#ulaid

[doubtspirit]

Samhain at Emain Macha (2000) by Seamus Fegan

[stairnaheireann]

The War Hollow

Viking influence in the Celtic lands goes back to the very beginning of the Viking Age, when men from Scandinavia decided to make the perilous journey across the seas to take what treasures they could. One of these Viking raiders was Magnus Olaffson (Magnús Óláfsson), better known as Magnus Barelegs or Barefoot, the king of Norway from 1093 until his death in 1103. His aggressive military…

[an-ruraiocht]

no she didn't. medb isn't responsible for the debility of the ulstermen.

there are two different stories about why they suffer from this curse: ces ulad (weird, short, and confusing), and noínden ulad (the most famous one that you'll usually see included in retellings)

in noínden ulad a man has an otherworldly wife, macha. he's boasting about how fast she is, so the king of ulster makes her race his horses to prove these boasts, while heavily pregnant. she wins, but gives birth at the finish line, and as she does so, she curses the men of ulster to suffer from labour pains in times of need/invasion. there's a somewhat elderly translation of it here.

ces ulad usually gets ignored because it's baffling and weird and only preserved in one manuscript iirc. there's an encounter between cú chulainn and a woman called fedelm foltcháin which leads, in extremely uncertain terms, to the debility. presumably because cú chulainn is involved in it, that's why he's not affected. you can read it here if you want to see what i mean about it being baffling and weird (seriously it's fragmentary as anything)

neither of these are actually referenced within táin bó cúailnge, the story in which medb invades ulster for the sake of a bull*, and several details in the táin actively disagree with details in noínden ulad, such as NU saying that cú chulainn isn't from ulster by blood, whereas TBC explicitly says that he is

*her motivations are honestly not clearcut across different versions, but the most famous version does make it about wanting to own the bull, yes

the debility in TBC really functions purely as plot device -- it lasts as long as it's narratively convenient for it to last, it affects whoever it's narratively convenient for it to affect, and they never explain who or what caused it. but it wasn't medb, even though she attempts to take advantage of it. it also shows up in other stories, such as in the death of cú chulainn, explaining why none of the ulstermen are able to help him. again it's mostly just used to keep most of the ulstermen out of the way for the drama of it

(cú chulainn's exemption is notable, questionable, and explained in different ways across different texts. various academics have written about a) why this is the case and b) what this means for how we read cú chulainn. the main thing i think though is that it's convenient for the plot for everyone else to be out of the picture so that he can do hero shit without them getting in the way)

the three genders: boys, women, and cuchulainn

[incorrect-ulster-cycle]

is your child texting about the ulster cycle? know the signs!

brb = bitches require bulls lol = láeg owns, losers smh = smashing my hurley tbh = táin bó hcúailnge stfu = support the feeble ulaid tfw = tochmarc ferbe wins rofl = revenge (y)our father, lugaid idc = idh da charioteer btw = behead the warriors

[finnlongman]

Working theories about the processes at work in the Babyfication of Cú Chulainn in the 17th-19th century Ulster Cycle tales:

All of these late stories position themselves as taking place before Táin Bó Cúailnge. This is obvious from the fact that Fer Diad is present in lots of them, but is also just narratively convenient for them, I think.

Cú Chulainn is 17 in TBC, so our starting point is that he must be younger than that.

Generally these stories position themselves as occurring after Tochmarc Emire/Foglaim Con Culainn. Again, this is partly evident from the presence of Fer Diad. Some of them overlap slightly with it.

Cú Chulainn's age in TE isn't stated outright, but following the Boyhood Deeds, he might be as young as about 6.

He must therefore be aged between 6 and 17 when all these stories take place.

Tóruigheacht Gruaidhe Griansholus, the oldest of these stories (1679), states that he is 15 -- presumably with the primary intent of firmly locating the story before TBC. The Ulaid are concerned about the idea of him going off an international road trip alone because of his age, and express this concern, but he does it anyway. His youth is occasionally referenced, but on the whole he is much as he appears in earlier texts: a skilled and precocious warrior.

Eachtra na gCuradh and Coimheasgar na gCuradh come next (early 18th cent). They notice this detail in TGG and decide to elaborate on it further: Cú Chulainn is younger than 15, and is going on adventures only in the company of other warriors; it is occurring pre-TGG, making that his first solo adventure.

Because he is too young to go on adventures by himself, and because those responsible for him are frequently concerned for him, this gives the impression that Conall et al are babysitting him.

Eachtra na gCuradh appears to take place before Coimheasgar na gCuradh. CnC introduces Láeg and by the end of the story, he and Cú Chulainn have teamed up, ready for TGG. Conall appears slightly less protective of Cú Chulainn, so we can conclude he is slightly older than he was in EnC, when he is very baby (and when Láeg wasn't yet on the scene).

His age is not stated outright in any of these, but I would guess he's aged between 10 and 14. This is based purely on relative chronology and may not hold up to close scrutiny.

Sgéalta Rómánsuíochta are the latest stories (maybe 18th century but preserved in 19th century version). They're not super interested in Cú Chulainn, preferring to foreground other characters. His babyfication makes this easier, since he can appear as a child sidekick (to Ailill Fionn, in the first story), or in a similar capacity to EnC and CnC -- the youngest/most junior member of a group of warriors. Across the four stories, he could be anything from about 7 to about 14 again.

