than all I say. —Saint Patrick.
The story begins with the death of Uail (Cumhall, “Cool”), Fionn’s father, and the actions of his mother, Muirne, to keep Fionn safe by placing him into the care of two women. Fionn’s early upbringing by them is also described.
Fionn’s Childhood, As Told By James Stephens#
One of the most readable versions of the tale is given by James Stephens, in Irish Fairy Tales.
Boyhood of Fion, Chapters I-IV, Stephens, 1920
https://archive.org/details/irishfairytales00stepgoog/page/n56/mode/2up Irish Fairy Tales by James Stephens
Publication date 1920
pp.34-48
THE BOYHOOD OF FIONN
CHAPTER I
FIONN [Pronounce Fionn to rhyme with "tune."] got his first training among women. There is no wonder in that, for it is the pup’s mother teaches it to fight, and women know that fighting is a necessary art although men pretend there are others that are better. These were the women druids, Bovmall and Lia Luachra.
It will be wondered why his own mother did not train him in the first natural savageries of existence, but she could not do it. She could not keep him with her for dread of the clann-Morna. The sons of Morna had been fighting and intriguing for a long time to oust her husband, Uail, from the captaincy of the Fianna of Ireland, and they had ousted him at last by killing him. It was the only way they could get rid of such a man ; but it was not an easy way, for what Fionn’s father did not know in arms could not be taught to him even by Morna. Still, the hound that can wait will catch a hare at last, and even Manannan sleeps.
Fionn’s mother was beautiful, long-haired Muirne: so she is always referred to. She was the daughter of Teigue, the son of Nuada from Faery, and her mother was Ethlinn. That is, her brother was Lugh of the Long Hand himself, and with a god, and such a god, for brother we may marvel that she could have been in dread of Morna or his sons, or of any one. But women have strange loves, strange fears, and these are so bound up with one another that the thing which is presented to us is not often the thing that is to be seen.
However it may be, when Uail died, Muirne got married again to the King of Kerry. She gave the child to Bovmall and Lia Luachra to rear, and we may be sure that she gave injunctions with him, and many of them. The youngster was brought to the woods of Slieve Bloom and was nursed there in secret.
It is likely the women were fond of him, for other than Fionn there was no life about them. He would be their life; and their eyes may have seemed as twin benedictions resting on the small fair head. He was fair-haired, and it was for his fairness that he was afterwards called Fionn; but at this period he was known as Deimne. They saw the food they put into his little frame reproduce itself lengthways and sideways in tough inches, and in springs and energies that crawled at first, and then toddled, and then ran. He had birds for playmates, but all the creatures that live in a wood must have been his comrades. There would have been for little Fionn long hours of lonely sunshine, when the world seemed just sunshine and a sky. There would have been hours as long, when existence passed like a shade among shadows, in the multitudinous tappings of rain that dripped from leaf to leaf in the wood, and slipped so to the ground. He would have known little snaky paths, narrow enough to be filled by his own small feet, or a goat’s; and he would have wondered where they went, and have marvelled again to find that, wherever they went, they came at last, through loops and twists of the branchy wood, to his own door. He may have thought of his own door as the beginning and end of the world, whence all things went, and whither all things came.
Perhaps he did not see the lark for a long time, but he would have heard him, far out of sight in the endless sky, thrilling and thrilling until the world seemed to have no other sound but that clear sweetness; and what a world it was to make that sound! Whistles and chirps; cooes and caws and croaks, would have grown familiar to him. And he could at last have told which brother of the great brotherhood was making the noise he heard at any moment. The wind too: he would have listened to its thousand voices as it moved in all seasons and in all moods. Perhaps a horse would stray into the thick screen about his home, and would look as solemnly on Fionn as Fionn did on it. Or, coming suddenly on him, the horse might stare, all a-cock with eyes and ears and nose, one long-drawn facial extension, ere he turned and bounded away with manes all over him and hoofs all under him and tails all round him. A solemn-nosed, stern-eyed cow would amble and stamp in his wood to find a flyless shadow; or a strayed sheep would poke its gentle muzzle through leaves.
“A boy,” he might think, as he stared on a staring horse, “a boy cannot wag his tail to keep the flies off,” and that lack may have saddened him. He may have thought that a cow can snort and be dignified at the one moment, and that timidity is comely in a sheep. He would have scolded the jackdaw, and tried to out-whistle the throstle, and wondered why his pipe got tired when the blackbird’s didn’t.
There would be flies to be watched, slender atoms in yellow gauze that flew, and filmy specks that flittered, and sturdy, thick-ribbed brutes that pounced like cats and bit like dogs and flew like lightning.
He may have mourned for the spider in bad-luck who caught that fly.
There would be much to see and remember and compare, and there would be, always, his two guardians. The flies change from second to second ; one cannot tell if this bird is a visitor or an inhabitant, and a sheep is just sister to a sheep; but the women were as rooted as the house itself.
CHAPTER II
Were his nurses comely or harsh-looking? Fionn would not know. This was the one who picked him up when he fell, and that was the one who patted the bruise. This one said :
“Mind you do not tumble in the well!”
And that one :
“Mind the little knees among the nettles.”
But he did tumble and record that the only notable thing about a well is that it is wet. And as for nettles, if they hit him he hit back. He slashed into them with a stick and brought them low.
There was nothing in wells or nettles, only women dreaded them. One patronised women and instructed them and comforted them, for they were afraid about one.
They thought that one should not climb a tree !
“Next week,” they said at last, “you may climb this one,” and “next week” lived at the end of the world !
But the tree that was climbed was not worth while when it had been climbed twice. There was a bigger one near by. There were trees that no one could climb, with vast shadow on one side and vaster sunshine on the other. It took a long time to walk round them, and you could not see their tops.
It was pleasant to stand on a branch that swayed and sprang, and it was good to stare at an impenetrable roof of leaves and then climb into it. How wonderful the loneliness was up there ! When he looked down there was an undulating floor of leaves, green and green and greener to a very blackness of greeniness; and when he looked up there were leaves again, green and less green and not green at all, up to a very snow and blindness of greeniness; and above and below and around there was sway and motion, the whisper of leaf on leaf, and the eternal silence to which one listened and at which one tried to look.
When he was six years of age his mother, beautiful, long-haired Muirne, came to see him. She came secretly, for she feared the sons of Morna, and she had paced through lonely places in many counties before she reached the hut in the wood, and the cot where he lay with his fists shut and sleep gripped in them.
He awakened to be sure. He would have one ear that would catch an unusual voice, one eye that would open, however sleepy the other one was. She took him in her arms and kissed him, and she sang a sleepy song until the small boy slept again.
We may be sure that the eye that could stay open stayed open that night as long as it could, and that the one ear listened to the sleepy song until the song got too low to be heard, imtil it was too tender to be felt vibrating along those soft arms, until Fionn was asleep again, with a new picture in his little head and a new notion to ponder on.
