Gemma Grant continues her series on Irish Myths and Legends

 

Fionn Mac Cumhaill had no reason to believe that this particular boar hunt would be the one to fulfil a prophecy made many years earlier. A prediction that foretold the slaughter of many of the Fianna and his own death at the hands of his enemies.

On that fateful hunting day, Fionn met with many nobles and chieftains from the various clans, all eager to be the clan to bring down the great boar.
The powerful, elusive pig killed many hunters of the Fianna and crushed their hounds with its massive tusks and enormous head. Many chieftains lost warriors during the last hunt and all were eager to finally trap and kill the great beast.

However, united as they were in this endeavour, the need for revenge still lingered in the hearts and minds of the great Morna clan, whose grandfather, Goll Mac Morna, had been killed by Fionn.
This was not in the thoughts of Fionn, when he gave orders for the hunters to spread out far and wide in their search for their quarry. Vast areas of forest and woodland around Slievenamon were covered. Hunters, horses, and hounds, spread out in every direction in their search for the ferocious animal that had for too long terrorised the populace.

At the end of the first day, no sighting of the boar had been seen and hunters made camp where they rested. The second day yielded nothing and once more the hunters contented themselves with game caught, but disappointment loomed large within the Fianna. The great boar had managed to elude them yet again.

By the end of the third day Fionn sat despondent on a grave mound he brought his small hunting party to.
“Who lies here?” one of them asked. “This is the grave of one of my household stewards,” Fionn replied. “He was killed by this great beast five years ago and I swore to bring this animal down. But alas, I have a great fear on me.”

The Fianna were alarmed to hear the mighty chieftain of the Fianna mention fear. It had never been in him before, they knew. Their great leader was old, but in no way did his age slow him down or the call of battle deter him from being first into the fray.

“Great chieftain,” Aodh asked. “What could you possibly fear in a hunt? It is what we, the Fianna, are passionate about.”

Fionn looked wistfully into the distance before speaking. “It is nothing from this world I fear. Nor is it losing my life. What I fear is what has been predicted – the end of the Fianna.”
“This can never be, great lord,” Aodh said, alarmed. “None can defeat us. Many have tried. From foreign lands they came to take our homeland, but we, the Fianna defeated them all.”

Continue reading in this week’s Ireland’s Own