Three of the chiefs of Ulster consented to go with him, Conall, whom men in after days called The Victorious, because of his many combats, and Laery the Triumphant, and Conor, Ulster's king. Conall was close friend to Cuchulain, and they had vowed to each other while yet they were but boys, that whichever of the two of them should first fall in battle or single combat, the other would avenge his death, whether he were at that time near at hand or far across the world in distant climes. And though Cuchulain was the younger, he it was who first fell, and Conall avenged his death in the Red Rout, as we shall hear. He was a great wanderer, and he was far away across the seas when Cuchulain fell, but for all that his promise held him, and his love for his friend, and amply and fully he avenged him on his foes.

Then these three friends set out together in Conall's boat the "Bird‑like," which needed not to be guided or rowed, but which sped at its own will across the deep-green, strong-waved ocean, like the winging flight of a swift bird. It took its own way to strange lands, where none of those who traveled in the boat had ever been before, and they came at last to a dark gloomy shore where dwelt a fierce woman-warrior, Donnell the Soldierly, and her daughter, Big-fist.

Huge and ugly and gruesome were they both, with big grey eyes, and black faces and rough bright-red hair, and so cruel and vengeful were they that it was dangerous to quarrel with either of them. Yet they knew many feats of arms, so that the three warriors stayed with them a year and a day, learning all they knew. But Cuchulain was fain to go away from them, for the darkness and the gloom of the place and the ugly deeds of Big-fist troubled him, and he liked not at all to remain with her.

The year and the day being past, Cuchulain was walking by the brink of the sea revolving these things in his mind, when he saw close beside him, sitting on the shore, a man of enormous size, every inch of him from top to toe as black as coal. "What are you doing here?" said the big black man to Cuchulain. "I have been here a year and a day learning feats of prowess and heroism from Donnell," said the little lad. "How so?" said the big black man. "If you want to learn true knightly skill and feats of valour, it is not here that you will learn them."  "Is that true?" said Cuchulain. "It is true, indeed," said the big black man. "Is there any woman-champion in the world who is better than the woman-champion that is here?" said Cuchulain. "There is indeed," said the big black man; "far better than she is Scáth, daughter of Ages, King of Shadow-land, who dwells in the Eastern world."  "We have heard of her before," said Cuchulain. "I am sure you have," said the big black man; "but great and distant is the region of Shadow-land, little man."  "Will you tell me all about it, and where it is, and how to find it?" said Cuchulain, eagerly. "Never will I tell you a word about it to the end of time," said the black man surlily. "O hateful, withered spectre, now may knowledge and help fail you yourself, when most you stand in need of them," cried the boy, and with that the phantom disappeared.

Cuchulain did not sleep a wink that night thinking of the great far-distant country of which the big black man had told him; and at break of day on the morrow he sprang from his bed and sought his companions, Conor and Conall and Laery. "Will you come with me to seek for Shadow-land?" he asked, when he had told them the tale of the big black man. "We will not come," said they, "for last night a vision appeared to each of us, and we could not put it away from us. We saw before us our own homes, and the kingly courts of Emain Macha standing right before us in the way, and we heard the voices of our wives weeping for our absence, and the call of our clans and warriors for their chiefs; therefore to‑day we bid you farewell, for we return together to our homes. But go you on to Shadow-land and perfect yourself in feats with Scáth, daughter of Ages, and then return to us." It seemed to Cuchulain that it was the big black man who had raised this vision before the chiefs, that they might separate themselves from him, so that he might find his death traveling to Shadow-land alone. So he bid the chiefs farewell with a heavy heart, and they set off for Erin in Conall's boat, the "Bird-like;" and as soon as it was out of sight, speeding over the waves of the blue, surging ocean, Cuchulain set out alone along the unknown road. For he was determined to reach Shadow-land, or to die in the attempt. He went on for many days over great mountains and through deep impenetrable forests, and dark, lonely glens, until he came to a wide-spreading desert and a lightless land. Black and scorched and bare was that desert, and there was no path or road across it, and no human habitation was in sight. Cuchulain stood wondering and fearing to adventure forth alone across that terrible stony trackless waste, for he knew not whither to turn, or how to go. Just then he saw a great beast like a lion coming out of the forest on the border of the desert, and advancing towards him, watching him all the time. Now Cuchulain was but a little lad, and he had no weapons with him, and he was afraid of the mighty beast and tried to escape from him; but whichever way he turned, the beast was there before him, and it seemed to Cuchulain that it was a friendly beast, for it made no attempt to injure him, but kept turning its side to Cuchulain, inviting him to mount. So Cuchulain plucked up his courage and took a leap and was on its back. He did not try to guide it, for of its own accord the lion made off across the plain, and for four days and nights they traveled thus through the dim, lightless land until Cuchulain thought they must have come to the uttermost bounds of men. But they saw a small loch and a boat on it, and boys rowing the boat backward and forward amongst the reeds of the shore, and the boys laughed at the sight of the hurtful beast doing service to a human being. Then Cuchulain jumped off the back of the lion and he bade it farewell and it departed from him.

The boys rowed him across the loch to a house where he got meat and drink, and a young man with a face bright like the sun conducted him on his way until he came to the Plain of Ill-luck, and there he left him. Difficult and toilsome was the journey across the Plain of Ill-luck; on one half of the plain the feet of the wayfarer would stick fast in the miry clay, so that he could not move on, but thought he would sink into the earth at every step; and on the other half of the plain the grass would rise up beneath his feet and lift him up far above the ground upon its blades, so that he seemed to be walking in the air.