Fingal). "Let the feast be served," said the king, and the table creaked with the weight of the venison, and the hall was filled with music. "Did you ever see such feasting, or hear such music before with Fingal, tell us, Dhumohr?" said Lauchlin. "Lower not the land, though we have left it," said Dhumohr aside to his servant, and then to the king. "In Morven, Lauchlin! every servant of Fhion could eat such a feast, or carry it all unassisted." "Bring more," said the king, astonished; and the table was served more largely.
"Did you ever feast, then, so largely with Fingal?" said the queen, with a smile at Lauchlin. "Every night, at the supper of Fingal, the dogs eat the remainder, and their portion is greater than this." "Then bring more," said Lauchlin, in anger; and the table was still served more largely, till the room would not hold all the dishes. "Tell us, Dhumohr," said the king, "if so great is the supper of Fingal?" "A greater portion than this eat daily three servants of Fingal." Then the queen said to Lauchlin, "Never will I speak with you more till you fetch me, bound (for my servants) from Morven, these three servants of Fingal." But in Denmark there was no man would venture, nor would Dhumohr serve against Fingal.
At last the witch in the kitchen, that lived on the floor among the ashes, rose up and said to Lauchlin, that if he would feed her, and keep her, she would bring to the queen, captive from Scotland, the three great servants of Fingal. "The sea is rough, and the men are strong," said Dhumohr, "that fight with Fingal in Morven, and you will lose that old grey hare, if she ventures."
The breath of the witch in Scotland killed 800,000 men; but at Nigg, in Ross-shire, she was taken, and on this wise:[1]—Twenty men with sharp spears lay in wait in a cave, and twenty giants with spears drove her into it, and she died on the points of twenty spears.
So the old grey hare never returned to Lauchlin. And as for Dhumohr, he died in Denmark.
(N.B.—The witch ate before starting nine bolls of oats, and nine stone of butter.)—(D. M., Stack.)
- ↑ Ford, the Icelandic witch or troll, could only be killed before sunrise on Whit-Sunday."—Powell and Magnusson's Icelandic Tales.
