Welcome my dear friends. Enjoy your visit and share your thoughts. Thank you, much love

Saturday, 14 June 2014

Frizzy Lizzy's Saturday humor corner

Hi dear friends and followers I thought maybe now that the weekend is here you would like something light to read.

I would also like to thank you so very much for your support and participation in this blog. I do hope that today, Lizzy's  humor sets the pace for your day. Please feel free to share.

Frizzy Lizzy's Saturday humor corner

Hi ye all, Frizzy Lizzy here, please come on in

Frizzy drops her spoon on the floor and bends down to pick it up. A snap could be heard in her back as she picked up the spoon. Puting her left hand on her left side to get up she discovered that her back pain had gone. Placing the spoon in the sink she says, "Now I believe that everything may happen for a reason but it's not very often they happen for a good reason."

Walking over to the computer room, doing her best not to spill her coffee, she sets the cup down gingerly then sits on the chair and lights up a cigarette.

Turning on the computer she takes a sip of her coffee then looks at the screen. An add about Friendship Day, Frizzy thinks, "Yeah, me celebrate Friendship Day is like a lumberjack celebrating Arbor Day."

Frizzy lays back in her chair with a sighhhhh. "I was building up pressure and about to become uncorked at the office today." Frizzy reaches over and clicks on the mouse and scrolls down then stops. "Well now, I wouldn't doubt this at all So far the Mars Rover has not found any sign of intelligent life. Guess men really are from there."

"You know the plumber was over again today. Backed up toilet. Ever noticed there is little difference as models of business between plumbers and strippers. They both charge by the hour, show a little skin, and when it's over you feel like you got screwed."

"You know, sometimes I don't need much to be unhappy. In fact, some days nothing keeps me happy, What would help is if the boss said if you're feeling poorly you can have next week off work."

"Well I guess that's the breaks kids. You win some you lose some."

"Toodle-oo peeps!"

Composed by Cynthia

Thank you so very much for following this blog,  I will always strive my dear friends to bring to you the best I can find in not just in legends, mythology, and magic, but also the unseen
If you have any requests please leave a comment, thank you.

With love to all from The Fairy Lady

Friday, 13 June 2014

A Dream?

Hi dear friends and followers I thought maybe on a Friday afternoon you would like something light to read.
I would also like to thank you so very much for following and supporting this blog. Todays' Poem that leaves you with a question or a comment in mind. Please feel free to share.
A Dream?

Stay, flow, flow like a feather in the wind;

then through the airy way we will wing,

to the shade of the evergreen tree.

Below do they swoop;

Under that very tree is where

I stopped to rest a while,

listening to the sighing summer breeze.

And there I closed my eyes but for a second

and I drifted away into a netherland,

floating on the clouds of a dream;

A dream where upon I thought I had awakened,

awakened to the most amazing thing

that one can ever hope to see.

In the tree above,

the fairies danced and sang:

“The mortals they are asleep – 

They will never understand

That the night brings our delight, 

It is like day in Fairyland!”

They were sparkly crystalline fairies

who sparkled in the moonlight like jewels,

Flashing and dancing all this time oblivious,

to the mortal girl below.

They lit up the forest with their silver glow

dancing and prancing from tree to tree.

Swirling and twirling in the air,

clouds of magical fairy dust explode

and settle back to the ground

as gently as snow flakes.

Night is a delight when the fairies are about.

It is like the day in Fairyland.

Even the song birds come out

to chant while they swing

From the bluebells to the dandelions.

Hey! Come, come out and play!

They spoke to me! They were aware all along,

I thought.

Sleepy songbirds sing.

The glow-worm lamps are lit in the field below.

I flew and danced with the crystalline fairies,

to the melodies of the Elfin band playing below.

For what seemed to be nearly the entire night.

Freedom to flow with the breath of nature;

Come and join our Elfin band!

A night brings delight. I woke up

still lying under the same tree.

I thank you so very much for following my blog  I will always do my all I can to bring some of the best stories and legends and if you have any requests please leave a comment, thank you.

With love to all from The Fairy Lady

Cetus the Sea Monster

Hi dear friends and followers, I hope you all are doing well. I wish to thank you so very much for following and supporting this blog. Todays' story is an old myth of a sea monster which was created by the Greek gods. 

I hope you enjoy this post, my only desire is to share the best of stories and myths with you as I can, and maybe discover new ideas and new worlds together. 