The mother of himself ! His own mother !
But when he awakened she was gone.
She was going back secretly, in dread of the sons of Morna, slipping through gloomy woods, keeping away from habitations, getting by desolate and lonely ways to her lord in Kerry.
Perhaps it was he that was afraid of the sons of Morna, and perhaps she loved him.
CHAPTER III
The women druids, his guardians, belonged to his father’s people. Bovmall was Uail’s sister, and, consequently, Fionn’s aunt. Only such a blood-tie could have bound them to the clann-Baiscne, for it is not easy, having moved in the world of court and camp, to go hide with a baby in a wood ; and to live, as they must have lived, in terror.
What stories they would have told the child of the sons of Morna. Of Morna himself, the huge-shouldered, stem-eyed, violent Connachtman; and of his sons — young Goll Mor mac Morna in particular, as huge-shouldered as his father, as fierce in the onset, but merry-eyed when the other was grim, and bubbling with a laughter that made men forgive even his butcheries. Of Conán Mael mac Morna his brother, gruff as a badger, bearded like a boar, bald as a crow, and with a tongue that could manage an insult where another man would not find even a stammer. His boast was that when he saw an open door he went into it, and when he saw a closed door he went into it. When he saw a peaceful man he insulted him, and when he met a man who was not peaceful he insulted him. There was Garra Duv mac Morna, and savage Art Og, who cared as little for their own skins as they did for the next lean’s, and Garra must have been rough indeed to have earned in that clan the name of the Rough mac Morna. There were others : wild Connachtmen all, as untamable, as unaccountable as their own wonderful countryside.
Fionn would have heard much of them, and it is likely that he practised on a nettle at taking the head off Goll, and that he hunted a sheep from cover in the implacable manner he intended later on for Conan the Swearer.
But it is of Uail mac Baiscne he would have heard most.
With what a dilation of spirits the ladies would have told tales of him, Fionn’s father. How their voices would have become a chant as feat was added to feat, glory piled on glory. The most famous of men and the most beautiful; the hardest fighter; the easiest giver; the kingly champion; the chief of the Fianna na h-Eirinn. Tales of how he had been waylaid and got free; of how he had been generous and got free; of how he had been angry and went marching with the speed of an eagle and the direct onfall of a storm ; while in front and at the sides, angled from the prow of his terrific advance, were fleeing multitudes who did not dare to wait and scarce had time to run. And of how at last, when the time came to quell him, nothing less than the whole might of Ireland was sufficient for that great downfall.
We may be sure that on these adventures Fionn was with his father, going step for step with the long-striding hero, and heartening him mightily.
CHAPTER IV
He was given good training by the women in running and leaping and swimming. One of them would take a thorn switch in her hand, and Fionn would take a thorn switch in his hand, and each would try to strike the other running round a tree.
You had to go fast to keep away from the switch behind, and a small boy feels a switch. Fionn would nm his best to get away from that prickly stinger, but how he would run when it was his turn to deal the strokes !
With reason too, for his nurses had suddenly grown implacable. They pursued him with a savagery which he could not distinguish from hatred, and they swished him well whenever they got the chance.
Fionn learned to run. After a while he could buzz around a tree like a maddened fly, and oh, the joy, when he felt himself drawing from the switch and gaining from behind on its bearer ! How he strained and panted to catch on that pursuing person and pursue her and get his own switch into action.
He learned to jump by chasing hares in a bumpy field. Up went the hare and up went Fionn, and away with the two of them, hopping and popping across the field. If the hare turned while Fionn was after her it was switch for Fionn; so that in a while it did not matter to Fionn which way the hare jumped, for he could jump that way too. Longways, sideways, or baw-ways, Fionn hopped where the hare hopped, and at last he was the owner of a hop that any hare would give an ear for.
He was taught to swim, and it may be that his heart sank when he fronted the lesson. The water was cold. It was deep. One could see the bottom, leagues below, millions of miles below. A small boy might shiver as he stared into that wink and blink and twink of brown pebbles and murder. And these implacable women threw him in!
Perhaps he would not go in at first. He may have smiled at them, and coaxed, and hung back. It was a leg and an arm gripped then; a swing for Fionn, and out and away with him ; plop and flop for him ; down into chill deep death for him, and up with a splutter; with a sob; with a grasp at everything that caught nothing; with a wild flurry; with a raging despair; with a bubble and snort as he was hauled again down, and down, and down, and found as suddenly that he had been hauled out.
Fionn learned to swim until he could pop into the water like an otter and slide through it like an eel.
He used to try to chase a fish the way he chased hares in the bumpy field — but there are terrible spurts in a fish. It may be that a fish cannot hop, but he gets there in a flash, and he isn’t there in another. Up or down, sideways or endways, it is all one to a fish. He goes and is gone. He twists this way and disappears the other way. He is over you when he ought to be under you, and he is biting your toe when you thought you were biting his tail.
You cannot catch a fish by swimming, but you can try, and Fionn tried. He got a grudging commendation from the terrible women when he was able to slip noiselessly in the tide, swim under water to where a wild duck was floating, and grip it by the leg.
“Qu — ,” said the duck, and he disappeared before he had time to get the “-ack” out of him.
So the time went, and Fionn grew long and straight and tough like a sapling; limber as a willow, and with the flirt and spring of a young bird. One of the ladies may have said, “He is shaping very well, my dear,” and the other replied, as is the morose privilege of an aunt, “He will never be as good as his father,” but their hearts must have overflowed in the night, in the silence, in the darkness, when they thought of the living swiftness they had fashioned, and that dear, fair head.
With Fionn’s location discovered by the clan Morna, who had killed Fionn’s father, it was time for the boy to leave his childhood home.
Boyhood of Fion, Chapter V, Stephens, 1920
THE BOYHOOD OF FIONN
pp.48-52
CHAPTER V
One day his guardians were agitated: they held confabulations at which Fionn was not permitted to assist. A man who passed by in the morning had spoken to them. They fed the man, and during his feeding Fionn had been shooed from the door as if he were a chicken. When the stranger took his road the women went with him a short distance. As they passed the man lifted a hand and bent a knee to Fionn.
“My soul to you, young master,” he said, and as he said it, Fionn knew that he could have the man’s soul, or his boots, or his feet, or anything that belonged to him.
When the women returned they were mysterious and whispery. They chased Fionn into the house, and when they got him in they chased him out again. They chased each other around the house for another whisper. They calculated things by the shape of clouds, by lengths of shadows, by the flight of birds, by two flies racing on a flat stone, by throwing bones over their left shoulders, and by every kind of trick and game and chance that you could put a mind to.
They told Fionn he must sleep in a tree that night, and they put him under bonds not to sing or whistle or cough or sneeze until the morning.
Fionn did sneeze. He never sneezed so much in his life. He sat up in his tree and nearly sneezed himself out of it. Flies got up his nose, two at a time, one up each nose, and his head nearly fell off the way he sneezed.
