Little enough of what I’ve been able to assemble on these pages so far has any basis in the reality of Earth.  I have bent my will and my efforts toward Tir na Nua. 

That is not to say that there are no mythic figures worth looking into.  In Ireland the line between myth and reality is as thin as the line between the living and dead at Samhain.  There are figures, men and women, who bridge the gap between the real and the fantastic.  Whether they approached such legendary status in life is open to debate, but some few have attained it in memory, in lore.

One such real figure is Niall of the Nine Hostages (Noigiallach).  If nothing else, this particular Niall’s story had much to do with my later fascination with things Celtic.  Niall, it appears, was a king and so fixed in memory and genetics that many count him among their progenitors and as many as twenty-five percent of folk in the North of Ireland, and their descendants whether they know it or not, seem marked by his genetics, True Story.

You can read a little more about The Niall Nine Hostages That Was and a little less about me.

I discovered my association on the back of a clan tie at a highland games in Gresham Oregon.  Again, true story.  I don’t know if I’ve ever mentioned how I first came across bagpipe music in a small high-school radio station in North Dakota.  I played “Mul of Kintyre“, by Paul McCartney and the Wings every day for the rest of that semester.  But I discovered IT again on a summer day in Oregon when it came through my window and lured me into another world.

Certainly it was different from the run-of-the-mill day in Gresham Oregon, different than North Dakota too.  But the music drew me to the event and the event led me to a small blurb on the back of a MacNeill clan tie.  There I first read anything at all about Niall Noigiallach. 

With only a very few little words on a bit of paper the writer chose to mention this fellow, Niall of the Nine Hostages, High King of Ireland.  Obviously, it was effective marketing, I bought the tie along with some bagpipe music and a banger. 

Truth to tell, though the O’Neills and the MacNeills both have Niall Noigiallach as a progenitor, they are really named after Niall Glundub (Black Knee).  Still, selling ties is easier with Noigiallach than the closer relative Glundub.  I’ve got to forgive the inaccuracy for its impact.

But that is not even near the end of the story.  No dear reader, looking into Niall exposed me to such wonders as a genealogy that stretched back (thanks to dutiful monk scribes) past Noah to Adam himself.  I learned that legend names a grand-daughter of Noah as the leader of the first settlement on the Emerald Isle.  I ran across names like Nuada Silver Hand, and Finn MacCool, and Conn of the Hundred Battles. 

Recently I found links through geneologies back to those three notables in Legend to my heritage (fictional or not).  Isn’t that a wonder?  All this found through Niall Noigiallach.  True Story.

LSO

The Book of Invasions lists many groups who came to Irish shores, the first three left only bones. A grand-daughter of Noah, the Parthalonians (sp?), and then the Nemedians.

Now the Nemedians are another matter perhaps, it is claimed that the Nemedians returned as both the Fir Bolg and the Tuatha de Danan and were sons of Nemed from Greece. Also an argument might be made that the Fomorians, seafarers from the north or Africa, or who knows (? (Phonecia?)) may have lived at times on Irish shores, it can also be said that their bones remained as they are reputed to have been involved in several notable battles with various Irish dwelling peoples. I wonder if the Fomor had more to do with things than just popping in to oppress from time to time and also who they might be.

Since Nemedians were the progenators of both the Fir Bolg and the De Danans one might class them as survivors if one accepted that the Milesians only drove them underground into the FaeRig mounds.

Legend and lore often focuses on the kings and their linege. If it is at all possible one might think about who the people were, the ones who carried the water and rounded up cattle and made the food that the champions feasted upon. In particular, without having read the Book of Invasions, the title suggests that someone was there to bear the successive waves of invasion, perhaps someones other than Tuan.

Well that’s a start and I really aught to fill more in, but there is little enough time except to say that Niall of the Nine Hostages (yes yes, I’m back to that) is an excellent illustration of what I’m going on about. Niall, was Irish, well, half so. Niall’s father was Eochaid Mugmedon, but his mother was a Saxon princess. That makes his blood half Saxon. But I would submit that what really made Niall Irish was not his father, but the druid who saved his life and raised him.

Much later Normans would come to conquer Ireland, again the rulers changed, but it is funny. I’ve heard it said that the Norman lords became more Irish than the Irish themselves. Is it because, irrespective of the ruler, the people stay pretty much the same?

