The Wasting Sickness of Cú Chulainn

In the autumn of his greatest glory, when Cú Chulainn’s name was known and feared throughout all of Ireland, a strange malady befell the mightiest warrior of Ulster. This is the tale of how even the Hound of Ulster could be brought low, not by sword or spear, but by the mysterious powers of the otherworld.

The Festival of Samhain

It was the time of Samhain, when the veil between the mortal world and the realm of the Sídhe grows thin as morning mist. All of Ulster had gathered at Emain Macha for the great festival, and the nobles competed in games of skill while bards recited the ancient tales by firelight.

Cú Chulainn sat beside his beloved wife Emer, enjoying the festivities and the company of his fellow warriors. The great hall was filled with laughter, music, and the warm glow of friendship. For once, the hero felt at peace, with no enemies to fight and no battles to wage.

As the celebration continued into the night, King Conchobar called for silence. “Let us go forth to the sacred lake,” he announced, “and make our offerings to the spirits of our ancestors, as is our custom on this holy night.”

The entire court processed to the mystical lake near Emain Macha, its dark waters reflecting the stars like scattered diamonds. As they approached the shore, a wondrous sight met their eyes.

Two magnificent birds appeared above the water, linked together by a chain of pure gold. Their feathers shimmered with all the colors of the rainbow, and their song was so beautiful that it could calm the wildest heart or heal the deepest wound. They circled the lake in perfect harmony, their voices weaving melodies that seemed to come from the very heavens.

The Fatal Encounter

The assembled nobles watched in wonder and delight as the magical birds performed their aerial dance. But as the song grew more enchanting, something strange began to happen. One by one, the listeners began to fall into a deep, peaceful sleep, overcome by the otherworldly music.

“This is fairy magic,” whispered Cathbad the druid, though his own eyelids were growing heavy. “These are no ordinary birds, but messengers from the Sídhe.”

Only Cú Chulainn remained fully awake, his warrior’s instincts protecting him from the enchantment. But as he watched the beautiful creatures, a sudden desire seized him—a hunter’s urge to capture these magnificent beings.

“I must have those birds,” he declared, reaching for his sling. “They would make a perfect gift for my beloved Emer.”

“No!” Emer cried out in alarm, sensing danger in the supernatural display. “Husband, these are not meant for mortal hands. Let them be—their beauty is gift enough just to witness.”

But Cú Chulainn’s pride had been stirred. Never had there been a quarry he could not capture, no challenge he could not meet. He fitted a stone to his sling and cast it with his legendary accuracy.

The stone flew true, but as it approached the nearest bird, it passed harmlessly through the creature as if striking mist. The birds were not of flesh and blood, but spirits clothed in beautiful forms.

Undaunted, Cú Chulainn drew his spear—the mighty Gáe Bolga that never missed its mark. He hurled it with all his supernatural strength, but again the weapon passed through the otherworldly creatures without effect.

The birds suddenly ceased their song and turned to look directly at the hero. Their eyes blazed with an inner fire that was both beautiful and terrible. For a moment that seemed to last an eternity, they held his gaze, and Cú Chulainn felt something cold and alien touch his soul.

Then, with a sound like distant thunder, the birds vanished into the night, leaving only ripples on the dark water to mark their passing.

The Mysterious Illness

The next morning, Cú Chulainn awoke feeling strangely weak and tired. At first, he dismissed it as the after-effects of the Samhain festivities, but as the days passed, his condition grew worse.

The mighty hero who could leap over castle walls found himself struggling to rise from his bed. The warrior who had single-handedly defended Ulster against entire armies could barely lift his sword. Most troubling of all, his legendary appetite vanished entirely, and he could keep down nothing but water.

“What ails our champion?” King Conchobar asked Cathbad in great concern. “No weapon has touched him, yet he wastes away as if mortally wounded.”

The ancient druid’s face was grave as he examined the stricken hero. “This is no mortal sickness,” he pronounced. “The Sídhe have laid their touch upon him. He is caught between two worlds, and until he makes a choice, he will fade like morning mist.”

Emer rarely left her husband’s bedside, tending to him with devoted care. But as the weeks passed and Cú Chulainn grew ever weaker, even her loving ministrations seemed powerless to help.

“My beloved,” she whispered, holding his hand in hers, “what did those creatures do to you? Tell me how to fight this enemy I cannot see.”

But Cú Chulainn could only shake his head weakly. “I feel as if part of my soul has been stolen away,” he confessed. “There is an emptiness within me that grows larger each day.”

The Vision by the Lake

After a month of this wasting sickness, Cú Chulainn felt drawn back to the sacred lake where the strange birds had appeared. Despite his weakness, he insisted on making the journey, leaning heavily on Lóeg, his faithful charioteer.

As they reached the shore, the same two birds appeared once again, as beautiful and otherworldly as before. But this time, as Cú Chulainn watched, they transformed before his eyes into two women of breathtaking beauty.

The first had hair like spun moonlight and wore robes of silver that seemed to flow like water. The second was crowned with hair like fire and dressed in garments that shifted color like autumn leaves. Both possessed an ethereal beauty that made mortal women seem pale by comparison.

“Greetings, Cú Chulainn of Ulster,” said the silver-clad woman, her voice like music from distant spheres. “I am Fand, wife of Manannán mac Lir, the sea god.”