“You are doing that on purpose,” said a savage whisper from the foot of the tree.
But Fionn was not doing it on purpose. He tucked himself into a fork the way he had been taught, and he passed the crawliest, tickliest night he had ever known. After a while he did not want to sneeze, he wanted to scream; and in particular he wanted to come down from the tree. But he did not scream, nor did he leave the tree. His word was passed, and he stayed in his tree as silent as a mouse and as watchful, until he fell out of it.
In the morning a band of travelling poets were passing, and the women handed Fionn over to them. This time they could not prevent him overhearing.
“The sons of Morna!” they said.
And Fionn’s heart might have swelled with rage, but that it was already swollen with adventure. And also the expected was happening. Behind every hour of their day and every moment of their lives lay the sons of Morna. Fionn had run after them as deer: he jumped after them as hares: he dived after them as fish. They lived in the house with him : they sat at the table and ate his meat. One dreamed of them, and they were expected in the morning as the sun is. They knew only too well that the son of Uail was living, and they knew that their own sons would know no case while that son lived; for they believed in those days that like breeds like, and that the son of Uail would be Uail with additions.
His guardians knew that their hidingplace must at last be discovered, and that, when it was found, the sons of Morna would come. They had no doubt of that, and every action of their lives was based on that certainty. For no secret can remain secret. Some broken soldier tramping home to his people will find it out; a herd seeking his strayed cattle or a band of travelling musicians will get the wind of it. How many people will move through even the remotest wood in a year ! The crows will tell a secret if no one else does ; and under a bush, behind a clump of bracken, what eyes may there not be ! But if your secret is legged like a young goat ! If it is tongued like a wolf ! One can hide a baby, but you cannot hide a boy. He will rove unless you tie him to a post, and he will whistle then.
The sons of Morna came, but there were only two grim women living in a lonely hut to greet them. We may be sure they were well greeted. One can imagine Goll’s merry stare taking in all that could be seen; Conan’s grim eye raking the women’s faces while his tongue raked them again; the Rough mac Morna shouldering here and there in the house and about it, with maybe a hatchet in his hand, and Art Og coursing farther afield and vowing that if the cub was there he would find him.
Fionn joins a band of poets, and then a band of robbers, led by one who was in the Fianna under Fionn’s father.
Boyhood of Fion, Chapters VI-VII, Stephens, 1920
THE BOYHOOD OF FIONN
pp.52-60
CHAPTER VI
But Fionn was gone. He was away, bound with his band of poets for the Galtees.
It is likely they were junior poets come to the end of a year’s training, and returning to their own province to see again the people at home, and to be wondered at and exclaimed at as they exhibited bits of the knowledge which they had brought from the great schools. They would know tags of rhyme and tricks about learning which Fionn would hear of; and now and again, as they rested in a glade or by the brink of a river, they might try their lessons over. They might even refer to the ogham wands on which the first words of their tasks and the opening lines of poems were cut ; and it is likely that, being new to these things, they would talk of them to a youngster, and, thinking that his wits could be no better than their own, they might have explained to him how ogham was written. But it is far more likely that his women guardians had already started him at those lessons.
Still this band of young bards would have been of infinite interest to Fionn, not on account of what they had leamed, but because of what they knew. All the things that he should have known as by nature: the look, the movement, the feeling of crowds; the shouldering and intercourse of man with man; the clustering of houses and how people bore themselves in and about them ; the movement of armed men, and the home-coming look of wounds ; tales of births, and marriages, and deaths ; the chase with its multitudes of men and dogs; all the noise, the dust, the excitement of mere living. These, to Fionn, new come from leaves and shadows and the dipple and dapple of a wood, would have seemed wonderful; and the tales they would have told of their masters, their looks, fads, severities, sillinesses, would have been wonderful also.
That band should have chattered like a rookery.
They must have been young, for one time a Leinsterman came on them, a great robber named Fiacuil mac Cona, and he killed the poets. He chopped them up and chopped them down. He did not leave one poeteen of them all. He put them out of the world and out of life, so that they stopped being, and no one could tell where they went or what had really happened to them; and it is a wonder indeed that one can do that to anything let alone a band. If they were not youngsters, the bold Fiacuil could not have managed them all. Or, perhaps, he too had a band, although the record does not say so; but kill them he did, and they died that way.
Fionn saw that deed, and his blood may have been cold enough as he watched the great robber coursing the poets as a wild dog rages in a flock. And when his turn came, when they were all dead, and the grim, redhanded man trod at him, Fionn may have shivered, but he would have shown his teeth and laid roundly on the monster with his hands. Perhaps he did that, and perhaps for that he was spared.
“Who are you?” roared the staring blackmouth with the red tongue squirming in it like a frisky fish.
“The son of Uail, son of Baiscne,” quoth hardy Fionn.
And at that the robber ceased to be a robber, the murderer disappeared, the blackrimmed chasm packed with red fish and precipices changed to something else, and the round eyes that had been popping out of their sockets and trying to bite, changed also. There remained a laughing and crying and loving servant who wanted to tie himself into knots if that would please the son of his great captain. Fionn went home on the robber’s shoulder, and the robber gave great snorts and made great jumps and behaved like a first-rate horse. For this same Fiacuil was the husband of Bovmall, Fionn’s aunt. He had taken to the wilds when clann-Baiscne was broken, and he was at war with a world that had dared to kill his Chief.
CHAPTER VII
A NEW life for Fionn in the robber’s den that was hidden in a vast cold marsh.
A tricky place that would be, with sudden exits and even suddener entrances, and with damp, winding, spidery places to hoard treasure in, or to hide oneself in.
If the robber was a solitary he would, for lack of some one else, have talked greatly to Fionn. He would have shown his weapons and demonstrated how he used them, and with what slash he chipped his victim, and with what slice he chopped him. He would have told why slash was enough for this man and why that man should be sliced. All men are masters when one is young, and Fionn would have found knowledge here also. He would have seen Fiacuil’s great spear that had thirty rivets of Arabian gold in its socket, and that had to be kept wrapped up and tied down so that it would not kill people out of mere spitefulness. It had come from Faery, out of the Shi of Aillen mac Midna, and it would be brought back again later on between the same man’s shoulder-blades.
What tales that man could tell a boy, and what questions a boy could ask him. He would have known a thousand tricks, and because our instinct is to teach, and because no man can keep a trick from a boy, he would show them to Fionn.
There was a marsh too; a whole new life to be learned; a complicated, mysterious, dank, slippery, reedy, treacherous life, but with its own beauty and an allurement that could grow on one, so that you could forget the solid world and love only that which quaked and gurgled.
In this place you may swim. By this sign and this you will know if it is safe to do so, said Fiacuil mac Cona; but in this place, with this sign on it and that, you must not venture a toe.
But where Fionn would venture his toes his ears would follow.
