50 Fairy Stories

by Belinda Gallagher

  Out he ran, and searched everywhere round the house but, neither tale nor tidings did he get of her for many a day.

  Well, the poor man was miserable enough, for he was as fond of his wife as she was of him. It used to bring the salt tears down his cheeks to see his poor children neglected and dirty, as they often were, and they’d be bad enough only for a kind neighbour that used to look in whenever she could spare time.

  About six weeks after – just as he was going out to his work one morning – a neighbour, that used to mind women when they were ill, came up to him, and kept step by step with him to the field, and this is what she told him:

  “Just as I was falling asleep last night, I heard a horse’s tramp on the grass and a knock at the door, and there, when I came out, was a fine-looking dark man, mounted on a black horse, and he told me to get ready in all haste, for a lady was in great want of me. As soon as I put on my cloak and things, he took me by the hand, and I was sitting behind him before I felt myself stirring. ‘Where are we going, sir?, said I. ‘You’ll soon know,, said he, and he drew his fingers across my eyes, and not a ray could I see. I kept a tight grip of him, and I little knew whether he was going backwards or forwards, or how long we were about it, till my hand was taken again, and I felt the ground under me. The fingers went the other way across my eyes, and there we were before a castle door, and in we went through a big hall and great rooms all painted in fine green colours, with red and gold bands and ornaments, and the finest carpets and chairs and tables and window curtains, and grand ladies and gentlemen walking about.

  “At last we came to a bedroom, with a beautiful lady in bed, with a fine bouncing boy beside her. The lady clapped her hands, and in came the dark man and kissed her and the baby, and praised me, and gave me a bottle of green ointment to rub the child all over.

  “Well, the child I rubbed, sure enough, but my right eye began to smart, and I put up my finger and gave it a rub, and then stared, for never in all my life was I so frightened. The beautiful room was a big, rough cave, with water oozing over the edges of the stones and through the clay, and the lady, and the lord, and the child weazened, poverty-bitten creatures – nothing but skin and bone – and the rich dresses were old rags. I didn’t let on that I found any difference, and after a bit said the dark man, ‘Go before me to the hall door, and I will be with you in a few moments, and see you safe home.,

  “Well, just as I turned into the outside cave, who should I see watching near the door but your poor wife Molly. She looked round all terrified, and said she to me in a whisper, ‘I’m brought here to nurse the child of the king and queen of the fairies, but there is one chance of saving me. All the court will pass the cross near Templeshambo next Friday night, on a visit to the fairies of Old Ross. If my husband John can catch me by the hand or cloak when I ride by, and has courage not to let go his grip, I’ll be safe. Here’s the king. Don’t open your mouth to answer.,

  “The dark man didn’t once cast his eye towards Molly, and he seemed to have no suspicion of me. When we came out I looked about me, and where do you think we were but in the dyke of the Rath of Cromogue. I was on the horse again, which was nothing but a big ragweed, and I was in dread every minute I’d fall off, but nothing happened till I found myself in my own cabin. The king slipped five guineas into my hand as soon as I was on the ground, and thanked me, and bade me good night. I hope I’ll never see his face again. I got into bed, and couldn’t sleep for a long time, and when I examined my five guineas this morning, that I left in the table drawer the last thing, I found five withered leaves of oak – bad luck to the giver!”

  Well, you may all think the fright, and the joy, and the grief the poor man was in when the woman finished her story. They talked and they talked, till Friday night came, when both were standing where the mountain road crosses the one going to Ross. There they stood, looking towards the bridge of Thuar, in the dead of the night, with a little moonlight shining.

  At last she gave a start, and said she, “Here they come, bridles jingling and feathers tossing!” He looked, but could see nothing, and she stood trembling and her eyes wide open, looking down the way to the ford of Ballinacoola.

  “I see your wife,” said she, “riding on the outside. We’ll walk on quietly, as if we suspected nothing, and when we are passing I’ll give you a shove. If you don’t do your duty then, woe be with you!”

