The Feach was a wild and terrible fighter surely, but the courageous spirit of Ciad made him a better. The noise and din and fierceness of the fight was so great that the boars came down from the hills, and the deer came up from the valleys, and the birds came from the woods of the world, to watch it; but before night fell Ciad put the Feach down. Then he put his knee on his breast, and asked him where he would find the bottle of loca and the Riches of the World.
Feach-An-Chruic said: “If that is what you came for and what you fought for, I’m sorry for you. I had the bottle of loca and the Riches of the World only one night when Feach-An-Choille [the Terrible Man of the Wood] took them from me.”
“I do not believe it,” said Ciad.
But the Feach showed him the footprints of Feach-An-Choille, with last night’s rains still lying in them.
“And where does Feach-An-Choille live?” said Ciad.
“He lives a third of the world from here,” said Feach-An-Chruic.
“And how may I get there?” Ciad asked.
“You’re a brave man,” said Feach-An-Chruic, “and I would like to see you succeed.”
With the point of his spear he rang three times on his shield, and a wolf-dog came running up. “Follow that dog,” said Feach-An-Chruic, “and he will lead you to Feach-An-Choille.”
Ciad set out after the dog, and he traveled away and away, far further than I could tell you, and twice as far as you could tell me, over hill, height, and hollow, mountain, moor, and scrug, lone valley and green glen, for long and for long, until at length and at last he reached the land of Feach-An-Choille. Traveling through it he came upon a hut, and saw Feach-An-Choille himself standing outside. He was leaning against the end of his hut laughing, and every time he laughed oak trees fell.