There are coiling weeds down there, the robber counselled him ; there are thin, tough, snaky binders that will trip you and grip you, that will pull you and will not let you go again imtil you are drowned; until you are swaying and swinging away below, with outstretched arms, with outstretched legs, with a face all stares and smiles and jockeying, gripped in those leathery arms, until there is no more to be gripped of you even by them.
“Watch these and this and that,” Fionn would have been told, “and always swim with a knife in your teeth.”
He lived there until his guardians found out where he was and came after him. Fiacuil gave him up to them, and he was brought home again to the woods of Slieve Bloom, but he had gathered great knowledge and new supplenesses.
The sons of Morna left him alone for a long time. Having made their essay they grew careless.
“Let him be,” they said. “He will come to us when the time comes.”
But it is likely too that they had had their own means of getting information about him. How he shaped? what muscles he had ? and did he spring clean from the mark or had he to get off with a push ?
Fionn stayed with his guardians and hunted for them. He could run a deer down and haul it home by the reluctant skull. “Come on, Goll,” he would say to his stag, or, lifting it over a tussock with a tough grip on the snout, “Are you coming, bald Conan, or shall I kick you in the neck?”
The time must have been nigh when he would think of taking the world itself by the nose, to haul it over tussocks and drag it into his pen; for he was of the breed in whom mastery is bom, and who are good masters.
But reports of his prowess were getting abroad. Clann-Morna began to stretch itself uneasily, and, one day, his guardians sent him on his travels.
“It is best for you to leave us now,” they said to the tall stripling, “for the sons of Morna are watching again to kill you.”
The woods at that may have seemed haunted. A stone might sling at one from a tree-top; but from which tree of a thousand trees did it come? An arrow buzzing by one’s ear would slide into the ground and quiver there silently, menacingly, hinting of die brothers it had left in the quiver behind ; to the right? to the left? how many brothers? in how many quivers…? Fionn was a woodsman, but he had only two eyes to look with, one set of feet to carry him in cme sole direction. But when he was looking to the front, what, or how many whats, could be staring at him from the back? He might face in this direction, away from, or towards a smile on a hidden face and a finger on a string. A lance might slide at him from this bush or from the one yonder. … In the night he might have fought them; his ears against theirs; his noiseless feet against their lurking ones; his knowledge of the wood against their legion: but during the day he had no chance.
Fionn went to seek his fortune, to match himself against all that might happen, and to carve a name for himself that will live while Time has an ear and knows an Irishman.
In the next part of the story, Finn meets a band of youths, and betters them in various physical challenges:
Boyhood of Fion, Chapter VIII, Stephens, 1920
THE BOYHOOD OF FIONN
pp.60-67
CHAPTER VIII
FIONN went away, and now he was alone. But he was as fitted for loneliness as the crane is that haunts the solitudes and bleak wastes of the sea; for the man with a thought has a comrade, and Fionn’s mind worked as featly as his body did. To be alone was no trouble to him who, however surrounded, was to be lonely his life long; for this will be said of Fionn when all is said, that all that came to him went from him, and that happiness was never his companion for more than a moment.
But he was not now looking for loneliness. He was seeking the instruction of a crowd, and therefore when he met a crowd he went into it. His eyes were skilled to observe in the moving dusk and dapple of green woods. They were trained to pick out of shadows birds that were themselves dun-coloured shades, and to see among trees the animals that are coloured like the bark of trees. The hare crouching in the fronds was visible to him, and the fish that swayed invisibly in the sway and flicker of a green bank. He would see all that was to be seen, and he would see all that is passed by the eye that is half blind from use and wont.
At Moy Life he came on lads swimming in a pool ; and, as he looked on them sporting in the flush tide, he thought that the tricks they performed were not hard for him, and that he could have shown them new ones.
Boys must know what another boy can do, and they will match themselves against everything. They did their best under these observing eyes, and it was not long until he was invited to compete with them and show his mettle. Such an invitation is a challenge; it is almost, among boys, a declaration of war. But Fionn was so far beyond them in swimming that even the word master did not apply to that superiority.
While he was swimming one remarked: “He is fair and well shaped,” and thereafter he was called “Fionn” or the Fair One. His name came from boys, and will, perhaps, be preserved by them.
He stayed with these lads for some time, and it may be that they idolised him at first, for it is the way with boys to be astounded and enraptured by feats ; but in the end, and that was inevitable, they grew jealous of the stranger. Those who had been the champions before he came would marshal each other, and, by social pressure, would muster all the others against him ; so that in the end not a friendly eye was turned on Fionn in that assembly. For not only did he beat them at swimming, he beat their best at running and jumping, and when the sport degenerated into violence, as it was bound to, the roughness of Fionn would be ten times as rough as the roughness of the roughest rough they could put forward. Bravery is pride when one is young, and Fionn was proud.
There must have been anger in his mind as he went away leaving that lake behind him, and those snarling and scowling boys, but there would have been disappointment also, for his desire at this time should have been towards friendliness.
He went thence to Lock Lein and took service with the King of Finntraigh. That kingdom may have been thus called from Fionn himself and would have been known by another name when he arrived there.
He hunted for the King of Finntraigh, and it soon grew evident that there was no hunter in his service to equal Fionn. More, there was no hunter of them all who even distantly approached him in excellence. The others ran after deer, using the speed of their legs, the noses of their dogs, and a thousand well-worn tricks to bring them within reach, and, often enough, the animal escaped them. But the deer that Fionn got the track of did not get away, and it seemed even that the animals sought him, so many did he catch.
The king marvelled at the stories that were told of this new hunter, but as kings are greater than other people so they are more curious; and, being on the plane of excellence, they must see all that is excellently told of.
The king wished to see him, and Fionn must have wondered what the king thought as that gracious lord looked on him. Whatever was thought, what the king said was as direct in utterance as it was in observation.
“If Uail the son of Baiscne has a son,” said the king, “you would surely be that son.”
We are not told if the King of Finntraigh said anything more, but we know that Fionn left his service soon afterwards.
He went southwards and was next in the employment of the King of Kerry, the same lord who had married his own mother. In that service he came to such consideration that we hear of him as playing a match of chess with the king, and by this game we know that he was still a boy in his mind however mightily his limbs were spreading. Able as he was in sports and himtings, he was yet too young to be politic, but he remained impolitic to the end of his days, for whatever he was able to do he would do, no matter who was offended thereat; and whatever he was not able to do he would do also.
That was Fionn.
The narrative then diverges from the main thread, with a compelling aside from another time where Fionn asks his men what the finest music is to their ears; as Sorcha Hegarty of Candleit Tales characterises it, for Fionn, it is the sound “of now”:
The Character of Fionn
Once, as they rested on a chase, a debate arose among the Fianna-Finn as to what was the finest music in the world.
“Tell us that,” said Fionn, turning to Oisin. [Pronounced Usheen.]
“The cuckoo calling from the tree that is highest in the hedge,” cried his merry son.
“A good sound,” said Fionn. “And you, Oscar,” he asked, “what is to your mind the finest of music?”
