Fairy Dreaming

Faeries, come take me out of this dull world,

For I would ride with you upon the wind,

Run on the top of the dishevelled tide,

And dance upon the mountains like a flame.

― poem excerpted from W.B. Yeats, The Land of Heart's Desire

Yeats' words and Arthur Rackham's art went so well together I couldn't resist combining them--although the last picture of the fairy ring is by Richard Doyle.

To read some of my past posts about fairies, click here. It is the time of year when we begin to think of little people, magical beings, fairy rings and the like, isn't it? Or maybe I'm rushing the season a bit, but on this bleak day a bit of fairy magic does a lot to lift the clouds and the spirits.

Copyright 2012 Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

The Robe of Feathers

Mio Strand is in the Province of Suruga. Its sand is yellow and fine, strewn with rose shells at the ebb tide. Its pine trees are ancient and they lean all one way, which is the way that the wild wind wills. Before Mio rolls the deep sea, and behind Mio rises Fugi, the most sacred, the mountain of mountains. Small marvel that the Strange People should come to Mio.

Of the Strange People not much is known, even at Mio, though it is sure they come there. It seems they are shy indeed, more's the pity. They come through the blue air, or across the mysterious paths of the sea. Their footprints are never, never seen upon the wet beach, for they tread too lightly. But sometimes in their dancing they sweep their robes upon the sand and leave it ribbed and ruffled; so, often enough, it may be seen at Mio.

This is not all. Once a fisherman of Mio set eyes upon a maiden of the Strange People, and talked with her and made her do his bidding. This is a true thing, and thus it came about.

The fisherman was out in his boat all night. He cast his net here and he cast his net there, but he caught nothing at all for his pains. It may be believed that he grew weary enough before the morning. In the cold of the dawn he brought his boat to shore and set foot on Mio Strand, shivering.

Then, so he says, a warm wind met him and blew through his garments and his hair, so that he flushed and glowed. The very sand was full of comfort to his chilly feet. Upon the warm wind a fragrance was borne, cedar and vervain, and the scent of a hundred flowers.

Flowers dropped softly through the air like bright rain. The fisherman stretched out his hands and caught them, lotus and jessamine and pomegranate. And all the while sweet music sounded.

"This is never Mio Strand," cried the fisherman, bewildered, "where I have pulled my boat ashore a thousand times or flown kites upon a holiday. Alack, I fear me I have sailed to the Fortunate Isles unawares, or come unwilling to the Sea King's garden; or very like I am dead and never knew it, and this is Yomi. O Yomi, Land of Yomi, how like thou art to Mio Strand, my dear home!"

After he had said this, the fisherman looked up the beach and down the beach, and he turned and saw Fuji, the mountain of mountains, and then he turned and saw the deep rolling sea and knew he was at Mio and no other place, and gave a long sigh.

"Thanks be," he said, and lifting his eyes he saw a robe of feathers hanging upon the branch of a pine tree. In the robe were feathers of all the birds that fly, every one; the kingfisher and the golden pheasant, the love bird, the swan, the crow, the cormorant, the dove, the bullfinch, the falcon, the plover, and the heron.

"Ah, the pretty fluttering thing!" said the fisherman, and he took it from the pine tree where it hung.

"Ah, the warm, sweet, fairy thing!" said the fisherman; "I'll take it home for a treasure, sure no money could buy it, and I'll show it to all the folk of the village." And off he set for home with the fairy feathers over his arm.

Now the maiden of the Strange People had been playing all this time with the White Children of the Foam that live in the salt sea. She looked up through the cold clear water and marked that her robe hung no longer on the pine-tree branch.

"Alas, alas!" she cried, "my robe, my feather robe! " Swifter than any arrow she sprang from the water, and sped, fleet of foot, along the wet sand. The White Children of the Foam followed at her flashing heels. Clad in the cloak of her long hair, she came up with the fisherman.

"Give me my feather robe," she said, and held out her hand for it.

"Why? " said the fisherman.

"'Tis mine. I want it. I must have it."

"Oho," said the fisherman, "finding's keeping," and he didn't give her the feather robe.

"I am a Fairy," she said.

"Farewell, Fairy," said the fisherman.

"A Moon Fairy," she said.

"Farewell, Moon Fairy," said the fisherman, and he made to take his way along Mio Strand. At that she snatched at the feather robe, but the fisherman held fast. The feathers fluttered out and dropped upon the sand.

"I wouldn't do that," said the fisherman. "You'll have it all to pieces."

"I am a Moon Fairy, and at dawn I came to play upon fair Mio Strand; without my feathers I cannot go back to my place, my home in High Heaven. Therefore give me my feathers."

" No," said the fisherman.

"Oh, fisherman, fisherman, give me my robe."

"I couldn't think of it," said the fisherman.

At this the maiden fell upon her knees and drooped like a lily in the heat of the day. With her arms she held the fisherman about the knees, and as she clung to him beseeching him, he felt her tears upon his bare feet.

She wept and said:

"I am a bird, a frail bird,
A wounded bird with broken wings,
I must die far from home,
For the Five Woes are come upon me.
The red flowers in my hair are faded;
My robe is made unclean;
Faintness comes upon me;
I cannot see - farewell, dear sight of my eyes;
I have lost joy.

Oh, blessed flying clouds, and happy birds,
And golden dust in the wind,
And flying thoughts and flying prayers!
I have lost all joy."

"Oh, stop," said the fisherman, "you may have your robe."

"Give," she cried.

"Softly, softly," said the fisherman. "Not so fast. I will give you your robe if you will dance for me here on Mio Strand."

"What must I dance?" she asked.

"You must dance the mystic dance that makes the Palace of the Moon turn round."

She said, "Give me my feathers and I will dance it. I cannot dance without my feathers."

"What if you cheat me, what if you break your promise and fly immediately to the moon and no dancing at all?"

"Ah, fisherman," she said, "the faith of a Fairy!"

Then he gave her the robe.

Now, when she had arrayed herself and flung back her hair, the Fairy began to dance upon the yellow sand. In and out of the feather robe crept her fairy feet. Slowly, softly, she went with folded wings and sang :

"Oh, the gold and silver mountains of the Moon,
And the sweet Singing Birds of Heaven !
They sing in the branches of the cinnamon tree,
To entertain the thirty kings that are there.


Fifteen kings in white garments,
To reign for fifteen days.
Fifteen kings in black garments,
To reign for fifteen days.
I hear the music of Heaven;
Away, away, I fly to Fairy Places."

At this the Fairy spread her rainbow-coloured wings, and the wind that they made fluttered the red flowers in her hair. Out streamed the robe of feathers bright and gay.

