Enya the Bride

When the ancestors of the modern Irish arrived in Ireland 1700 years before Christ, they defeated the Tuatha de Danann, the magical Tribe of the Goddess Danu. The leader of the Dananns, a womanizing rascal named Finvarra, negotiated a truce with the Irish that gave them half of Ireland—the bottom half. And so, the Dananns became known as the Daoine Sídhe (Deena Shee), the People of the Mounds.

Finvarra supposedly lives in a palace beneath a hill in Galway. During a recent trip to the Emerald Isle, I stopped by this hill, called Knock Ma (See my post, Knock Moo). I wanted to see Finvarra's home, as he costars in Glancing Through the Glimmer, my young adult adventure coming soon from MuseItUp Publishing. I didn't meet him that day, but the local postman assured me that he and his fairy troop were there.

Here is a wonderful old Irish tale starring Finvarra, the King of the Connaught Fairies.

ENYA the BRIDE

Retold by Pat McDermott

As everyone knows, the beauty of mortal women attracts the fairies. Finvarra, the King of the Connaught Fairies, enlisted his minions to find and abduct the prettiest ladies in Ireland. The fairies bewitched the loveliest women and brought them to Finvarra’s crystal palace beneath Knock Ma in Galway. The women heard only fairy music, which lulled them into a trance. They remained enchanted, forgetting about mortal life and living as if in a dream.

Long ago, in that part of the country, a great lord had a comely wife called Enya. He held feasts in her honor and filled his castle from dawn till dusk with music. Lords and ladies danced with great pleasure in Enya’s honor.

At the merriest part of the feast one evening, Enya entered the dance. She wore silver gossamer bound with jewels that outshone the stars in heaven. Suddenly, she released the hand of her partner and fell to the floor in a swoon.

The servants carried her to her chamber, where she lay insensible all night. At dawn, she awoke and told them she’d spent the night in a beautiful palace. "Oh, how I long to go back to sleep and return there in my dreams!"

The servants watched her all day, and she fared well enough, but when evening fell, they heard music at her window. She fell again into a trance from which no one could rouse her.

The young lord set Enya’s old nurse to sit with her, but the silence enticed the woman to sleep until dawn. When she looked at the bed, she saw to her horror that Enya had vanished.

The household searched the castle and gardens but found no trace of Enya. The young lord sent riders into the wind, but no one had seen her. He saddled his chestnut steed and galloped away to Knock Ma to speak to Finvarra, the King of the Fairies, for he and Finvarra were friends. Many a keg of good wine did the young lord leave outside his castle to quench the thirst of the fairies. Finvarra would surely have tidings of Enya.
But little did the young lord know that Finvarra himself was the traitor.

When the young lord stopped by the fairy rath, he heard voices in the air: "Finvarra is happy now, for in his palace he has the bride who will never more see her husband’s face."

"Aye," spoke another. "Finvarra is more powerful than any mortal man, though if the husband dug down through the hill, he would find his bride."

The young lord swore that devil nor fairy nor even Finvarra himself would stand between him and his bride. He sent word to every able-bodied man in the county to come with their spades and pickaxes, and they dug to find the fairy palace.

They made a deep trench, and at sunset they quit for the night. But the very next morning they found that the clay was back in the trench, as if the hill had never been dug.

The brave young lord asked the men to continue their digging, and they dug the trench again. For three days they dug with the same result: the clay was put back each night, and they were no nearer to Finvarra’s palace.

The young lord prepared to die of grief, then he heard a whisper in the air: "Sprinkle the soil you have dug with salt, and the salt will preserve your work."

He scoured the countryside for salt. That night, his men salted the soil they had dug that day. At dawn, they awakened to find the trench safe and the earth untouched around it.
The young lord knew he had beaten Finvarra. He bade the men dig, and by the next day, they’d cut a glen right through the hill. When they put their ears to the ground, they heard fairy music, and voices floated on the air.

"Now," said one, "Finvarra is sad, for if those men strike a blow on his palace, it will crumble and fade away."

"Then let him surrender the bride," said another, "and we shall all be safe."

Then Finvarra himself spoke clear as a silver bugle: "Stop!" he said. "Lay down your spades, mortal men, and at sunset the bride shall return to her husband. I, Finvarra, have spoken."

The young lord commanded his men to stop digging. At sunset he mounted his chestnut steed and rode to the top of the glen, and just as the sun turned the sky blood-red, Enya appeared on the path. He lifted her to the saddle, and they rode to the castle like storm wind.

But Enya spoke not a word. Days passed, then months, and she lay on her bed in a trance.

Sorrow fell over the castle. The young lord and his people feared the enchantment could not be broken. But late one night, when he rode in the dark, he heard voices in the air.

"It is now a year and a day since the young lord reclaimed his bride, but she is no use to him. Though her form is beside him, her spirit is still with the fairies."

Another said, "She will be so until he breaks the spell. He must loosen the pin from the girdle she wears at her waist, and then he must burn the girdle. He must throw the ashes before the door and bury the pin in the earth. Only then will she speak and know true life."

The young lord spurred his horse and hastened to Enya’s chamber, where she lay like a lovely wax figure. He loosened her girdle and found the pin in its folds. He burned the girdle and scattered the ashes before the door, and he buried the pin in the earth, beneath a fairy thorn, that no hand would disturb it.

When he returned to his young wife, she looked up at him smiling and held out her hand.