  Well, they walked on easy, and the poor hearts beating in both their breasts, and though he could see nothing, he heard a faint jingle and trampling and rustling, and at last he got the push that she promised. He spread out his arms, and there was his wife’s waist within them, and he could see her plain, but such a hullabulloo rose as if there was an earthquake, and he found himself surrounded by horrible-looking things, roaring at him and striving to pull his wife away. But he made the sign of the cross and bid them begone in God’s name, and held his wife as if it was iron his arms were made of. In one moment everything was as silent as the grave, and the poor woman lying in a faint in the arms of her husband and her good neighbour. Well, all in good time she was minding her family and her business again, and I expect, after the fright she got, she spent more time praying, and avoided fairies all the days of the week, and particularly on Sunday.

  The Treasure Stone of the Fairies

  By William Elliot Griffis

  READING TIME: 10 MINUTES

  Long ago, when London was a village and Cardiff only a hamlet, there was a boy who tended sheep on the hillsides. His father was a hardworking farmer, who every year tried to grow out of the stony ground some oats, barley, leeks and cabbage. In summer, he worked hard, from the first croak of the raven to the last hoot of the owl, to provide food for his wife and baby daughter. When his boy was born, he took him to the church to be The Treasure Stone of the Fairies christened Gruffyd, but everybody called him ‘Gruff ,.

  In time, several little sisters came to keep the boy company. His mother always kept her cottage, which was painted pink, very neat and pretty, with vines covering the outside, while flowers bloomed indoors. These were set in pots and on shelves near the latticed windows. They seemed to grow finely, because so good a woman loved them. The copper doorframe was kept bright, and the broad borders on the clay floor, along the walls, were always fresh with whitewash. The pewter dishes on the sideboard shone as if they were moons, and the china cats on the mantelpiece, in silvery lustre, reflected both sun and candle light. Daddy often declared he could use these polished metal plates for a mirror when he shaved his face. Puss, the cat, was always happy purring away on the hearth, as the kettle boiled to make the sour oat jelly, which daddy loved so well.

  Mother Gruffyd was always neat, with her striped apron, her high peaked hat, with its scalloped lace and quilled fastening around her chin, her little short shawl, with its pointed, long tips, tied in a bow, and her bright red petticoat folded back from her frock. Her white collar and neck cloth knotted at the top, and fringed at the ends, added fine touches to her picturesque costume.

  In fact, young Gruffyd was proud of his mother and he loved her dearly. He thought no woman could be quite as sweet as she was.

  Once, at the end of the day, on coming back home, from the hills, the boy met some lovely children. They were dressed in very fine clothes, and had elegant manners. They came up, smiled, and invited him to play with them. He joined in their sports, and was too much interested to take note of time. He kept on playing with them until it was pitch dark.

  Among other games, which he enjoyed, had been that of ‘The king in his counting house, counting out his money,, and ‘The queen in her kitchen, eating bread and honey,, and ‘The girl hanging out the clothes,, and ‘The saucy blackbird that snipped off her nose., In playing these, the children had aprons full of what seemed to be real coins, the size of crowns, or five-shilling pieces, each worth a dollar. These had ‘head and tail,, beside letters on them and the boy supposed they were real.

  But when he showed these to his mother, she saw
at once from their lightness, and because they were so easily bent, that they were only paper, and not silver.

  She asked her boy where he had got them. He told her what a nice time he had enjoyed. Then she knew that these, his playmates, were fairy children. Fearing that some evil might come of this, she charged him, her only son, never to go out again alone, on the mountain. She mistrusted that no good would come of making such strange children his companions.

  But the lad was so fond of play, that one day, tired of seeing nothing but byre and garden, while his sisters liked to play girls, games more than those which boys cared most for, and the hills seeming to beckon him to come to them, he disobeyed, and slipped out and off to the mountains. He was soon missed and search was made for him.

