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Updated: June 18, 2025
"I am here, royal captain." "Have you collected my tribute from Denmark?" "It is here." And, with help, she laid beside him the load of three men of doubly refined gold. Out of this treasure, and from the treasure of rings and bracelets and torques that were with him, Goll mac Morna paid Fergus for his songs, and, much as Fionn had given, Goll gave twice as much.
"We will kill that one first," said Caevo'g. "There is only one of him," said Cuillen. "And each of us three is the match for an hundred," said Iaran. The uncanny, misbehaved, and outrageous harridans advanced then to meet the son of Morna, and when he saw these three Goll whipped the sword from his thigh, swung his buckler round, and got to them in ten great leaps.
But Goll's brother, bald Cona'n the Swearer, turned a savage eye on Cairell. "By my weapons," said he, "there were never less than an hundred-and-one men with Goll, and the least of them could have put you down easily enough." "Ah?" cried Cairell. "And are you one of the hundred-and-one, old scaldhead?"
The comparisons over and found to be correct, "starting from a certain stone marked 'B' one hundred and eighty-seven feet East by South," etc., etc., the whole party, including a small boy to help carry the level and target and a reliable citizen who said he could find the property blindfold and who finally collapsed with a "Goll darn! if I know where I'm at!" the five jumped onto a mud-encrusted vehicle and started for the site.
That finished, he left the victorious Fianna and returned swiftly to the plain of Allen, for he could not bear to be one unnecessary day parted from Saeve. "You are not leaving us!" exclaimed Goll mac Morna. "I must go," Fionn replied. "You will not desert the victory feast," Conan reproached him. "Stay with us, Chief," Caelte begged. "What is a feast without Fionn?" they complained.
"No, no," he cried; "no, my soul, Fionn, this would not be a proper combat for you. I take this fight." "You have done your share, Goll," said the captain. "I should finish the fight I began," Goll continued, "for it was I who killed the two sisters of this valiant hag, and it is against me the feud lies." "That will do for me," said the horrible daughter of Conaran.
There is nothing more terrible than silence. Shame grows in that blank, or anger gathers there, and we must choose which of these is to be our master. That choice lay before Fionn, who never knew shame. "Goll," said he, "how long have you been taking tribute from the people of Lochlann?" "A long time now," said Goll. And he looked into an eye that was stern and unfriendly.
"Yes so we mistrusted," answered Freme, in a regretful tone, "when we overheard ye talkin' 'bout telegrams." "Goll! I hate to have ye go," declared the trapper, clearing his throat. "Seems 'ough you hain't but jest come, Mr. Thayor. But you got what ye come for, didn't ye? I dunno as I ever see a nicer deer." "Yes, thanks to you and the old dog. But I'm coming back."
The "Mr." had been long since dropped from lack of usage. "Goll I hain't no idee," another would reply, "but I presume if the hull of it was dumped inter Otter Pond you'd find the water had riz consider'ble 'round the edge." During all this time Thayor had not once put in an appearance. He had left Holcomb, as he had promised, entirely in charge.
And then, in Lochlann, at the battle of Cnocha your father and I met at last, foot to foot, eye to eye, and there, Fionn!" "And there, Goll?" "And there I killed your father." Fionn sat rigid and unmoving, his face stony and terrible as the face of a monument carved on the side of a cliff. "Tell all your tale," said he. "At that battle I beat the Lochlannachs.
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