“And I am Li Ban, sister to the fairy king Labraid Luathlám ar Claideb,” added her companion. “We have come with a message that concerns your fate.”

Cú Chulainn struggled to speak, his voice weak with illness. “What do you want of me? Why have you cursed me with this sickness?”

Fand’s expression softened with something like pity. “We have not cursed you, noble hero. What you suffer is the consequence of trying to capture what belongs to the otherworld. Your soul yearns for what it glimpsed but cannot possess.”

The Bargain

Li Ban stepped forward, her fiery hair catching the light like living flame. “But there is a cure for your malady, if you have the courage to accept it. My brother Labraid has need of a champion to fight against his enemies in the Land of Promise. Serve him for one day, and you will be restored to full health and strength.”

“Moreover,” added Fand, her silver eyes fixed on the hero’s face, “I will be your reward for this service. I will love you as no mortal woman ever could, and grant you pleasures beyond imagining.”

Cú Chulainn felt a stirring in his weakened heart. The thought of such adventure, such supernatural love, called to something deep within his warrior’s soul. But then he thought of Emer, waiting faithfully by his side.

“I… I must have time to consider this offer,” he said finally.

The two fairy women nodded. “We will wait one month for your answer,” Li Ban declared. “But know this—if you refuse, the wasting sickness will consume you entirely, and you will fade from the world like a shadow at dawn.”

The Faithful Wife

When Cú Chulainn returned to Emain Macha and told Emer of the encounter, she listened without speaking, her face grave with understanding.

“So,” she said finally, “they offer you a choice between duty to the otherworld and loyalty to this one. Between supernatural love and mortal devotion.”

“I am torn,” Cú Chulainn admitted. “Part of me longs for the adventure they promise, for love that transcends earthly bounds. But how can I abandon you, who have been my true companion through all trials?”

Emer was quiet for a long moment, tears glistening in her eyes. “If your heart truly calls you to this otherworldly love,” she said at last, “then I will not stand in your way. I would rather lose you to happiness than watch you die of longing.”

Her noble generosity only made Cú Chulainn’s choice more difficult. Here was a woman whose love was so pure that she would sacrifice her own happiness for his. How could he abandon such devotion for the promises of fairy enchantment?

The Decision

As the month drew to a close, Cú Chulainn made his decision. He would go to the otherworld, not for love of Fand, but to serve as champion to Labraid and restore his health. Only thus could he return to serve Ulster and protect his beloved wife.

When the fairy women appeared at the appointed time, Cú Chulainn told them his choice. “I will come to the Land of Promise and fight for your brother,” he told Li Ban. “But my heart remains here with my wife and my people.”

Fand’s beautiful face showed disappointment, but also a grudging respect. “Very well, noble hero. You shall have what you ask. But know that my love will wait for you beyond the boundaries of time, should you ever change your mind.”

The Adventure in the Otherworld

Cú Chulainn accompanied Li Ban to the Land of Promise, crossing the boundaries between worlds as easily as stepping across a stream. There he found himself in a realm of impossible beauty, where the sun always shone and flowers bloomed eternal.

Labraid Luathlám ar Claideb welcomed him with great honor. “Noble champion,” the fairy king said, “my enemies have been laying siege to my stronghold for many years. With your help, we can break their power once and for all.”

The battle that followed was like nothing Cú Chulainn had ever experienced. His opponents were not mortal warriors but supernatural beings of great power. Yet his legendary skills served him well, and with the magical weapons provided by his otherworldly allies, he carved through their ranks like fire through dry grass.

By the end of that single day—though time moved strangely in the Land of Promise—the enemy was routed and Labraid’s kingdom was secure.

“You have earned not only my gratitude but restoration of your full strength,” the fairy king announced. “Return to your world, Cú Chulainn, and live well.”

The Return

When Cú Chulainn awoke by the sacred lake, he found that he had indeed been healed. His strength had returned, his appetite was restored, and the mysterious wasting was gone as if it had never been.

Lóeg was waiting with the chariot, and together they raced back to Emain Macha. There, Emer threw herself into her husband’s arms, weeping with joy at his recovery.

“My beloved,” she whispered, “I knew you would return to me. Your heart is too noble to be permanently captured by otherworldly enchantments.”

Cú Chulainn held her close, marveling at how the supernatural beauty of Fand paled beside the honest love of his mortal wife. “You are my true treasure,” he told her. “No fairy magic can compare to the love of a devoted heart.”

The Lesson

Though Fand kept her word and withdrew her claim on the hero’s affections, the experience left its mark on Cú Chulainn. He had learned that even the mightiest warrior could be vulnerable to forces beyond the physical realm, and that the greatest strength lay not in magical weapons but in the bonds of true love and loyalty.

King Conchobar declared that the tale should be remembered for all time, as a warning that the otherworld’s gifts always come with a price, and that the truest treasures are often those closest to our hearts.

The druids used the story to teach that Samhain is a time of wonder but also of danger, when the veils between worlds grow thin and mortals must be careful not to reach for what is not meant for their hands.

And lovers throughout Ireland took comfort in the tale, knowing that love tested by supernatural temptation and emerging triumphant is the strongest bond of all—one that neither death nor fairy magic can ever truly break.