Theories about intertextuality:

Tóruigheacht Gruaidhe Griansholus and Coimheasgar na gCuradh both provably draw on the Stowe version of Táin Bó Cúailnge. There are details that can't have come from any other version of TBC (or any other text that survives). They are not the same details in both texts, so it's not that CnC drew on TGG: both drew on Stowe.

Since EnC is probably by the same author as CnC, we can assume he also had Stowe.

EnC's inclusion of Manannán mac Lir might suggest knowledge of Serglige Con Culainn.

CnC alone of the very late tales (i.e. EnC onwards) includes Láeg, with characterisation details that obviously come from Stowe TBC. Again, it doesn't seem to derive directly from TGG (there's a detail I'd expect to see there if it did); both go back to Stowe and so have similarities but have developed them differently.

All of them are probably drawing on Foglaim Con Culainn; in some places it seems like there might be some reliance on Oidheadh Con Culainn as well. There might be some evidence of drawing on Oidheadh Chonlaioch, particularly the attribution of teaching to Aífe rather than Scáthach, although I know there are also late verse versions of this that might be a source rather than the prose.

SR may be more distant from its source material with heavier reliance on these intervening texts -- there are lots of phrasal similarities between EnC/CnC and SR, but Ó hUiginn disputes the earlier proposal that they were all by the same author and thinks SR are definitely later.

That's what I've got so far. I doubt anyone has suggestions because I don't think anyone has cared about these texts for a couple of centuries, but if you do, hit me.

I am partly writing this post so I can keep track of these thoughts for later, although my PhD corpus ends with TGG, so I won't be talking at length about the others there. (They may come up in passing, though.)

[ladyinred2248]

King of the North, Part 8

Warnings: Mature. Minors DNI. Sexual themes. Violence. Angst. Mentions of SA. Mentions of self-harm.

Three months later.

The Prince of Ulaid stood on the endlessly tall battlements of the palace, his hands in front of him gracing the stone wall as his deep brown eyes looked out to the horizon. Nervously he fidgeted with his rings and chewed on his lower lip. His intuition had been wrenching him for some time now, a twisting feeling in his stomach he couldn’t ignore.

Ronan was tall, with dark brown hair and eyes that complimented his fair skin, akin to his true father’s handsome features. The young Prince was kind to people of all walks of life and steadfast with loyalty, remaining untainted by the royal family and yet burdened by his own duty, just as Finan had been so many years ago. He had been loved dearly by his mother, who had seen his father in him more every day as he grew, and it had planted seeds of regret in her heart regarding her first husband’s fate. Ronan was raised to know Conall as his “father”, but in all his years had not spent any time of measure in his presence.

“My Prince,” Amelie, a servant girl, beckoned from behind him. “You are troubled that your father has not returned?”

Ronan shook his head softly to her. He had been left in charge of the palace in Ulaid for what was supposed to be a month or so, but now so much more time had passed. Yes, his nerves were getting the better of him. But it was more than that. It was a feeling of unease, a rumbling in his mind that mirrored the storm clouds in the distance.

“I am quite alright, my Lady. Don’t fret,” he winked at her, ever charming her as she felt a faint blush rise to her cheeks. He always called her Lady, even though she couldn’t be further from a woman of nobility.

“Can I assist you with anything, Your Grace?” Amelie spoke quietly again.

Ronan shook his head, reaching over to take her hand in his and placing a kiss to her knuckles. “You may retire for the night. Thank ya for checkin’ in.”

Amelie bowed to him with a girlish giggle, then looked out to the horizon that seemed to eternally hold Ronan’s gaze.

“Take care, Your Grace. The lightning is near.”

He gave her one last soft smile, then looked out to the distant horizon once again and hummed. “A storm is coming.”

The normally calm and collected teenager continued to pace the grounds long after his servant had left, wondering when his adoptive father, Conall, would return. He attempted not to show his worried emotions too easily, as his younger brother, Cinaed, was still reeling from the death of their mother. Ronan was seventeen summers old, and Cinaed was only three summers younger, and yet he lacked emotional maturity and held a more tumultuous temperament.

Cinaed was often free to roam the palace grounds at his leisure, while Ronan had been bound to duty from the very beginning being the first born child and heir. The young prince had been praying that Conall wouldn’t return, the brute that he was. The Kingdom itself was in turmoil, as Conall had been a tyrant of sorts, denying assistance to the poor and collecting hefty taxes regardless of the poverty stricken lands. Danish raids had been striking the coasts relentlessly, further threatening the people of Ulaid and seemingly breaking any spirit they had left. Ronan accepted that it would one day be his duty to overturn the strife that had been continually bestowed upon the people since he was a child. He took in a deep breath, feeling the winds pick up and brushing across his face as storm clouds rolled in closer. He could see the coast just barely in the distance, and his intuition made him take yet another speculative look, but there was nothing to be seen.

Ronan, unlike his younger brother Cinaed, knew the truth of his upbringing. His mother, Dealla, told him the story when he was old enough to truly understand. Dealla strangely had sympathy for his true father’s fate, though she would never admit it in front of Conall for fear of his wrath. Finan and Dealla’s marriage had been arranged for alliances between Kingdoms, and although she had never fallen in love with Finan, she had deep respect for him. She had actually understood to some extent why he had forsaken the Crown. She was plagued with the same noble duties, the same golden cage. They had become at the very least good friends, holding an understanding of one another. Finan treated her kindly, and they assumed their duties, up until Finan had escaped Ulaid.

