"
Then they fought, and in the first close so vehement was the onset
of Foil, that Cuculain could do no more than defend himself, and
around the twain sparks flew up in showers as from a smithy where
a blacksmith and his lusty apprentices strongly beat out the red
iron. The second was similar to the first, and equally without
results. In the third close Cuculain, having sheathed his sword,
sprang upwards and dashed his shield into the giant's face, and at
the same time he tore from its place of concealment the magic
ball, rending mightily the brazen chain. And he leaped backwards,
and taking a swift aim, threw. The ball flew from the young hero's
hand like a bolt from a sling, and it struck the giant in the
middle of the forehead below the rim of his helmet, but above his
blazing eyes, and the ball crashed through the strong frontal
bone, and tore its way through the hinder part of his head, and
went forth, carrying the brains with it in its course, so that
there was a free tunnel and thoroughfare for all the winds of
heaven there. With a crash and a ringing, armour and weapons, the
giant fell upon the plain and his blood poured forth in a torrent
there where he himself invulnerable had shed the blood of so many
heroes.
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