Oisin and the Power of Herbs, (A Blog Writers Original).


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Hey there Earthlings, Alternatives and Trollers. Put down that mouse and lend an ear. Welcome to The Bandersnatch blog where we talk weird, wacky and wondrous. I'm Mama Ogre and I have no idea what I'm doing.

In these trying times, I hope you are sharing the day with the people you love no matter who you are or wherever you are and keeping in touch with those you can't.
As you should know Fridays is Funday blog day were we talk anything and everything and pretty much run with it. Today's blog is on a third short story of mine; Oisin and the power of herbs.

I preface this story with the fact that there are several folk-tales of Oisin and his family the MacCumhail's (including his dad Fionn). This is my version of a Oisin story I heard in passing, I hope you my dear readers enjoy it and I hope I've done the spirit of Oisin justice.

Oisin and the Power of Herbs.
Oisin sighed and stretched as he reached the woodland path. His adventures across Tir-Na-Nog were beginning to become known, Popular even. Some doubted his abilities, others laughed but Oisin was grateful that Niamh brought him here. To the woods of Tir-Na-Nog. Oisin smiled as he thought of his faerie wife, her smiling blue eyes and shimmering golden hair. He couldn't wait to get back to her and their unborn child. What sex would the child be? Who would that child take after? Oisin knew Niamh wanted a dark haired son who mirrored his brown eyed image. Oisin privately wanted a Blonde haired girl with brown eyes who looked like her mother otherwise Oisin just wanted a child who was happy and healthy so it didn't really matter if they were a boy or girl. Oisin was distracted from his thoughts by an unusual grunting noise not far ahead. He drew his sword and slid behind a tree to hide, keeping an eye out on the road ahead. Out of the tree line stomped the ugliest giant Oisin had seen only once before; The Formorian. With small leering black eyes peering out of an almost piggish face with short greasy black hair and next to no hygiene; The Formorian stomped down the path Oisin was just on and vanished from sight.
Oisin released the breath he didn't know he was holding. He frowned thoughtfully, Formorians in general didn't venture that far from their camps unless heading to war or heading to better feeding grounds. Some were even known to occasionally build defences around what they called theirs. Oisin slid back onto the path without a second thought and walked in the direction the Formorian came from sheathing his sword. Oisin followed the tell tale signs of giant damage north for a surprising two hours and several miles. Oisin noted landmarks he recognised and knew if the Formorian had his camp twelve miles west there would be news of three destroyed villages. Oisin peered around a rock formation covered in moss and his jaw dropped open. Spreading out before him was the Formorians campsite. A haphazard wooden house built into the roots of a large oak tree. The smouldering remains of a campfire burned off to one side. Bones and rotting animal carcases sat not far behind it. But what caught Oisins eye was sitting by a rock. A chained up, rather beaten and bruised form of a young woman.
darted forwards stealthily, even though you could hear and smell Formorian before you could see them, they could still be nasty. And now Oisin was in its territory which made him the one in the wrong. Oisin knelt before the young woman as she looked up in surprise.
"My Lady" He said softly "Don't be afraid, I've come to help"
"You can't be here" The young Fae hissed in surprise. Oisin recognised her race "The Formorian would kill you when he returns the chains are charmed by his magic"
tried several different things to remove the chains and release her as the noises of The Formorian reached his ears faintly.
"The Formorian is still away I won't leave you in this place any longer" Oisin said pulling out his sword as the noise of the Formorian echoed in the distance getting louder
"What's your name?" The Fae asked curiously as Oisin attacked the rocks holding the chains
"Oisin MacCumhaill" Oisin replied "and yours?"
"Plor-na-Mban" she replied as the chains were loosened enough so she could move comfortably and the Formorian grew louder and closer.
"Well Plor-Na-Mban" Oisin began "I'm not leaving until you are free"
"Puny man" came the voice of The Formorian who appeared at the entrance to his campsite holding a bloodied corpse of a large goat. The giant dropped the goat and pulled out an old and well used sword. Oisin wheeled around with his sword in his hands and taking a defensive stance.
"Formorian" He said loudly before he launched himself into the fight.
The two fought until nightfall and Oisin fell before Plor-Na-Mban beaten, bruised and bleeding. The Formorian soon lost interest gathered up the dead goat cooked it and went into his house. Not long afterwards snoring echoed alongside the cackling fire around the moonlight covered camp.
“Here" Plor-Na-Mban said softly tending to Oisins wounds with unusual looking herbs.
"Thank you" Oisin said after a while as the pain subsided "How do you do those spells with herbs?"
"Fae secret" Plor-Na-Mban replied with a smile and a waggle of her fingers "They grow by these rocks these chains don't let me go that far"
"They don't look comfortable either" Oisin noted a bit more clear headed.
"Sleep Oisin MacCumhaill" Plor-Na-Mban crooned softly "The Formorian will try again on the morrow" Oisin fell into a healing sleep.
As Oisin drifted off one of Plor-Na-Mbans eight chains disintegrated and a thought came to her. If she kept Oisin alive for another few days she would be free. The next day Oisin and the Formorian battled again to the point of Oisins collapse at dusk. Plor-Na-Mban would heal him again overnight with healing herbs, swiped food and healing sleep. The circle would begin again with another disintegrating chain. Three days later Oisin noted the lack of chains and played along with Plor-Na-Mbans plan. Two days later something came to Oisins mind
"Which herbs are you using?" Oisin asked interested in watching the young woman work. Knowing not all the herbs she was using grew around here
