Then Cuculain sprang up fleet as the wind and swift as the swallow, fierce as a dragon, strong as a lion, advancing against Ferdiad through clouds of dust, and forcing himself upon his shield, to strike at him from above.  Yet even then Ferdiad shook him off, driving him backwards into the ford.

Then Cuculain’s countenance was changed, and his heart swelled and grew great within him till he towered demoniac and gigantic, rising like one of the Fomor upon Ferdiad.  So fierce was the fight they now fought that their heads met above and their feet below and their arms in the midst, past the rims of the shields.  So fierce was the fight they fought that they cleft the shields to their centers.  So fierce was the fight they fought that their spears were shivered from socket to haft.  So fierce was the fight they fought that the demons of the air screamed along the rims of the shields, and from the hilts of their swords and from the hafts of their spears.  So fierce was the fight they fought that they cast the river out of its bed, so that not a drop of water lay there unless from the fierceness of the champion heroes hewing each other in the midst of the ford.  So fierce was the fight they fought that the horses of the Gael fled away in fright, breaking their chains and their yokes, and the women and youths and camp-followers broke from the camp, flying forth southwards and westwards.

They were fighting with the edges of their swords, and Ferdiad, finding a break in the guard of Cuculain, gave him a stroke of the straight-edged sword, burying it in his body until the blood fell into his girdle, until the ford was red with the blood of the hero’s body.  Then Cuculain thrust an unerring spear over the rim of the shield, and through the breast of Ferdiad’s armor, so that the point of the spear pierced his heart and showed through his body.

“That is enough, now,” said Ferdiad:  “I fall for that!” Then Cuculain ran towards him, and clasped his two arms about him, and bore him with his arms and armor across the ford northwards.  Cuculain laid Ferdiad down there, bowing over his body in faintness and weakness.  But the charioteer cried to him, “Rise up, Cuculain, for the host is coming upon us, and it is not single combat they will give thee, since Ferdiad, son of Daman, son of Daire, has fallen before thee!”

“Friend,” Cuculain made answer, “what avails it for me to rise after him that has fallen by me?”

Thus did Cuculain keep the ford, still known as the ford of Ferdiad, Ath-Fhirdia on the Dee, in the midst of the green plain of Louth.  And while he fought at the ford of Ferdiad the army of Ulad assembled, and coming southwards over the hills before Emain, turned back the host of Meave the queen and pursued them.  The army of Meave fled westwards and southwards towards Connacht, passing the Yellow Ford of Athboy and the Hill of Ward, the place of sacrifice, where the fires on the Day of Spirits summoned the priests