Now let us speak of Oisin, and the party who tarried with him on the hill of Knockfierna. When he found that his father Finn had not sent back a messenger as he had promised, though the night was now drawing nigh, he began to fear that something was wrong; and he said to his companions-- "I marvel much that we have got no news from the king, how he and his companions have fared in the Palace of the Quicken Trees. It is clear to me that he would have fulfilled his promise to send us word, if he had not been hindered by some unforeseen difficulty. Now, therefore, I wish to know who will go to the palace and bring me back tidings." Ficna, the son of Finn, stood forth and offered to go; and Finn's foster son, Innsa, the son of Swena Selga, said he would go with him. They both set out at once, and as they travelled with speed, they soon reached the plain on which stood the Palace of the Quicken Trees; and now the night was darkening around them. As they came near to the palace, they marvelled to hear the loud, slow strains of the Dord-Fian; and Innsa exclaimed joyfully-- "Things go well with our friends, seeing that they are amusing themselves with the Dord-Fian!" But Ficna, who guessed more truly how things really stood, replied-- "It is my opinion, friend, that matters are not so pleasant with them as you think; for it is only in time of trouble or danger that Finn is wont to have the Dord-Fian sounded in a manner so slow and sad." While they talked in this wise, it chanced that the Dord-Fian ceased for a little space; and Finn hearing the low hum of conversation outside, asked was that the voice of Ficna. And when Ficna answered, "Yes," Finn said to him-- "Come not nearer, my son; for this place teems with dangerous spells. We have been decoyed hither by Midac, and we are all held here by the foul sorcery of the three kings of the Island of the Torrent." And thereupon Finn told him the whole story of the treachery that had been wrought on them, from beginning to end; and he told him also that nothing could free them but the blood of those three kings sprinkled on the clay. Then he asked who the second man was whom he had heard conversing with Ficna; and when he was told that it was Innsa, the son of Swena Selga, he addressed Ficna earnestly-- "Fly, my son, from this fatal place! Fly, and save my foster child from the treacherous swords of the foreigners; for they are already on their way hither!" But Innsa quickly answered, "That I will never do. It would, indeed, be an ungrateful return to a kind foster father, to leave thee now in deadly strait, and seek my own safety." And Ficna spoke in a like strain.