Knock Ma

Joyfully he raised her to him and kissed her, and she stood as if no time had passed between them, as if the year she had spent with the fairies was only a dream.

The cut in the hill remains to this day and is called "The Fairy’s Glen."

("Enya the Bride" originally appeared on The Celtic Rose)

Tam Lin, the Stolen Knight

Magical transformation legends abound in the lore of many cultures, yet the tale of the elfin knight Tam Lin is uniquely, deliciously Scottish. The rendition below is based on several versions of this renowned folk ballad, one of 305 collected by Harvard Professor Francis James Child during his nineteenth century tour of the British Isles. Scottish the tale may be, but Tam Lin loosely inspired my soon-to-be-released young adult novel,  Glancing Through the Glimmer, uniquely, deliciously Irish.

 TAM LIN

Retold by Pat McDermott

Long ago, in the Scottish Borders, the people whispered of harm befalling young women who passed through the wood called Carterhaugh. This land belonged to Janet, the daughter of the Earl of March. The rumors of violence in her beloved forest enraged her—especially when her father forbade her and the maidens of his court to venture near Carterhaugh.

Undaunted, Janet called for her horse. She braided her yellow hair, tucked up her green petticoat, and galloped off to Carterhaugh to gather flowers for her gowns. She had cut only two red roses when an angry young man appeared before her.

“I am Tam Lin,” he said in a dusky voice. “Who gave you leave to pluck my roses?”

Janet raised her chin. “Your roses? These lands were part of my mother’s dowry. They are mine now. I’ll come and go as I please and ask leave of no one.”

Tam Lin seized Janet and had his will of her. He vanished as quickly as he’d appeared, leaving her deflowered and bewildered. She returned home hoping no one would learn of her folly, but as summer turned to autumn, her waist began to swell.

One of her father’s elderly knights offered to marry her, saying her father wished to keep her from shame. “I’ll marry no old man,” she said, “nor name any among you the father of my child.”

Yet Janet wondered what she would do. On a fine autumn morning, she returned to Carterhaugh seeking her fairy lover. The roses were nearly gone, and so, it seemed, was Tam Lin. When she knelt to pick the last pink rose, she caught a whiff of mint. Lurking nearby were the small round leaves of pennyroyal, a herb women used to dispense with unwanted babes. Janet sadly forsook the pink rose and bent to pluck the herb.

“Would you kill the babe we got between us, Janet?”

Both relieved and afraid, she rose and confronted Tam Lin. ”What sort of child would I bear, and his father of the fairy ilk?”

“I was sired by a mortal knight and born of a mortal lady, as were you, Janet. Some years ago, as I hunted nearby, an unearthly drowsiness came over me. The Queen of Fairies caught me when I fell from my horse. She keeps me under her spell, and though I want for nothing, I long to return to the home and lands that are rightfully mine.”

“You can never leave?”

He shook his head. “Worse is to come, I fear. Every seven years, the fairies must pay a tithe to hell. The tithe is due tonight, and I suspect it will be me.”

Janet’s heart beat in her throat. The child within her leapt. “Can nothing save you?”

“Mayhap. Tonight is Halloween, and the fairy folk ride. They will pass Miles Cross at the murk of midnight. If you bide there, you can win me from them.”

“I will come,” she said, “but how will I know you among them? What am I to do?”

“Wait by the stream and watch. The knights on black steeds will pass first, then the ladies and the Queen of Fairies on their brown mares. I will ride the milk-white steed that follows. They give me that honor, for I was an earthly knight. You must pull me from my steed. Can you do that, and you with child?”

Janet swallowed hard and looked him in the eye. “I can if it will deliver you from them.”

His fleeting smile turned to a worried frown. “You will hear them shout that Tam Lin is away. They will wield great magic to recapture me. Be brave and remember: I am your baby’s father.”

“You will say so to more than me, Tam Lin. What kind of magic?”

Again, he smiled, this time with a gleam of hope. “They will turn me in your arms to many fearsome creatures, but for the love of our child, hold me fast and fear me not. When at last they turn me to a burning coal, throw me into the stream at once. I will come to you a naked knight. Hide me in your mantle, and all will be well.”

Tam Lin melted into the air.

That night, when the moon rose, Janet stole from her father’s hall and rode to Miles Cross as fast as she dared. Clouds rolled in and covered the moon and stars, and she waited alone in the darkness. Hours passed. She nearly lost hope.

Then the tinkle of bridles rang in the distance, and the moon broke free of the clouds. Casting a terrible light of their own, the fairy folk rode toward her.

Fearsome knights pranced by on black steeds that breathed fire. Ladies on brown mares with jewels on their reins came next. When the milk-white steed appeared, Janet grabbed the rider’s leg and wrenched him from the horse.

“He’s away!” cried the fairies. “Tam Lin is away!”

The man in Janet’s arms became a fierce wolf. She screamed, but she held him fast. He changed to a hissing snake, and she thought she would faint. A lion came next, but she never let go. When Tam Lin turned to a burning coal, she flung him into the stream.

He came to her, as he said he would, a naked knight. She cloaked him in her mantle.

The Queen of Fairies cursed the woman who’d stolen her earthly knight. “Had I known you would leave us, Tam Lin,” she cried, “I would have put out your eyes long ago, that you never could tell what you saw in my realm.”

The fairies vanished. Tam Lin kissed Janet, and she brought him to her father’s hall.

("Tam Lin" originally appeared on Celtic Queens)