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Lugh's Arrival at Tara: A Futuristic Fable
The original "Lugh's Arrival at Tara" can be read here
Lugh Arrives at Tara - A Futuristic Fable Set Sometime in...well...the Future
Lugh Lormansclech is a living mythical stereotype. He's an obsessive-compulsive hero. Wherever he goes, he's constantly alert for trouble. Since he was a wee lad, he's been practicing every skill so that he can fight the good fight for whatever is right. In his youth, he was always climbing trees to rescue trapped kittens. When he got a little older, he switched from saving kittens to aiding damsels in distress. There is many a bully boy who got the snot beat out of him by Lugh's righteous fists. Nothing was too big or small for Lugh to save. When it was time for him to choose a path in life, he decided to work towards a degree in architecture so that he could learn to build solar structures and save the environment. After he earned his degree, he went on to study medicine so that he could find a cure for cancer. His hobbies include metalworking, poetry and ancient history. He excels at everything he tries! In his prime, Lugh evolves into a celebrity. He makes guest appearances on every major satellite network talk show media, expounding eloquently on his high ideals and boasting (modestly, of course) of his latest good deeds and daring feats. He even takes a stab at performing as a rock star, leading his own band and touring the world to raise funds for such worthy causes as world hunger and land mine recovery. One morning the top story on the worldwide news thrills Lugh to the core of his Irish soul. The unimaginable has happened! The vanquished race, the Tuatha de Danaan, have returned - and they've reclaimed Tara! The Irish government recently signed a contract with Haliburton to build a motorway almost within spitting distance (well, spitting distance for Lugh anyway) of Tara Hill. There was a bloody clash between the government officials, highway builders and a small crowd of protesters. One of the leaders of the protest, a reconstructionist druid called Nuada, sacrificed his own hand when he laid down in front of the bulldozers. At the instant when his blood flowed onto the sacred ground of Tara, the outraged Tuatha de Danaan swarmed like a hundred million angry bees from out of every barrow and mound coast to coast, breaking free from their banishment to defend Tara against the desecration of the double-toll highway's poisonous presence. The tear gas and taser guns of the police and all the tricks and tactics of the army were no match for the magickal weapons of the TDD Liberation Army. The rubber bullets bounced off their faery shields. Tanks were stalled by the mystical mist. Snipers were blinded by the swords of light. The TDDLA occupied the area, gathering forces from all over the island and declaring Tara once again capital - of a new utopian world power, a united Ireland! Lugh, inspired by this event, makes his way to Tara's gate, which is now a barbed wire fence in front of a mystical fog that protects the perimeter. He is duly challenged by a nasty haggish female guard in cammies and combat boots. The dialogue went something like this: "Halt! Who goes there?" "Lugh Lormansclech is here. I am the direct descendant of Cian son of Dian Cecht and of Ethne daughter of Balor. My great great great great great grandfather was fostered by Tailtiu, daughter of Magmor, king of Spain, and Eochaid Garb mac Duach." The guard guffawed, doubling over and slapping her thigh. "Yeah and aren't we all?" she snarled once she'd regained her composure. She showed Lugh a gap toothed display of yellow and brown fangs. He flinched slightly but did not back down. Her breath could melt the paint off a Hum-Vee. Lugh stood tall, undaunted. "Question me then. I'm a Builder." The guard looked him up and down. Sure, he had the build of a construction worker all right. What a hunk! She took a moment to admire his bulging biceps and barrel chest. Then she laughed and scratched vigourously at her lice-infested scalp which showed through in patches of greasy colorless tresses. "We don't need another Bob the Builder here, mate! We have a team that defected from Haliburton who are working with our archaeologists right now to rebuild Tara exactly the way it was in the glory days! Piss off." Lugh didn't blink. "Question me again. I am a Smith." The guard cackled like the Morrigan. "And my name is Jane Doe. Right, then. We're all anonymous around here. What are you trying to do? Infiltrate? Go away." Lugh blinked. "Question me. I am a Champion." "Congrads!" the guard sneered. She puckered up and spit out a pale green glob that hit the ground right in front of Lugh's feet. The force of the expulsion split a large rock in half. "Next you'll be telling me beer is the breakfast of champions." She peered at him a bit more closely. "Are you a tourist?" Lugh