The Fairy laughed. Her feet touched the waves of the sea; her feet touched the grass and the flowers inshore. They touched the high branches of the pines and then the white clouds.

"Farewell, fisherman!" the Fairy cried, and he saw her no more.

Long, long he stood gazing up into the sky. At length he stooped and picked up a little feather from the shore, a grey dove's feather. He smoothed it out with his finger and hid it in his girdle.

Then he went to his home.

From Green Willow And Other Japanese Fairy Tales by Grace James. MacMillan And Co., 1912.

A Noh play version of this story can be found at Sacred Texts.

The illustration is from the public domain collection at the Library of Congress.

 

An Irish Fairy Tale

THE FAIRIES' DANCING-PLACE

Richard Doyle's Dancing Fairies

Lanty M'Clusky had married a wife, and, of course, it was necessary to have a house in which to keep her. Now, Lanty had taken a bit of a farm, about six acres; but as there was no house on it, he resolved to build one; and that it might be as comfortable as possible, he selected for the site of it one of those beautiful green circles that are supposed to be the play-ground of the fairies. Lanty was warned against this; but as he was a headstrong man, and not much given to fear, he said he would not change such a pleasant situation for his house to oblige all the fairies in Europe.

He accordingly proceeded with the building, which he finished off very neatly; and, as it is usual on these occasions to give one's neighbours and friends a house-warming, so, in compliance with this good and pleasant old custom, Lanty having brought home the wife in the course of the day, got a fiddler and a lot of whisky, and gave those who had come to see him a dance in the evening.

This was all very well, and the fun and hilarity were proceeding briskly, when a noise was heard after night had set in, like a crushing and straining of ribs and rafters on the top of the house. The folks assembled all listened, and, without doubt, there was nothing heard but crushing, and heaving, and pushing, and groaning, and panting, as if a thousand little men were engaged in pulling down the roof.

'Come,' said a voice which spoke in a tone of command, 'work hard: you know we must have Lanty's house down before midnight.'

This was an unwelcome piece of intelligence to Lanty, who, finding that his enemies were such as he could not cope with, walked out, and addressed them as follows:

'Gintlemen, I humbly ax yer pardon for buildin' on any place belongin' to you; but if you'll have the civilitude to let me alone this night, I'll begin to pull down and remove the house to-morrow morning.'

This was followed by a noise like the clapping of a thousand tiny little hands, and a shout of 'Bravo, Lanty! build half-way between the two White-thorns above the boreen'; and after another hearty little shout of exultation, there was a brisk rushing noise, and they were heard no more.
The story, however, does not end here; for Lanty, when digging the foundation of his new house, found the full of a kam of gold: so that in leaving to the fairies their play-ground, he became a richer man than ever he otherwise would have been, had he never come in contact with them at all.

By William Carleton, from William Butler Yeats' book, Irish Fairy Tales

I've blogged about fairy rings before here and here and here. I happened on this story recently and thought it was a perfect tale for St. Patrick's Day.

The Christmas Fairy of Strasburg

I've been looking for some different Christmas folktales to share, and found this one recently. I like it for the combination of folklore--fairies and the origin of the Christmas tree. There are lots of legends about why we have the trees, but this one was new to me. 


The Christmas Fairy of Strasburg


A German Folktale by By J. Stirling Coyne

(adapted by Frances Jenkins Olcott and a little bit by me)

Image from German Christmas Traditions: visit them for recipes, games, customs and more)

Once long ago, there lived near Strasburg, on the river Rhine, a young and handsome count whose name was Otto. As the years flew by he remained unwed, and never so much as cast a glance at the fair maidens of the country round. For this reason people began to call him "Stone-Heart."

One Christmas Eve Count Otto ordered that a great hunt should take place in the forest surrounding his castle. He and his guests and servants rode forth, and the chase became more and more exciting. It led through thickets and forest, until at length Count Otto found himself separated from his companions.

He rode on alone until he came to a spring of clear water, known to the people around as the "Fairy Well." Here Count Otto dismounted. He bent over the spring and began to wash his hands in the sparkling water but to his wonder he found that though the weather was cold and frosty, the water was quite warm. A glow of joy passed through his veins, and as he plunged his hands deeper he thought that his right hand was grabbed by another hand that was soft and small. It gently slipped from his finger the gold ring he always wore. And, lo! when he drew out his hand, the gold ring was gone.

Full of wonder at this mysterious event, the count returned to his castle, resolving in his mind that the very next day he would have the Fairy Well emptied by his servants.

He retired to his room and tried to sleep but the strangeness of his adventure kept him awake. Suddenly he heard the hoarse baying of the watch-hounds in the courtyard, and then the creaking of the drawbridge, as though it were being lowered. Then came to his ear the patter of many small feet on the stone staircase, and next he heard indistinctly the sound of light footsteps in the chamber adjoining his own.

Count Otto sprang from his couch. As he did there sounded a strain of delicious music and the door of his chamber was flung open. Hurrying into the next room, he found himself in the midst of numberless Fairy beings, clad in bright and sparkling robes. They paid no attention to him but began to dance, and laugh and sing to the sound of mysterious music.

In the center of the apartment stood a splendid Christmas Tree, the first ever seen in that country. Instead of toys and candles there hung on its lighted boughs diamond stars, pearl necklaces, bracelets of gold ornamented with colored jewels, aigrettes of rubies and sapphires, silken belts embroidered with Oriental pearls and daggers mounted in gold and studded with the rarest gems. The whole tree swayed, sparkled, and glittered in the radiance of its many lights.

Count Otto stood speechless. Suddenly the Fairies stopped dancing and fell back to make room for a lady of dazzling beauty who came slowly toward him.

She wore on her raven-black tresses a golden diadem set with jewels. Her hair flowed down upon a robe of rosy satin and creamy velvet. She stretched out two small, white hands to the count and addressed him in sweet, alluring tones:

"Dear Count Otto," said she, "I come to return your Christmas visit. I am Ernestine, the Queen of the Fairies. I bring you something you lost in the Fairy Well."

As she spoke she drew from her bosom a golden casket, set with diamonds, and placed it in his hands. He opened it eagerly and found within his lost gold ring.


Carried away by the wonder of it all, and overcome by an irresistible impulse, the count pressed the Fairy Ernestine to his heart, while she, holding him by the hand, drew him into the magic mazes of the dance. The mysterious music floated through the room, and the rest of that Fairy company circled and whirled around the Fairy Queen and Count Otto; then gradually dissolved into a mist of many colors, leaving the count and his beautiful guest alone.

Then the young man, forgetting all his former coldness toward the maidens of the country round about, fell on his knees before the Fairy and besought her to become his bride. At last she consented on the condition that he should never speak the word "death" in her presence.

