top of the hole.’
The lad mounted the eagle’s back, taking fifteen oxen to feed the eagle, but the eagle had eaten them before she had flown half way. So the lad had to return.
‘You’ll be my slave for another year and a day,’ said the giant.
At the end of that time the lad mounted the eagle’s back, taking thirty oxen to feed the eagle, but the eagle ate them all before she had flown three-quarters of the way. So they
returned.
‘You must be my slave for another year and a day,’ said the giant.
At the end of that time, the lad mounted the eagle’s back, taking sixty oxen to feed the eagle on the way, and they had almost reached the top when the meat was finished. Quickly the lad
cut a piece from his own thigh and gave it to the eagle. With one breath they were in the open air.
Before leaving him, the eagle gave the lad a whistle.
‘If you are in difficulty,’ said she, ‘whistle, and I’ll help you.’
When the lad reached the King of Lochlin’s castle, he went to the smith and asked him if he needed a gillie to blow the bellows. The smith agreed to take him.
Shortly after, the King’s eldest daughter ordered the smith to make her a golden crown, like the one she had worn under the earth,
‘Bring me the gold, and I’ll make the crown,’ said the new gillie to the smith.
The smith brought the gold. Then the gillie whistled, and the eagle came at once.
‘Fetch the gold crown that hangs behind the first giant’s door.’
The eagle returned with the crown, which the smith took to the King’s eldest daughter.
‘This looks like the crown I had before,’ said she.
Then the second daughter ordered the smith to make her a silver crown like the one she had worn under the earth.
‘Bring me the silver, and I’ll make the crown,’ said the gillie.
The smith brought the silver. Then the gillie whistled, and the eagle came.
‘Fetch the silver crown that hangs behind the second giant’s door,’ said the lad.
The eagle returned with the crown, which the smith took to the King’s second daughter.
‘This looks like the crown I had before,’ said she.
Then the King’s youngest daughter ordered the smith to make her a copper crown like the one she had worn under the earth.
‘Bring me the copper, and I’ll make the crown,’ said the lad.
The smith brought the copper. Then the gillie whistled, and the eagle came at once.
‘Fetch the copper crown that hangs behind the third giant’s door,’ said the gillie.
The eagle returned with the crown, which the smith took to the King’s youngest daughter.
‘This looks like the crown I had before,’ said she.
‘Where did you learn to make such fine crowns?’ the King asked the smith.
‘It was my gillie who made them,’ said he.
‘I must see him,’ said the King.’ I must ask him to make me a crown.’
The King sent a coach-and-four to fetch the gillie from the smiddy, but when the coachmen saw how dirty he looked they threw him into the coach like a dog. So he whistled for the eagle, who came
at once.
‘Get me out of this,’ said the lad, ‘and fill the coach with stones.’
The King came to meet the coach, but when the door was opened for the gillie, a great heap of stones tumbled out instead.
Other servants were sent to fetch the gillie, but they treated him just as badly, so he whistled for the eagle.
‘Get me out of this,’ said he, ‘and fill the coach with rubbish from the midden.’
Again the King came to meet the coach, but when the door was opened for the gillie, a great mound of rubbish fell out on to the King.
The King then sent his trusted old servant to fetch the gillie. He went straight to the smiddy, and found the lad blowing the bellows, his face black with soot.
‘The King wishes to see you,’ said the King’s servant, ‘but first, clean a little of the soot off your face.’
The lad washed himself and went with the servant to the King. On the way he whistled for the eagle.
‘Fetch me the
Dean Wesley Smith, Kristine Kathryn Rusch
Martin A. Lee, Bruce Shlain