“The top of music is the ring of a spear on a shield,” cried the stout lad.
“It is a good sound,” said Fionn.
And the other champions told their delight : the belling of a stag across water, the baying of a timeful pack heard in the distance, the song of a lark, the laugh of a gleeful girl, or the whisper of a moved one.
“They are good sounds all,” said Fionn.
“Tell us, chief,” one ventured, “what you think?”
“The music of what happens,” said great Fionn, “that is the finest music in the world.”
This aside provides some context for another example of Fionn’s character, as he plays chess with the King.
Playing Chess with the King
He loved “what happened,” and would not evade it by the swerve of a hair; so on this occasion what was occurring he would have occur, although a king was his rival and his master. It may be that his mother was watching the match and that he could not but exhibit his skill before her. He committed the enormity of winning seven games in succession from the king himself !!!
It is seldom indeed that a subject can beat a king at chess, and this monarch was properly amazed.
“Who are you at all?” he cried, starting back from the chessboard and staring on Fionn.
“I am the son of a countryman of the Luigne of Tara,” said Fionn.
He may have blushed as he said it, for the king, possibly for the first time, was really looking at him, and was looking back through twenty years of time as he did so. The observation of a king is faultless — it is proved a thousand times over in the tales, and this king’s equipment was as royal as the next.
“You are no such son,” said the indignant monarch, “but you are the son that Muirne my wife bore to Uail mac Baiscne.”
And at that Fionn had no more to say; but his eyes may have flown to his mother and stayed there.
“You cannot remain here,” his stepfather continued. “I do not want you killed under my protection,” he explained, or complained.
Perhaps it was on Fionn’s account he dreaded the sons of Morna, but no one knows what Fionn thought of him for he never thereafter spoke of his stepfather. As for Muirne she must have loved her lord ; or she may have been terrified in truth of the sons of Morna and for Fionn; but it is so also, that if a woman loves her second husband she can dislike all that reminds her of the first one.
Fionn went on his travels again.
Steven’s tale then continues with Fionn apprenticing himself to the poet Finegas, and eating the Salmon of Knowledge, but that is a tale for a later chapter.
The Youthful Exploits of Fionn#
The history of Fionn’s childhood derives from an original Gaelic text — The Saltair of Cashel— that we can read in a translation by David Comyn published by the Gaelic Union in 1881.
The youthful exploits of Fionn
https://archive.org/details/youthfulexploits00comy/page/n2/mode/1up
The youthful exploits of Fionn. The original text, from the “Saltair of Cashel,” with modern Irish version, new literal translation, vocabulary, notes, and map.
pp.18-45
There took place a meeting of valor and a contention of disputation concerning the (chief) Fiannship and concerning the high-stewardship of Eire, between Cumhall, son of Treunmhor, and Uirgreann, son of Lughaidh Corr of the Luaighne; i.e. (one) of the Corca-oiche (a tribe of) Cuilchontuinn that Cumhall (was) : for it was from these (the) Ui Tairsigh his tribe [that is the tribe of Cumhall] (branched).
Torba, daughter of Eochaman of (the) Ernaans [it is she] was wife to Cumhall until he took Muireann Múnchaomh (to wife). (The) battle of Cnucha was given (fought) afterwards between them, i.e., between Cumhall and Uirgreann.
Daire (the) red, son of Eochaidh (the) fair, son of Cairbre (the) valiant, son of Muireadhach, and his son [i.e.] Aodh, (were) giving (fighting) of the battle in (the) company of (on the side of) Uirgreann. Another name for that Daire (was) Morna (of the) fair-neck.
The battle [indeed] is fought after that ; (a single fight) took place between Luichet and Aodh, son of Morna, in the battle ; Luichet wounds Aodh, so (that he) destroyed one of his eyes, [lit. his half-eye,] so from it his name Goll followed him from that forth.
Luichet fell by Goll. The keeper of his own round-bag of jewels (treasure-bag) wounds Cumhall [then,] in the battle. Cumhall fell by Goll, son of Morna in the battle : and (Goll) brings his arms and his head with him, so from that there was a settled hatred between Fionn (son of Cum-hall) and (Goll) son of Morna. So from that sang the historian : —
Goll (was) son of Daire (the) red of fame, (famous) (who was) son of Eochaidh (the) fair, fair (was) his valour, son of Cairbre (the) valiant (famous) of prowess, son of Muireadhach from Fionnmhagh.
Goll slew Luichet of hundreds, in the battle of Cnucha, no lie (is this) ; Luichet the fair of the pure valour, by (the) son of Morna was slain.
It is by him fell Cumhall (the) great, in the battle of Cnucha of the battle-hosts ; the cause (for which) they fought the vigorous battle (was) concerning the Fiannship of Eire.
The children of Morna were in the battle, and the Luaighne of Teamhair; for it was with them (theirs was) the Fiannship of (the) men of (Inis) Fail by the hand of each king of great power.
(There) was a son to Cumhall of victories (the victorious) — the blood-shedding Fionn of hard weapons. Fionn and Goll, great (was) their fame, brave (ly) they made war.
After that they made peace — Fionn and Goll of the hundreds of exploits — till was slain Banbh Sionna (in consequence) of that (peace) under (on) the plain at Teamhair Luachra.
Aodh was (the) name to (the) son of Daire, till Luichet wounded him with agility ; since (the) bold son of Luaighne wounded (him) Goll was given him (as a name).
Cumhall left pregnant his wife [i.e.] Muireann, and she bears a son, and she gives a name to him [i.e.] Deimne. Fiacail son of Cucheann and Bodhmhall the Druidess, and [the] Liath Luachra come to visit Muireann, and they take (away) with them the son, for his mother dared not (risk) him to be with her. Muireann marries with Gleoir of the red hands, [with] king of Lamhraighe afterwards, so from that the saying, Fionn son of Gleoir.
lifeantime Bodhmhall and [the] Liath and the son with them, go into the wilds of Sliabh Bladhma. The son was reared there in concealment. Necessity, indeed (was for this), for (there) was many a sturdy strong-ribbed fellow, and venomous hostile warrior, and angry, morose hero of (the) warriors of Luaighne, and of (the) sons of Morna on design of (in wait for) that son, (boy) and Tulcha, son of Cumhall (likewise seeking to destroy him.) However, [they] those two heroines reared him during a long time under (after) that manner.
His mother comes at (the) head (end) of six years after that to knowledge of (to visit) her son, for (it) was told [to] her his being in that place (that he was, &c.) and there was fear with her (the) son of Morna for him. (She feared the son of Morna on his account.)
What narration (is needed further) — she went out of each desert into its fellow (from one to the other), till (she) reached (the) wilds of Sliabh Bladhma : (she) found the hunting-booth, and the son in his sleep (asleep) in it (therein) ; and she lifts the son in her bosom afterwards, and (she) gathers him to her (presses hin to her bosom), and she heavy (she being pregnant) then (at the time).