The next day the wedding of Count Otto and Ernestine, Queen of the Fairies, was celebrated with great pomp and magnificence, and the two lived happily for many years.

Now it happened one day that the count and his Fairy wife were to hunt in the forest around the castle. The horses were saddled and bridled, and standing at the door, the company waited, and the count paced the hall in great impatience; but still the Fairy Ernestine tarried long in her chamber. At length she appeared at the door of the hall, and the count addressed her in anger.

"You have kept us waiting so long," he cried, "that you would make a good messenger to send for Death!"

Scarcely had he spoken the forbidden and fatal word, when the Fairy, uttering a wild cry, vanished from his sight. Count Otto, overwhelmed with grief and remorse, searched the castle and the Fairy Well; no trace could he find of his beautiful, lost wife but the imprint of her delicate hand set in the stone arch above the castle gate.

Years passed by, and the Fairy Ernestine did not return. The count continued to grieve.

Every Christmas Eve he set up a lighted tree in the room where he had first met the Fairy, hoping in vain that she would return to him.

Time passed and the count died. The castle fell into ruins. But to this day may be seen above the massive gate, deeply sunken in the stone arch, the impress of a small and delicate hand.

And such, say the good folk of Strasburg, was the origin of the Christmas Tree.
 
Images 2 and 3 above are the work of Arthur Rackham. I was fortunate enough to buy a collection of his work at the used book sale, and I am enthralled by his fairy art. So I used th work of an Englishman to illustrate this German tale that was written by an Irishman. A truly multicultural Christmas offering. Amazon has some copies of Rackham's books listed, and I highly recommend having a look at them. His work is stunning.

Fairy Rings: Rhys at the Fairy-Dance

To follow on yesterday's post, here is a fairy ring story from:

The Fairy Mythology: Illustrative of the Romance and Superstition of Various Countries.

by Thomas Keightley, published in1870

 
RHYS AT THE FAIRY-DANCE


Rhys and Llewellyn, two farmer's servants, who had been all day carrying lime for their master, were driving in the twilight their mountain ponies before them, returning home from their work. On reaching a little plain, Rhys called to his companion to stop and listen to the music, saying it was a tune to which he had danced a hundred times, and must go and have a dance now. He bade him go on with the horses, and he would soon overtake him.
 
Llewellyn could hear nothing, and began to remonstrate; but away sprang Rhys, and he called after him in vain. He went home, put up the ponies, ate his supper, and went to bed, thinking that Rhys had only made a pretext for going to the ale-house. But when morning came, and still no sign of Rhys, he told his master what had occurred.
 
Search was then made everywhere, but no Rhys could be found. Suspicion now fell upon Llewellyn of having murdered him, and he was thrown into prison, though there was no evidence against him. A farmer, however, skilled in fairy-matters, having an idea of how things might have been, proposed that himself and some others should accompany Llewellyn to the place where he parted with Rhys. On coming to it, they found it green as the mountain ash.
 
"Hush!" cried Llewellyn, "I hear music, I hear sweet harps."
 

Arthur Rackham (1867-1939)

We all listened, says the narrator, for I was one of them, but could hear nothing.
 

"Put your foot on mine, David," said he to me (his own foot was at the time on the outward edge of the fairy-ring).

 

Richard Doyle (1824-1883)

 
I did so, and so did we all, one after another, and then we beard the sound of many harps, and saw within a circle, about twenty feet across, great numbers of little people, of the size of children of three or four years old, dancing round and round. Among them we saw Rhys, and Llewellyn catching him by the smock-frock, as he came by him, pulled him out of the circle.
 
"Where are the horses? where are the horses?" cried he.
 
"Horses, indeed!" said Llewellyn.
 
Rhys urged him to go home, and let him finish his dance, in which he averred he had not been engaged more than five minutes. It was by main force they took him from the place. He still asserted he had been only five minutes away, and could give no account of the people he had been with. He became melancholy, took to his bed, and soon after died.
 
"The morning after," says the narrator, "we went to look at the place, and we found the edge of the ring quite red, as if trodden down, and I could see the marks of little heels, about the size of my thumb-nail."
 
For more about the Welsh fairy folklore and particularly the belief in fairy rings, see this chapter  in British Goblins: Welsh Folk-lore, Fairy Mythology, Legends and Traditions, by Wirt Sikes, which was published in 1880.
 
Here are links to both books, and another one you might like, on Amazon:

Once upon a Time

Recently we followed this float as a parade was beaking up. I thought it appropriate for a storyteller to be in this precise place at the perfect time!

Which makes me think that it's time to post a new story. This is from Joseph Jacob's collection More English Fairy Tales, which is in the public domain.

I love to tell this tale!

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A girl once went to the fair to hire herself for servant. At last a funny-looking old gentleman engaged her, and took her home to his house. When she got there, he told her that he had something to teach her, for that in his house he had his own names for things.

He said to her: “What will you call me?”

“Master or mister, or whatever you please sir,” says she.

He said: “You must call me ’master of all masters.’ And what would you call this?” pointing to his bed.

“Bed or couch, or whatever you please, sir.”

“No, that’s my ’barnacle.’ And what do you call these?” said he pointing to his pantaloons.

“Breeches or trousers, or whatever you please, sir.”

“You must call them ’squibs and crackers.’ And what would you call her?” pointing to the cat.

“Cat or kit, or whatever you please, sir.”

“You must call her ’white-faced simminy.’ And this now,” showing the fire, “what would you call this?”

“Fire or flame, or whatever you please, sir.”

“You must call it ’hot cockalorum,’ and what this?” he went on, pointing to the water.

"Water or wet, or whatever you please, sir.”

“No, ’pondalorum’ is its name. And what do you call all this?” asked he, as he pointed to the house.

“House or cottage, or whatever you please, sir.”

“You must call it ’high topper mountain.’”

That very night the servant woke her master up in a fright and said: “Master of all masters, get out of your barnacle and put on your squibs and crackers. For white-faced simminy has got a spark of hot cockalorum on its tail, and unless you get some pondalorum high topper mountain will be all on hot cockalorum.” .... That’s all.

Story Quiz Answers

Did you try the Story Quiz yesterday? If you've been away from stories for a few years you might recall some of the plots I listed, but not the whole story or what it was called. Storytellers who read this blog probably know the list all too well, as all of these stories are favorites of many tellers.

Folktales and fairytales often have more than one version, or variant, so there could be several "right" answers for each of these.