Cetus the Sea Monster

The Greek gods created Cetus. This ferocious water monster had canine-like front legs, a bloated torso like that of a whale and a serpentine tail that was split at the end. It was amphibious and could survive on land or water. He is often depicted with pieces of him sticking up from the water rather than his entire body be showing. In some more recent depicting of the monster, he has whale-like attributes.

Cetus only obeyed Poseidon, the Greek god of the sea and storms, known to the Romans as Neptune. As a monstrous minion of one of the most powerful Greek gods, Cetus struck a tremendous fear in the hearts of any port-dwelling Greek, and he often served as a potent punishment for a harbor or ship.

Queen Cassiopeia, wife of Cepheus, the King of Joppa (referred to in some myths as Ethiopia), boasted that she and her daughter Andromeda were the most beautiful creatures in all the world. She dared to say that her daughter's beauty surpassed even that of the Nereids.

The Nereids were sea nymphs, specifically the fifty daughters of Nerus and Doris. They often worked with Poseidon. When they heard of Cassiopeia's taunts, the Nereids became furious and went to the sea god to end the matter.

Poseidon sent Cetus to terrorize Joppa to punish the Queen for her mistake. When Cepheus approached the god to ask how amends might be made, Poseidon ordered him to chain his daughter Andromeda to a rock near the sea for Cetus to devour her. In spite of his love for his daughter, Cepheus did as ordered to save his kingdom from further torment from Cetus.

This vicious mythical creature was finally stopped in its tracks by Perseus and his steed, the winged horse Pegasus

. While returning from his victorious battle with Medusa

, he came across Andromeda chained to a rock awaiting her fate as a meal to the dreadful sea monstrosity. After falling in love with her and learning of her plight, the young hero Perseus could not allow the sea dragon to have her.

Perseus had already slain the gorgon Medusa, and, still having her head, he used it as a weapon. When the enormous serpent rose from the waters to take its sacrifice, Perseus held up his newly acquired trophy (the severed head of Medusa) straight to its eyes. Upon seeing the head of Medusa the dragon immediately turned to stone and crumbled into a million pieces back into the waters.

Excerpts from the ancient writings that reference this monster follow here.

Pseudo-Apollodorus, Bibliotheca 2. 43 (trans. Aldrich) (Greek mythographer C2nd A.D.) :
"Arriving in Aithiopia, which Kepheus ruled, Perseus came upon his daughter Andromeda laid out as a meal for a Ketos. It seems that the king's wife Kassiepeia had challenged the Nereides in beauty, boasting that she outdid them all. As a result the Nereides were in a rage, and Poseidon in sympathetic anger sent a flood-tide upon the land and a ketos as well. The oracle of Ammon prophesied an end to the trouble if Kassiopeia's daughter Andromeda were served up to the Ketos as a meal, so Kepheus, pushed to it by the Aithiopians, tied his daughter out on a rock. When Perseus saw her it was love at first sight, and he promised to kill the ketos and rescue the girl in return for her hand. Oaths were sworn, after which Perseus faced and slew the ketos, and set Andromeda free."

Pausanias, Description of Greece 4. 35. 9 (trans. Jones) (Greek travelogue C2nd A.D.) :
"Red water, in colour like blood, is found in the land of the Hebrews near the city of Joppa. The water is close to the sea, and the account which the natives give of the spring is that Perseus, after destroying the Ketos (Sea-Monster), to which the daughter of Kepheus was exposed, washed off the blood in the spring."

Philostratus the Elder, Imagines 1. 29 (trans. Fairbanks) (Greek rhetorician C3rd A.D.) :
"[From a description of an ancient Greek painting at Neapolis (Naples) :] No, this is not the Red Sea (thalassa Erythra) nor are these inhabitants of India, but Aithiopes (Ethiopians) and a Greek man in Aithiopia. And of the exploit which I think the man undertook voluntarily for love, my boy, you must have heard--the exploit of Perseus who, they say, slew in Aithiopia a Ketos (sea-monster) from the Atlantikos (sea of Atlas), which was making its way against herds and the people of this land. Now the painter glorifies this tale and shows his pity for Andromeda in that she was given over to the Ketos (monster). The contest is already finished and the Ketos (monster) lies stretched out on the strand, weltering in streams of blood--the reason the sea is red--while Eros (Love) frees Andromeda from her bonds. Eros is painted with wings as usual, but here, as it not usual, he is a young man, panting and still showing the effects of his toil; for before the deed Perseus put up a prayer to Eros that he should come and with him swoop down upon the creature, and Eros came, for he heard the Greek’s prayer.

