Away With the Fairies

“In a shady nook one moonlit night a leprechaun I spied . . .”

Thanks to my family’s love of music, I learned the poem/song, The Leprechaun, when I was knee-high to a fairy. ‘Twas on an Irish record, of course, one of many recorded by the great Irish tenor, John McCormack. (Enjoy The Leprechaun in its entirety at the end of this post.)

I knew about the teensy Tinker Bell types of fairies from stories like Peter Pan and Sleeping Beauty, but the fairies of Irish folklore were always leprechauns to me. Not so, I learned while delving into the wealth of literature depicting these elusive beings. Leprechauns belong to the class of “Solitary Fairies,” which includes cluricauns, dullahans, pookas, merrows, silkies, and banshees.

Then we have the “Trooping Fairies” who party in crystal palaces beneath the Knock Ma (See Knock Moo), the hill in County Galway said to house the palace of Finvarra, the King of the Connaught Fairies. Finvarra costars in my Young Adult novel, Glancing Through the Glimmer. We didn't meet him the day we visited Knock Ma, but the local postman assured us that he and his troop were there.

It’s no surprise that these beings and the lore surrounding them have inspired many tales over the years. Glancing Through the Glimmer incorporates alternate Irish history with the magic of the Other Crowd, and it has been a joy to research.

More than once, I’ve felt inexplicable tugs toward wonderfully inspiring articles and books. I've learned that Irish lakes provide homes for water fairies, who live in underwater palaces, such as the one featured in Autumn Glimmer, the sequel to Glancing Through the Glimmer. And the leprechauns star in A Pot of Glimmer, the third book in the Glimmer series, currently in the works.

I’ve found countless web sites devoted to fairies, faeries, fae, fay, etc. During my latest visit to Ireland, I added several volumes on the Good Folk to my personal library. The public library helped my research too, but my most successful foray was into the incredible collection of Irish books my aunts have compiled over the years (See Seeking Irish Heroines.)

Every culture has fairies, whole hierarchies of them. In Ireland they aren’t the cute little Walt Disney squeakers we all know and love. Many are human-size, and all can be downright mean if one crosses them. Hair, eyes, teeth, and toenails can all fall out if we mortals distress them. (I'm in high hopes they’ve willingly joined the cast of the Glimmer Books.)

My grandmother once said that when she was a child in County Sligo (circa 1910), her father would set out a line of stones before he erected an outbuilding on their farm. If in the morning the stones were still where he’d placed them, he knew he was good to go. If not, then the fairies had disapproved of his choice, and he had to try again. Superstitious nonsense?

I’ve visited Ireland too many times to be sure, to be sure. What do you think?

The Leprechaun

(Attributed to Robert Dwyer Joyce)

In a shady nook one moonlit night,
A leprechaun I spied

In a scarlet cap and a coat of green,
A cruiskeen* by his side.

'Twas tick, tack, tick, his hammer went
Upon a tiny shoe,

And I laughed to think of a purse of gold,
But the fairy was laughing too.

With tiptoe step and beating heart,
Quite softly I drew nigh.

There was mischief in his merry face,
A twinkle in his eye.

He hammered and sang with tiny voice
And drank his mountain dew.

And I laughed to think he was caught at last,
But the fairy was laughing too.

As quick as thought I seized the elf.
"You're fairy purse!" I cried.

"The purse," he said, "is in her hand,
The lady by your side."

I turned to look, the elf was off,
And what was I to do?

Oh, I laughed to think what a fool I'd been,
And the fairy was laughing too.

* jug

From Fairies to Giants: A Story in a Story

Ireland’s fairies star in my young adult novel, Glancing Through the Glimmer. Who are the fairies? Where did they come from?

According to one legend, the Celts, the ancestors of the modern Irish, arrived in Ireland 1700 years before Christ and defeated the magical Tuatha de Danann, the Tribe of the Goddess Danu. One of the Danann leaders, a womanizing rascal named Finvarra, negotiated a truce with the Irish that gave the Dananns half of Ireland—the bottom half.

Finvarra became the King of the Connaught Fairies, and though he loves his wife, Queen Oona, he prefers to dance with ‘grippable’ mortal women. He’s been known to kidnap them, as Janet, an American teenager living in the modern Kingdom of Ireland, learns to her dismay in Glancing Through the Glimmer.

Janet is on her first date with Liam and doesn’t know he’s the King of Ireland’s son. Seventeen-year-old Prince Liam is not only a scholar, he's also a storyteller, or shanachie. His talent for telling tales helps him rescue Janet from Finvarra and his gang, who are partying in an underground cave north of Dublin. Finvarra knows Liam for a shanachie and demands a story.

Liam eyed his peewee host and pint-sized audience. The perverse idea of telling them a story about giants appealed to him. He began with the standard "long, long ago" and eased into the tale of the giant Finn MacCool’s encounter with his Scottish rival, Benandonner.

Liam told an old folktale that offers one explanation for the origin of the Giant’s Causeway, a spectacular stretch of Irish coast in north Antrim. The Causeway is supposedly all that remains of a bridge Finn MacCool formed long ago to link Ireland and Scotland. Finn who, you ask?

Finn MacCool was the leader of a roving band of gallant warriors who lived in Ireland centuries ago. He and his comrades appear in many entertaining tales. The legend concerning the Giant’s Causeway depicts him as a mighty giant who challenged his Scottish counterpart, Benandonner, to a contest of martial skill.

"Finn shouted across the sea to Scotland and challenged Benandonner to do battle. The two had never met. Now Finn being a thoughtful sort, he set a trail of mighty stones into the sea between Scotland and Ireland so Benandonner might keep his feet dry when he came."

Finn expected a sporting fight, some fun and entertainment, but when he saw the monstrous size of the approaching Scottish titan, he ran in terror to his wife and asked her to hide him.