Here is the list, with links to online versions:

1. Girl is turned out by her father, wears a coat of furs she makes herself, becomes a kitchen maid, marries the prince.

The English version of this story is called Catskin or Catskins, among other titles. According to Wikipedia, other names for the story are Little Cat Skin, Cap O' Rushes, Donkeyskin, Allerleirauh, The King who Wished to Marry His Daughter, The She-Bear, Mossycoat, Tattercoats, The Princess That Wore A Rabbit-Skin Dress, and The Bear. I have also read a similar story called Rushycoat. The story can be considered a Cinderella variant, since the girl rises from poverty to marry a prince.

2. Cruel stepmother makes girl go to spring for water in cold weather. Girl meets an old woman and helps her. Old woman gives her a special gift. Girl goes home, stepmother sees the gift, sends her own daughter to the spring. Daughter is rude to the old woman, and gets a different gift. Of course, the sweet girl ends up well, and the daughter and mother? Not so well.

I love this story! I know it as Diamonds and Toads, or Toads and Diamonds. When I tell it to children, you can see in their eyes how vividly they are visualizing the story. While I'll admit that sometimes I'd like the girl to stick up for herself and not be such a pushover, the images of jewels falling from her mouth and snakes and lizards from her stepsister's are compelling. The Surlalune Fairytales site has an excellent annotated version of the story and a list of variants online. On Once Upon a Blog, you will find more discussion of the story and a video telling of the tale.

3. A man catches a talking fish (don't you love stories? A talking fish!). The fish grants him three wishes if the man throws him back in the river. Man goes home, tells wife about the three wishes. They argue about how to use the wishes and end up wasting them all, and sadder but wiser for the experience.

This of course is The Three Wishes. Again, the strong story images captivate children, and the droll humor makes it fun for the storyteller too. It is a very simple story to learn to tell, and was one of the first I picked up first telling it as a flannelboard and later as a freestanding story. For variations on the theme of using wishes foolishly, the Pitt e-text site is a great resource.

4. An old man has nothing to eat in his cabin. He goes hunting, taking his three dogs. Doesn't get anything. He returns to the cabin, sees a creature's tail along the wall, grabs it, cuts it off and cooks it. Later that night, hears the creature calling outside his cabin. Calls his dogs who run it off. Creature comes back, this time only two dogs come to chase it. Finally no dogs come and the old man faces the creature alone.

One of my vary favorite to tell for its spooky atmosphere and "jump" ending, Tailypo as been told in the mountains for years. And wonder of wonders, we can now see and hear the immortal storyteller Jackie Torrence tell the story online at Bookhive! Jackie passed away a few years ago but remains one of my favorite tellers. Her eyes do as much telling as her voice. For a discussion of various print versions of the tale, see Applit.

5. A Queen has 12 sons, wants a daughter. Promises a witch that she will give her the sons for a daughter. The girl is born, the King learns of his wife's promise and hides the sons in a faraway place. The girl grows up, is wandering in the forest, gets lost and comes upon a quaint cottage. She goes inside, and soon 12 young men come in--her brothers. They are not happy to see her. They into swans because of a spell the old witch put on them and the only way it can be broken is if the girl makes them each a shirt and does not speak until all twelve shirts are completed and the boys put them on. They fly away. The girl has many misfortunes, but makes the shirts. She is tied to a stake and about to be burned when the 12 swans fly in, grab the shirts from her and put them on. The last shirt is missing a sleeve, so that brother retained a wing when he returned to human form.

This is my favorite folktale from childhood, called the Twelve Wild Swans, The Six Wild Swans, The Swan Brothers, or simply Wild Swans. The most well known version of the story is by Hans Christian Andersen.

Story Quiz: Do You Know These Tales?

How well do you know your folktales and fairytales? See if you can answer these:

1. Girl is turned out by her father, wears a coat of furs she makes herself, becomes a kitchen maid, marries the prince.

2. Cruel stepmother makes girl go to spring for water in cold weather. Girl meets an old woman and helps her. Old woman gives her a special gift. Girl goes home, stepmother sees the gift, sends her own daughter to the spring. Daughter is rude to the old woman, and gets a different gift. Of course, the sweet girl ends up well, and the daughter and mother? Not so well.

3. A man catches a talking fish (don't you love stories? A talking fish!). The fish grants him three wishes if the man throws him back in the river. Man goes home, tells wife about the three wishes. They argue about how to use the wishes and end up wasting them all, and sadder but wiser for the experience.

4. An old man has nothing to eat in his cabin. He goes hunting, taking his three dogs. Doesn't get anything. He returns to the cabin, sees a creature's tail along the wall, grabs it, cuts it off and cooks it. Later that night, hears the creature calling outside his cabin. Calls his dogs who run it off. Creature comes back, this time only two dogs come to chase it. Finally no dogs come and the old man faces the creature alone.

5. A Queen has 12 sons, wants a daughter. Promises a witch that she will give her the sons for a daughter. The girl is born, the King learns of his wife's promise and hides the sons in a faraway place. The girl grows up, is wandering in the forest, gets lost and comes upon a quaint cottage. She goes inside, and soon 12 young men come in--her brothers. They are not happy to see her. They into swans because of a spell the old witch put on them and the only way it can be broken is if the girl makes them each a shirt and does not speak until all twelve shirts are completed and the boys put them on. They fly away. The girl has many misfortunes, but makes the shirts. She is tied to a stake and about to be burned when the 12 swans fly in, grab the shirts from her and put them on. The last shirt is missing a sleeve, so that brother retained a wing when he returned to human form.

So, how did you do?

Tomorrow I'll give the answers with links to the stories. I will not be surprised if there are some readers who know them all.

(I believe all the images on this page are public domain. If you know of one that is not, please let me know).

The Queen Bee: A Tale from the Brothers Grimm

When I was a child, I read and re-read the stories in my copy of Grimm's Fairy Tales so often that the book is now in tatters. I traveled to enchantment with each reading, even though when I read them now I am astounded at the level of violence in some of them. Children seem to take such things in stride--perhaps it is because we got toughened up on the playgrounds?

I do not remember ever reading this story. It seems a timely tale, with the bees beginning to fly again, and talk of starting more hives buzzing around my house. This is from an online etext, which credits the Household Tales collection, but also says the working is not identical and the exact source of this version is unknown.

I like this story for its non-violence, the discouragement of bullying, and the gentleness of the writing.

Two kings' sons once went out in search of adventures, and fell into a wild, disorderly way of living, so that they never came home again. The youngest, who was called simpleton, set out to seek his brothers, but when at length he found them they mocked him for thinking that he
with his simplicity could get through the world, when they two could not make their way, and yet were so much cleverer.

They all three traveled away together, and came to an ant-hill. The two elder wanted to destroy it, to see the little ants creeping about in their terror, and carrying their eggs away, but simpleton said, "Leave the creatures in peace, I will not allow you to disturb them."

