way to the mound-seat of Emain, where was the boy-troop.
Thrice fifty youths were with Folloman, Conchobar's son, at their games on
the fair-green of Emain.

"The little lad went on to the play-field into the midst of the boys, and
he whipped the ball between his two legs away from them, nor did he suffer
it to travel higher up than the top of his knee, nor did he let it lower
down than his ankle, and he drove it and held it between his two legs and
not one of the boys was able to get a prod nor a stroke nor a blow nor a
shot at it, so that he carried it over the [W.904.] brink of the goal away
from them. [1]Then he goes to the youths without binding them to protect
him. For no one used to approach them on their play-field without first
securing from them a pledge of protection. He was weetless thereof.[1]

[1-1] LU. and YBL. 382-384.

"Then they all gazed upon him. They wondered and marvelled. "Come, boys!"
cried Folloman, Conchobar's son, [2]"the urchin insults us.[2] Throw
yourselves all on yon fellow, and his death shall come at my hands; for it
is geis among you for any youth to come into your game, without first
entrusting his safety to you. And do you all attack him together, for we
know that yon wight is some one of the heroes of Ulster; and they shall not
make it their wont to break into your sports without first entrusting their
safety and protection to you."

[2-2] LU. and YBL. 384-385.

"Thereupon they all set upon him together. They cast their thrice fifty
hurl-bats at the poll of the boy's head. He raises his single toy-staff
and wards off the thrice fifty hurlies, [3]so that they neither hurt him
nor harm him,[3] [4]and he takes a load of them on his back.[4] Then they
throw their thrice fifty balls at the lad. He raises his upper arm and his
forearm and the palms of his hands [5]against them[5] and parries the
thrice fifty balls, [6]and he catches them, each single ball in his
bosom.[6] They throw at him the thrice fifty play-spears charred at the
end. The boy raises his little lath-shield [7]against them[7] and fends off
the thrice fifty play-staffs, [8]and they all remain stuck in his
lath-shield.[8] [9]Thereupon contortions took hold of him. Thou wouldst
have weened it was a hammering wherewith each hair was hammered into his
head, with such an uprising it rose. Thou wouldst have weened it was a
spark of fire that was on every single hair there. He closed one of his
eyes so that it was no