102. “And you, Luchta,” Lug said to his carpenter, “what power would you attain in the battle?”
103. “Not hard to answer,” said Luchta. “I will supply them all with whatever shields and spearshafts they need.”
104. “And you, Ogma,” said Lug to his champion, “what is your power in the battle?”
105. “Not hard to say,” he said. “Being a match for the king and holding my own against twenty-seven of his friends, while winning a third of the battle for the men of Ireland.”
106. “And you, Morrigan,” said Lug, “what power?”
107. “Not hard to say,” she said. “I have stood fast; I shall pursue what was watched; I will be able to kill; I will be able to destroy those who might be subdued.”
108. “And you, sorcerers,” said Lug, “what power?”
109. “Not hard to say,” said the sorcerers. “Their white soles will be visible after they have been overthrown by our craft, so that they can easily be killed; and we will take two-thirds of their strength from them, and prevent them from urinating.”
110. “And you, cupbearers,” said Lug, “what power?”
111. “Not hard to say,” said the cupbearers. “We will bring a great thirst upon them, and they will not find drink to quench it.”
112. “And you, druids,” said Lug, “what power?”
113. “Not hard to say,” said the druids. “We will bring showers of fire upon the faces of the Fomoire so that they cannot look up, and the warriors contending with them can use their force to kill them.”
114. “And you, Coirpre mac Etaine,” said Lug to his poet, “what can you do in the battle?”
115. “Not hard to say,” said Coirpre. “I will make a glam dicenn against them, and I will satirize them and shame them so that through the spell of my art they will offer no resistance to warriors.”
116. “And you, Be Chuille and Dianann,” said Lug to his two witches, “what can you do in the battle?”
117. “Not hard to say,” they said. “We will enchant the trees and the stones and the sods of the earth so that they will be a host under arms against them; and they will scatter in flight terrified and trembling.”
118. “And you, Dagda,” said Lug, “what power can you wield against the Fomorian host in the battle?”
119. “Not hard to say,” said the Dagda. “I will fight for the men of Ireland with mutual smiting and destruction and wizardry. Their bones under my club will soon be as many as hailstones under the feet of herds of horses, where the double enemy meets on the battlefield of Mag Tuired.”
120. Then in this way Lug addressed each of them in turn concerning their arts, strengthening them and addressing them in such a way that every man had the courage of a king or great lord.
121. Now every day the battle was drawn up between the race of the Fomoire and the Tuatha De Danann, but there were no kings or princes waging it, only fierce and arrogant men.
122. One thing which became evident to the Fomoire in the battle seemed remarkable to them. Their weapons, their spears and their swords, were blunted; and those of their men who were killed did not come back the next day. That was not the case with the Tuatha De Danann: although their weapons were blunted one day, they were restored the next because Goibniu the smith was in the smithy making swords and spears and javelins. He would make those weapons with three strokes. Then Luchta the carpenter would make the spearshafts in three chippings, and the third chipping was a finish and would set them in the socket of the spear. After the spearheads were in the side of the forge he would throw the sockets with the shafts, and it was not necessary to set them again. Then Credne the brazier would make the rivets with three strokes, and he would throw the sockets of the spears at them, and it was not necessary to drill holes for them; and they stayed together this way.
123. Now this is what used to kindle the warriors who were wounded there so that they were more fiery the next day: Dian Cecht, his two sons Octriuil and Miach, and his daughter Airmed were chanting spells over the well named Slaine. They would cast their mortally-wounded men into it as they were struck down; and they were alive when they came out. Their mortally-wounded were healed through the power of the incantation made by the four physicians who were around the well.
124. Now that was damaging to the Fomoire, and they picked a man to reconnoitre the battle and the practices of the Tuatha De–Ruadan, the son of Bres and of Brig, the daughter of the Dagda-because he was a son and a grandson of the Tuatha De. Then he described to the Fomoire the work of the smith and the carpenter and the brazier and the four physicians who were around the well. They sent him back to kill one of the aes dana, Goibniu. He requested a spearpoint from him, its rivets from the brazier, and its shaft from the carpenter; and everything was given to him as he asked. Now there was a woman there grinding weapons, Cron the mother of Fianlach; and she ground Ruadan’s spear. So the spear was given to Ruadan by his maternal kin, and for that reason a weaver’s beam is still called “the spear of the maternal kin” in Ireland.
125. But after the spear had been given to him, Ruadan turned and wounded Goibniu. He pulled out the spear and hurled it at Ruadan so that it went through him; and he died in his father’s presence in the Fomorian assembly. Brig came and keened for her son. At first she shrieked, in the end she wept. Then for the first time weeping and shrieking were heard in Ireland. (Now she is the Brig who invented a whistle for signalling at night.)
126. Then Goibniu went into the well and he became whole. The Fomoire had a warrior named Ochtriallach, the son of the Fomorian king Indech mac De Domnann. He suggested that every single man they had should bring a stone from the stones of the river Drowes to cast into the well Slaine in Achad Abla to the west of Mag Tuired, to the east of Lough Arrow. They went, and every man put a stone into the well. For that reason the cairn is called Ochtriallach’s Cairn. But another name for that well is Loch Luibe, because Dian Cecht put into it every herb that grew in Ireland.
127. Now when the time came for the great battle, the Fomoire marched out of their encampment and formed themselves into strong indestructible battalions. There was not a chief nor a skilled warrior among them without armor against his skin, a helmet on his head, a broad . . . spear in his right hand, a heavy sharp sword on his belt, a strong shield on his shoulder. To attack the Fomorian host that day was “striking a head against a cliff,” was “a hand in a serpent’s nest,” was “a face brought close to fire.”