These fragments of the lore of Tir na Nua are presented raw, first draft, and unedited.  I apologize for their original condition.  However, my first priority is to capture sketches, so to speak, of the people and places of Tir na Nua.  I have promised Free Celtic Fiction and before I can shape these sketches into more polished works I need to write these drafts.  I share them, as they are, while I try to find the time to improve them. –  LSO

The great mountain became the center of the Gaellic world on Tir na Nua.  Around Sliebe na Gael, close on the slopes of that mountain, on the rocky hills were the Connachta on the South and West to the sea, Mumah folk to the East along the coast, the Laigin North and East to the river and that land was fair, and North and West were the Uliad.  That is, these were the divisions when Dana and Lyr and his shieldmen took Sliebe na Gael, when they were driven from the plain by ice, when Wyland delved out the secret forbidden ways, when Bridgit and Lugh eloped and brought on the Rage of Lyr.   The folk were in these four divisions, the Four fourths of the Tuatha de Dana.

The folk of the Uliad prospered and divided into many clans who dispersed to the north until there came to be a land named by her people, Ulster, and a king of that Tuath named Concubar.  This was the time before the Gobli swept the plain with fire and the people were driven back into the Four Fourths.  Concubar was a great king, a proud warrior, and a hunter of great renown.

One day he was hunting with his friends, the warriors of the Red Branch in the new forests that covered the plain.  All the trees in that place were of one height being planted in one season by the Fae Gardeners, the Norfolk, scattered by their life giving forest spheres.

For this reason, in imitation, the Red Branch warriors made brain balls, weapons made from the vanquished.  Many lives were taken by those balls of brain and bone dust and lime, so the Red Branch warriors became known for there making and the feat of their use in battle.

Concubar was swifter than the red stag he stalked, much faster than his warriors.  The blood of his prey was in his nostrils and he left his brothers behind.  He followed the stag into a valley where the trees grew tall, ancient, moss hung, and magical.

A beautiful woman stepped out of this magical forest.  Her skin was pale as a swan, her lips as red as blood, and her hair like burnished copper, was red as well.  Concubar imagined she must be of the Sidhe, he would have left her there, for it is rarely wise for men to mix in the matters of gods, but desiring him she put aside her mantle and Concubar loved her.

Concubar took from his shoulders his cloak to make a bower for them.  In all the time they lay together she spoke no word, nor did the man until she rose and made to go, “Who are you, my lady?” Concubar asked the fairy woman.

“I am the mother of your son, my lord,” said the woman, “I am the daughter of the over King of the Northmost land, I am the watcher who has loved you.”

“Have I known you before my lady?  How can that be?  For surely I would remember you.”

“Never before tonight have I known you, but I have watched you and I know that I love you.  I will send your son to you, my lord.”  And the woman stepped away toward the deep woods.”

“Wait!  How will I know him?” Asked the man.

The woman had no answer, but Concubar could see this worried her and she stopped.  So Concubar took up his cloak and going to the woman he lay it across her shoulders, “By this my people will know him to be a prince,” said the king, “And by this all will know that his father is a king,” he said, pinning on her his broach, “And by this I will know he is my son,” said Concubar and he took his own ring from his finger and gave it into the woman’s hand.

At this the woman smiled and she kissed Concubar and said, “And for this I knew, watching you, that I loved you.”  There arose about her a mist.

“But what is your name?” the King asked her.

“Our son will tell you,” She said.  A mist of fog hid her from Concubar’s sight, and he knew she was gone.

A cool breeze took away the fog and there, not far away, was a red deer doe.  He heard the calls of his warriors and the doe bounded away with the mist.  At this the king went to them.

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