So then (she) made (composed) the (these) verses caressing [afeout] her son —
“ Sleep with (the) slumber of pleasure,” et reliqua : (qui desunt).The daughter (woman) bids farewell to the heroines after that, and speaks with them (asks them) would they not take (charge of) the son (boy) till he should be fit for the Fiann (of age fit to take rank among the Fiann) ; and the son was reared after that (by them) till he was fit for chase (fitted to conduct the chase),
The son (Fionn) came in his oneship (i.e. alone, by himself) forth in another day there (a certain day), and saw the duck with the (young) ducks upon the lake. (He) threw a cast under (at) them, and cut her feathers and her wings off her till there came a death-trance on her (so that she died) ; and he took (her) after, and (he) brought (her) with him unto the hunting-booth. So that is (the) first chase of Fionn.
He went with folk of trade (certain artificers) afterwards in flight (because) of (the) sons of Morna ; so he was under (about) the Crotta (Gailte, Galtees) with them (in concealment). It is (these are) their names: Euth and Ruth and Regna of Magh Feadha, and Teimle, and Oilpe and Roigein.
Blisters came over him there, so that (there) was made of him a bald-head (or one affected with cutaneous disease), so from that Deimne (the) bald used to be called to him.
(There) was a plunderer in Leinster (at) that time, namely, Fiagail son of Codna [was he]. Then Fiagail chanced (to come) in Fiodh Gaibhle upon the artificers, and slew all but Deimne in his oneship (alone) : he was (remained) with Fiagail son of Codna in his house in a cold marsh.
The two heroines come southward to (the) house of Fiagail, son of Codna, in search (of) Deimne, and he is given to them ; and they take with them from the south him, afterwards, to the same place (as before).
He went another day in his oneship (alone) forth, till he reached (the) plain of Life (Liffey) to another (certain) fortress there till he saw the [young] youth (of the place) hurling on the lawn of the fortress. He conies to exercise or to hurl with them.
He comes after (on) the morrow, and they send a fourth (of their number) in his face (against him) : they come again, the third (of their number once more) against him. What (need of further) discourse, — they go all against him at last, and he gives (wins) a half game on them all.
What name is on thee ? said they. Deimne, said he. The youths tell the man (owner) of the fortress that thing. Kill ye him if he comes (again) if ye can, said he. We cannot (do) anything to him, said they : Deimne is his name. “What manner (is) his appearance ? said he. A fair, shapely lad, said they. It is a name for Deimne Fionn, like that (Deimne shall be called Fionn, fair, on that account), said he. So from that the youths used to say with him (name him) Fionn.
He comes (again) after the morrow (i.e., the next day) to their meeting (to them) and went towards them in their game : they aimed their staves on him together. He aims at them, and slaughters (a big six) seven of them. (He) went from them (then) in the wilds of Sliabh Bladhma.
(He) comes, indeed, at (the) head (end) of a week after that to the same place. It is thus were the youths (then engaged) — swimming on the lake (which) was in their neighbourhood. The youths defy him (to) come to swim with them.
He plunges in the lake towards them after that, and (he) drowns nine of them under the lake, and goes himself under (towards) Sliabh Bladhma after that. Who drowned the youths ? said all. Fionn, said they (who survived.) So from that (the name) Fionn followed him.
He came a time then over Sliabh Eladhma out, and the two heroines in company with him : they saw a very nimble drove of wild deer [or cows] (of the) forest of the mountain.
My woe indeed ! (or alas!) said the two old people (women), it comes not of (with) us (we cannot) retain one of these yonder with us. It comes of (with) myself, (I can) said Fionn, and (he) runs on them, and retains two deer of them, and brings them, with him to his hunting-booth. He used to make chase constantly for them after that.
Go from us henceforth, youth, said the heroines with (to) him ; for the sons of Morna are on watch (for) thy killing, (to kill thee)
He went in his oneship (alone) from them till (he) reached Loch Lein, over Luachair, till he gave up (hired) his (military) services to (the) King of Beanntraighe then : they surnamed him not in that place, howbeit (there) was not in that time a hunter of his like (his equal).
It is thus says the king to him : if Cumhall (had) left a son, quoth he, it seems with thee (me) (methinks) thou shouldst be he ; but, howbeit, wo heard not a son to leave by him (that he left a son) but Tulcha, son of Cumhall, and that (son) is with (the) king of Scotland in (military) service.
He (Fionn) bids farewell to the king after that, and goes from him to Cairbrighe (i.e., Ciarraighe [Kerry] to-day [now]), and abides with that king in (military) service. The king comes afterwards a chess-playing a certain day. He plays with him and wins seven games after each other.
Who (art) thou ? quoth the king. Son of a peasant of (the) Luaighni of Teamhair, says he. Not so, said the king ; but thou art the son whom Muireann bore to Cumhall, and be (stay) not here longer, that (thou) mayest not be slain (whilst trusting) on my hospitality.
(Fionn) went out after that to Cuillean [O g-Cuanach] to (the) house of Loehan, a chief-smith: (there was) an exceeding-beautiful daughter with him: i.e., Cruithne, her name : she gave love to the youth.
I will give my daughter to thee, says the smith, though I know not who thou (art). The daughter then marries with the youth.
Make spears for me, said the youth to the smith. Lochan made then two spears for him. (Fionn) takes leave then of Lochan, and went before him (goes his way).
O son, said Lochan, go not in the way on which is (usually to be seen) the pig to which is name (which is called) Beo (the Living) ; it is she devastated (all) middle Munster.
But it is it, just, that happened to the youth (to) go on the way on (which) was the pig. The pig after that went towards him (made at him). He put (made) then a cast of his spear on her, so (that it) went through, her, so (that he) left her without life.
He brings then (the) head of the pig with him to the smith, in (as) dower of his daughter. It is from that is (called) the pig’s mountain in Munster.
The youth went before him (forward) after that into Connacht, to seek Crimall, son of Treunmor (his father’s brother).
So (he) was on his road till (he) heard (the) cry of [the] one woman. He goes towards her till he saw the woman, and (there) were tears of blood every [with] time (at one time), and (there) was a vomiting of blood the other time (i.e.,* every second turn*), till her mouth was red.
Thou art red-mouthed, woman, says he. There is a cause with me (for it), says she ; my one son to be slain (i.e., that my only son was slain) by a very-large hideous warrior who happened (to come) towards me. What (was the) name of thy son ? said he. Glonda (was) his name, said she.
[It is from him are (called) Glonda’s ford and Glonda’s causeway on Maonmhagh ; and it is from that red mouth is (called) Ford of red-mouth from that (time) forth (ever since) ]
Fionn then went in (the) wake of the warrior, and they give combat, and he fell by him (Fionn). It is thus, moreover, was (he) [that], (this is the way he was), and (having) a round-bag of jewels with him, i.e. (the bag of) Cumhall’s jewels. [It is he] (the) person who was killed there, i.e., Liath Luachra ; it is he first wounded Cumhall in (the) battle of Cnucha.
