Balar had two sons on another island learning druidism. They came home to the palace to their father.
“Father,” said a man of them, “your story-teller, your cook, and your fireman will give you your sufficiency of trouble.”
Kian, son of Contje, was listening to them speaking. He went to the daughter of Balar Beimann, and told her what her brother said.
“Well,” said she, “it is now time for you to be going. That is the byre-rope of the Gloss, hanging on the wall. She will be as quick as you; and take with you the boy.”
He went then till he came to the place where Mananaun put him out. Mananaun told him, when he was in difficulty, to think of him and he would come. He now came on the instant.
“Be in the currach,” said Mananaun, “and make haste, or Balar Beimann will drown us, if he can. But greater is my druidism than his,” said the tawny Mananaun, the son of Lir.
He jumped into the currach, and the Gloss jumped in as soon as he. Balar Beimann followed them, and raised the sea in a storm before them and behind them, nor did Mananaun aught but stretch out his hand and make the sea calm. Balar then set fire to the sea before them in hopes of burning them, but Mananaun threw out a stone, and extinguished the sea.
“Now, Kian, son of Contje, you are safe and sound home, and what will you give me for it?”
“I have nothing but the boy, and we will not go to make two halves of him, but I will give him to you entirely.”
“I am thankful to you. That is what I was wanting. There will be no champion in the world as good as he,” said Mananaun.