What followed was painful to live and to watch for his former wife, and Dealla held a tinge of jealousy to know he had fallen in love with another woman. Regardless of their circumstances, she thought Finan would be a capable father to her children, and she felt betrayed. The woman Finan had fallen in love with, Conall’s wife no less, was killed brutally. So the price had inevitably been paid. But Dealla would have simply banished them both if not for Conall’s insistence. She winced in pain whenever she thought back to the day he was caught and beaten, his lover raped and killed. Conall was a monster, and Dealla knew it before that day. She took Conall as her new husband, pressured once again by honorable duty and sealed to a miserable fate. And so began years of strife and political conflict. Ronan had never taken a particular liking to Conall, but Cinaed was younger, more malleable and easier to influence. The younger child and Conall held a bond with one another, while Conall secretly resented Ronan for his likeness to his former brother.

When Ronan came of age to begin the duties necessary to assume the throne, Dealla felt it was her own duty to tell him the story of his most noble father. She told him of the arranged marriage and of the moment the two of them met, how their fathers bargained an alliance with their lives. Furthermore, she spoke of Finan with the utmost respect. The warrior who surpassed everyone in sword craft. The kindest man in all of Ulaid. The man whose smile and laughter would light up the entirety of the King’s Hall. Her greatest friend. She told her son everything. Even the fated tale of Finan being stripped of everything.

Dealla fell ill in the early Spring that year, and her health took no measure of recovery. She was resolved to the fact that she would not live to see her son wear the Crown, however Ronan’s strength and resilience, along with the attributes she loved most about her late husband, were evident in his every movement and actions. She cursed herself for allowing Finan to be sold to the slavers on the coast on that fateful day. He surely hadn’t survived. This was the one lasting regret she had when she closed her eyes one summer evening and never opened them again.

Constantin, Domnal, and the Scottish forces had traveled to the North with you in tow and taken you to your birthplace, back to your homeland once again. The palace where you grew up no longer had the warmth and grace it held before. It was your own personal dungeon, a cage of sorts that held no meaning nor semblance to the peaceful home you had created in Coccham with your lover… your husband, you were painfully reminded every time you thought of him. No, it was only a shell of a predetermined life, one that you had willingly let go of the moment you had met the love of your life.

No longer did you hold the light in your eyes that made Finan beam with longing and lust. Your hopelessness gave way for a seething rage, a deep bitterness that had settled into your body once you knew that there was no resolve to be made. You had been separated from the other half of your soul, forevermore, the worst part being that Finan had resolved to let you go. You understood why he had allowed it, but it shattered your heart just the same.

You had decided to spend your days training in sword craft, either to give you something to look forward to or something to pass the time, you weren’t sure. Regardless, you were through with being a helpless woman of nobility. You would garner strength, and you would someday be capable of defending the child who grew in your belly. You accepted that his or her father might never be there again to protect the both of you. As time went on, it was difficult to hide the growing child in your belly as five months had passed since your last blood. But your father had not yet found you a hand in marriage, and thankfully knew nothing of the bastard child, as he would refer to it. Soon, your father would find out and his plans would be disposed, as no noble man would take you as his wife knowing you had been “ruined”. You scoffed at the thought. At least that was one silver lining to this miserable debacle.

Every time you held the sword in your hands you imagined Finan’s large, calloused hand curling around yours, as if wielding it for you until you had the strength to hold up the heavy blade in any position. Your body now held the resilience to strike quickly and the agility to hold off other offensive blows, your opponents often coming to their knees to defend themselves.

A woman like you needs to be brave.

The words that came from Finan early in your relationship rang in your head over and over with each devastating strike. You were no longer the young woman who was sought out by old men in pretentious castles. You were a force to be reckoned with, so brutally scorned, you simply had nothing left to lose and nothing to gain. Your fury engulfed you so intensely now that you simply had no fear. All of it had melted from you. It had dissipated from your bones the moment you were pulled from his arms, and it was replaced with an unyielding and ungodly fury.

You found as time went on that your preferred weapon was a bow. It was easier to wield given your current state, and you had quite the knack for it as you practiced and managed the craft. You could hit a target from a far distance away, and it helped to imagine your cousin, Domnal, at the end of the target. The liar and betrayer he was. No more loyal to Finan than he was to you. These men only sought out their own ambition, or to cowardly save their own hides. Finan’s fate was sealed the moment he met the Scots, Domnal whispering in his ear and influencing him from the very beginning.

Your heart ached at this thought. You had cried yourself to sleep for months, and the sting in your chest had lessened over time, but time did nothing to ease the pain when you simply brought your mind to your lover and the joyous past. The fleeting moments you held, the joy of getting to know one another. The memories of his laughter and his cheeky grin as he spoke of something that triggered your own laughter. The way his body melted into yours so effortlessly and the way he worshipped you. You took a deep, shuddering breath at the thoughts. His hand intertwined with yours, or searching your body in a passionate frenzy. Nothing had ever felt so natural as when he took your body fervently and passionately. The very act of which gave you the most precious gift, the only thing you had left of him, now slowly growing inside you. You set down your bow as you choked out a sob, falling to your knees and hugging yourself with your arms to brace yourself for the wretching pain.

You loved him more than life itself. You would have put an end to your own life by now if not for the blessing he had bestowed upon you. Your child… your only saving grace. You stood from your knees. You would find Finan again. You would return to him, or you would die trying.