Then they went onwards and came to a lake, on which a great number of ducks were swimming. The two brothers wanted to catch a couple and roast them, but simpleton would not permit it, and said, "Leave the creatures in peace, I will not suffer you to kill them."

At length they came to a bee's nest, in which there was so much honey that it ran out of the trunk of the tree where it was. The two wanted to make a fire beneath the tree, and suffocate the bees in order to take away the honey, but simpleton again stopped them and said, "Leave the creatures in peace, I will not allow you to burn them."

At length the three brothers arrived at a castle where stone horses were standing in the stables, and no human being was to be seen, and they went through all the halls until, quite at the end, they came to a door in which were three locks. In the middle of the door, however, there was a little pane, through which they could see into the room. There they saw a little grey man, who was sitting at a table. They called him, once, twice, but he did not hear, at last they called him for the third time, when he got up, opened the locks, and came out. He said nothing, however, but conducted them to a handsomely-spread table, and when they had eaten and drunk, he took
each of them to a bedroom.

Next morning the little grey man came to the eldest, beckoned to him, and conducted him to a stone table, on which were inscribed three tasks, by the performance of which the castle could be delivered from enchantment.

The first was that in the forest, beneath the moss, lay the princess's pearls, a thousand in number, which must be picked up, and if by sunset one single pearl was missing, he who had looked for them would be turned into stone. The eldest went thither, and sought the whole day, but when it came to an end, he had only found one hundred, and what was written on the table came true, and he was turned into stone.

Next day, the second brother undertook the adventure, but it did not fare much better with him than with the eldest, he did not find more than two hundred pearls, and was changed to stone. At last it was simpleton's turn to seek in the moss, but it was so difficult for him to find the pearls, and he got on so slowly, that he seated himself on a stone, and wept. And while he was thus sitting, the king of the ants whose life he had once saved, came with five thousand ants, and before long the little creatures had got all the pearls together, and laid them in a heap.

The second task, however, was to fetch out of the lake the key of the king's daughter's bed-chamber. When simpleton came to the lake, the ducks which he had saved, swam up to him, dived down, and brought the key out of the water.

But the third task was the most difficult, from amongst the three sleeping daughters of the king was the youngest and dearest to be sought out. They, however, resembled each other exactly, and were only to be distinguished by their having eaten different sweetmeats before they fell asleep, the eldest a bit of sugar, the second a little syrup, and the youngest a spoonful of honey.

Then the queen of the bees, whom simpleton had protected from the fire, came and tasted the lips of all three, and at last she remained sitting on the mouth which had eaten honey, and thus the king's son recognized the right princess. Then the enchantment was at an end, everything was delivered from sleep, and those who had been turned to stone received once more their natural forms.

Simpleton married the youngest and sweetest princess, and after her father's death became king, and his two brothers received the two other sisters.

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Sur La Lune seems to be the only online source for the detailed story notes from this collection, which is in the public domain.

Here are the notes for this story, from SurLaLune:

Grimm, Jacob and Wilhelm. Household Tales. Margaret Hunt, translator. London: George Bell, 1884, 1892. 2 volumes.

Notes

From Hesse, where we have also heard another story differing in various ways. A poor soldier offers his services to the King and promises to win for him the most beautiful maiden. He is royally equipped, and on his way, when he passes by a great forest, he hears the song of many thousands of birds resounding delightfully through the blue air. "Halt, halt!" cries he. "The birds must not be disturbed; they are praising their Creator!" and he orders his coachman to turn round, and drives another way. After this he comes to a field where many thousands of ravens are crying loudly for food. He has a horse unharnessed, killed, and thrown for the ravens to eat. At length he comes to a marsh where a fish is lying pitifully lamenting that it cannot reach any flowing water. The soldier himself conveys it to the water, and the fish wags its tail with joy.

When he comes to the princess, three tasks are given him, which he must accomplish. In the first place he must gather together again a peck of poppy-seed which the King has had scattered. The soldier takes a measure, a sack, and some white sheets into the field, and spreads out the sheets there. Presently the birds whose singing he would not disturb, come, pick up the seeds, grain by grain, and carry them to the sheets, and the soldier sets before the King the peck which he has had scattered. In the second place he has to fetch a ring which the King's daughter has dropped into the sea. The fish which he had placed in flowing water brings him the ring from under the fin of a whale, where it had fallen. Thirdly, he is to kill a unicorn which has taken up its abode in a forest, and is doing great damage. The soldier goes into the forest, and there the ravens which he rescued from starvation are sitting, and say to him, "Have patience for a little longer, the unicorn has only one good eye, and now he is lying on it, and sleeping; but if he turns round, and sleeps on the bad eye, we will peck out the good one. He will then become furious, but, as he will be blind, he will run against the trees in his fury, and stick fast with his horn." Soon afterwards the animal turns in his sleep, and then he lies on the other side, on which the ravens fly to him, and peck out his good eye. He leaps up and runs against an oak-tree and sticks his horn firmly into it.

Then the soldier cuts off his head, carries it to the King, and receives in return for it his beautiful daughter, whom he takes to his master, by whom he is royally rewarded.

In Netherlandish, see The Grateful Animals, No 4. in Wolf's Wodana. In Hungarian, see Gaal, No 8.

In Persian, Touti Nameh, No 21 in Iken. A certain King dies and leaves behind him two sons.

The elder usurps the crown; the second leaves the country. He comes to a pond where a snake has caught a frog. He calls the snake, which leaves hold of the frog, and it hops back into the water. In order to compensate the snake, he cuts off a bit of his own flesh. To show their gratitude for these benefits, both the frog and the snake come to him in human form and serve him. The prince enters into the service of a King, whose ring falls into the water when he is fishing, and who orders the prince to get it out again for him. The frog-man reassumes the form of a frog, goes into the water, and brings out the ring. Soon afterwards the King's daughter is bitten by a snake, and no one can save her from death but the snake-man, who sucks out the poison from the wound. Thereupon the King gives the prince his daughter to wife. And now the two faithful servants take leave of him, and make themselves known to him respectively as the frog whose life he had saved, and the snake to whom he had given a piece of his own flesh to eat.

