The Games of Macha

The little smith tugged at his beard, “No, it is true, you are no smith, but what you are is difficult to say as well.” Again CuRuada began to feel uncomfortable under the smith’s intense gaze. The dark man spoke as if his words were a magic incantation, “I saw you at hurley and the fine work you did with the spear. No smith surely, but no common warrior either are you. You wear a broch made for a king, a prince you must be. Or a god.” Cu blushed, the dark man smiled.