Unbeknownst to you, Uhtred and Finan along with Sihtric and Osferth had devised a crew of men that would accompany them in their travels to Ulaid. The journey thus far had been brutal, but after several months they had finally made headway. They had to cross the sea momentarily and find horses to journey to the palace, but they had made it. It was a grueling journey for Finan, one of hope and of despair. He was without the woman who made him whole, the other half of his soul. The woman who gave him hope to survive, the drive to carry on. He had traveled months to reach his objective, and now that he was faced with it, his fears were plenty. He would meet his own sons. The ones he left behind with such cowardice and foolishness. Would they turn him away? Would they spit in his face? Would they arrest him on sight? Perhaps he didn’t care anymore.

Finan trusted Uhtred more than anyone in the world, and he knew that his Lord would help him see this through. As he had during the siege of Wessex, Finan sought out his own rage to endure the journey, to stay steadfast in his quest. He prayed for your safety and resilience. This whole journey, his whole life’s purpose ever since he had laid eyes upon you had been for you. He would give you his sword, he would lay his life at your feet without a second thought. His love for you was endless and unwavering, and so he endured the torture of coming to the lands of his birth once more.

Ronan was startled as the shouting of an Ulaid guardsman’s voice rang through the hall.

“Your Grace, riders approaching the gates!”

Ronan stood, feeling his own heartbeat in his throat. He would need to address this, as a King would, just as he would need to address everything until Conall’s return. The responsibility gave him a shudder, but he calmed himself with a slow, deep breath.

“Archers to the ramparts.” Ronan commanded loudly. “Do we know who they are?”

“They look like Danes, Your Grace.”

Ronan’s breath hitched once again as he tried to remain calm. The fortress will hold, there is nothing to worry over. Perhaps they are traders. Yes. Perhaps.

Ronan took himself to the stoned battlement, finally allowing himself a gaze of the foreigners who approached the gates now with horses and a band of men that did indeed look like Danes. One of them in particular had his hair shaved on the sides, weaved with braids, and he held himself as if he was their leader as he rode slightly ahead of the rest of the men. Ronan and the Danish leader locked eyes from a far distance, and the Dane shouted up to him.

“Your Grace, we come peacefully. We only wish to speak. I am Uhtred of Bebbanburg, oathman to King Alfred of Wessex.”

The Dane Slayer? Ronan thought. He had heard of him by tales of reputation. He was Alfred’s sword and shield. Conall had traveled South to Mercia with a promise of betrothal by the Scot’s, so perhaps this was a related matter? He looked over the band of men behind the Danish leader, a strange mixture of Dane and Saxon men, one in particular close to Uhtred, a Saxon no doubt, cloaked and hooded mysteriously with a thick beard. No sign of Conall with them, which piqued Ronan’s curiosity. Perhaps they had word of his travels. Regardless, he could not let his guard down. These men had traveled far for a reason of importance, surely.

Ronan cautiously gestured for the guards to lower the drawbridge before shouting down to Uhtred once more. “Welcome to the palace of Ulaid, Uhtred Ragnarsson.”

Finan shuddered at his son’s voice. The current events were now all too real. He had waited for this moment impatiently but loathed it just the same. Uhtred turned his head to look at him, giving Finan a nod, a sympathetic look in his eyes. Not only was Finan likely traumatized to see his homeland and the place he grew up, but to see his firstborn full grown and commanding his guardsmen…it had to be quite the riveting experience.

Uhtred led his men inside the gates, cautiously looking around and observing the stoned fortress, marveling at the craftsmanship and differences between this fortress and the ones he knew well in Wessex and Mercia. The Irish definitely held some advantage when it came to their preparations. Several guardsmen looked in their direction suspiciously, their weapons already drawn.

Uhtred, Finan, and the others dismounted their horses, and a few Ulaid guardsmen quickly came to lead their horses to the stables, much to Uhtred’s surprise. He continued to gaze at the scenery, for it was impressively fortified, a tantalizing sight. Before he knew it, a young man with dark hair and eyes, dressed in noble clothing and surrounded by several guards was coming towards him. Anyone could see plainly with one glance that the young man was a child of Finan’s. It was a sight to behold.

“Lord Uhtred,” Ronan gave him a soft smile, “Welcome. How can I be of assistance to ya?”

Uhtred’s eyes grew soft as he pinched his lips together to hold back any emotions. Inevitably, it was astonishing to see the young man standing before him. Unbelievable even. He could only imagine how Finan felt at that moment.

Uhtred paused to speak. Ronan looked at him suspiciously, then turned his head to look at his guards, then back again at Uhtred. “Uh…Lord?”

Uhtred grinned. “My apologies. This is quite an honorable experience… you have my brother’s eyes.”

Ronan could feel his heart beating strongly in his chest. What was this man talking about? Was this some kind of trick to catch him off guard? He felt his cheeks turn hot with rage, or rather, fear.

The bearded man next to Uhtred suddenly threw the hood of his cloak back, his dark eyes glistening. The guardsmen surrounding Ronan all let out soft gasps, sounds of weapons clashing lightly in preparation and anticipation. Ronan knew then who was standing before him, whether by his eyes or by his heart, he wasn’t sure.

Finan stepped closer to him now, passing Uhtred, and Ronan’s hands trembled as they stood before each other. He had never seen anyone, besides Dealla and in some ways Conall, who bore such resemblance to himself.

Ronan let out a choked whisper.

“You’re alive?”

Finan cocked his head to the side.

“…You know who I am?”

“…I do.”

Finan softly smiled at him. His son was so tall and dashing in his armor. Such a brave young man to be standing here in front of foreign invaders. His nobility shined through him like he was born to lead, and he was.

The silence between them was deafening as Ronan walked even closer, giving Finan a firm nod.

