United States or United Arab Emirates ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
On Sowain night the night before the real short days begin the Pooka rides through the countryside touching any fruit that remains, so that it may bring no taste into winter. The blackberries that were good to eat the day before are no good on November day, because the Pooka touched them the night before. What else the Pooka does no one really knows.
"The Pooka rides a fierce horse," said Morag, "if the Pooka rides a fierce horse he might carry us past the Bull of the Mound." "And if the Pooka himself is a timid little fellow we might take the fierce horse from him," said Flann. "But this does not tell us how to get the berries off the Fairy Rowan Tree," said Morag.
"Welcome you are," said the huntsman, "and sorry we are that we have not better shelter or fare to offer you." "I couldn't wish a better welcome," said the Pooka, as he came over near the fire and sat down on his haunches. "Maybe you would like a little bit of this, Master Pooka," said the huntsman's wife, as she offered him a barley cake.
But the Bull and the man got through the wood and again they began to gain on the Pooka's horse. Again the breath of the Bull became hot upon them. "Oh, Pooka, what shall we do now?" said Morag. "Put your hand into my horse's ear and fling behind what you will find there," said the Pooka, his teeth chattering with fear as he held on to his horse's tail.
"To-morrow," said Morag to Flann, "follow the Little Red Hen, and if she makes any sign when she touches an herb that grows near the ground, pluck that herb and bring it to me." That night Morag and Flann talked about the Pooka and his fierce horse.
"I told you I'd do you a good turn," said the Pooka, "for the kindness you and yours did me on that wild winter's night. The day is passing. You have no time to lose. The white steed of the plains is coming to the starting-post. Jump on my back, and remember, 'Faint heart never won fair lady."
He opened the door, and a flash of lightning showed him outside the threshold a low-sized, shaggy, wild-looking horse. And Fergus knew it was the Pooka, the wild horse of the mountains. Bold as Fergus was, his heart beat quickly as he saw fire issuing from the Pooka's nostrils. But, banishing fear, he cried out: "Come in, and welcome."
In half a second Fergus was bestride the Pooka, whose coat of shaggy hair became at once as glossy as silk, and just at the very moment when the king was about to declare there was no steed to compete with the white steed of the plains, the Pooka with Fergus upon his back, galloped up in front of the royal enclosure.
"I never tasted anything sweeter in my life," said the Pooka, crunching it between his teeth, "and now if you can give me a sup of milk, I'll want for nothing." The huntsman's wife brought him a peggin of milk. When he had drunk it, "Now," says the Pooka, "go back to your beds, and I'll curl myself up by the fire and sleep like a top till morning." And soon everybody in the hut was fast asleep.
He opened the door, and a flash of lightning showed him outside the threshold a low-sized, shaggy, wild-looking horse. And Fergus knew it was the Pooka, the wild horse of the mountains. Bold as Fergus was, his heart beat quickly as he saw fire issuing from the Pooka's nostrils. But, banishing fear, he cried out: "Come in, and welcome."
Word Of The Day