(Fionn) goes into Connacht after that, and finds Crimall (in his) old man in a hermitage of a wood there, and a company of the old Fiann along with him, and it is they who used to make chases (go a hunting) for him.
He gives the round-bag then to him, and relates his stories (news) from beginning to end — and thus (how) (he) killed the man of the jewels (man who had the jewels),
Fionn takes leave of Crimall, and went before him (forward) to learn literature with Finneigeas, who was (dwelling) on (the) Boinn. (He) dared not even be in Eire anywhere until he went with (i.e., to learn the art of) poetry, for fear (of the) sons of Uirgreann, and (the) sons of Morna.
Seven years (had been passed) by Finneigeas on (the) Boinn, watching (for tbe) salmon of (the) pool of Feic ; for it was in prophecy to him (the) salmon of Feic to eat, and without a thing in his ignorance at all (that he should know everything) then.
The salmon was found (caught) and (it) was assigned to Deimne moreover the salmon to bake (or roast), and the poet said to him without (not) a thing (portion) of the salmon to eat (that he should eat none of it). The youth brought to him the salmon after [its] cooking.
Didst thou eat a thing (any part) of the salmon, O youth? says the poet. No — says the youth ; but my thumb I burned, and I put (it) in my mouth after that. What name is on thee, youth ? says he. Deimne, says the youth. Fionn (fair) (is) thy name, says he, youth, and it is to thee (it) was given (appointed) (in prophecy) the salmon to eat (and not to me), and it is thou ( who art) the Fionn truly.
The youth eats the salmon afterwards. It is that, by-the-way, that brought the knowledge to Fionn, i.e., the time he used to bear (put) his thumb in his mouth, (and not through Teinm-laogha) ; and the thing which was (used to be) in his ignorance (unknown to him previously) afterwards used to be manifested to him.
He learned the three (things) which distinguish poets: i.e., Teinm laogha, and Imus for Osna, and Dicheadal do-cheannaibh. It is then Fionn made this lay testing his (knowledge of) literature.
May ! pleasing time ! most excellent the colour ! Blackbirds sing a full lay ; (O) if Laighaigh could be there ! the cuckoos cry strong (and) violent ; it is welcome, noble summer ! (the) brilliance of the weather always. [On] the margin fringe of (the) woods (o’) boughs (branching) the summer swallows skim the stream ; the swift steeds approach (the) pool ; (the) long hair of (the) heath spreads (out); the fair weak bog-down flourishes: sudden consternation attacks [the signs ;] the planets running in smooth course play; (the) sea is put (to) rest, flowers cover the world.
TO DO
THEN includes useful notes. Eg another version of thumb of knowledge on p49
Further Tellings#
Let us now turn to another version of Fionn’s boyhood, this time as it appears in translation by Lady Gregory in her collection “Gods and Fighting Men”, published in 1904:
The Coming of Fionn, Lady Gregory, in “Gods and Fighting Men”, 1904
In Gods and fighting men : the story of the Tuatha de Danaan and of the Fiana of Ireland, Lady Gregory, 1904, p159-162
PART TWO: THE FIANNA.
BOOK ONE : FINN, SON OF CUMHAL.
CHAPTER I. THE COMING OF FINN
AT the time Finn was born his father Cumhal, of the sons of Baiscne, Head of the Fianna of Ireland, had been killed in battle by the sons of Morna that were fighting with him for the leadership. And his mother, that was beautiful long-haired Muirne, daughter of Tadg, son of Nuada of the Tuatha de Danaan and of Ethlinn, mother of Lugh of the Long Hand, did not dare to keep him with her ; and two women, Bodhmall, the woman Druid, and Liath Luachra, came and brought him away to care him.
It was to the woods of Slieve Bladhma they brought him, and they nursed him secretly, because of his father’s enemies, the sons of Morna, and they kept him there a long time.
And Muirne, his mother, took another husband that was king of Carraighe ; but at the end of six years she came to see Finn, going through every lonely place till she came to the wood, and there she found the little hunting cabin, and the boy asleep in it, and she lifted him up in her arms and kissed him, and she sang a little sleepy song to him ; and then she said farewell to the women, and she went away again.
And the two women went on caring him till he came to sensible years ; and one day when he went out he saw a wild duck on the lake with her clutch, and he made a cast at her that cut the wings off her that she could not fly, and he brought her back to the cabin, and that was his first hunt.
And they gave him good training in running and leaping and swimming. One of them would run round a tree, and she having a thorn switch, and Finn after her with another switch, and each one trying to hit at the other ; and they would leave him in a field, and hares along with him, and would bid him not to let the hares quit the field, but to keep before them whichever way they would go ; and to teach him swimming they would throw him into the water and let him make his way out.
But after a while he went away with a troop of poets, to hide from the sons of Morna, and they hid him in the mountain of Crotta Cliach ; but there was a robber in Leinster at that time, Fiacuil, son of Codhna, and he came where the poets were in Fidh Gaible and killed them all. But he spared the child and brought him to his own house, that was in a cold marsh. But the two women, Bodhmall and Liath, came looking for him after a while, and Fiacuil gave him up to them, and they brought him back to the same place he was before.
He grew up there, straight and strong and fair-haired and beautiful. And one day he was out in Slieve Bladhma, and the two women along with him, and they saw before them a herd of the wild deer of the mountain. “ It is a pity,” said the old woman, “we not to be able to get a deer of those deer.” “ I will get one for you,” said Finn ; and with that he followed after them, and caught two stags of them and brought them home to the hunting cabin. And after that he used to be hunting for them every day. But at last they said to him : “ It is best for you to leave us now, for the sons of Morna are watching again to kill you.”
So he went away then by himself, and never stopped till he came to Magh Life, and there he saw young lads swimming in a lake, and they called to him to swim against them. So he went into the lake, and he beat them at swimming. “ Fair he is and well shaped,” they said when they saw him swimming, and it was from that time he got the name of Finn, that is, Fair. But they got to be jealous of his strength, and he went away and left them.
He went on then till he came to Loch Lein, and he took service there with the King of Finntraigh ; and there was no hunter like him, and the king said: “If Cumhal had left a son, you would be that son.”
He went from that king after, and he went into Carraighe, and there he took service with the king, that had taken his mother Muirne for his wife. And one day they were playing chess together, and he won seven games one after another. “ Who are you at all ? “ said the king then. “ I am a son of a countryman of the Luigne of Teamhair,” said Finn. “ That is not so,” said the king, “but you are the son that Muirne my wife bore to Cumhal. And do not stop here any longer,” he said, “ that you may not be killed under my protection.”