“I am glad you are alive.”

Finan’s glistening eyes finally let a tear escape, rolling across his cheek. He couldn’t help himself any longer. He trudged forward, grabbing his son up into a strong embrace, which made Ronan’s tears escape as well.

“I am so sorry about yer mother, Lad. I am sorry for everything. I am here now… if ya will have me.”

Ronan felt more vulnerable than he had ever felt in his entire lifetime as he wrapped his arms tightly around Finan. He sobbed into him relentlessly now as Finan returned the tight embrace. They had never met, and yet here they were, so naturally bonded.

Sniffles were made between Uhtred’s men at the sight. Most of the guardsmen recognized Finan, and it was a sight to behold seeing him back again, his own son in his arms.

Ronan pulled away slightly, wiping tears from his face on the back of his hand. “Come. I feel there is much to discuss.”

Finan smiled, patting his son on the back as he looked over his shoulder at Uhtred, who gave him a smile in return.

>>>Part 9

Note: I used the same name for Finan’s first wife as some other Fics have, to keep some continuity established by the Fandom. :) hopefully that’s alright with everyone. If not, feel free to reach out 💖

Taglist: @gemini-mama @persephones-journey @alexagirlie @justanother-sihtricgirlie @whitedarkmoonflower @bcon24 @ficnation

[oidheadh-con-culainn]

tell me about him.

the story i remember: an orphan boy is raised to be very good at sports. he accidentally kills the local king’s favorite dog, and takes the dogs place as a guard??

not an orphan! he has many dads. really a disproportionate number of dads. and also a mum. she's called dechtire or dechtine and doesn't come up very often, but she's the sister of conchobar, king of the ulaid, so cú chulainn is the king's nephew

he gets his name by killing (deliberately) the watch dog of a man named culann, bc he was late to a feast and the dog had already been let out to guard the place so it tried to kill him but he got there first. culann wasn't thrilled about this, so young sétanta (or sédana but it's sétanta in all the versions of the boyhood deeds that i know) is like "i will get you another dog and in the meantime i will guard your land for you" and everyone is like, cool, that seems a reasonable thing for a six year old to say, let's give him a new name while we're about it

anyway then he grows up to do a shitton of murder, most notably in táin bó cúailnge, which is the story of one 17-year-old boy (cú chulainn) versus the armies of ireland, and he's winning. also he kills his best friend/foster brother in a deeply homoerotic duel, as ya do.

bunch more murders, bunch more adventures, then eventually it catches up with him ~16 years later and the kids of loads of people he killed are like "hey so fuck that guy in particular, right?" and team up to murder him bc truly he was great at making enemies. bye bye cú chulainn. he dead.

cú chulainn's best friend, best weapon, and probably the sole reason he didn't die at 15 instead of 33 is his charioteer láeg mac riangabra. láeg my best beloved. bit of a weirdo, bit obscure, no one's totally sure where he comes from and also he is entirely down to do murder for cú chulainn when necessary. probably a similar age to cú chulainn which frankly explains a lot. they play fidchell together which is a strategy board game a bit like chess so basically they are the chess club nerds who will beat YOU up

i love them, your honour

[thedarkprinceofulaid]

Finan

My name is Finan. I am a warrior, previously of the Ulaid Kingdom of Northern Irland. I serve my Lord, Uhtred of Bebbanburg, alongside my brothers Sihtric and Osferth.

Age: Mid 30s (at present, Season 3-4ish)

Gender: Male

Nationality: Irish

Religion: Christian (with an affinity for Celtic Paganism)

Sexuality: Bisexual/Polyamorous.

Relationship status: Married to Revna 🖤 @revnashieldmaiden

Weapon: Sword - “Soul Stealer”

Animals: Horse - Pearl “Péarla” , Black Kitten - Myrkr

“Finan the Agile, they call me, because I would dance around enemies. I would dance and kill.”

Affiliated with: @thelastkingdomrp

RP is available in asks or reblogs. SAT-MON more frequent/quicker reply.

[vermilionskiinmorning]

Finan ... the Irishman, the Agile, of the Ulaid

2025|2 portraits a month

[ognimdo2002]

Ellen Trechend – Ultraviolent Trioleader

“ Tá tú rud ar bith, ach an dara grád. leathcheann! ”

– itself

The Ellén Trechend is a three-headed monster referred to in Irish mythology.

It is mentioned in the text Cath Maige Mucrama (The Battle of Mag Mucrima) as having emerged from the cave of Cruachan (Rathcroghan, County Roscommon) and laid waste to Ireland until it was killed by the Ulaid poet and hero Amergin.

The Ellén Trechend was introduced in Weather Dragons, Two Lights, Worldcraft, and Rescris as part of Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure and Assassin's Creed sequels.

Physiology

The Yamata no Orochi, their parent, is larger than Ellén Trechend, a big, three-headed bird that resembles a dragon. Its entire body is covered in bioluminescent markings, including butterfly-like wing designs that change from orange, green, yellow, and blue with crystalline and shimmering patterns. It also contains prehensile scale-tipped lights. In order to counter enemies, their tail was extremely prehensile and spiky.

The Ellén Trechend's Achilles heel is a Christian cross shaped on its chest.

[goatilocks666]

The Gae Bolg or Gáe Bulg

Meaning “spear of mortal pain and death”, ���gapped/notched spear”, or “belly spear”, this was the name of the spear of Cú Chulainn in the Ulster Cycle of Irish mythology. It was given to him by his martial arts teacher, the warrior woman Scáthach, and its technique was taught only to him.

