The Coming of Finn

Chapter VII

The Hospitality of Cuanna

The enchanted mist was so dense that even Finn's limbs felt remote and disconnected. For a moment, the youth could see nothing but pale shifting vapors, but then, within a few steps, the mist disappeared from about him, melting away as quickly as it had formed. Stepping clear of the billowing shrouds, he stopped short and gazed about in wonder.

No longer was he in the wood of the sprites.

He stood now at the edge of a pleasant forest grotto. Before him, nestled snugly in the shadows of the trees, was a most curious woodland cottage. It was large, with a thick, tightly thatched roof. Its doors and shutters were hewn of softly shining, golden oak. A colorful place; its walls were a bright mix of rich pastels and gold, and everywhere was bedecked with brilliant banners and furls sewn with small but surprisingly bright-sounding bells. The lightest breeze playing about the walls caused the cottage to tinkle and chime softly. In front of the home was a neatly tended garden with two tiny wells, one with a copper basin before it and the other a cast iron basin.

"Who could have built such a curious place in this remote wilderness?" Finn wondered.

Just with that, the figure of a man appeared at the door, who called out to him invitingly. "Ah, here at last. Welcome, lad, welcome! Come right in and make yourself at home!"

Finn stared at the man, not moving. He was pleasant enough in appearance, on the short side, and in his middle years, with a round smiling face, his hair grayed and cut close to his head, finely chiseled features, and beaming brown eyes. His dress was simple, save perhaps for its colors, for his loose fitted tunic and pants and over-vest of tight woven linens were colored like unto the walls of the place, brightly blended of rich pastels. But nothing was threatening about him. Yet Finn, who had grown up knowing only the faces of his two guardians, had never met with another man before. It took him aback for a moment, and he stared fixedly until the man called out again.

"Come on then, laddy," he encouraged, "can't stand on ceremony, you know." With a parting wave of the hand, he turned and disappeared into the hollows of the cottage. Embarrassed at his awkwardness, Finn moved quickly to the door but stepped cautiously as he passed inside.

With the afternoon sun just passed below the horizon, it took a moment for Finn's eyes to adjust to the dim interior of the cottage. The first thing to draw him were the figures of the giant and young girl he'd followed through the forest. The former was standing by the hearth in the west wall bent over a steaming cauldron where he was cooking the forest pig., The young girl, busied and bustling, was laying a sizable eating table with bowls, platters, and implements. But these two were not the only inhabitants of the place, nor the only two for which the meal was being set. There were many place settings, for there were many others to join in the feasting, and these were the cause of no little curiosity for the Son of Cumhal.

Seated relatively close to the giant, propped like a countryman on a low stool near the fire, was a man who, seemingly with great interest, eyed all of the preparations for the forthcoming meal. He might well do such easily; in fact, easier than most. This man, though common in terms of his dress, bearing, and general manner, was quite one of a kind in the fact that he did not have just two eyes (like most mortals) but indeed had twelve eyes that looked out from nearly a complete circle about his head. Finn stared in wonder at the countryman until he realized at least two of those eyes were staring right back at him. Embarrassed, the youth lowered his gaze.

Toward the center of the long wall facing the door was another room occupant. This was not a man but a beast, a ram with a black head, a snow-white belly, dark blue horns, and green feet. The ram's coloring was strange enough, but the beast sat upright in a chair, like a human, with its legs bent forward and its front hooves crossed and resting on its belly. All the while, in human words and speech, it muttered and conversed incessantly with itself in a low grating voice: - "...it's too long... but they said...its...doesn't matter what they said, they always say! I want it... Do you hear?... take it...I'll...oh, no, you won't...! take, take, take...I'll ease forward and act as if...if only I had, yes, if I had...I must have. I must!"