Finn's Journey to Lochlann
Scotland has long been renowned for its heroes. Legends about the bravest of them all—Finn MacCool—were passed down from generation to generation.Finn commanded a band of nine thousand warriors. This band was called the Fianna; it united Ireland and Scotland, or, as the ancients called them, Erin and Alba. There is hardly a patch of land in these two countries where the memory of this hero and his deeds has not been preserved.
The Fianna was born during a time when the Lochlannachs, or, as they later came to be known, the Norsemen, raided the shores of Erin and Alba.
The High King of Erin convened a great council to decide how to overcome this powerful enemy. The council of elders proposed selecting a hundred of the finest young men and women and marrying them off, so that their children and grandchildren would form a mighty army capable of defeating the invaders from Lochlann.
Thus, in Erin, a tribe of glorious warriors was born. Under Finn's leadership, they drove the enemy from their native land and barred them from returning to the British Isles.
Legend has it that Finn was not the strongest warrior in the Fianna. He was not renowned for his strength but for his wisdom, generosity, protection of the weak, and unblemished honor. It was said, "Finn would never betray a friend."
We shall now tell you of the time Finn once ventured to Lochlann.
Shortly after the Fianna had driven the Lochlannachs away, Finn and his warriors were hunting a stag in the mountains when they encountered a stranger who greeted them in a foreign tongue.
"Where are you from, and what do you seek here?" asked Finn.
"From afar. I seek a master," replied the stranger.
"I happen to need a servant," said Finn. "What will you ask for if you serve me for one day and one year?"
"Very little," answered the stranger, "just this: when my service ends, promise to accompany me to a festive night feast in the palace of the Lochlannach king. But you must go alone—no one may accompany you, neither dog, nor man, nor calf, nor child. And no weapons!"
Finn clapped the stranger on the shoulder so hard that he tumbled halfway down the mountain. Then he said:
"Your terms suit me! They promise adventure. Serve me for one day and one year, and I will go with you to the night feast in Lochlann."
For one day and one year, the stranger served faithfully, and when the time came, he reminded Finn of their agreement.
Finn then summoned all nine thousand of his warriors and said to them:
"I must honor my agreement with this youth, and now I leave you. I do not know when I will return. But if I do not come back in one year and one day, it means I have been killed in Lochlann. If that happens, let every one of you—those with sharp swords, those with taut bows—set foot on the shores of Lochlann to avenge me in a great battle."
And so, Finn left his home, and his jester called after him:
"O Finn, first among men, do not disdain my advice, for it happens that a king's wisdom may lodge in a fool's head."
"And what is your advice?" asked Finn.
"Listen to me: take Bran's golden collar with you. (Bran was Finn's loyal and strongest hound.) For the collar is neither a dog, nor a man, nor a calf, nor a child, nor a weapon, yet it may serve you greatly."
"I will heed your advice and take it," replied Finn. He placed Bran's collar in his pocket and left his people, accompanied by the youth who had served him for one day and one year.
Finn was swift and agile, yet he struggled to keep up with his companion, who seemed to fly as if on wings. Finn merely tried not to lose sight of him as they navigated through thickets and winding gorges, forded rivers, and skirted lakes.
If the youth disappeared ahead behind a high mountain, Finn quickened his pace and circled the mountain from the other side to catch sight of him and stay on course.
Their journey ended when they reached the royal castle of the Lochlannachs.
Sinister and grim, it stood on the very edge of the sea, where foamy waves roared against sharp rocks.
Exhausted and weary from the arduous journey, Finn entered the castle and sank into a chair to rest before joining the feast. He remembered well his agreement with the stranger.
But it was not a feast that awaited Finn MacCool in the Lochlannach king's castle.
The king himself, the grim clan leaders, and all the finest warriors of Lochlann had gathered that day to decide together how to put the Fianna hero to death. From the moment Finn entered the castle, he became their prisoner and knew he would find no mercy there.
"Hang him!" said one.
"Burn him!"
"Drown him in the deepest lake!"
Suggestions came one after another, like blows from a dull sword.
"No, let Finn MacCool die a shameful death!" said a warrior with the darkest, fiercest face. "Let us send him to the Great Gorge, where the Gray Hound dwells. The Hound will tear him apart. There is no death more shameful than death by a dog's teeth!"
These words were met with delight and loud approval from the gathered crowd: who could argue that there was no worse death than by the fangs and claws of the ferocious Gray Hound, who guarded the gloomy Great Gorge, where even the most daring warrior had not dared to venture for years.
Without delay, the warriors led Finn to the Great Gorge and left him there among thorny thickets and impassable cliffs, shrouded in a damp, acrid mist. Only the prolonged howl of the Gray Hound broke the silence.
To stay in the Great Gorge or to flee—the end for Finn would be the same: death.
But it was better to fall victim to the fearsome Hound than to the hands of traitors who had lured him to their castle by deceit—so Finn decided and stayed.
Suddenly, out of the mist, the Gray Hound emerged before him, and the hero's knees trembled involuntarily as fear gripped his throat. The Hound was no smaller than Bran—Finn's beloved hound. Its fur stood on end along its back. Its jaws gaped, revealing sharp, long teeth and a red tongue. Its nostrils flared with such force that it scattered everything around for three miles, at least.
Finn's back grew cold, and his heart froze.
Then he remembered that in his pocket lay Bran's golden collar, which he had taken from home on his jester's advice. A spark of hope flared within him.
He took out the collar and waved it in the air. And as if by magic, the Gray Hound froze, ceased its menacing growl, and wagged its tail. Then it crawled on its belly to Finn and licked his hand, then his face, neck, and legs. It licked all the scratches and sores from the thorny bushes and sharp rocks.
Finn placed Bran's golden collar around the Gray Hound's neck and led the fearsome, tamed beast out of the Gorge.
The warriors and friends held a feast to celebrate Finn's return.
But the true miracle was not that Finn returned home unharmed—everyone believed in his wit, resourcefulness, and courage—but the meeting of the Gray Hound and Bran. Indeed, the secret of this friendly encounter was simple: the Gray Hound and Bran were brothers.
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