Continuing my dive into modern Paganism and Irish history and mythology, I thoroughly enjoyed this. It had many things I love. Beautiful prose and poetry, grim and dark battles, that Celtic lead-on trope of storytelling, exaggerations, and as a bonus we get a dark prophecy at the end. The Fomorians are excellent villains, though I'd have liked more description of their monstrous characteristics. It also strikes me at how human the gods are here, I mean that's always been a thing of paganism with the gods being more flawed. But they're really more superhuman than supernatural or immortal. I was also surprised to see how new Lugh was to this scene since I'd thought he'd be more present than showing up at their "last battle" and then suddenly becoming central to it, but that might speak more to the developing mythos.
Quotes:
A great cry was given by the hosts as they went to battle, they came together then, and each began to strike their opposites.
A great many beautiful ones fell there in the enclosure of death. Great the slaughter and the grave-laying that was there. There was arrogance and shame-facedness side by side. There was wrath and rage. Plentiful were the streams of blood over the bright-skin of young warriors there weapon-wounded by the hands of those rushing to go through stress for shame.
There was a rough, tumultuous sound and a multitude slashing and the valorous warriors engaged in protecting their spears and their shields and their bodies while being struck by their opposites who were smiting with their spears and their swords. Rough, as well, the noise there throughout the battlefield, that is the shouting of warriors and the din of shields, brightness and whistling of the swords and the ivory blades, the clatter and rattling of the quivers, whistling and whizzing of the small spears and lances, and uproarious smiting of weapons.
Indeed when they met their fingers and feet were mutually striking, they were falling from standing because of the slipperiness of the blood under the feet of the soldiers, and having their heads hewn from them as they sat. Risen up was a gory, injurious, pointed, bloody battle and spear shafts were reddened in the hands of enemies.
“And you, oh Coirpre son of Étaín,” said Lugh to his poet, “what power can you control in battle?”
“Not hard,” said Coirpre, “I will make a satire on them and lampoon them, and shame them, so they will offer no resistance to the warriors through the incantations of my skill.
"This is why Badb still declares great deeds. “What news with you?” everyone asked her then. “Peace to sky. Sky to earth. Earth below sky, strength in each one, a cup overfull, filled with honey, sufficiency of renown. Summer in winter, spears supported by warriors, warriors supported by forts. Forts fiercely strong; banished are sad outcries land of sheep healthy under antler-points destructive battle cries held back. Crops [masts] on trees a branch resting resting with produce sufficiency of sons a son under patronage on the neck of a bull a bull of magical poetry knots in trees trees for fire. Fire when wished for. Wished for earth getting a boast proclaiming of borders. Borders declaring prosperity green-growth after spring autumn increase of horses a troop for the land land that goes in strength and abundance. Be it a strong, beautiful wood, long-lasting a great boundary 'Have you a story?' Peace to sky be it so lasting to the ninth [generation]”
She was afterwards among them prophesying the years at the end of existence, and further promising each evil and lack in those years, and every plague and every vengeance: so that there she chanted her poem: "Something seen is a world that shall not be pleasing: summer deprived of flowers, cows deprived of milk; women deprived of modesty, men deprived of valor. Conquests without a king, pointed, bearded, mouths of many-oaths, sorrow, a lord without judgments. Sea without profit. Multitude of storms, excessively tonsured, forts, barren of structures, hollow, a stronghold coming from mistakes a devastated time, many homeless, an excess of lords, joy in evil, a cry against traditions, bearded faces. Equipment decaying, numerous exploits, finding battles, silent towards a spurred horse, numerous assemblies, treachery of lord's sons, covered in sorrow, crooked judgement of old men. False precedents of judges, a betrayer every man. A reaver every son. The son will go lay down instead of his father. The father will go lay down instead of his son. In-law each to his own kinsman. A person will not seek women out of his house. A long enduring evil period of time will be generated, a son betrays his father, a daughter betrays [her mother]"