The Hound and the Keeper 1 (Patreon)

The Hound and the Keeper - or ‘The things I have to do to keep Lil’ Bro out of trouble’ (Nasuverse!Ulster's Cycle, feat. Cu and SI!Bro)

It was… a long ass time ago.

I am not sure where precisely- or rather when the Ulster Cycle of the Irish Mythology came to be, but I know one thing: stuff tended to go as crazy as Ancient Greece at times between limited deities with weird interventions and capricious monarchs with odd bouts of affection and hate towards others.

I was born… grandson to the King of Ulster, Conchobar mac Nessa, and while that would normally dignify a rich life, my mother was a second born child and one that opted to marry a warrior. My father was… I don’t know. The events leading to my birth were odd considering I was conceived two months after my big brother was.

A miraculous event, and yet one that worried me considerably since I realized my ‘big brother’ Setanta was actually the future Cu Chulainn. And that he looked like his Fateverse counterpart.

Which means that Lancer will die a lot.

With that in mind, and with a responsibility as the ‘more responsible brother’, I took my studies quite seriously and I was glad that our kingly grandfather blessed us with some impressive advisors that acted as our… ‘Step-dads’.

Grandpa was the ‘big dad’, the one in charge of the group, but everyone had a role in our upbringing: Sencha mac Ailella taught us about the duty of judging others and etiquette; the merchantman Blai Briugu was our economic teacher but also our financial caretakers. I would say I learned the most from him on the matters of this era’s economics in Ireland, and I could safely say I could potentially play around some rules if put against those; our poet uncle Amergin and our aunt Findchoem taught us general education of the land, with our mother’s sister actually providing us with wisdom when it comes to ‘powerful medicine’. The use of magic was enticed, but it wasn’t as extensive as I would have expected.

The last member of the ‘foster-parents’ was Fergus mac Roich and… I would say Setanta liked him the most. I did not. While he didn’t do many of the shitty things he would be remembered for, Fergus was still a man going after young women, some of which were quite far from adulthood.

And I think he picked up the tame hostility I held towards him as he rebuked this by being more aggressive against me in spars. It took me a while to ultimately get through the hell that he called training, but I came out of it a stronger man.

I had some divinity in me. Not like Setanta as he was both the son and the reincarnation of Lugh (or something close to that), but enough to stand out from the usual cast of warriors in this version of Mythological Ireland.

Eight years went by and we brothers had learned a lot- enough to start to feel a bit ‘suffocated’ by our aunt’s nursing care as she felt compelled to not let us become adventurers.

Admittedly, she wasn’t wrong with the kind of horrid shit that happened to those that made a name in the land, but it was also true that becoming a nothing in history books wasn’t any better.

After several days of talking about it with Setanta and mellowing his boldness into just leaving without leaving anything behind, we both agreed to a compromise: we would depart at once but I would leave behind a letter mentioning that we were willingly going for this wandering and were not kidnapped by some external force.

Wars with other kingdoms had happened for less after all.

Setanta settled for the wooden sword he had personally carved under Fergus’ guidance, while I used an ax that had been difficult to lift for many normal warriors but I could handle just fine. It was a fine Battle Ax, and one that I found to be quite easy to use despite its relative weight.

Our main goal for this journey was quite close to home- we would join the boy-troop in Emain Macha. The idea was to make some life experience with the average kids there, the boy-troop being a sort of mix between a baby-gang in terms of ‘protection business’ and yet also a club for teens in regard to playing Hurling and training for war.

Much to my lack of surprise, Setanta’s plan of getting us invited failed miserably. I told my brother many times but he wouldn’t listen.

“While you have a good personality for warriors, you can sound quite crass and callous to those that are not accustomed to your roughness,” I had said and he would always roll his eyes at it.

“Fuck you too, brother,” Setanta, a eight years-old boy, told me nonchalantly.

Despite not being able to join, we still decided to take a break and try out some Hurling. What I hadn’t remembered due to how little important this event was compared to the bigger future deeds of my brother, was that the field we picked for the game was one ‘owned’ by the boy-troop.

“Get off our field, brats!” The ‘boss’ of the group demanded.

