"I am Lugh, son of Cian of the Tuatha de Danaan, and of
Ethlinn, daughter of Balor, King of the Fomor," he said; "and I am
foster-son of Taillte, daughter of the King of the Great Plain, and of
Echaid the Rough, son of Duach." "What are you skilled in?" said the
door-keeper; "for no one without an art comes into Teamhair." "Question
me," said Lugh; "I am a carpenter." "We do not want you; we have a
carpenter ourselves, Luchtar, son of Luachaid." "Then I am a smith." "We
have a smith ourselves, Colum Cuaillemech of the Three New Ways." "Then
I am a champion." "That is no use to us; we have a champion before,
Ogma, brother to the king." "Question me again," he said; "I am a
harper." "That is no use to us; we have a harper ourselves, Abhean, son
of Bicelmos, that the Men of the Three Gods brought from the hills." "I
am-a poet," he said then, "and a teller of tales." "That is no use to
us; we have a teller of tales ourselves, Ere, son of Ethaman." "And I am
a magician." "That is no use to us; we have plenty of magicians and
people of power." "I am a physician," he said. "That is no use; we have
Diancecht-for our physician." "Let me be a cup-bearer," he said. "We do
not want you; we have nine cup-bearers ourselves." "I am a good worker
in brass." "We have a worker in brass ourselves, that is Credne Cerd."
Then Lugh said: "Go and ask the king if he has any one man that can do
all these things, and if he has, I will not ask to come into Teamhair.
Pages:
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48