Caoilte and the Tests of the Fianna (Campfire Story)

In the days of Finn McCool, every boy and girl in Ireland dreamed of joining the Fianna. The Fianna were the guardians of Ireland: hunters, trackers, warriors and poets, who lived in the forests and on the hills, and kept the land safe from raiders and monsters.

But getting into the Fianna was no easy thing. You couldn't buy your way in. You couldn't get in because your father was a king. You had to pass the tests. And the tests were very, very hard.

A boy named Caoilte wanted to join more than anything. He was thin and quick, with a shock of red hair, and he could run faster than anyone in his village. So one spring morning, he walked to the great hill of Almu, where Finn McCool held court, and said, 'I'd like to take the tests.'

Finn looked him up and down. 'You know you have to learn the twelve books of poetry first?'

'I've learned them,' said Caoilte. And he recited them, every word, while the warriors listened. Finn raised an eyebrow. That was the first test.

'Very well. For the second test, we'll dig a hole, and you'll stand in it, up to your waist, with only a shield and a hazel stick. Nine warriors will throw their spears at you. If a single one touches you, you fail.'

Caoilte gulped. But he stepped into the hole. The spears came flying, one, two, nine, and Caoilte swung his shield and knocked each one away. Not one touched him.

'Now the third test,' said Finn. 'We braid your hair. Then you run through the forest, and the Fianna chase you. If they catch you, you fail. If a single braid comes loose, you fail. If you snap a dry stick under your foot, you fail. If your weapon shakes in your hand, you fail.'

'That's impossible,' whispered one of the young warriors.

'That's the point,' said Finn.

So they braided Caoilte's hair, and gave him a head start the length of a single breath, and the Fianna came after him, crashing through the trees like a pack of hounds. Caoilte ran. He ran light, on the balls of his feet, watching the ground ahead for twigs. He jumped over a branch as high as his forehead. He ducked under a branch as low as his knee. And when a warrior nearly caught him in a thicket, he didn't slow down. He bent down, pulled a thorn out of his foot, and kept running, all without breaking stride.

Because those were tests too. Every member of the Fianna had to be able to jump a branch as high as his forehead, pass under a branch as low as his knee, and pull a thorn from his foot while running at full speed.

When Caoilte came back to the hill of Almu, the sun was setting. His braids were still neat. His spear was still steady. Not a twig had snapped. And not one of the Fianna had laid a hand on him.

Finn McCool smiled. 'There's one more thing,' he said. 'Every member of the Fianna makes four promises. Never to take a bride for her money. Never to bully the weak. Never to refuse anyone who asks for help, if you're able to give it. And never to run away from fewer than nine enemies.'

'I promise,' said Caoilte.

And so he joined the Fianna. In time, Caoilte became the fastest runner in all the legends of Ireland. They say he could gather two of every wild animal in Ireland in a single day, and that he outran the wind itself. But what he was proudest of, all his life, was that he had earned his place, one test at a time.

Storyteller tips: count off the tests on your fingers as you go. Afterward, challenge your Scouts to walk silently across a patch of dry leaves and sticks, or to compare the Fianna's promises with your own Oath and Law.