  Yet nobody had seen or heard of him. Though inquiries were made on every road, in every village, and at all the fairs and markets in the neighbourhood, two whole years passed by, without a trace of the boy.

  But early one morning of the twenty-fifth month, before breakfast, his mother, on opening the door, found him sitting on the steps, with a bundle under his arm, but dressed in the same clothes, and not looking a day older or in any way different, from the very hour he disappeared.

  “Why my dear boy, where have you been, all these months, which have now run into the third year – so long a time that they have seemed to me like ages?”

  “Why, mother dear, how strange you talk. I left here yesterday, to go out and to play with the children, on the hills, and we have had a lovely time. See what pretty clothes they have given me for a present.” Then he opened his bundle.

  But when she tore open the package, the mother was all the more sure that she was right, and that her fears had been justified. In it she found only a dress of white paper. Examining it carefully, she could see neither seam nor stitches. She threw it in the fire, and again warned her son against fairy children.

  But pretty soon, after a great calamity had come upon them, both father and mother changed their minds about fairies.

  They had put all their savings into the venture of a ship, which had for a long time made trading voyages from Cardiff. Every year, it came back bringing great profit to the owners and shareholders. In this way, his father was able to eke out his income, and keep himself, his wife and daughters comfortably clothed, while all the time the table was well supplied with good food. Nor did they ever turn from their door anyone who asked for bread and cheese.

  But in the same month of the boy’s return, bad news came that the good ship had gone down in a storm. All on board had perished, and the cargo was totally lost in the deep sea, far from land. In fact, no word except that of dire disaster had come to hand.

  Now it was a tradition, as old as the days of King Arthur, that on a certain hill a great boulder could be seen, which was quite different from any other kind of rock to be found within miles. It was partly imbedded in the earth, and beneath it, lay a great, yes, an untold treasure. The grass grew luxuriantly around this stone, and the sheep loved to rest at noon in its shadow. Many men had tried to lift, or pry it up, but in vain. The tradition, unaltered and unbroken for centuries, was to the effect, that none but a very good man could ever budge this stone. Any and all unworthy men might dig, or pull, or pry, until doomsday, but in vain. Till the right one came, the treasure was as safe as if in heaven.

  But the boy’s father and mother were now very poor and his sisters now grown up wanted pretty clothes so badly, that the lad hoped that he or his father might be the deserving one. He would help him to win the treasure for he felt sure that his parent would share his gains with all his friends.

  Though his neighbours were not told of the generous intentions credited to the boy’s father, by his loving son, they all came with horses, ropes, crowbars, and tackle, to help in the enterprise. Yet after many a long days, toil, between the sun’s rising and setting, their end was failure. Everyday, when darkness came on, the stone lay there, as hard and fast as ever. So they gave up the task.

  On the final night, the lad saw that his father and mother were holding hands, while their tears flowed together, and they were praying for patience.

  Seeing this, before he fell asleep, the boy resolved that on the morrow, he would go up to the mountains, and talk to his fairy friends about the matter.

  So early in the morning, he hurried to the hill tops, and going into one of the caves, met the fairies and told them his troubles. Then he asked them to give him again some of their money.

  “Not this time, but something better. Under the great rock there are treasures waiting for you.”

  “Oh, don’t send me there! For all the men and horses of our parish, after working a week, have been unable to budge the stone.”

  “We know that,” answered the principal fairy, “but do you yourself try to move it. Then you will see what is certain to happen.”

  Going home, to tell what he had heard, his parents had a hearty laugh at the idea of a boy succeeding where men, with the united strength of many horses and oxen, had failed.

  Yet, after brooding for a while, they were so dejected, that anything seemed reasonable. So they said, “Go ahead and try it.”

  Returning to the mountain, the fairies, in a band, went with him to the great rock.

  One touch of his hand, and the mighty boulder trembled, like an aspen leaf in the breeze. A shove, and the rock rolled down from the hill and crashed in the valley below.

