“Well, this and that; but there is no harm in saying it is called the Dark Nameless One.”
“The Dark Nameless One!”
“It is this way. But will you ever have been hearing of the MacOdrums of Uist?”
“Ay: the Sliochd-nan-ròn.”
“That is so. God knows. The Sliochd-nan-ròn ... the progeny of the Seal.... Well, well, no man knows what moves in the shadow of life. And now I will be telling you that old ancient tale, as it was given to me by the mother of my mother.”
On a day of the days, Colum was walking alone by the sea-shore. The monks were at the hoe or the spade, and some milking the kye, and some at the fishing. They say it was on the first day of the Faoilleach Geamhraidh, the day that is called Am fheill Brighde.
The holy man had wandered on to where the rocks are, opposite to Soa. He was praying and praying, and it is said that whenever he prayed aloud, the barren egg in the nest would quicken, and the blighted bud unfold, and the butterfly cleave its shroud.
Of a sudden he came upon a great black seal, lying silent on the rocks, with wicked eyes.
“My blessing upon you, O Ròn,” he said with the good kind courteousness that was his.
“Droch spadadh ort,” answered the seal. “A bad end to you, Colum of the Gown.”