See the story of Livoret (3, 2) in Straparola. In the Jewish Maasähbuch (chap. 143 of Rabbi Chanina), the King first gets to know about the Princess with the Golden Hair, by a single hair which a bird one day (as in Tristan), lets fall on his shoulders, and which it has plucked from her head while she was bathing. On his way Chanina shows kindness to a raven, a dog, and a fish. The tasks set him are to procure water from Paradise and from hell, and the grateful raven brings a small pitcherful from both places. Then he has to get a ring out of the sea. The fish prevails upon Leviathan, who has swallowed it, to spit it out on land, but in the meantime a wild boar comes and swallows it. And now the dog attacks the wild boar and tears it in two pieces, and Chanina again finds the ring. The end is entirely different; for instance, when Chanina has brought the bride home to the King he is taken into high favour by him, and for that reason is murdered by the envious. But the young Queen, who is very much devoted to him, sprinkles him with the water from Paradise, by which be is immediately restored to life. The King wishes to make a trial of this likewise, and orders one of his men to kill him, but the Queen pours the water of hell over him, by which he is immediately burnt to ashes. She says to the people, "See, he was an impious man, or he would have been brought back to life again;" and marries Chanina.

There are some more details in Helwig. There is a certain amount of resemblance to Ferdinand the Faithful, No. 126. The story of the White Snake, No. 17, is like this, and so is Soldier Lawrence in Pröhle's Kindermärchen, No 7.

The Little Glass Slipper: A German Fairy Tale

A story from the German island of Rugen (also called Rugia), in the Baltic Sea north of Germany. Rugen is the largest of the German islands.

This story is from the book Fairy Mythology by Thomas Keightley. The book is available as e-text on the Sacred Texts website.

From the painting "The Chalk Cliffs on Rugen" by artist David Friedrich (1774-1840)
THE LITTLE GLASS SLIPPER
A PEASANT, named John Wilde, who lived in Rodenkirchen, found one time a glass shoe on one of the hills where the little people used to dance. He clapped it instantly into his pocket and ran away with it, keeping his hand as close on his pocket as if he had a dove in it; for he knew that he had found a treasure which the underground people must redeem at any price.

Others say that John Wilde lay in ambush one night for the underground people, and gained an opportunity of pulling off one of their shoes, by stretching himself there with a brandy-bottle beside him, and acting like one that was dead drunk; for he was a very cunning man, not over scrupulous in his morals, and had taken in many a one by his craftiness, and, on this account, his name was in no good repute among his neighbours, who, to say the truth, were willing to have as little to do with him as possible. Many hold, too, that he was acquainted with forbidden arts, and used to carry on an intercourse with the fiends and old women that raised storms, and such like.

However, be this as it may, when John had gotten the shoe, he lost no time in letting the folk that dwell under the ground know that he had it. So at midnight he went to the Nine-hills, and cried with all his might, "John Wilde, of Rodenkirchen, has got a beautiful glass shoe. Who will buy it? Who will buy it?" For he knew that the little one who had lost the shoe must go barefoot till he got it again, and that is no trifle, for the little people have generally to walk upon very hard and stony ground.

John's advertisement was speedily attended to. The little fellow who had lost the shoe made no delay in setting about redeeming it. The first free day he got, that he might come out into the daylight, he came as a respectable merchant, and knocked at John Wilde's door, and asked if John had not a glass shoe to sell? "For," says he, "they are an article now in great demand, and are sought for in every market." John replied that it was true he had a very little little, nice, pretty little glass shoe, but it was so small that even a Dwarf's foot would be squeezed in it; and that God Almighty must make people on purpose for it before it could be of any use; but that, for all that, it was an extraordinary shoe, and, a valuable shoe, and a dear shoe, and it was not every merchant that could afford to pay for it.

The merchant asked to see it, and when be had examined it, "Glass shoes," said he, "are not by any means such rare articles, my good friend, as you think here in Rodenkirchen, because you do not happen to go much into the world. However," said he, after hemming a little, "I will give you a good price for it, because I happen to have the very fellow of it." And he bid the countryman a thousand dollars for it.

"A thousand dollars are money, my father used to say when he drove fat oxen to market," replied John Wilde, in' a mocking tone; "but it will not leave my hands for that shabby price; and, for my own part, it may ornament the foot of my daughter's doll. Harkye, friend: I have heard a sort of little song sung about the glass shoe, and it is not for a parcel of dirt that it will go out of my hands. Tell me now, my good fellow, should you happen to know the knack of it, that in every furrow I make when I am ploughing I should find a ducat? If not, the shoe is still mine, and you may inquire for glass shoes at those other markets."

The merchant made still a great many attempts, and twisted and turned in every direction to get the shoe; but when he found the farmer inflexible, be agreed to what John desired, and swore to the performance of it. Cunning John believed him, and gave him up the glass shoe, for he knew right well with whom he had to do. So the business being ended, away went the merchant with his glass shoe.

Without a moment's delay, John repaired to his stable, got ready his horses and his plough, and drove out to the field. He selected a piece of ground where he would have the shortest turns possible, and began to plough. Hardly had the plough turned up the first sod, when up sprang a ducat out of the ground, and it was the same with every fresh furrow he made. There was now no end of his ploughing, and John Wilde soon bought eight new horses, and put them into the stable to the eight he already had--and their mangers were never without plenty of oats in them--that he might be every two hours to yoke two fresh horses, and so be enabled to drive them the faster.

John was now insatiable in ploughing; every morning he went out before sunrise, and many a time he ploughed on till after midnight. Summer and winter it was plough, plough with him evermore, except when the ground was frozen as hard as a stone. But he always ploughed by himself, and never suffered any one to go out with him, or to come to him when he was at work, for John understood too well the nature of his crop to let people see what it was he ploughed so constantly for.

But it fared worse with himself than his horses, who ate good oats and were regularly changed and relieved, while he grew pale and meagre by reason of his continual working and toiling. His wife and children had no longer any comfort of him; he never went to the alehouse or the club; he withdrew from every one, and scarcely ever spoke a single word, but went about silent and wrapped up in his own thoughts. All the day long he toiled for his ducats, and at night he had to count them and to plan and meditate how he might find out a still swifter kind of plough.

His wife and neighbours lamented over his strange conduct, his dullness and melancholy, and began to think that he was grown foolish. Everybody pitied his wife and children, for they imagined that the numerous horses he kept in his stable, and the preposterous mode of agriculture that he pursued, with his unnecessary and superfluous ploughing, must soon leave him without house or land.

But their anticipations were not fulfilled. True it is, the poor man never enjoyed a happy or contented hour since he began to plough the ducats up out of the ground. The old saying held good in his case, that he who gives himself up to the pursuit of gold is half way in the claws of the evil one. Flesh and blood cannot bear perpetual labour, and John Wilde did not long hold out against this running through the furrows day and night. He got through the first spring, but one day in the second, he dropped down at the tail of the plough like an exhausted November fly. Out of the pure thirst after gold he was wasted away and dried up to nothing; whereas he had been a very strong and hearty man the day the shoe of the little underground man fell into his hands.

