“What will we do with the fellow?” said one of the Hags, looking at Flann who was in a swoon on the floor.
“Cut of his head with the sword that he threatened us with,” said another.
“No,” said the third Hag. “Crom Duv the Giant is in want of a servant. Let him take this fellow. Then maybe the Giant will give us what he has promised us for so long—a Berry to each of us from the Fairy Rowan Tree that grows in his courtyard.”
“Let it be, let it be,” said the other Hags. They put green branches on the fire so that Crom Duv would see the smoke and come to the house. In the morning he came. He brought Flann outside, and after awhile Flann’s senses came back to him. Then the Giant tied a rope round his arms and drove him before him with a long iron spike that he had for a staff.
II
Crom Duv’s arms stretched down to his twisted knees; he had long, yellow, overlapping horse’s teeth in his mouth, with a fall-down under-lip and a drawn-back upper-lip; he had a matted rug of hair on his head. He was as high as a haystack. He carried in his twisted hand an iron spike pointed at the end. And wherever he was going he went as quickly as a running mule.
He tied Flann’s hands behind his back and drew the rope round Flann’s body. Then he started off. Flann was dragged on as if at the tail of a cart. Over ditches and through streams; up hillsides and down into hollows he was hauled. Then they came into a plain as round as the wheel of a cart. Across the plain they went and into a mile-deep wood. Beyond the wood there were buildings—such walls and such heaps of stones Flann never saw before.
But before they had entered the wood they had come to a high grassy mound. And standing on that grassy mound was the most tremendous bull that Flann had ever seen.
“What bull is that, Giant?” said Flann.
“My own bull,” said Crom Duv, “the Bull of the Mound. Look back at him,
little fellow. If ever you try to escape from my service my Bull of the
Mound will toss you into the air and trample you into the ground.” Crom
Duv blew on a horn that he had across his chest. The Bull of the Mound
rushed down the slope snorting. Crom Duv shouted and the bull stood
still with his tremendous head bent down.