Gan Ceann and the Black Huntsman
Long ago, when the world was young and green, a man rode through the countryside of Ireland. His journey wasn't urgent, so he rode at his own pace. Though he encountered highwaymen, bandits, and all manner of rogues in his journey, none stopped him, for he was no normal man. He was Gan Ceann, member of the Dullahan of the Tír na Réimsí, and none would dare stop him.
It was twilight when Gan Ceann came upon a stone bridge crossing a river. Upon reaching the bridge, his steed began to bicker and whine. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, he urged his horse to cross. His steed's worries were proven right, however, when a great hand reached out from under the bridge and plucked him right off his horse.
No normal man would dare interfere with Gan Ceann's journey, but this was no normal man. This was a troll, one that had come down from the far hills in search of prey. It's hide was tough and it's strength was vast, and with one swing it threw Gan Ceann against the rocks of the riverbed.
Gan Ceann was strong himself, and his body was unharmed. His head, however, was dislodged and now sat precariously on the edge of the river. His body was left with a choice: would he rescue his head or turn to fight the troll that had impeded his journey?
It was no choice at all for him, and his body turned to save his head, for a Dullahan's head is their greatest weakness. And so, now and forever, the body of a Dullahan will always run for their head, ignoring all else if separated.
However, though he had recovered his head, Gan Ceann was now at great risk. The troll hadn't stopped to let him recover, and it's club was raised over it's head, ready to smash Gan Ceann into soup.
This was not to be, however, for a black arrow struck the troll's hand, forcing him to drop the club right on it's own head. Dazed, the troll turned towards the source of the black arrow, only to receive another in it's eye.
As the troll flailed in pain, Gan Ceann turned to the bridge. Atop the stone was a figure in black armor, bow in hand with another arrow already knocked. Seizing the opportunity, Gan Ceann turned and smote the troll with one strike from his blade.
Returning to the bridge, Gan Ceann was reunited with his horse, who, being well-trained, had waited for it's master to finish the fight. Now, Gan Ceann turned to his savior, the archer who had saved his life.
The archer, no, the hunter was now astride his own steed, a great black beast with red eyes and a bad temper when touched by any other than it's master, on the other side of the bridge. Gan Ceann saw that, in place of his bow, the figure now held his own head aloft, and his neck was but a stump.
Yes, Gan Ceann had been saved by another Dullahan, though not one that he recognized.
"I give you my thanks, huntsman, and I would ask your name so I may repay you for the gift of life." Gan Ceann called out.
The hunter spoke then, in a voice like the closing of caskets.
He said: "I am Zamiel, the Black Huntsman. The only gift I ask for is remembrance." With that said, the hunter urged his steed forward off the bridge, where he vanished into the growing darkness of night.
Gan Ceann climbed back on his horse and completed his journey, and later became Chieftain of the Tír na Réimsí Dullahan. He made good on his promise, and made sure his people would remember the mysterious hunter that had saved him.
Thus, to this day, before we set out on our journey into the unknown, we ask for the guidance and protection of Zamiel, the Black Huntsman.