When the wind failed, they sat down with the oars of fragrant beech or white ash, and with every stroke they sent the ship forward three leagues on the sea, where fishes, seals, and monsters rose around them, making music and sport, and giving courage to the men; and the three never stopped nor cooled until they sailed into the kingdom of the White Strand. Then they drew their vessel to a place where no wave was striking, nor wind rocking it, nor the sun splitting it, nor even a crow of the air dropping upon it; but a clean strand before it, and coarse sand on which wavelets were breaking. They cast two anchors toward the sea, and one toward land, and gave the vessel the fixing of a day and a full year, though they might not be absent more than one hour.
On the following day they saw one wide forest as far as the eye could reach; they knew not what manner of land was it.
“Would you go and inquire,” said Blaiman to the elder uncle, “what sort of a country that is inside?” The uncle went in, very slowly, among the trees, and at last, seeing flashes of light through the forest, rushed back in terror, the eyes starting out of his head.
“What news have you?” asked Blaiman.
“I saw flashes of fire, and could not go farther,” said the elder king’s son.
“Go you,” said Blaiman to the other, “and bring some account of the country.”
He did not go much farther than the elder brother, then came back, and said, “We may as well sail home again.”
“Well,” said Blaiman, “ye have provisions for a day and a year in this vessel. I will go now, and do ye remain here; if I am not back before the end of the day and the year, wait no longer.” He gave them good by, then went on, and entered the forest. It was not long till he met with the flashes. He did not mind them, but went forward; and when he had gone a good distance, he found the trees farther apart and scattered. Leaving the trees, he came out on a broad, open plain; in the middle of the plain was a castle; in front of the castle twelve champions practising at feats of arms; and it was the flashes from the blows of their swords that he and his uncles had seen in the forest. So skilled were the champions that not one of them could draw a drop of blood from another.
Blaiman was making toward them. By the side of the path there was a small hut, and as he was passing the door, an old woman came out, and hailed him. He turned, and she said, “A hundred thousand welcomes to you, Blaiman, son of Apple, from Erin.”
“Well, good woman,” said Blaiman, “you have the advantage. You know me; but I have no knowledge of you.”