His wife, however, found after him a considerable treasure, two great nailed up chests full of good new ducats, and his sons purchased large estates for themselves, and became lords and noblemen. But what good did all that do poor John Wilde?
http://sacred-texts.com/neu/celt/tfm/tfm067.htm

Into the Fairy Ring

The Road to Fairyland
by
Ernest Thompson Seton

Do you seek the road to Fairyland
I'll tell; it's easy, quite.
Wait till a yellow moon gets up
O'er purple seas by night,
And gilds a shining pathway
That is sparkling diamond bright
Then, if no evil power be nigh

To thwart you, out of spite,
And if you know the very words
To cast a spell of might,
You get upon a thistledown,
And, if the breeze is right,
You sail away to Fairyland
Along this track of light.

It's getting close to time to think about the wee folk. March isn't far off, and then as the flowers start to bloom there likely will be fairies hiding under petals.





In our meadow, there are rings of dark green that people around here call "fairy rings." These are the places where the fairyfolk dance at midnight, or so they say. Their tiny feet enrich the earth and make the grass grow greener. (There is a vvery mundane and completely unmagical explanation for this at Plantanswers.)



There are also places in the meadow, and, oddly, in the median of the interstate where toadstools grow in circles--also called fairy rings. The fairies, so some people say, live under these toadstools. I've looked but never seen any, but then I didn't have my glasses on so they may have been there.


Fairies can be a force to reckon with--the beautiful ballad of Tam Lin certainly illustrates that. Many plants have fairy superstitions attached to them. According to The Land of Faery :

Foxglove--the name supposedly is a derivative of "Little Folks' Glove, and it is believed that fairies wear the florets as hats or mittens.

Primroses can make the invisible visible. Eating primroses may help you see the fairies.

Ragwort is sometimes used as a horse by the fairyfolk.

Thyme was part of a recipe for a brew to make one see the fairies.

Cowslips are loved and protected by the fairies. They help one to find hidden fairy gold.

Pansies were used in a love potion by Oberon, a fairy king.

Many people connect clover with fairies. If you wear a four-leaf clover, for example, you are supposed to be able to see the fairies. You can use the four-leaf variety to break a fairy spell.

St. John's Wort--if you step on it a fairy horse may rear up and carry you away to who-knows-where. What does St. John's wort look like? See the flower photo at the top of the page (from Wikipedia).

There are so many good books and websites about fairies and magical creatures. I compiled this list for a children's program so it includes craft books:

The Hidden Folk: Stories of Fairies, Dwarves, Selkies, and other Hidden Beings by Lise Lunge-Larsen
Boston : Houghton Mifflin, 2004.

Meeting the Other Crowd: The Fairy Stories of Hidden Ireland by Edmund Lenihan
New York : Jeremy P. Tarcher/Putnam, c2003.

Fairy Crafts: 23 Enchanting Toys, Gifts, Costumes and Party Decorations by Heidi Boyd
Cincinnati, Ohio : North Light Books, c2003.

Swan Sister: Fairy Stories Retold by Ellen Datlow
New York : Simon & Schuster Books For Young Readers, 2003.

Twelve Fabulously Funny Fairy Tale Plays by Justin McCory Martin
New York : Scholastic Professional Books, c2002.

The Book of Wizard Parties: in Which the Wizard Shares the Secrets of Creating Enchanted Gatherings By Janice Eaton Kilby
New York : Lark Books : Distributed in Canada by Sterling Pub., c2002.

A First Book of Fairy Tales by Mary Hoffman
New York : DK Publishing, 2001

An Encyclopedia of Fairies: Hobgoblins, Brownies, Bogies and Other Supernatural Creatures by Katharine M. Briggs
New York : Pantheon Books, c1976.

The Broonie, Silkies, and Fairies: A Traveler’s Tales of the Otherworld by Duncan Williamson
New York : Harmony Books, 1987, c1985.

Crafts from Your Favorite Fairy Tales by Kathy Ross
Brookfield, Conn. : Millbrook Press, c1997.

And some websites:

Fairies, Fairies, Fairies--lists poems, stories, lore and more.

eFairies.com is an alphabetical listing of fairy names from legends and stories.

ArtPassion includes many beautiful artworks featuring fairies.


From Encyclopedia Mythica comes a possible source for the word "Fairy".


And at Quotegarden, a whole page of fairy quotes, including this one:

The fairy poet takes a sheet

Of moonbeam, silver white;

His ink is dew from daisies sweet,

His pen a point of light.

Joyce Kilmer

The Snow Man: A Hans Christian Andersen Tale, adapted for telling

This is an interesting old story from a master storyteller, Hans Christian Andersen. It is in the public domain so is available online as e-text. Being in the public domain means it is also available for storytellers to tell without copyright restrictions. I have adapted the tale slightly to include more modern language and usage, without, I hope, losing the flavor of Mr. Andersen's story.

"It is so cold," said the Snow Man, "that it makes my whole body crackle. How wonderful it is to be cold!But how that great red thing up in the sky is staring at me!"

He meant the sun. It was just setting.

The sun went down,and the full moon rose, shining in the deep blue night.

"There it comes again, from the other side," said the Snow Man, who thought the moon was the sun, showing himself once more. "If I only knew how to move away from this place. I would like to move. I would slide along on the ice as I have seen the boys do; but I don't know how; I don't even know how to run."

"Away, away," barked the old yard-dog. He was quite hoarse, and could not bark properly. He had once been an indoor dog, and lay by the fire, and he had been hoarse ever since. "The sun will make you run some day. I saw him, last winter, make the last snow man run, and the one before him. Away, away, they all have to go."

"I don't understand you," said the Snow Man. "Is that thing up yonder to teach me to run? I saw it running itself a little while ago, and now it has come creeping up from the other side."

"You know nothing at all," replied the yard-dog; "but then, you've only lately been patched up. What you see yonder is the moon, and the one before it was the sun. It will come again to-morrow, for I think the weather is going to change. I can feel such pricks and stabs in my left leg; I am sure there is going to be a change."

"I don't understand him," said the Snow Man to himself, "but I have a feeling that he is talking of something very disagreeable. The one who stared so just now, and whom he calls the sun, is not my friend; I can feel that too."

"Away, away," barked the yard-dog, and then he turned round three times, and crept into his kennel to sleep.

There was really a change in the weather. Towards morning, a thick fog covered the whole country round, and a keen wind arose, so that the cold seemed to freeze one's bones; but when the sun rose, the sight was splendid. Trees and bushes were covered with hoar frost, and looked like a forest of white coral; while on every twig glittered frozen dew-drops. Every twig glistened. The birch, waving in the wind, looked full of life, like trees in summer; and its appearance was beautiful. Where the sun shone, everything glittered and sparkled, as if diamond dust had been scattered; while the snowy carpet on the earth seemed to be covered with diamonds.