Although there has been some controversy about the exact translation of the term, with different academics also suggesting “the bellows dart” and the “the dart of belly”, “bag spear”, “of the twofold spear”, and “the spear of the goddess Bolg”, only one seems consonant with witness accounts from the era— Meyer’s interpretation as “the gapped spear”.

This ferocious spear was described as entering the body as a single barb, creating one entrance wound, before multiplying into twenty-four or thirty. Then, the victim’s flesh had to be cut from it in order to extract it from their body. On top of which, it may have been poisoned.

It was made from the bones of a sea monster, the Curruid, that had died while fighting another sea monster, the Coinchenn. Although some sources make it out to be simply a particularly deadly spear, others—notably the Book of Leinster—state that it could only be used under very specialized, ritual conditions:

“The Gáe Bulg had to be made ready for use on a stream and cast from the fork of the toes. It entered a man's body with a single wound, like a javelin, then opened into thirty barbs. Only by cutting away the flesh could it be taken from that man's body.”

Fer Diad wore an apron of iron and huge stone breastplate as armour against it, to no avail.

So far, so gruesome—but recent research has revealed that the Gáe Bulg may have been more than a legend!

According to the The Celtic Ethnography of Posidonius, by Professor JJ Tierney, the first century BC Greek philosopher, astronomer, and mathematician Posidonius travelled among the “barbaric” people known today as the Celts.

His written account of that adventure is essentially lost, though fragments of it exist as citations by other ancient authors.

In one of his passages describing the weapons of the Celts, Posidonius wrote the following description of a particularly unusual class of weapon:

“Some of their javelins are forged with a straight head, while some are spiral with breaks throughout their entire length so that the blow not only cuts but also tears the flesh, and the recovery of the spear tears open the wound.”

And we have a firsthand account of something that sounds very similar to the legendary Gáe Bulg, in shape if not in material!

There are various possibilities, including that the weapon described in the Ulaid cycle of legends was a prototype upon which metal designs were later based, but there can be little doubt that there is a clear connection between what Posidonius witnessed, and Cú Chulainn’s legendary and terrifying spear.

The spectacular interpretations of the Gáe Bulg pictured were designed by Steven M. Peffley. The right hand one was made by Craig Johnson of Arms and Armour; the left-hand one was made by Mark Morrow of Morrow's Blade and Blacksmith Shop.

Read more here: https://anclaiomhsolais.com/gaelic-weapons

[cruger2984]

THE DESCRIPTION OF SAINT PATRICK The Apostle of All Ireland Feast Day: March 17

"Hear me, people of Ireland. For God has sent me back to you to show you His way. He is not a God who asks for these sacrifices. For He took our sins and sacrificed Himself for our salvation. He does not ask for your body to be burned, but for your heart, that He might fill it with His love, His abundance, and His light!"

Patrick was born in 385 in Roman Britain (now modern-day United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland).

At the age of 16, he was sold as a slave in Ireland, where he tended sheep in Dalriada. He lived for six years among mountains and forests, growing in faith and holiness, and during his time in captivity Patrick became fluent in the Irish language and culture.

After a miraculous escape, Patrick, after hearing a voice urging him, to travel to a distant port where a ship would be waiting to take him back to Britain. On his way back to Britain, Patrick was captured again and spent 60 days in captivity in Tours, France. During his short captivity within France, Patrick learned about French monasticism.

Shortly afterward, he was told in a dream by some Irish people (notably Victoricus) to go back and evangelize them.

In 431, having completed his theological studies in Lerins Abbey, he was sent as a missionary to Ireland. The following year, Pope Celestine I had him consecrated as bishop. His first mission was in the north of the island, where he had formerly pastured cattle as a slave. Then, he traveled the whole country, converting many pagans by the force of his faith and the many miracles granted by God.

Patrick's success aroused the envy of the pagan priests and the druids, who plotted to kill him. One day, he exchanged his seat with the one of the charioteer, who was killed in the journey by a spear intended for himself. After three decades (30 years) of labor and prayer, the Catholic church was successfully established through Ireland.

Patrick gave his last blessing from the summit of Cruachan Aigli (now Croagh Patrick), the 2,510-foot 'mount of the eagle' in County Mayo on Ireland's west coast.

There, after a fast of 40 days, he had a vision of thousands of future Irish saints, who were singing out: 'You are the father of us all!'

He died soon afterwards in 461 in Saul, Dal Fiatach, Ulaid, Gaelic Ireland (present-day Northern Ireland) and was buried at Saul, where he had built his first church (St Patrick's Cathedral, Armagh).

[margridarnauds]

Sleepover ask time! I give you permission to rant about shit on main

That's an ungodly amount of power to give me, let's go.

This is going to be unpopular with some people, and I totally get why, but...every once in a while on this site, there's a lot of furor raised over "You CAN'T call the Aeneid/The Divine Comedy/Arthuriana fanfic, you don't UNDERSTAND, they're MEDITATIONS on fate/divine will/mortality, they're DEEP." Many outraged posts made, blood spilled, lives lost on Tumblr as the most unlikeable people that you know on both sides write bad faith thinkpieces that wildly miss the point. And...I get it. I do. I emphasize that I get it. These texts are, overwhelmingly, being manufactured in a time before copyright protections, as we know them, existed. (Though Cervantes, in the 17th century, provided an early example of an author...very firmly asserting his own exclusive ownership of the characters.) These works, rather than being fanfiction in and of themselves, are part of a cultural tradition of transformative borrowing and exchange that fanfiction is ALSO a part of.