Setanta took it personally.

“Fuck your mother.”

I think I have to add a ‘disclaimer’ at this point. My big brother is… a bit of a potty-mouthed little shit at this point. And it kind of showed how his barking was already there at this point when he boasted he wouldn’t get hit in this brawl.

I managed to keep my lucidity and indeed dodge their attacks while beating the group of those rushing me, but Setanta was too much of a little shit and his self-distracting attitude warranted him a black eye.

The boy beat the crap out of those he faced, but the pure salt he felt at being bruised made him quite ranty as I helped patch him up with the medical herbs I had in my bag. Yet, fate decided to rub salt on the ‘wounded pride’ as our beloved grandfather was actually visiting the area as we were there.

“That’s what happens when you get too confident, Setanta,” Conchobar remarked flatly, causing Setanta to huff and puff, but take the criticism with a nod. I also wasn’t spared from this sort of chiding. “And you should have kept him from getting into trouble, Eoin. This is not what a good diplomat does.”

“I wasn’t trying to be a diplomat there, grandfather,” I half-admitted, causing the man to sigh and mutter something like ‘youths these days’ under his breath.

After we were done talking, Conchobar told us that his friend Culann the smith was holding a feast and that we could tag along with him for the event. That felt like a good way to meet new people and-

I forgot this is how my brother got his nickname.

Grandpa was old and a bit forgetful, enough to not tell Culann we were invited. The smith, thinking that we were thieves, decided to literally ‘unleash the hound’ and sent his huge dog after us.

The massive hound of Culann was quite a chilling sight. Not truly terrifying, but its teeth were quite unnerving with how easily it could cut flesh. And while that was worrisome, I was more concerned about the repercussions of killing such a beast.

Instead of a fight as Setanta was eager to go for, I decided to be a ‘diplomat’ as our grandfather had suggested. The mutt’s ferocious growling mellowed as I retrieved one of the three steaks I packed for the trip.

The sight of juicy meat drew the dog to a pause, eyes aimed at it as I waved it enticingly and then threw it at the mutt. The animal caught it with his teeth, munching it happily. Once the mutt was done with that one, it saw me holding another one. Its tail was wagging shortly after, and I sat down, holding the third steak and gesturing it to approach, the hound slowly approached, tense but still hungry.

“E-Eoin, we shouldn’t-”

“We are not killing a hound doing its job, brother,” I argued flatly and with an ‘unusual hint of barb’ in my voice, knowing better than to let my brother get away with this one.

He stared at me as if I was crazy and… he appeared surprised when I soon had the dog resting on my left side with its head sitting on my lap for me to caress and treat with care as it calmly munched from the last steak.

“Good boy,” I hummed, the massive mutt turned into a humongous pup whose ears were twitching and its tail was wagging even faster at the pleasant voice carrying the familiar compliment.

For a moment, there was peace and… then I saw Setanta sitting on his knees on my free side. I turned with a perplexed and questioning look and he-

“Me too!”

…My brother is weird, I would also add.

When Culann came to check why his hound was not ‘handling us’ after being told by our grandfather who we were, he looked baffled by the sight of me giving up my lap to both his pet hound and my silly doggish brother. And yet, as the Chief Druid of the Court, Cathbad, came to see such a sight together with the rest of the guests, he decided to provide some words.

“Before us I see two boys that will be known as Cu Chulainn and Coimeádaí Chulainn (The Hound and the Keeper of Culann).”

So yeah, some shit is not changing despite how less troublesome this went to be. Of course, while we made quite a figure with this situation… It was nothing compared to our first war experience.

—------d-d-d-d—-----

AN

Next time, Cu and Bro go to war and Eoin (John) discovers that he may have inherited some of that infamous Battle Frenzy his brother would end up remembered for.

Also, a big detail that makes it different from the RL’s timeline: There are ‘two Medbs’ around. Both would have become dangerous queens of Connacht, but for now one of them is… and it’s technically Cu and Bro’s pseudo-grandma. Little Medb, instead, is pure right now but… something bad will happen, enough for me to set warnings due to this tw-worthy situation.