"This is really beautiful," said a young girl, who had come into the garden with a young man; and they both stood still near the Snow Man, and contemplated the glittering scene.

"Summer cannot show a more beautiful sight," she exclaimed, while her eyes sparkled.

"And we can't have such a fellow as this in the summertime," replied the young man, pointing to the Snow Man; "he is wonderful."

The girl laughed, and nodded at the Snow Man, and then ran away over the snow with her friend. The snow creaked and crackled beneath her feet.

"Who are these two?" the Snow Man asked the yard-dog."You have been here longer than I have; do you know them?"

"Of course I know them," she has stroked my back many times, and he has given me a bone of meat. I never bite those two."

"But what are they?"

"They are engaged to each other. They will go and live in the same kennel by-and-by, and gnaw at the same bone. Away, away!"

"Are they the same kind of beings as you and I?" asked the Snow Man.

"Well, they belong to the same master. My, people who were only born yesterday know very little. I can see that in you. I have age and experience. I know every one here in the house, and I know there was once a time when I did not lie out here in the cold, fastened to a chain. Away, away!"

"The cold is delightful. But tell me--why are you out here on a chain?"

"I'll tell you. They said I was a pretty little fellow once; then I used to lie in a velvet-covered chair, and sit in the mistress's lap. They used to kiss my nose, and wipe my paws with an embroidered handkerchief, and I was called 'Ami, dear Ami, sweet Ami.' But after a while I grew too big for them, and they sent me away to the housekeeper's room; so I came to live on the lower story. You can look into the room from where you stand, and see where I was master once. It was certainly a smaller room than those up stairs; but I was more comfortable; for I was not being continually taken hold of and pulled about by children. I ate food as good, or even better. I had my own cushion, and I used to go under the stove, and lie down beneath it. Ah, I still dream of that stove. Away, away!"

"Does a stove look beautiful?" asked the Snow Man. "Is it at all like me?"

"It is just the reverse of you. It's as black as a crow, and has a long neck and a brass knob; it eats firewood, so that fire spurts out of its mouth. We must keep on one side, or under it, to be comfortable. You can see it through the window from where you stand."

The Snow Man looked, and saw a bright polished thing with a fire gleaming from the lower part of it.

"Why did you leave her?" asked the Snow Man. "How could you give up such a comfortable place?"

"I had to. I bit the youngest of my master's sons in the leg because he kicked away the bone I was chewing. 'Bone for bone,' I thought; but they were so angry, and from that time I have been chained up, and I lost my bone. I can't bark any more like other dogs, I am so hoarse."

But the Snow Man was no longer listening. He was looking into the housekeeper's room, where the stove stood on its four iron legs, looking about the same size as the Snow Man himself.

"What a strange crackling I feel within me," he said. "How can I get in there? I want to go in there and lean against her, even if I have to break the window."

"You must never go in there," said the yard-dog, "for if you do, you'll melt away, away."

"I might as well go," said the Snow Man, "for I think I am breaking up as it is."

That whole day the Snow Man stood looking in the window. In the evening the room was even more inviting, for from the stove came a gentle glow, not like the sun or the moon; it was the bright light that gleams from a stove when it has been well fed. When the door of the stove was opened, the flames darted out of its mouth. The light of the flames fell directly on the face and breast of the Snow Man outside.

The night was long, but the Snow Man stood there watching the stove and crackling with the cold. In the morning, the window-panes of the housekeeper's room were covered with ice. They were the most beautiful ice-flowers any Snow Man could desire, but he could not see the stove because of them. The snow crackled and the wind whistled around him; it was just the kind of weather a Snow Man should enjoy. But he did not enjoy it; all he could think about was the stove.

"That is a terrible thing for a Snow Man to think about," said the yard-dog; "I suffered from it myself, but I got over it. Away, away," he barked and then he added, "the weather is going to change."

And the weather did change; it began to thaw. As the warmth increased, the Snow Man decreased. He said nothing and did not complain. One morning he broke, and sank down altogether; and, there where he had stood, something like a broomstick was sticking up in the ground. It was the pole around which the boys had built him up.

"Why, that's the stove shovel they used to build him! No wonder he felt so strongly about the stove. Away, away," barked the hoarseyard-dog.

But the girls in the house sang,

"Come from your fragrant home, green thyme;

Stretch your soft branches, willow-tree;

The months are bringing the sweet spring-time,

When the lark in the sky sings joyfully.

Come gentle sun, while the cuckoo sings,

And I'll mock his note in my wanderings."

And nobody thought any more of the Snow Man.

THE END

Gifting the Fairy: Adaptation of a Welsh Tale

Once in the days when everyone knew that the fair folk lived in the land, there was a fairy who was in the habit of helping a family every evening by putting the children to bed.

“Shh! Shhh. Shhhh…go to sleep, little ones. Go to sleep. I’ll sprinkle fairy dust on your eyelids and soon you’ll be asleep.”

She would sing them fairy songs until they were fast asleep. What does a fairy song sound like? Perhaps she sang it like this…. (hummm)


Poor fairy, her clothes were in rags, but she never seemed to notice. Every night the children would stay awake til she came, and every night the fairy would fly through their open window and settle on their bedpillows.

“How are you?” she would ask. And “Are you ready to go to sleep now?” And she would sing to them, soft and low and sweet.

Their mother happened to walk by the bedroom in her slippers one night, and I suppose the fairy did not hear her because she didn’t hide, she only sat their singing to the little children, whose eyes were drifting shut. The mother felt sorry for the fairy, in her poor ragged dress.

So one night she left a silken gown on the bedpillow for the fairy to thank her for all her help. But fairies do not like rewards.

“What’s this? What’s this? It must be your mother doesn’t want me to come anymore. She should know, as all folks know, that fairy folk don’t accept gifts.”

The very next day the fairy was gone, and the gown was found out by the fence, torn to bits and trompled by tiny fairy feet.

The children missed their friend, and you know, I think the fairy missed them too. They were old enough by now to go to sleep by themselves, though, and each night they would sing each other to sleep. And each night they would dream of their friend, the fairy who sprinkled the fairy dust on their eyelids as they drifted off to sleep.

I've had this story in my files for several years, with no note as to the source except "Welsh tale." If you know the source for this story, please let me know. It's a charming tale.

For many more Welsh fairy tales that are in the public domain, the Welsh Fairy Book is online, with lovely pen-and-ink illustrations.

Then there is The Fairy Mythology, also available online at Sacred Texts. It's incredible that so many of the old collections of stories are now available to us online. It's like finding treasure each time I discover another book that someone has graciously put out there for the rest of us to enjoy.