...but that being said. Lads. Lighten up.

People who actually work with stuff day in, day out don't care as much as randos on Tumblr, or self proclaimed English Majors™ who couldn't hack grad school and have decided that, in retribution, they're going to subject us to complaining about YA, fanfic, pick your poison here (mandatory "Education =/= intelligence or critical thinking skills, especially given the RIDICULOUS cost of a degree in the States, but if you're going to promote yourself as an English Major™, and play into that hierarchical system, I reserve the right to call you on it and pull rank.) I've sat at tables filled with medievalists who will gleefully call Arthuriana fanfic (we also had a lovely discussion on MPreg, Omegaverse, and protecting curious senior scholars from the former two when they go on their regular sojourns across the internet.) I've read articles from respected medievalists that will adopt a transformative approach towards reading texts, arguing that they are, essentially, fanfiction. (Matthieu Boyd's paper on Mesca Ulaid, for the interested.) I've talked to tenured Ivy League professors who will compare respected medieval literary traditions to fanfic. (Three, actually.) As a soon to be published Arthurian scholar myself, *I* don't care, and I'd like to think that, at this point, I've earned my laurels enough to have an opinion.

Like, I just think we have to consider what our goal is here -- is it to educate people on the way that pre-modern literary cultures worked, or is it to make ourselves feel superior? Is it because we want to clarify that our own situation re: copyright is the exception rather than the norm historically, or is it because we feel somehow threatened by the comparison between something that we hold to be significant to something that we hold insignificant, especially since the latter is something that is something that can be written by anyone as opposed to a specific literary elite that overwhelmingly consisted of men? When we're here, in our capacity as ambassadors for our fields, are we doing more harm than good by trying to puff ourselves up? Are we actually ENCOURAGING people to engage with this stuff, or are we making them think that we're all Like That?

When I was younger, 17-18, I was terrified of interacting with people who did this sort of thing specifically because there was one person on here, back in the day, who was SUCH a prickly asshole that I was scared. And if I hadn't, I wouldn't have entered grad school for this, I never would've gotten my MA, I wouldn't have gotten into my PhD program. God knows how many other people might have had similar experiences. That matters more to me than whether Arthuriana technically counts as fic.

...also this is the funny meme website. The reason why a lot of people aren't giving the most nuanced takes on medieval literary networks is specifically because, besides being laypeople...this is the funny meme website. None of us are making any of this into a conference paper, it isn't going on our CVs, so I'm not going to focus on getting all the nuances down right because. This is the funny meme website. I go here. To make funny memes. And to escape my program. And if you have enough time and energy to get angry, wonderful, fight the good fight, but, ala the Cervantes example above, you might find yourself tilting at windmills that you've mainly created.

[anragaire]

Do you think Constantin heard the Tea about an Ulaid king's son running off with his brother's wife only to end up in England serving Uhtred of Bebbanburg

Constantin looking across the battlefield like: 👀👀👀 *gasps* omg that's that guy

[ussjellyfish]

url songs

Rules: Pick a song for every letter of your url and tag that many people.

Thank you, @winternightjewels for tagging me.

U: Ulaid by ES Posthumous

S: Santiana by The Longest Johns

S: Shatterdome (from Pacific Rim) by Ramin Djawadi

J: Jason by Perfume Genius

E: The Expanse by Clinton Shorter

L: Lava by Kauna Torres Kahele

L: Let Them Upby Junkie XL

Y: Yearning for the peace by Tan Dun

F: Fireflies by Jeff Russo

I: I Giorni by Ludovico Einauldi

S: Seven Devils by Florence and the Machine

H: Here with me by Susie Suh and Robot Koch

tagging @persante, @purlturtle, @aleksandrachaev,@alexkingstons, @mylittleredgirl, @nomi--sunrider, @that-one-curly-haired-chick, @whimsicalli, @holdouttrout @viharistenno, @xxgothchatonxx

if you like. tagging you means I'm thinking about you, no pressure.

[finnlongman]

tasty data, get your tasty data here

All right, I finished putting TBC2-LL into my Unhinged Spreadsheet, so here are some observations about this text. Long post incoming.

Caveat that this spreadsheet is a work in progress and all the data collection is being done manually, aka trawling the text with my own eyeballs and looking for words. It's entirely possible I've missed some.

A Mo Phopa

There are 47 instances of the word "popa" in this text that I've found.

I had to zoom out to fit them all in. This is so many.

What's really interesting, though, is how terms are paired. If I were to put the spreadsheet back in its original order, showing them in the order they occur in the text, we would see that the use of a phopa for Fergus is almost always accompanied by daltán or a variant ("fosterling, pupil, fosterson"): either Fergus addressing Cú Chulainn as a daltán, or Cú Chulainn identifying himself as such. That means the term in those contexts is firmly established as a fosterage term used with a generational difference.

On the other hand, when a phopa is used by Cú Chulainn to address Láeg, it's very often paired with Láeg addressing Cú Chulainn with an affectionate diminutive like a Chúcúc. The only other person to use a diminutive like this is Lug (or, well, Cú Chulainn's "friend from the Otherworld", who isn't named in this recension), and he only does so once. Láeg does so repeatedly:

By pairing this with a phopa, we're establishing an age difference, but the absence of obvious fosterage terminology and the subversion of expected hierarchies makes this seem more like a "big bro, little bro" relationship, as far as terminology is concerned. A Chúcúc is typically translated by O'Rahilly as "little Cú"; you could also go as far as "little Hound". It's very much both affectionate and emphasising Cú Chulainn's youth.