"She dressed him as a baby and placed him in a giant cradle. Benandonner entered their house, and when he saw what he thought was an infant, he screamed in fright. ‘If this is the baby, why, the father must be huge indeed!’"
The fairies belly-laughed at Liam’s theatrical imitation of the terrified giant’s hasty retreat to Scotland. "He tore up the stepping stones as he went so Finn couldn’t follow."
The stones that Benandonner left in his wake formed the Giant’s Causeway. Having seen this amazing World Heritage site, I prefer this enchanting version of its origin, though geology tells a less fanciful story.

The Giant’s Causeway is part of the Antrim Plateau, the largest lava plateau in Europe. Its massive cliffs are the result of volcanic activity that occurred 60 million years ago. Lava filled a river bed and cooled slowly, cracking into columns and forming unusual structures with intriguing names like the Giant’s Boot, the Chimney Tops, and the Giant’s Organ. (Nothing anatomical here - it seems Finn created a pipe organ for his son, Oisin, to play).

Liam paused. Benandonner had given him an idea. He must rip up stones, so to speak, to keep the fairies from following him. He decided to give his story a brand-new ending.

. . . and Finvarra isn’t going to like this brand-new ending one bit . . .

The Giant's Organ

The Giant's Boot

The Chimney Stacks

Glancing Through the Glimmer / Available in Print and eBook from
Amazon U.S.
Amazon U.K.

(This post first appeared on Flowers on the Fence)

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)

Knock Moo

Bridge in Westport Town

The Town of Westport, County Mayo, served as our base of operations during our recent visit to Ireland. As Westport is only 80 miles north of Shannon Airport, we drove up the day we flew in. 80 Irish miles are a lot longer than 80 New Hampshire miles, and we were jet-lagged and driving on the “wrong” side of the road, but we had Gertrude, our trusty GPS, and we planned to stop in Tuam to visit the King of the Connaught Fairies.

Tuam, a small town in the Province of Connaught, lies about 20 miles northeast of Galway City. The name is derived from the Latin word tumulus, which means burial mound. Back in the Neolithic and Bronze Ages, the inhabitants used the area as a burial ground.

St. Jarlath's Wheel

According to legend, St. Jarlath founded a monastic settlement there in the early 6th century after his abbot told him to "Go, and wherever your chariot wheel breaks, there shall be the site of your new monastery.” Jarlath's wheel broke at Tuam, and to this day the town has a broken chariot wheel as its heraldic symbol.

In the 11th century, the O’Connor kings of East Connaught built a castle in the town. They wasted no time defeating the O'Flaherty chieftains of West Connaught and became the Kings of All Connaught—at least above the ground.

The Annals of the Four Masters states that the Milesians, 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. Most of the Dananns left the Emerald Isle, though some opted to stay. They became known as the Daoine Sídhe (Deena Shee), the People of the Mounds. Their leader, a womanizing rascal named Finvarra, negotiated a truce with the Milesians that gave half of Ireland to the sídhe—the bottom half. The sídhe could stay as long as they remained underground. For the most part, they complied, living in great subterranean palaces. Eventually, they became known as the fairy folk, and for all we know, they’re still there.

Finvarra, the King of the Connaught Fairies, allegedly lived near Tuam in a palace beneath a hill called Knock Ma. Recent archaeological evidence has uncovered many ancient tombs on the hill. Tradition holds that among them are the tombs of Ceasair, the granddaughter of Noah of Noah’s Ark fame, and Maeve, the Iron Age Queen of Connaught. (Maeve is supposedly buried in Sligo too, but hey.) I wanted to stop and see Knock Ma, as I included both the hill and King Finvarra in Glancing Through the Glimmer, the young adult novel I recently completed.

Finding Knock Ma proved difficult for two tired Yanks, however. We spotted a mailman beside a green An Post truck and stopped to ask for directions.

“Do you know a place called Knock Ma?”

“I do indeed,” sez the red-haired postman. “Are yez thinkin’ of takin’ a hike?”

“No,” sez I, “we’re looking for fairies.”

“Ah, they’re all over the place,” sez he, and happily gives us directions.

Views of Knock Ma

We turned down a side street and found an agitated woman in the middle of the road brandishing a closed umbrella, as if telling us to move on quickly. An odd sight, but we are still jet-lagged and starting to remember we are now in Ireland, on Irish time, and approaching a fairy fort. We waved at the woman and passed by her, stopping up the road to take a few pictures of Knock Ma. The hill was vast, much bigger than I expected, green, lovely, and dotted with neat little houses and lazy cattle. We turned around and pulled over for one last picture. The woman with the umbrella ran up to the car, and we rolled down the window.



“Are yez in a hurry?” sez she.

“No,” sez I, thinking she might want to chat. Wrong answer.

“Well the cows are coming!” sez she. “Pull over! Pull over now!”

We looked up and saw a herd of brown cows galloping straight at us. Apparently the woman and her umbrella had been trying to clear the road to make way for this bovine charge. My husband edged the car as close to the fence as he could, and we stared in horror, expecting to die in the stampede, our rental car damaged beyond hope, poor Gertrude devoured in a single chomp. But the cows stumbled by and gave us an entertaining show.

Laughing but tired, we followed the mailman’s directions and found the start of the Knock Ma walking trail. The weather was clear, so we parked and thought we’d stroll for a bit. We didn’t get far before a sign warning hikers to leave nothing valuable visible in their cars made us turn back. Our luggage was blatantly conspicuous in the rear of the hatchback rental car, Gertrude was on the windshield, and we really were too exhausted for an extended hike. We’d just have to come back some day. Happy that we got to see Knock Ma at all, we enjoyed a late breakfast in Tuam town and drove on to Westport.