"Lavender for relaxation, All spice for healing and Feverfew for health" she replied almost instantaneously focused almost all of her attention on what she was doing. "They have other properties as well I believe the herbs are helping you with the Formorian"
Oisin smiled as Plor-Na-Mban finished tending to his wounds
"Sleep" She ordered quietly with a raised eyebrow
Oisin nodded and drifted off to sleep. The seventh chain that was attached to her neck crumbled away leaving the final one around her waist to be dealt with. Plor-Na-Mban shivered slightly. She was so close to being free, but it could go ever so wrong. The Formorian could still kill Oisin on the morrow and the chains would return tighter and more restrictive. Plor-Na-Mban curled up within a small crook in the rocks that chained her and fell asleep. Both Oisin and Plor-Na-Mban rose with the early morning sun. Oisin to prepare for the final battle with the Formorian and Plor-Na-Mban wanted to set herself up for the both a win or defeat on either side. Oisin raised an eyebrow at her preparations.
"Do you not trust I'd Win?" Oisin asked seriously.
"I'm preparing for all outcomes MacCumhaill" Plor-Na-Mban answered truthfully "It's better to be prepared than broken hearted"
Oisin nodded with a thoughtful look on his face, for a Fae, Plor-Na-Mban was a fountain of knowledge and wisdom for one so young. Oisin stood in the centre of the camp sword and shield they'd found by the house in hand as the Formorian came out of his house battered and Bruised. The cuts and bruises from the previous fights fuelled the Formorians anger and strength but Oisin knew they were wearing him down and it was all a matter of time. The moment the Formorian cleared the doorway he launched himself across the camp towards Oisin raising his fist to punch him. Oisin was prepared and dodged just in time sending the Formorian off balance. Oisin felt like a man processed as strategies he thought he'd long forgotten began flowing through his mind again along with all the information he knew of the Formorian giants. He hoped he would stumble across that one piece of information that would turn the tide of this fight and help save Plor-Na-Mban. Oisin dodged a left only to be struck with a right. Oisin stumbled to his knees dropping the shield and sword beside him as his vision blurred and a faint ringing happened in his ears.
A roar echoed behind him but no final death giving blow. Oisin slowly turned as he got to his feat a loose grip on his sword the shield forgotten. Plor-Na-Mban had struck the Formorian with a rock and now the giant was advancing on her his back to Oisin. A thought flittered across his mind. The weakest spot on a Formorian in general is its neck.
'A sword or knife would do' a voice echoed in his mind. Oisin frowned it sounded like his beloved Niamh. His vision cleared completely as he raised his sword and threw it. The sword embedded itself into the Formorians neck. The giant groaned in pain and collapsed on the rocks missing Plor-Na-Mban by inches.
"Is he dead?" Oisin asked slowly picking up the shield and walking slowly over to them as the final chain crumbled away.
"He is" Plor-Na-Mban answered as she sunk to her knees by the dead giants head. Oisin pulled his sword out of the neck by the hilt. "How did you...?"
"Know its weakness?" Oisin finished "I'm not sure, I heard my wife's voice in my head she told me what to do"
Plor-Na-Mban nodded with a knowing look before scrambling to her feat and looking for her things. It took two hours for Plor-Na-Mban to find her things and Oisin to build a pyre around the Formorian. Oisin lit the pyre and watched the Formorian begin to burn.
“Come on Oisin MacCumhaill lets go home" Plor-Na-Mban said softly "I want to see my family and I suppose your wife is waiting"
"Aye that she will be" Oisin replied taking his gaze off the burning giant. The two left the camp in the early evening light heading west and to the nearby villages.
Three days later they arrived at the third village and walked into the welcoming arms of Plor-Na-Mbans family. Oisin would have stayed the night and left for home tomorrow if it wasn't for a messenger of his wife's retinue appearing in the square. Niamh had gone into labour the day before and knowing he was close had sent out the messengers.
"Go to your wife MacCumhaill" Plor-Na-Mban said with a warm smile and a giggle at Oisins face "Make sure she's alright and I hope to hear of your son soon"
Oisin looked surprised at her statement as he mounted the horse given to him by a villager. Oisin and the messenger rode north to Niamhs side and arrived just in time for their son to be born. A week later the messenger returned with the horse and a letter for Plor-Na-Mban written in the language of Fae. Her good friend Oisin was now the prod father of a little boy named Oscar.
"Oh just wait until his sister is born" Plor-Na-Mban murmured before reaching for parchment to reply to the wondrous news.

The reason why I wrote this story was due to being on a major reading numerous fairytale/mythology stories kick at the time and at the time I had next to no creative outlet other than writing. The reasons behind my writing are in my blog on one of my other short stories; All Hallows Eve (24/04/2020), please go give that blog a read I'd be very much grateful. A version of this story is on my Fictionpress.com account, the link is in the bibliography down below.

His name literally means “Young Deer” or Fawn, and the story is told that his mother, Sadhbh, was turned into a deer by a druid, Fear Doirce (Or Fer Doirich). When Fionn was hunting her caught her but did not kill her and she returned to human form. Fionn gave up hunting and settled down with Sadhbh and she was soon pregnant, but Fer Doirich turned her back into a deer and she returned to the wild. Seven years later Fionn found his child naked on BenBulbin. Other stories have Oisin meet Fionn for the first time as an adult and contend over a roasting pig before they recognise each other.


  • Oisin wiki page.
Oisin is a minor character in The Pursuit of Diarmuid and Grainne, Which is an Irish prose narrative from the Fenian Cycle of Irish Mythology. 



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