Finn MacCool - Irish

My name is Oonagh, and my husband is the strongest giant in all of Ireland. From our home on the Antrim coast, I can hear the crash of the sea and the cry of the gulls, but lately, another sound has been carried on the wind—a booming shout from across the water. It’s the Scottish giant, Benandonner, challenging my dear Finn to a fight. Now, Finn is brave, but he isn’t always the most thoughtful, and I’ve heard whispers that Benandonner is bigger and stronger than any giant we know. Finn is getting ready for a battle, but I have a feeling that strength alone won't be enough to solve this problem. This is the story of how a little bit of cleverness saved the day, the tale people now call Finn MacCool and the Giant's Causeway.

Finn, full of pride, spent days tearing up huge chunks of the coastline, hurling hexagonal stones into the sea to build a path all the way to Scotland. He called it his causeway and was determined to march over and face Benandonner. As the path of stones grew longer, I climbed the cliffs to watch his progress, my heart filled with a mix of pride and worry. One morning, the air grew still, and I saw a colossal figure in the distance, walking along the new stone path toward Ireland. It was Benandonner, and the rumors were true. He was enormous—truly twice the size of my Finn! My heart hammered in my chest like a drum. A direct fight would be a disaster. I scrambled down the cliff and ran back to the house, my mind racing like a wildfire. I had to think of something fast. “Finn!” I called, my voice shaking just a little. “Quickly, get inside and do exactly as I say. Trust me!” I found the biggest nightgown and bonnet we owned and helped Finn put them on. Can you imagine a mighty giant dressed like a baby? Then, I tucked him into an oversized cradle I had built for our future children. He looked ridiculous, but he trusted me. I then rushed to the kitchen and baked several loaves of bread, hiding a flat, heavy iron griddle stone inside each one, and set them by the fire to cool.

A huge shadow fell over our doorway, and the ground trembled with each footstep. Benandonner stood there, blocking out the sun with his massive frame. “Where is that coward, Finn MacCool?” he roared, his voice like thunder rolling down a mountain. I stepped forward calmly, trying to hide the frantic beating of my heart. “Welcome,” I said sweetly. “Finn is out hunting, but he'll be back soon. Please, come in and have some fresh bread while you wait.” Benandonner grunted and stomped inside, grabbing one of the loaves I offered. He took a huge bite, and there was a terrible crunching sound as his teeth shattered against the iron stone inside. He howled in pain, clutching his jaw. “My teeth!” he bellowed. “What kind of bread is this?” “Oh, that's just the bread Finn eats every day,” I said innocently, trying not to smile. “Here, even the baby can eat it.” I walked over to the cradle and gave a normal, soft loaf to Finn. He chewed it up happily, making little gurgling sounds. Benandonner stared, his eyes wide with shock. He looked at the massive ‘baby’ in the cradle, then back at the rock-hard bread. His face went pale as a ghost.

“If that's the size of the baby,” Benandonner whispered in absolute terror, “what size must the father be?” He didn't wait for an answer. He scrambled out of our house and fled back toward Scotland as fast as his giant legs could carry him. In his panic, he stomped on the stone causeway, smashing it to pieces so Finn could never follow him. All that was left were the ends: the Giant's Causeway in Ireland and Fingal's Cave in Scotland. We won that day not with might, but with wit. This story, first told around crackling fires in ancient Ireland, reminds us that being clever can be the greatest strength of all. Today, when people visit those amazing stone columns by the sea, they are not just looking at rocks; they are seeing the footsteps of giants and remembering a time when a quick mind and a brave heart saved the strongest giant in the land.