I’m going to begin to talk about the Celtic legends and lore that I want to be part of my fantasy world. For those not familiar with Celtic legends let me tell you, I know pretty much everything there is to know about the topic (errr, but to those who do know, ummm, uhh, let’s just say I’m putting it out there from memory.)
Because this is such a horribly quick and ill thought out post I will be forced to follow up, refine, and probably retract much of it. Still… …here goes.
I am an Irishman, of that there is no doubt. In fact, my sister having done a little comparative genealogical work (thanks Debbie), I know that I am descended from kings. Notably I am descended from one king in particular who seems, mitochondrially anyhow, to have a lot of descendants. Common to both my father and my mother is one notable person from out of the Celtic past. The O’Neills and the McNeils both spring from the same ancestor, Niall Noigillach. Niall, I’ve been told, means champion, and Noigillach means “of the nine hostages”.
Perhaps the bye name harks back to a king who conquered the nine sub-kings, leaders of minor tuaths around him, but some say Niall, counted as a high king, Ard Rig of all Ireland, came by the name for taking hostages as assurance of support from the 5 parts of Ireland, and four others elsewhere, like France. Intriguing and I’ll have to look into that.
Another legend about this fellow, Niall, is that it was he who captured Patrick and brought him to Ireland the first time as a slave. Indeed, some legends have it that it was Niall’s son Loeigre (sp?) who met Patrick on his return and through a Samhain’s day miracle began the island nation’s conversion to Christianity. Again, this requires study, so I’m putting it out there and checking and confirming later.
Niall is also very notable for the impact he had on the leadership of Ireland. Legend has it that Niall was promised the kingship for generations and the Ui Niall dynasty, or perhaps dynasties is a better way to put it, dominated the high kingship ever after. Often it seems one son of Niall got it by wacking off the head of another, but it traded back and forth until Brian Boru broke the string.
Lest I perpetuate a misconception that I do not hold, let me just say that the true genesis of the Niall clans, the various Ui Niall dynasties, was a later descendant, Niall Glundubh (that is Niall Black Knee) . In fact, Niall Nine Hostages is supposed to be, or is claimed by other clans as a progenitor. I’ll look up some of that stuff too.
It is a rich topic, no doubt, these moldy legends of kings and kingdoms or rather Righs and Tuaths, I have not even mentioned Conn of the Hundred Battles, or Saint Columkill (I think I’m murdering the name) or Tigernmas, or even Niall’s father Eochaid Mugmedon, who seems a fine fellow until you learn that his bye name means something approaching “the enslaver” or something like that. (I like to call him grandpa.)
I think I’ve successfully created something NEW, not good, but perhaps further days will see more care and concentration of effort. For now I give you NEW.
LSO

There are a lot of people who are interested in the Celts and all things Celtic. I certainly count myself as one of those. Some others especially those among the academics find the idea of a Celtic people as ridiculous or probably more to the point they think of people who believe that there is such and want to know more about such a heritage as unsophisticated rabble.

Perhaps that makes me a rabble-rouser. I don’t really see a problem with a popular cultural celticness. Perhaps that is one of the problems that academics have with us enjoying the past without the educational background, we fall prey to the geewizzification of the Celts. Though it is strange that they would have a problem with it, as they don’t believe in Celts at all.

I feel like their objections are a bit foolish. Of course the indo-european people we are talking about didn’t think of themselves as “Celts.” But looking back it seems to me that there was an aesthetic, a way of life, and a people group that it is valid to call by a name, Celts, Gauls, whatever.

Obviously we have to look back in time to see Celts. I’m Irish, or rather Irish-American, from the home of the insular Celts, but it is only in hindsight that we see the ornaments that they wore and the life that they lived had parallels on the continent.

I think my own experience bears on this. I was born in Spokane Washington. I really didn’t think of myself as Celtic, or my background as Irish until long after my formative years. The truth is I was Western if anything. My grandfather admired cowboys. My parents were just plain American. We as a family had no tradition that owed itself to Ireland or any nation but the USA and then we moved to Canada where I learned hockey. (Well, imagine my surprise long after when I poked around the roots of it and found Scot’s Shinty, and Irish Hurling, and what does Lacrosse owe its similarity to? All interesting explorations beyond the bounds of this post.)

And then we moved to North Dakota where I first encountered a culture that owed itself to a nation of origin. I graduated high-school in a Norwegian community. UffDa! Still it was in North Dakota that I got the first inkling of what might truly run in my blood despite all the cultural overlays I experienced growing up. I knew persecution, I was stubborn. Try being a Cowboy fan in Viking’s land…  …among actual Vikings. Interesting, no? An unaccountable aversion to Vikings.

Strangest of all was my first encounter with bagpipes. Our high school only had 35 people in my graduating class, but it had a radio station owing to the enterprise and many talents of our industrial engineering/shop teacher. On a “Wings Greatest Hits” album was the track “Mull of Kintyre.” The haunting skirl of the pipes spoke to me, it brought tears, and I played that song every day after that. Fortunately nobody listened or I’m sure there would have been culturally oriented complaints.

And that was it. I graduated, my family moved to Montana, and to Oregon. I didn’t subscribe to any bagpiping magazines or even buy the album. So much for my blood.

So the bagpipes blindsided me not so long after that. I was going to Community College in Oregon after the army and what should I hear but pipes on the wind. I wasn’t looking for the highland games, the highland games found me. I found a necktie with my maternal grandmothers tartan on it and off we went.

And off we go. I didn’t know I was a Celt. Nobody told me so. But I ran into it and it called to me, like the song in the radio studio unheeded, and then that day when pipes on the wind carried me away.

So, let stuffy academics scoff, I believe in Celts. I feel I am one.

LSO