  There, underneath, were little heaps of gold and silver, which the boy carried home to his parents, who became the richest people in the country round about.

  Guleesh

  By Joseph Jacobs

  READING TIME: 20 MINUTES

  The fairies in Ireland are tricksters who love to work mischief on the human world, but just occasionally a human manages to outwit them. Fairies are often called the good people or sheehogue and live inside raths (ancient hillforts).

  There was once a boy in the County Mayo, Guleesh was his name. There was the finest rath a little way off from the gable of the house, and he was often in the habit of seating himself on the fine grass bank that was running round it. One night he stood, looking up into the sky, and watching the beautiful white moon over his head when he heard a great noise coming like the sound of many people running together, and talking, and laughing, and the sound went by him like a whirl of wind, and he was listening to it going into the rath. “By my soul,” said he, “ye’re merry enough, and I’ll follow ye.”

  What was in it but the fairy host, and he followed them into the rath. It’s there he heard every man of them crying out as loud as he could:

  “My horse, and bridle and saddle! My horse, and bridle and saddle!”

  “By my hand,” said Guleesh, “my boy, that’s not bad. I’ll imitate ye,” and he cried out as well as they:

  “My horse, and bridle, and saddle!” And on the moment there was a fine horse with a bridle of silver, and a saddle of gold, standing before him. He leaped up on it, and the moment he was on its back he saw clearly that the rath was full of horses, and of little people going riding on them.

  Said a man of them to him, “Are you coming with us tonight, Guleesh?”

  “I am surely,” said Guleesh.

  “If you are, come along,” said the little man, and out they went all together, riding like the wind, faster than the fastest horse ever you saw a-hunting. The cold winter’s wind that was before them, they overtook her, and the cold winter’s wind that was behind them, she did not overtake them. And stop nor stay of that full race, did they make none, until they came to the brink of the sea.

  Then every one of them said, “Hie over cap! Hie over cap” and that moment they were up in the air, and before Guleesh had time to remember where he was, they were down on dry land again, and were going like the wind. At last they stood still, and a man of them said to Guleesh “You’re in France, Guleesh,” said he. “The daughter of the king of France is to be married tonight, the handsomest woman that the sun ever
saw, and we must do our best to bring her with us, if we’re only able to carry her off, and you must come with us that we may be able to put the young girl up behind you on the horse, for it’s not lawful for us to put her behind ourselves. But you’re flesh and blood, and she can take a good grip of you, so that she won’t fall off the horse.”

  They got off their horses there, and a man of them said a word that Guleesh did not understand, and Guleesh found himself and his companions in the palace. There was a great feast going on there, and there was not a nobleman or a gentleman in the kingdom but was gathered there, dressed in silk and satin, and gold and silver, and the night was as bright as the day with all the lamps and candles that were lit, and Guleesh had to shut his eyes at the brightness. There were a hundred tables spread out, and on each table of them, cakes and sweetmeats, and wine and ale, and every drink that ever a man saw. Such a feast as there was that day had not been in France for twenty years, because the old king had only the one daughter, and she was to be married to the son of another king that night.

  Guleesh and his companions were standing together at the head of the hall, where there was a fine altar dressed up, and two bishops behind it waiting to marry the girl. Now nobody could see the sheehogues, for they said a word as they came in, that made them all invisible,

  “Tell me which of them is the king’s daughter,” said Guleesh.

  “Don’t you see her there away from you?” said the little man that he was talking to.

  Guleesh looked where the little man was pointing with his finger, and there he saw the loveliest woman that was, he thought, upon the ridge of the world. The rose and the lily were fighting together in her face, and one could not tell which of them got the victory. Her form was smooth and slender, and her hair was falling down from her head in buckles of gold. Her garments and dress were woven with gold and silver, and the bright stone that was in the ring on her hand was as shining as the sun.