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Updated: May 9, 2025
"I only want to keep my good opinion of women, and if the three yonder are women, then I feel sure I shall begin to dislike females from this minute out." "Come on, my love," said Fionn, "for I must find out if these whiskers are true." He strode resolutely into the cave. He pushed the branches of holly aside and marched up to Conaran's daughters, with Cona'n behind him.
"If all the Fianna who have died in the last seven years were added to all that are now here," the stranger asserted, "I would treat all of these and those grievously, and would curtail their limbs and their lives." "It is no small boast," Cona'n murmured, staring at him. "It is no boast at all," said Cael, "and, to show my quality and standing, I will propose a deed to you."
"All the same " Cairell began argumentatively. "And it was you that commenced it," Cona'n continued. "Ho! Ho!" Cairell cried. "Why, you are as much to blame as I am." "No," said Cona'n, "for you hit me first." "And if we had not been separated " the other growled. "Separated!" said Cona'n, with a grin that made his beard poke all around his face. "Yes, separated.
But he would not stay. "By my hand," he cried, "I must go. She will be looking for me from the window." "That will happen indeed," Goll admitted. "That will happen," cried Fionn. "And when she sees me far out on the plain, she will run through the great gate to meet me." "It would be the queer wife would neglect that run," Cona'n growled.
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 Cona'n, or shall I kick you in the neck?"
They had three crooked sticks of holly set up before the cave, and they were reeling yarn off these. But it was enchantment they were weaving. "One could not call them handsome," said Cona'n. "One could," Fionn replied, "but it would not be true." "I cannot see them properly," Fionn complained. "They are hiding behind the holly."
"What's wrong at all?" said Cona'n, as he tumbled to the ground. "Everything is," Fionn replied, and he tumbled beside him. The three sisters then tied the heroes with every kind of loop and twist and knot that could be thought of. "Those are whiskers!" said Fionn. "Alas!" said Conan. "What a place you must hunt whiskers in?" he mumbled savagely. "Who wants whiskers?" he groaned.
"In running alone," Fionn continued thoughtfully, "we have a notable champion, Caelte mac Rona'n." "This son of Rona'n will not long be notable," the stranger asserted. "He can outstrip the red deer," said Cona'n. "He can outrun the wind," cried Fionn. "He will not be asked to outrun the red deer or the wind," the stranger sneered. "He will be asked to outrun me," he thundered.
Cona'n also refused, and so did Caelte mac Rona'n and mac Lugac, for there was no man there but was terrified by the sight of that mighty and valiant harridan. Fionn rose to his feet. "I will take this combat myself," he said sternly. And he swung his buckler forward and stretched his right hand to the sword. But at that terrible sight Goll mae Morna blushed deeply and leaped from the ground.
The two then fell into grips, and went lurching and punching about the great hall. Two of Oscar's sons could not bear to see their uncle being worsted, and they leaped at Cona'n, and two of Goll's sons rushed at them. Then Oscar himself leaped up, and with a hammer in either hand he went battering into the melee. "I thank the gods," said Cona'n, "for the chance of killing yourself, Oscar."
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