Extracts From the Leabhar Glaodhach, the Book of Tears, being the
History of the Seal of Calum and the fall of the Sidhe.

At the end of Time, on the last Day of the Universe, the Great
Enemy sat alone and smiled his serpentine smile. Wearing his
satisfaction like a crown, he gazed across an Infinite night,
watching as each bruised and battered Galaxy flickered like a
candle flame and died.

Thus another cycle was brought to a crashing close, another cycle
dominated and tortured and fashioned in his own image, another
cycle in an unbroken chain of cycles in which his Will had
reigned unchallenged - and this, thought the Great Enemy, was
Good.

A final distant cluster of sad stars sighed and went out, and the
Enemy leaned back on his ebony throne and closed his eyes.

***

And from the darkness spoke a voice, saying: "Master Worm, Thou
Art Bound."

Slowly, then, did the seated figure open his dark, hooded eyes,
to see before him a tall and slender man-shape, clutching a
bundle in his arms. "And What" said the Enemy, "Art Thou?" "We
are Sidhe. We are the last Guard; We bring thee thy Chains..."
and the tall Sidhe thrust the bundle towards the throne.

The Great Enemy gasped as a pain travelled along his spine
upwards to his serpents head; a vast, all-encompassing pain that
filled his being and he recoiled to press his agony against the
back of the seat. "Show Me" he hissed. The Sidhe removed an
object from the bundle and held it high. It flashed and sparkled
like a giant star; forbidding the eyes to look upon it directly. 

"Behold, Calum's Seal" said the Sidhe. "Long did he toil
fashioning this Thing in places hidden from thee and now his Seal
binds Thee..." The Enemy slid down in his throne and curled
himself into a tight frozen ball, imprisoned by the brilliance
of the Seal.

In the remaining seconds before the birth of the next cycle, the
Sidhe spoke his last words to the bound Enemy. "Know this, Master
Worm, while this Seal is intact, Thou art Chained, and know also
that

Calum's gift will never be unguarded nor allowed to gather dust
in some dark niche nor left to the devices of thy servants, this
at the peril of the souls of our race and so do the Sidhe make
Oath..."

And so did a new Cycle begin...

***

The Sidhe took the Seal of Calum and hid it deep in an ancient
fastness, far beyond the ken of Mortal and Immortal alike.

And in a far distant place, the Great Enemy writhed in helpless
pain on his black throne, leaving a new Universe to pursue a
happier course.

Great were the civilisations that arose in that golden Cycle and
great were their works and the Sidhe were cherished by all
creatures. But, in time, the vigilance of the Sidhe lessened and
the servants of the Enemy crept once again into the green fields
and tall towers.

And there came a day when Carnival was in the air and the Sidhe
went abroad to look fondly on the celebrations. While their
attention was away from the fortress of the Seal, a thing of the
Enemy slid silently inside and seized Calum's gift.

In that moment, the Great Enemy and the Sidhe became aware of
this act; the Enemy sent forth all that was left of his Will to
render what aid he could to his servant; the Sidhe sprang to
their feet and returned with such speed as only they could
achieve to their violated fortress.

So they arrived as the thief was approaching the door of the keep
and the Sidhe cried aloud in their anger - the thief withered and
died in a single, sustained blast from those he had robbed. But,
in dying, he wrought more harm than he could have dreamed, for
the Seal was also blasted and shattered into four pieces. Thus
was the Great Enemy loosed from his timeless bondage upon a
Universe unguarded and ripe for Vengeance.

For the Oath of the Sidhe was shattered with the Seal and they
took the four pieces through a secret way and withdrew to their
first kingdom, which was the Otherworld, the Land of Youth,
called Tir Na Nog.

***

In vain, the Sidhe tried to re-forge the Seal, but the art of
Calum was lost with its master when he finally passed beyond his
Smithy to the Far Land, even though his hammer and his anvil he
left for others to use.

Then, in their shame, the Sidhe were reduced and shrunken to
petty, dark creatures and their glory was remembered by few, even
amongst their own kind, but rather were they thought to be of the
Faery Folk and of little consequence.

The Seal was remembered by even fewer, but, from time to time,
a piece would emerge from Otherworld and take its place in
Legend; and, over the ages, the fragments were shaped by the
legends and became the legends; and this is how the parts of Seal
of Calum were known:

The first piece became Dagda's Cauldron, which was rumoured to
be ever the provider of food.

The second piece was known as the Spear of Lugh, which is said
to ensure victory.

The third piece became the Stone of Fal, which always hit any
target at which it was thrown, and later was said to shriek in
the presence of a lawful King.

The last piece was known as Nuada's Sword, which made its bearer
invincible, and allowed no escape to a fleeing enemy.

For the fragments of the Seal were separately named in their
re-shaping after the great of the Tuatha de Danann, the children
of Danu, whom later men called Gods.

And so the Seal, though sundered, retained its power and the
power of the Whole was present in the parts, though they could
not be united.

***

Though the worlds were plunged into torment as the Enemy was
freed, so also in the same moment began the Age of Heroes.

The names of the Heroes were many and most drifted into the mists
of time with their mortality. Some gave their names to cities and
mountains, and will be remembered around the fires of men till
Cycle's End.