From that he went into Connacht looking for his father’s brother, Crimall, son of Trenmor ; and as he was going on his way he heard the crying of a lone woman. He went to her, and looked at her, and tears of blood were on her face. “ Your face is red with blood, woman,” he said. “ I have reason for it,” said she, “ for my only son is after being killed by a great fighting man that came on us.” And Finn followed after the big champion and fought with him and killed him. And the man he killed was the same man that had given Cumhal his first wound in the battle where he got his death, and had brought away his treasure-bag with him.
Now as to that treasure-bag, it is of a crane skin it was made, that was one time the skin of Aoife, the beautiful sweetheart of Ilbrec, son of Manannan, that was put into the shape of a crane through jealousy. And it was in Manannan’s house it used to be, and there were treasures kept in it, Manannan’s shirt and his knife, and the belt and the smith’s hook of Goibniu, and the shears of the King of Alban, and the helmet of the King of Lochlann, and a belt of the skin of a great fish, and the bones of Asal’s pig that had been brought to Ireland by the sons of Tuireann. And the bag went from Manannan to Lugh, son of Ethlinn, and after that to Cumhal, that was husband to Muirne, Ethlinn’s daughter.
And Finn took the treasure-bag and brought it with him till he found Crimall, that was now an old man, living in a lonely place, and some of the old men of the Fianna were with him, and used to go hunting for him. And Finn gave him the treasure-bag, and told him his whole story.
[And then he said farewell to Crimall, and went on to learn poetry from Finegas, a poet that was living at the Boinn]
Lady Gregory’s version appears to be rather more closely translated from the original Gaelic sources.
A slightly different account of Fionn’s childhood is provided in Curtin’s Myths and folk-lore of Ireland. In his introduction to the book, Curtin claims that “[the] myth tales in the present volume were collected by me personally in the West of Ireland, in Kerry, Galway, and Donegal, during the year 1887.”
All the tales in my collection, of which those printed in this volume form but a part, were taken down from the mouths of men who, with one or two exceptions, spoke only Gaelic, or but little English, and that imperfectly. These men belong to a group of persons, all of whom are well advanced in years, and some very old ; with them will pass away the majority of the story-tellers of Ireland, unless new interest in the ancient language and lore of the country is roused
“Birth of Fin MacCumhail”, in Myths and folk-lore of Ireland, Jeremiah Curtin, 1890
https://archive.org/details/mythsfolkloreofi00curtuoft/page/205/mode/1up
Myths and folk-lore of Ireland by Curtin, Jeremiah, 1835-1906 Publication date 1890
p205-210
After she had disappeared from the bank of the loch, the old woman, Cumhal’s mother, made her way to a thick forest, where she spent that night as best she could. Next day she came to a great oak tree. Then she hired a man to cut out a chamber in the tree.
When all was finished, and there was a nice room in the oak for herself and her grandson, and a whelp of the same age as the boy, and which she had brought with her from the castle, she said to the man: “ Give me the axe which you have in your hand, there is something here that I want to fix.”
The man gave the axe into her hand, and that minute she swept the head off him, saying: “ You’ll never tell any man about this place now.”
One day the whelp ate some of the fine chippings (bran) left cut by the carpenter from the inside of the tree. The old woman said: “ You’ll be called Bran from this out.”
All three lived in the tree together, and the old woman did not take her grandson out till the end of five years ; and then he couldn’t walk, he had been sitting so long inside.
When the old grandmother had taught the boy to walk, she brought him one day to the brow of a hill from which there was a long slope. She took a switch and said : “ Now, run down this place. I will follow and strike you with this switch, and coming up I will run ahead, and you strike me as often as you can.”
The first time they ran down, his grandmother struck him many times. In coming up the first time, he did not strike her at all. Every time they ran down she struck him less, and every time they ran up he struck her more.
They ran up and down for three days ; and at the end of that time she could not strike him once, and he struck her at every step she took. He had now become a great runner.
When he was fifteen years of age, the old woman went with him to a harling match between the forces of his grandfather and those of a neighboring king. Both sides were equal in skill ; and neither was able to win, till the youth opposed his grandfather’s people. Then, he won every game. When the ball was thrown in the air, he struck it coming down, and so again and again, never letting the ball touch the ground till he had driven it through the barrier.
The old king, who was very angry, and greatly mortified, at the defeat of his people, exclaimed, as he saw the youth, who was very fair and had white hair: “
Who is that Fin cumhal [Cumhal, the name of Fin's father. Denotes also a cap or head-covering, fin = white. The punning resemblance suggested to the old woman the full name, Fin MacCumhail.] [white cap] ? “
“ Ah, that is it ; Fin will be his name, and Fin MacCumhail he is,” said the old woman.
The king ordered his people to seize and put the young man to death, on the spot. The old woman hurried to the side of her grandson. They slipped from the crowd and away they went, a hill at a leap, a glen at a step, and thirty-two miles at a running-leap. They ran a long distance, till Fin grew tired ; then the old grandmother took him on her back, putting his feet into two pockets which were in her dress, one on each side, and ran on with the same swiftness as before, a hill at a leap, a glen at a step, and thirty-two miles at a running-leap.
After a time, the old woman felt the approach of pursuit, and said to Fin: “Look behind, and tell me what you see.”
“ I see,” said he, “ a white horse with a champion on his back.”
“ Oh, no fear,” said she; “ a white horse has no endurance ; he can never catch us, we are safe from him.” And on they sped. A second time she felt the approach of pursuit, and again she said : “ Look back, and see who is coming.”
Fin looked back, and said : “ I see a warrior riding on a brown horse.”
“Never fear,” said the old woman; “there is never a brown horse but is giddy, he cannot overtake us.” She rushed on as before. A third time she said : “ Look around, and see who is coming now.”
Fin looked, and said : “ I see a black warrior on a black horse,, following fast.”
“ There is no horse so tough as a black horse,” said the grandmother. “ There is no escape from this one. My grandson, one or both of us must die. I am old, my time has nearly come. I will die, and you and Bran save yourselves. (Bran had been with them all the time.) Right here ahead is a deep bog; you jump off my back, and escape as best you can. I’ll jump into the bog up to my neck; and when the king’s men come, I’ll say that you are in the bog before me, sunk out of sight, and I’m trying to find you. As my hair and yours are the same color, they will think my head good enough to carry back. They will cut it off, and take it in place of yours, and show it to the king; that will satisfy his anger.”
Fin slipped down, took farewell of his grandmother, and hurried on with Bran. The old woman came to the bog, jumped in, and sank to her neck. The king’s men were soon at the edge of the bog, and the black rider called out to the old woman: “Where is Fin?”
“ He is here in the bog before me, and I ‘m trying can I find him.”
As the horsemen could not find Fin, and thought the old woman’s head would do to carry back, they cut it off, and took it with them, saying : “This will satisfy the king.”
A telling by Sorcha Hegarty of Candleit Tales podcast, episode 15, Fionn Birth & Boyhood, includes a nice set-up I haven’t found elsewhere of Liath Luachra, a powerful female warrior from one of the Fianna bands, hunting down Bodhmall before swearing to protect the young baby Fionn/Deimne: