The night hummed with excitement, all around men lay tensed, resting but not relaxed. The very air crackled with the bursting life of spring, all seemed awake that night, in the woods, on the water, on boats at sea rowing ever closer to them. The night sounds were, magnified in the stillness of the Lough, each flap of a wing resounding over the silver lens like a drum.
Wrapped in a woolen blanket Lugh lay dosing, waiting for the day to begin, around him in the gloom of the early dawn were the huddled shapes of Kian and Ferdi, and the other men who had spent the night in the great hall.
Lugh half awake could hear the far off sounds of shouting, as men moved through the woods. He sat up and quickly pulled on his tunic and finding his boots, struggled into them, and hurried out side.

The chill dawn air hit him like a slap; he found a jug, and poured some water over his head and rubbed his face with it, as he looked up at the chaos around him, men were emerging, scratching their head and yawning as they stood to see what was happening. Kian joined him, "Do you know what it is yet, is the raiders? He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and yawned. "I am starving hope there is some hot food today, its not the same just bread and cheese" Kian said as he drank from a flagon of mead, Ferdi had just passed him.
Men ran about in an ordered chaos, calling for Báetáin as they went, ordering passing boys and men with a multitude of duties. Báetáin as he emerged from his hall was loudly barking orders that his Captains hastened to obey. Men and boys ran to their boats, others to the woods, other to the kitchens or the smithy all had their orders that together turned the whole rath into a united fighting unit.
From the woods came shouts as men on horse back, rode through the gate, they had traveled through the night from the south and had news to tell Báetáin.
As the rath woke up and no new sightings of the raiders, it was decide that everyone in the rath should spend their time in preparation for the fight to come.

Forgall the smith had been at his forge since early light, now its white heat tainted the air with metallic fumes from and tin to make iron, to pour into moulds making the arrowheads. He was a master of his art, brining swords, daggers and axe heads, to life from hunks of glowing metal. The ringing of his hammer filled the fetid air, as he smote the red hot metal. He was a huge red haired man, his giant body stripped to the waist in the hellish heat, his chest protected with a leather apron, as he pounded the anvil again and again making sparks light up the gloom, his massive mussel's glittered with sweat streaked with soot and smoke. He paused to plunge the sword into a vat of water, making a great hiss, as steam rose in a rolling cloud. Then he would start again, holding it with tongs into the forge, as a squat man bent to the bellows, making the fire glow, now red, now white, then the ringing would begin again as another sword came to life under his heavy hands.
To day, his workshop was repairing and sharpening the weapons, stockpiling them, in the event of the raiders return. He was fixing the hilt of a sword that belonged to Connal, Lugh’s father, its hilt had been broken during a encounter few weeks past, when a rival tribe had tried to steal cattle, and now it lay glowing red in the white heat of the forge , soon to be good as new.
All around in the swirling smoke, men were busy; patching helmets with strips of red hot metal that they riveted with small hammers, the tapping of the metal made music all of its own.
Piles of swords, daggers and axes lay waiting to be sharpened, the wet stone buzzing under the expert hand of Naisi, a small fair man who sang as he worked, in a rich mellow voice that rose and fell with the rhythm of his work, he winked happily at Oran who was running errands for anyone who needed him. "Right boy sure ye’re busy enough", he called after Oran who had paused to watch the whirling stone, as the sparks flew from the blade under Naisi expert hands.
"Is there going to be a battle Naisi, have you had to work so hard as this before" Oran asked, as he brought him a basket with axe heads newly fitted with shafts. Naisi laughed, and paused at his treading, "I have been sharpening for a long time now and its best to ready and have more weapons than you need just in case. Lets hope it won't happen be it is always better to be prepared, than be surprised. There is always a lot of work what ever happens, if its not swords, its blades for ploughs or sickles, always something need sharpening”, he said as he pushed his fair out of his eyes and drank deeply from the flagon of water in the corner , giving Oran a reassuring wink, he started again at the wet stone.
The high whine of the carpenter's the lathes, filled the air as they spun incessantly, churning out shafts for axes, adding the sounds of saws and hammers, all together making a wild rhythmic racket, making it difficult to hear anything above the hullabaloo. Finn the carpenter, his legs speeding the peddle that pulled the pulley as it whizzed, sending up a cloud of sawdust. All around men were busy, bringing planks into the workshop and carrying out, the finished shafts and handles. Two men were sawing long thin strips of wood with a double handed saw, one stood in the bottom of a pit, while above him the plank of wood snowed its dust on him as he struggled with the heavy saw, thrusting it up above him, as sweat poured into his eyes mixing with the sawdust. Blocks of yew, stood waiting their turn to be split into bows and arrow shafts, keeping the grain hard and strong,

