Celtic Folklore Names Novels & Stories

But strangely she couldn't even recollect her own name. Cedric understood that the fairy fog must have wiped her memories clean. So he gave her a name. 'Lolaitha' 'When my sister was pregnant, she once told me that she wanted to call her daughter as Lolaitha. Now she no longer is here with us, but I am sure your father must have given you the same name. So your name is Lolaitha, in short, you are Lola ' he explained when Lola looked at him with a confused expression.

It felt like they took two steps forward and one step backward. “I believe it goes by the name Roger Helbourne. Which is odd. Helbourne is an English name, not an Irish. Irish supernaturals settled this area.” He couldn’t believe she was pulling this off the top of her head. “Do you believe it’s a false last name, then?” He was struggling to keep up with all the twists.

I realised this must be a big deal for him, talking to my mother like this. “Like the emotion wrath or,” my mother paused, seeming a bit confused. Now I understood why Rem’s friend gave him the nickname Rem. Sighing softly, Rem said, “it is Irish. My family came from Ireland way back when. So no W in the name at all. I forget what it translates to, but that’s not important.” “Ah! Then, Rath? It’s cute,” my mother mused happily. She was never one to let corrections get to her, and she was almost always cheerful. Sort of where I get my own cheerfulness from, I did not doubt.

Fergal let out a loud screech before swooping down to land on Niamh's arm. Breathnach looked at her in surprise. "You have an Ohta Fion," he observed. Niamh reached back in her mind to her training in the ancient tongue of the Elves. He called Fergal a "War Hawk." She turned to General Aengus. "I was told he was a falcon," she said quietly. Lord Breathnach raised an eyebrow, "It is a name we give to the most honored of Birds of War. Having such a bird is only suitable for such a Queen."

Knowing that his beast could not survive without it's mate, he released a great roar that caused the castle walls to completely collapse upon them as he died. Sheiria is my own creation and is pronounced She-ray-a Erwan is Celtic for dragon and is pronounced Er-wan, like you would pronounce Obi-Won Tine is Celtic for Fire and Is pronounced like time with an n

Each telling of the tale varies, but the central theme is always that of a sea witch or sorceress who finds or kidnaps a beautiful girl, and raises her until fate intervenes in the form of a young man. Of particular interest to students of Celtic mythology is the male character, a romantic yet disruptive force. He is always depicted as either a seductive demon in the form of a beautiful young man, or a celestial angel, a pirate, a faery prince or a chivalrous knight. In light of this, the myth is notable for its connection to the band of heroes known by several names (most commonly the Fiacha Rudraigh or the Fianna) – a group of five warrior princes who appear in the Mythological, Ulster and

Jack eyes him up and down, “Six—what? six four? six five? Two hundred ten pounds? Sound about right?” The Horned God nods. “What name do you want?” “In the past, I have been called, ‘Fearadhaigh’.” All four of us sit silent. “You want to spell that, please?” My father spells the name. “It means father of fairies.” “Uh-huh,” Jack nods, unimpressed. “It’ll do for a surname. Anything else—you know, polite—you’ve been called?” “Finn’s mother called me Warren—her protector.”

I was surprised when she jumped on my legs but I took it as she must have grown to trust me even though we spent little time together. I noticed the little creature has no sense of names. I squinted a little trying to come up with a name that would suit an ugly creature like her. “How about Gealic,” I said after a while of hard thinking. The little creature nodded, seemingly satisfied with the name, “ What a perfect name for a beauty like me!” I looked at the proud little creature unbelievably, I could see the corner of her lips tuggle up at an angle I could barely see. Even though I do not know much about names, I seem to know Gaelic means bright, friendly, and soft.

My little wolf. "Faolan," I said slowly. "It's Irish. My grandfather was from Cork — he used to tell me all these old stories, teach me bits of Gaelic when I was little." I looked at him. "It means 'little wolf.' Which is kind of a joke, because you're massive, but..." Something shifted in his expression. He straightened slightly against the doorframe, testing the word silently, his lips moving. "Fao-lan," I said again, slower. "Fao for short."

Beyond them, faint movement — figures cloaked in green and gold. “The Druid Kingdom,” Fianna whispered. “Elarondir.” Niamh whistled softly. “Well, this doesn’t scream ‘forbidden’ at all.” I smiled faintly despite the unease curling in my gut. “Let’s just hope they’re willing to talk.” Fianna glanced at me, her silver eyes reflecting the lantern light. “No need to worry I know someone.” “Now that our work easier.” Niamh said.