There they made the land, drawing up under the shadow of dark hills, and there they dwelt for many a day.  Very familiar to Deirdre, though at first strange and wild and terrible beyond words, grew that vast amphitheatre of hills in their eternal grayness, with the long Loch stretching down like a horn through their midst.  Very familiar to inland-bred Deirdre, though at first strange and fearful, grew the gray surges of the incoming tides, the white foam of the waves seething along boulders of granite, and the long arms of seaweed waving as she peered downward into the clear green water.  Very familiar to Deirdre, though at first strange and confusing, grew the arms of Naisi around her in the darkness and his warm lips on her cheek.  Happy were those wild days in the great glen of Etive, and dear did the sons of Usnac grow to her heart, loved as brothers by her who never knew a brother, or the gentleness of a mother’s watching, or the solace of dear kindred.

The sons of Usnac sped forth before dawn among the hills from their green dwelling roofed with pine branches and reeds and moss; early they went forth to track the deer, pursuing them with their arrows, till the red flank of the buck was laced with brighter red.  One of the three ever stayed behind with Deirdre, whether it was Naisi himself, or Alny, or Ardan, and the two thus remaining were like children playing together, whether gathering sticks and dry rushes and long spears of withered grass for their fire, or wandering by the white curling waves, or sending flat pebbles skipping over the wavelets; and the sound of their laughter many a time echoed along the Loch’s green waters and up the hills, till the does peered and wondered from among the heather, and the heron, startled at his fishing, flew upwards croaking, with flapping wings.  Happy were those days for Deirdre, and with utter sadness she looked back to them afterwards, when the doom foretold had fallen upon her.  Happy sped the days, till once in the gray of the dawn, while Deirdre was resting in their green refuge with Naisi, she cried out in her sleep and waked, telling him, weeping, that she had heard the voice of the bird of doom in her dreams.

The voice she heard was indeed the voice of their doom; yet it was a cheerful voice, full of friendly gladness; the voice of Fergus, son of Roeg, former King of Emain, and now come to Loch Etive as messenger of Concobar, Fergus came up from the sea-beach towards the answering shout of the sons of Usnac, and glad greetings passed among them at the door of their refuge.  Fergus looked long in admiration at the blue eyes and golden locks, the clear skin and gentle breast of Deirdre, nor wondered, as he looked, that Naisi had dared fate to possess her.  Then Fergus told the story of his coming; how they had discovered the flight of the sons of Usnac from Emain, and how terrible was the black anger of Concobar; what passionate fire had gleamed in his eyes as he tossed the golden locks back from his shoulders and grasped the haft of his spear, and pledged himself to be avenged on Naisi and all his kin, swearing that he would have Deirdre back again.