(In TBC1, by contrast, Láeg only uses a diminutive like this once.)

Putting the rest below a cut to save your dash, because it got long.

Gilla

The term "gilla" is a flexible one: it basically just means lad, boy, servant. It's often used in the narration for charioteers, but I noticed something interesting about its usage in dialogue as a term of address.

Notably, that in TBC1, Cú Chulainn never uses this term to address Láeg, but in TBC2-LL, he does (usually while giving orders, though the spreadsheet doesn't offer that level of detail) (yet). It's used in narration to describe Láeg, I think, but never as a term of address.

Is this a matter of date, and the shifting use of the term chronologically? TBC1 and TBC2-LL are close enough in date that I would be surprised if the term "gilla" had a significantly different meaning at the time of writing.

It does show up quite a bit in late texts, though, so there might be something in that. Need to look into that more.

Comalta, comaltus, daltae

TBC2-LL typically shows a lot more instances of fosterage terminology: comalta, comaltus, and daltae all show up more times. This might just be that TBC2 is wordier than TBC1 and likes to repeat itself more, but the mess of orange on my spreadsheet suggests it also has a greater preoccupation with the web of family, fosterage, and provincial connections between characters.

[ETA: it's just an error that lists one of the comaltas as pupil, fosterling; I think Excel got too enthusiastic with the autofill. The same error occurs below. It's not significant.]

Cú Chulainn once uses the term daltán to address Láeg in TBC1, which doesn't show up in TBC2. I did a post about that a while back; it comes in a line where Cú Chulainn is explaining something to Láeg, so might have a pedagogical usage, although also seems like it might be a little bit sarcastic. Need to explore that one further.

(Note that when Cú Chulainn appears in both the "used by" and "used for" columns, it's because he's describing himself, e.g. Fergus says, "Who's there?" and he says, "It's me, your fosterson and the fosterson of the Ulaid." The relationship given in the column after that is therefore the one being identified in those moments.)

Cara, cairdes, caratraid

TBC2-LL also has more uses of the word cara, friend, for a much wider range of relationships and hypothetical relationships. ("Be it friend or foe" kind of thing.) Cara is used for allies, fosterbrothers, family connections, and some relationships that look like "straightforward" friendship, i.e. there isn't any other clearer connection between the characters mentioned in the text.

The term caratraid for friendship shows up five times in TBC2, and never in TBC1. Three of these instances are to describe Cú Chulainn's relationship with Fer Baeth, one of his foster brothers; one is to describe his relationship with Fer Diad, another foster brother; and one is to describe his relationship with Lugaid mac Nóis, his ally in the Connacht camp (who is also, I think, a foster brother?).

Cairdes shows up three times in TBC2 - twice about Fer Baeth and once about Fer Diad - versus only once in TBC1, where it refers to Fer Baeth (and is in narration rather than dialogue). TBC2 also introduces "cardes sliasta", intimate friendship, with which Medb bribes men.

Fer Diad

Here are all the terms used for Cú Chulainn & Fer Diad's relationship across TBC1 and TBC2-LL:

Let's filter that to get a sense of TBC1 vs TBC2, bearing in mind that Comrac Fir Diad is way longer in TBC2 and therefore likely to have far more terms in it.

TBC1:

TBC2-LL:

So we've got a lot more repetition in TBC2, but we've also got some differences. TBC2 loses some of the endearments, like "a lóeg" and "a airer na súl", which are more typically found in romantic contexts. But it gains two instances of "inmain", beloved (a semantically wider term: we often get a mic inmain between family members, for example). Both use the term "dil" for "beloved", though, inserting it into Fer Diad's name: Fer dil Diad.

Both use the term "cocle", possibly "coicéile": comrade, friend, companion, vassal. TBC2 uses it a lot more, though. It also adds "cara", friend, and the related terms "cairdes" and "caratraid" to describe friendship.

Both use "acme" and "fine", in the same context/sentence: "you are/were my kith and kin". TBC also gives us "fir chomdéirgide", men who shared a bed. There is another reference to bed-sharing in TBC2, but it uses a different term, so this one is distinct. The term "dérgud" seems to refer to the making of a bed, so the vibe seems to be more "men who made a bed together": travelled together, made decisions together, shared intimacy, etc.

The term Cúa is etymologised as an insult in TBC1, but treated as a straightforward diminutive in TBC2. Meanwhile, TBC2 introduces the concept of Cú Chulainn as Fer Diad's "forbfer", or serving man/attendant, introducing hierarchies into their relationship. I was surprised this wasn't in both, but I guess the whole thing is just so much less developed in TBC1, and most of the backstory there comes from Fer Diad's conversations with his charioteer rather than his dialogue with TBC2. I do want to go back and double check it, though, in case there's another related term that slipped my notice.

Conclusions

What is the second recension of the Táin about? Well, statistically, it's about relationships between people.

TBC2 cares a lot about fosterage and the friendships that go with it.

A phopa is the most common term of endearment in this recension.

Combinations of terms tell us more than just looking at terms in isolation.

Spreadsheets can be fun, I guess.

Beyond that, I don't know. I need to add more texts before I can draw more meaningful conclusions about changes over time. But I thought you might like to see where we're at, anyway.

Next up is probably Cath Ruis na Ríg, for vibes, although I also need to add Stowe to this spreadsheet in case it changes anything about TBC2 compared to LL.