This satire of Cairpré’s was, we are assured, so virulent that it caused great red blotches to break out all over Bress’s face. This in itself constituted a blemish such as should not be upon a king, and the Tuatha Dé Danann called upon Bress to abdicate and let Nuada take the throne again.
Bress was obliged to do so. He went back to the country of the Fomors, underneath the sea, and complained to his father Elathan, its king, asking him to gather an army to reconquer his throne. The Fomors assembled in council—Elathan, Tethra, Balor, Indech, and all the other warriors and chiefs—and they decided to come with a great host, and take Ireland away, and put it under the sea where the people of the goddess Danu would never be able to find it again.
At the same time, another assembly was also being held at Tara, the capital of the Tuatha Dé Danann. Nuada was celebrating his return to the throne by a feast to his people. While it was at its height, a stranger clothed like a king came to the palace gate. The porter asked him his name and errand.
“I am called Lugh,” he said. “I am the grandson of Diancecht by Cian, my father, and the grandson of Balor by Ethniu, my mother.”
“But what is your profession?” asked the porter; “for no one is admitted here unless he is a master of some craft.”
“I am a carpenter,” said Lugh.
“We have no need of a carpenter. We already have a very good one; his name is Luchtainé.”
“I am an excellent smith,” said Lugh.
“We do not want a smith. We have a very good one; his name is Goibniu.”
“I am a professional warrior,” said Lugh.