Dòmhnall Gorm agus an Teachdaire

GF336i08 DÒMHNALL GORM AGUS AN TEACHDAIRE

Beulaiche: Eòs Nìll Bhig | Joe Neil MacNeil
Tar-Sgrìobhadh: Oighrig NicFhraing | Effie Rankin

Nuair a bha mise glé òg, bhithinn a' cluinntinn na seann chuideachd ri seanchas agus bhiodh iad a' bruidhinn mu dheidhinn cogadh, mu dheidhinn blàir agus creachan no sgriosan cogaidh. Agus bha 'ad ag ainmeachas Dòmhnall Gorm agus na réiseamaid chogaidh a bhiodh aige. Agus bha naidheachd aca mu dheoghainn nuair a chaidh gill' a chur a-null—tha mi cinnteach nach robh ann ach duine glé —fear glé òg a bh' anns an arm—bu chinnteach gur e 'n fheadhainn òg' a chuireadh iad air na turais co-dhiù. Agus bha e coltach gun robh àireamh de champaichean ann—bha campa no dhà ann, agus chuir an t-oifigeach am fear seo a-null—an teachdaire seo null dh'ionnsaidh a' champa a dh'iarraidh a' choire. Agus thill e às aonais a' choire agus chaidh faighneachd dhà gu dé thachair agus thuirt e gu robh feum ac' air a' choire thall anns a' champ eile no gun deachaidh a bhacail airson an coire thoirt leis. Agus 's e fhreagairt a fhuair e, thuirt am fear eile: "Shaoileam gun do chuir mi fear a dh'iarraidh a' choire no gun do chuir mi gille a dh'iarraidh a' choire!" Agus tha e coltach gun do chuir seo an fhearg air an fhear eile agus thill e null air n-ais agus ghlac e 'n coire 's thòisich iad air sabaid—fear thall a' sin, no ma dh'fhaoidte dithis a' cumail a' choire bhuaithe agus thàinig e nall air ais an ceann greiseadh agus srùp a' choir' aige— choire chopair!
Agus cha robh mis' ach glé òg nuair a chuala mi 'n naidheachd a bha sin ach bha mi—o, ma dh'fhaoidte gun robh mi co-dhiù deich bliadhna as a dheoghaidh sin na còrr—ma dh'fhaoidte greis seachad air deich bliadhna—ma dh'fhaoidte dusan bliadhna seachad air an àm sin; bha mi ann an taigh Mìcheil 'ic 'Ill Eathainn agus mar a bhiodhte seanchas mu dheidhinn daoine bha foghainneach no daoine bhiodh math gu seinn òrain no sgeulachdan no leithid sin—bhiodhte daonnan a' toirt moladh 'is aithris orra sin. Agus bha bean Mhìcheil 'ic 'Ill Eathainn—b 'e sin nighean Dhòmhnaill Òig no Dòmhnall nan Ùbhlan mar a bheirte agus bha i seanchas mu dheidhinn cuideachd no càirdean fhèin a bha làidir agus cha mhór nach eil mi cinnteach le—ma 's math idir mo chuimhne gun d' thuirt i gur e bràthair a seanar fhèin a bh' anns an fhear a thug an srùp far a' choire chopair. Agus sin agaibh a-nis mar a bha sgeul air a' choire chopair agus air a' chogadh.

Translation:

DONALD GORM AND THE ENVOY

When I was very young, I used to hear the old folks talking, and they used to talk about war, about battles and raids and the destruction of war. And they were mentioning Donald Gorm and the battle regiments he had. And they had a story about the time a lad was sent over—I suppose he was but—quite a young fellow in the army— the young ones were likely the ones to be sent on errands anyhow. And it seems there were a number of camps—there were one or two camps—and the officer sent this fellow over—this messenger over to the (other) camp to fetch a kettle. And he returned without the kettle, and he was asked what happened, and he said they needed the kettle over in the other camp, or that he was forbidden to take the kettle with him. And the answer he got, what the other fellow said: "I thought I sent a man for the kettle or, I thought I sent a lad for the kettle!" And it seems this angered the other fellow, and he went back over and snatched the kettle, and they began to struggle—one fellow or perhaps two over there keeping the kettle from him. And he returned after a while with the spout of the kettle—of the copper kettle.
And I was only very young when I heard that story. But I was—oh, perhaps it was at least ten years or more after that—perhaps a bit over ten years—or perhaps twelve years after that time, I was in Michael MacLean's house. Now, when talking about powerful people or people who were good to sing songs or tell stories or the like—those would often be mentioned and praised. And Michael MacLean's wife—she was a daughter of Young Donald—or Donald of the Apples as he was known— she was talking about her own people or relatives who were strong and I am almost sure that –if my memory is at all good—that she said it was her own grandfather's brother who took the spout off the copper kettle. Now there you have the story of the copper kettle and the war.