In the workshops of the Fletcher, the stink of the rabbits skin glue, as it bubbled away filled the air with a fetid blue smoke, making Mael gag," It is awful here, the smell would make you sick" he said to Oran as he stirred the bubbling stench. Under the expert, eye of Bael the Fletcher, several boys were plaining the long thin strips of yew into limber bows while others sanded and smoothed the silky white wood.
At workbenches nearby, a number of girls bent over a pile of feathers, sorting them into flights, tying them with twine, and sealing them with wax, a motley coloured heap lay on the bench before them. “Surely we won’t need all of these arrows, there must be thousands" Etain said to Deirdre, who shrugged her shoulders,"If they are not used now, they will always get used some where, if only for hunting", replied Deirdre. Bael was demonstrating how to fit the flights, eagerly watched by girls and boys alike. His fingers flew expertly as he cut a cross in the top of the shaft and inserted the flight, securing it with twine and wax. “Now your turn” he said smiling at the eager faces, whose attention was turned to the feathered flight and shafts hoping to do as good a job as him.

The tanners had the dirtiest, smelliest job, the scraping and cleaning of skins which began as soon as the slaughtered cattle had been skinned, nothing from the animals was ever wasted. The hides made leather for shoes and winter cloaks and tents for the men who journey far in the winter; leather bottles that carried easily on the boats or on horseback. The guts from the sheep pigs and cattle used for stringing the bows. The guts was soaked in buckets of urine, before washed, then stretched and pulled. The stench was awful, brought tears to the eyes, but had to be endured. This took a long time and to day, the tanner was sorting out lengths and lengths of washed and stretched gut for the bows.
The kitchens were at full blast as whole pigs and cattle, were glazed with honey and spitted; boys sat in the corner plucking chickens, before threading them unto spits, ten at a time; fish, baked with stuffing of nuts and herbs. The crocks groaned under the weight of bubbling cauldrons of broth as leeks, onions and barley joined the innards of the slaughtered animals.
Cathael, the cook supervised the effort as a general surveys his battlefield, the smoke and steam gave off wonderful smells that made the mouths of passing men water with anticipation. Piles of barley bannocks were stacked, still steaming from the griddle. The heat was stifling, Cathael fanned himself with wing feathers of a goose, and saw with pride that the food was coming together, soon the tables would set in the hall and feasting would begin.
All around, was a hive on industry, as each bent to the job he had been set,
tirelessly, filling quiver after quiver, with the newly made arrows.

In the graying light before dawn, the women and children, had begun to assemble, babies crying thinly, distressed at the cold morning air that wakened them from their sleep and their anxious mothers strapping them tightly in their shawls, small children where being tied on to the backs of anyone strong enough to carry them.
Lugh wandered around ant not finding his mother among the others , he went back to his hut; she was putting the last few things into baskets, nearly ready to leave for the shelter in the depth of the marshes. “Lugh there you are, can you carry that large basket to the gate for me, there is bound to be donkeys and that is heavy enough for one," she said as she lifted his little sister who was playing with the dog on the floor. His little brother Rory, who giggled excitedly, thinking it a real adventure to be hiding out in the fen,.
Oran and Mael whose orders were to escort the woman and children, to the hiding places deep within the marshes that reached inland away from any fighting.
At the gate, subdued men and women stood huddled quietly together, as the news of the raid on Movilla sank in. They waited for the order to leave, to come from Baetain.
Around them, the excited children raced about oblivious of their parents fear. Lugh and Oran looked at each other, "This is worse than we thought, who knows how many raiders are coming for us", Oran said as he looked in dismay at Lugh. Oran was annoyed that he would miss any of the battle but knew better that to complain to the captains.
“Your lucky we have to be off hiding in the woods while you all get to fight’ Oran was tetchily saying to Lugh as Mael approached carrying two bows with two full quivers of arrows. “Here Oran here is a new bow at least, we might need it out in the fen, and you had better keep safe, said Mael giving Lugh a big hug. "We best be off" He hugged his friends be fore going to his mother to have a small child tied on to his back. A truculent Oran, hugged his friend,” You had better tell me all about it when I come back”, he scowled before he too strapped his young sister on his back with his new bow, quiver and various bundles.

At the gate, the women and children were departing down the hill. Lugh went to join his father who was helping his mother, tie his small sister onto her back and a bundle over her shoulder. "Lugh" she cried "I thought I wouldn't get to see you before we had to leave", she threw her arms round him, "Take care please, don't get hurt" He hugged her back and kissed her, " I will do my best, I'll come for you all as soon as it is safe". He handed his little brother to her. He called Farewell after them, his little brother turned at the bottom of the hill and waved. Oran raised a hand and Lugh stood for a moment looking after them then he too turned and ran to join Ferdi as they collected their bows and arrows and joined the men as they went to their positions in the woods.