But the greatest Hero to walk abroad is remembered for the least
of his works, for high in honour though his earthly deeds were,
his noblest acts were performed in places outside of the
knowledge of the Bards and so were unrecorded.

So let it be known that the name of the Greatest Hero was
Cuchulainn, who was also called the Hound of Heaven, and in Death
his deeds were mightier than in Life.

***

Many are the tales concerning the Hero Cuchulainn, though many
are untrue. Certainly, it is well known that he was at first
called Sedanta, but, since, as a boy, he had slain that giant
hound that guarded the lands of Culan (with his bare hands, even,
and then offering to take its place), he was thereafter called
the Hound or Culan's Hound or Cuchulainn (though, in familiarity,
he was also called Cucuc).

And still, when he was but a youth, did he hear from Cathbhadh
the druid that any mortal that took arms on a certain day would
be a Hero and renowned forever but fated to be short-lived. And,
on such a day, Cuchulainn had broken fifteen sets of weapons in
their trying till he received those of the king himself, before
departing to join his life as a Hero.

But, alas, the words of the Druid were truth. For, though he
drove back the Connachtmen and was proclaimed Champion by Cu Roi
the Sorceror God, and though he received the Secret Signs of
Ogham, yet, to his grief, he unknowingly killed his own son. And
so, at last, on the feast of Samhain, at the start of Winter, did
all his enemies bring Cuchulainn to his doom. By force of arms
and magic, he was grievously wounded. Then did he tie himself to
a pillar so that he might die upright as befits a warrior and a
Hero. In his final moments, the Morrighan and her three sisters
appeared as the Badhbh Chatha, the Battle Ravens, and landed on
his shoulders and thus, in bitterness was Cuchulainn sent from
the Land of the Living.

***

After his departure, the Hero became as a shade and wandered long
on the borders of the Afterworld, for he was unwilling to leave
the world of Men, still with all its troubles. So, knowing much
of the Lore and History of Cycles, he set upon a last Quest.

And the Quest of Cuchulainn was this - to bring together the
fragments of the Seal of Calum and to re-unite them, for the
lightening of the burdens of the world and his own lasting glory.
So he took himself to Mound of the Sidhe, and standing before the
Altar of the Seal, he gazed upon the gateway to Tir Na Nog...

--------------------

Notes taken from the Sealltuinn, which means Observations, being
the diary of Edar Mac Eochaid, a Bard of the Sidhe.

The life of a bard is far from an easy one, as I know to my
eternal discomfort, but harsh were the fortunes Of Ruad, the Red
Bard, who wrote part of the Leabhar Glaodhach and published the
shame of the Sidhe. Driven from the Land, it is said he returned
to dwell in the Plain of Lies, and became a Iore-master of hidden
paths and secret doors.

The Badbha or Battle Ravens of Badhelm are the bane of King
Dhomnuil and all who dwell in the Castle of the Sidhe. Perhaps
the Badbha are correct in their claims that Dhomnuil stole
Badrig's Feather, shortly after it was removed from the dying
warlord and cast in iron...

It is my opinion, for what its worth, that, if the 4 Talismans
were spirited from the Land, the Sidhe Lords would feel nothing
but relief, since we are forbidden to ever use their Power so
they remain mute symbols of the Failure of the Sidhe.

I hear many stories from our folk who live in the central lands,
but none are more intriguing than the tales of the Suil Labhairt,
the Speaking Eye, which dwells in Cnoc Suil, and is said to give
good advice in return for gifts - I have personally never
encountered any Oracle whose advice was in the slightest bit
helpful...

The great Henges and Standing Stones in Tir Clachan cast
mysterious shadows on the history of the Sidhe though they must
be home for much that is strange and magical - I would shrink
from passing them without all the Words of Power that our Druids
could offer.

I was today given a piece of the carapace from a Tuath da
Nathair, one of the Children of Nathair the Fire Serpent - it is
said to possess great power but I dislike its fiery touch.

Far beneath the black peak of Dubh Sgorr, lie the catacombs
called An Lin, the Net. I know little of this dire region except
that the Net was wrought to protect the Heart of Dubh Sgorr...

The deserted village in the Northern foothills was once inhabited
by Sidhe so arrogant that they termed themselves the Glica na
Bhard, meaning Wiser than the Bards! Their paintings and poetry
were quite incomprehensible and, while some obscure works of
theirs survived the Great Pestilence, I am glad to say that they
themselves did not.

The beautiful, but grim Cern Forest that covers the west of Tir
Na Nog is home to a curious branch of our people. I have heard
that they clean the forest-floor, or perform any other menial
task, for the Great Hunter who dwells in the deep wood, in return
for the music played upon his enchanted harp. I have also heard
that they know a great secret, which is hidden even from the
Hunter.

That dreary bane of our Land, Olcweed, is spreading daily and
causing much inconvenience to the poor traveller - and even
poorer Bard!

When I was young, Engos, my tutor, told of a wondrous neckband
or Torc that, when carried by a person of honour; would allow him
to evade the greatest dangers. Alas, it was broken and lost, and
though I searched all morning, I never found it.

I have noticed of late that a particularly noxious breed of
cave-wight seems to have crept unnoticed into the Land. Of
course, it is easy enough to ward them off, but anyone who has
been trapped by one of these wights knows how irritating they are
to decent folk...