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“You know the desires of my heart,”Fionn said to his son, “for they are the desires of your heart also.”

Oisin felt the benison of his father’s pride, and he thought his heart must split asunder with the swelling of the joy that was in it. The sun broke through the clouds to dance in glints on the water, and the young man considered that there was nothing more he could wish for on such a grand day, than to be striding at his father’s side in the company of his brethren-in-arms. The sea wind barreling up the scarp swept exhilaration into him, until his blood fizzed in its pathways, and he silently began to conjure lyrics, for he was as skilled at poetry and singing as at fighting.

The huntsmen descended the slopes of the headland until they were treading along the strand, among the ceramic fans of shells and the convoluted ribbons of cast-up oarweed.

It was then that the astonishing sight manifested itself.

Far away across the sea a tiny smudge evolved on the horizon. Presently, it became apparent that something was approaching, and as it came nearer to the land the blur coalesced into an unexpected form—that of a rider on a white horse. Closer still, and the Fianna could discern there was a girl seated on the horse’s back; closer yet, and they perceived she was the most beautiful girl any of them had ever beheld.

Her looks were stunning beyond imagination. The sight of her sent ecstasy piercing through the men; made them forget who or where they were, for a long moment, while their minds struggled to recover from the shocking thrill of witnessing a form, a face so enchanting the vision stifled breath.Hers was a beauty so wondrous it was almost terrifying; so rare beyond the beauty of the world they knew she could not be human.

Her gown seemed made of blossom and raindrops, while a slender band of gold encircled her head. Her hair outshone the gold. The long locks were so purely golden they seemed spun from fibres of sunlight. The wind, racing across the sea to the land, would have lifted its long strands and unraveled them, save that the swift pace of the horse equaled that of the air currents in the opposite direction.

Splendid was her steed, with his shining silken coat and burnished hooves. He traversed the water’s surface with no more trouble than a horse trotting on the land. Like a floor of jagged green glass was the ocean, yet the hooves took no harm, nor did the steed sink at all; not even a drop of water beaded the gown of the rider.

She guided her mount into the shallows, and the men, watching in silent awe, heard the splashing as he came up the beach, and the crunch of pebbly sand. The damsel walked her horse up to the spellbound band of hunters and drew to a halt, and all the men who looked upon her were seized by love.

It was Fionn mac Cumhail who first recovered his voice.

“Lady,”h e said wonderingly, “who are you, and from what place do you hail?”

She answered in a low sweet voice.“My name is Niamh Chill Óir, and my father is Manannán mac Lir, the king of Tír na Nóg.

“Tír na Nóg?”r epeated Fionn in puzzlement. “If I am not mistaken, that name signifies ‘The Land of Youth.’An unusual title.What kind of country is it?”

“It is the land of delight and happiness, where no one ever grows old,”sh e said. “In Tír na Nóg the trees are constantly laden with ripe fruit, and flowers bloom all year round.”

The Fianna was astounded by her description, but they could only believe it, because they had seen her riding over the water.

Then Fionn said, “Niamh, daughter of Manannán mac Lir, you are welcome to Ireland. Never have I seen you here before.”

She replied, “It was not possible for you to see me, but I have seen you many times Fionn mac Cumhail. Many times I have visited Ireland to watch you and the Fianna”—she turned her radiant eyes upon the young man at Fionn’s side—“and your son Oisin.”

When he heard her speak his name Oisin trembled like an over-tuned harp string, and a furnace spilled hot embers over him