flexed his arms and cracked his knuckles in a show of strength. He decided to take a softer approach. And it wouldn't hurt to drop a few names. "Question me. I am a Harper. Ask Paddy Maloney if you don't trust my musical skills. I auditioned as a replacement for Derek Bell but -" The guard stared at Lugh, then studied her filthy fingernails and yawned. "You too,huh? Musicians are a dime a dozen around here. You'll have to do better than that. We already have Bono with us, you can't top that!" Bono?! Lugh clenched his jaw in frustration. "Then question me, I'm a Warrior!" he snapped. "We have enough warriors. Besides, we're trying to work for world peace, starting right here." The guard stepped forward and put the toes of her combat boots right up against the tips of Lugh's handmade Italian loafers. Downwind from her, he felt his hair curling from the stifling stench of her body odor. "I think you're spoofin' me. Go back to wherever you came from!" Lugh stood his ground. "Question me, doorkeeper. I am a Poet and Historian." The guard threw back her head and howled. "Didn't you know?" She jerked a thumb back towards the besieged environs of Tara Hill. "Seamus Heaney was among the first to join with us, you fool!" Lugh raised an eyebrow, impressed but not discouraged. "Question me, I am a Sorcerer." The guard shrugged. "You said you are a poet and historian. How could you not know of the powers of the Tuatha de Danaan? We don't need another druid, you brainless twit. Go home to yer mam." "Question me. I am a Physician," Lugh sighed. "We're immortal, in case you didn't notice," the guard sniffed, turning her back and starting to walk away. Lugh grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. "Question me, I am a Cupbearer!" he insisted. The guard bristled. Her snaky dreadlocks stood up on her head and hissed like a nest of cobras. "Take your hands off me!" "Question me. I am a good Brazier," Lugh recited, clinging to his last hope. "Cups? Braziers? What are you getting at? My cup size and brazier is no business of yours!" the guard taunted him, crossing her arms over her pockmarked and pustulated chest. Lugh's patience was nearly exhausted. In a voice that was dangerously icy and low, he said to the grinning hag, "Go and ask Nuada whether he has one man who possesses all these arts: if he has I will go away." The guard's cankerous lips fell open. "You possess ALL of these arts? Well, why didn't you say so in the first place? Sure, you must be who you say you are, if that's true then you are indeed a direct descendant of Lugh Himself. And I will let you into Tara now - but first, you must give me a kiss!" Lugh's stomach turned over. Bile rose in his throat. But he was a poet and historian, among many other things, and he knew all the old traditions. He knew he was facing the most heroic challenge of his life. He braced himself, shut his eyes tight and took the hag in his arms. The stench was so horrible, his eyes watered and he broke out in a sweat. He could feel the lice crawling down his arm from the hag's grayish-green flesh. With a heavy sigh of determination, he pressed his mouth to hers. The kiss tasted of the sweetest bilberries, the richest, darkest honey of summer, and a hint of earthy ripe grains. He drank deeply of this. He wanted it never to end. It lasted for a heartbeat and it lasted forever. "Lady Sovereignty!" Lugh gasped when their lips finally parted. "What a joy to be greeted by you!" With Lugh's kiss, the hag had magically transformed into the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She took his hand and smiled graciously. "Fáilte, Samildanach! Welcome to Tara, we need you here now more than ever!" Together they entered the mists that blessed the gates of Tara. Lugh was immediately accepted as a commander in the Tuatha De Danaan Liberation Army. Tribes and clans united all over Ireland to celebrate the return of the faery race. Peace and plenty ruled the land as in the days of King Cormac. No door was ever locked. No one was ever hungry. Lugh be praised! May all who read this story reap a harvest of hope on this Lughnasadh. |
Hearthstone
~ Table of Contents ~
RECENT HIGHLIGHTS FROM BARDIC COLLEGE
From the Hall of the Red Poet Sir Kay: The Good, The Bad and the Ugly What's New at Ciclipéid Éire na gCeilteach A Brief History of Hurling CASTELL HENLLYS Caer Doward (Caer Guorthegirn) The Ceili: A New Musical Tradition The mysterious Dobhar-chú A Tour of Celtia's Cean Mor Districts Unique elements of Celtic tales Origins of Celtic Knotwork Traditional Samhain Yde Girl The Many Faces of Fionn Mac Cumhaill Bealtaine in Ancient Ireland An Introduction to the Red Branch (Ulster Cycle) Pronunciation Guide - Red Branch people & places The lore of the hazelnut The mysterious Dobhar-chú Balor, the Irish Cyclops Leannán Sidhe - The Irish Succubus Faoladh (Werewolf) Bio Welcome scroll Hogmanay 2011/12 First Foot Greeting Dún Ailinne |