The maiden is charming in that she is fair of skin though in Aithiopia . . . Her beauty is enhanced by the circumstances of the moment; for she seems to be incredulous, her joy is mingled with fear, and as she gazes at Perseus she begins to send a smile towards him." [N.B. Philostratus locates this myth on the Atlantic coast of Africa rather than the Red Sea. "Aithiopes" was a generic term meaning black African.]

Pseudo-Hyginus, Fabulae 64 (trans. Grant) (Roman mythographer C2nd A.D.) :
"Cassiope claimed that her daughter Andromeda’s beauty excelled the Nereids’. Because of this, Neptunus [Poseidon] demanded that Andromeda, Cepheus’ daughter, be offered to a Cetus. When she was offered, Perseus, flying on Mercurius’ [Hermes] winged sandals, is said to have come there and freed her from danger."

I hope you all enjoyed my new post "Cetus the Sea Monster," love you all my dear friends and followers Muchas gracias, many thanks, to you, for visiting and making this blog possible.

Much love to you from The Fairy Lady

Thursday, 12 June 2014

A Fairy Tale Recorded by Charles Perrault in 17th Century France

Greetings! Buenos dias! So happy to see you, my friends! My dears I have a new post on Fairy Tales - 
A Fairy Tale Recorded by Charles Perrault.
 I hope you Enjoy this wonderful short story from 
17th Century France

Thank you so much for your participation on this blog, it is what keeps it alive for you to enjoy. Love you all your from your Fairy Lady.

A Fairy Tale Recorded by Charles Perrault in 17th Century France

Once upon a time there was a widow who had two daughters. The elder was so much like her, both in looks and character, that whoever saw the daughter saw the mother. They were both so disagreeable and so proud that there was no living with them. The younger, who was the very picture of her father for sweetness of temper and virtue, was withal one of the most beautiful girls ever seen. As people naturally love their own likeness, this mother doted on her elder daughter, and at the same time had a great aversion for the younger. She made her eat in the kitchen and work continually.

Among other things, this unfortunate child had to go twice a day to draw water more than a mile and a half from the house, and bring home a pitcherful of it. One day, as she was at this fountain, there came to her a poor woman, who begged of her to let her drink.

"Oh, yes, with all my heart, Goody," said this pretty little girl. Rinsing the pitcher at once, she took some of the clearest water from the fountain, and gave it to her, holding up the pitcher all the while, that she might drink the easier.

The good woman having drunk, said to her:--

"You are so pretty, so good and courteous, that I cannot help giving you a gift." For this was a fairy, who had taken the form of a poor country-woman, to see how far the civility and good manners of this pretty girl would go. "I will give you for gift," continued the Fairy, "that, at every word you speak, there shall come out of your mouth either a flower or a jewel."

When this pretty girl returned, her mother scolded at her for staying so long at the fountain.

"I beg your pardon, mamma," said the poor girl, "for not making more haste."

And in speaking these words there came out of her mouth two roses, two pearls, and two large diamonds.

"What is it I see there?" said her mother, quite astonished. "I think pearls and diamonds come out of the girl's mouth! How happens this, my child?"

This was the first time she had ever called her "my child."

The girl told her frankly all the matter, not without dropping out great numbers of diamonds.

"Truly," cried the mother, "I must send my own dear child thither. Fanny, look at what comes out of your sister's mouth when she speaks. Would you not be glad, my dear, to have the same gift? You have only to go and draw water out of the fountain, and when a poor woman asks you to let her drink, to give it to her very civilly."

"I should like to see myself going to the fountain to draw water," said this ill-bred minx.

"I insist you shall go," said the mother, "and that instantly."

She went, but grumbled all the way, taking with her the best silver tankard in the house.

She no sooner reached the fountain than she saw coming out of the wood, a magnificently dressed lady, who came up to her, and asked to drink. This was the same fairy who had appeared to her sister, but she had now taken the air and dress of a princess, to see how far this girl's rudeness would go.

"Am I come hither," said the proud, ill-bred girl, "to serve you with water, pray? I suppose this silver tankard was brought purely for your ladyship, was it? However, you may drink out of it, if you have a fancy."

"You are scarcely polite," answered the fairy, without anger. "Well, then, since you are so disobliging, I give you for gift that at every word you speak there shall come out of your mouth a snake or a toad."

So soon as her mother saw her coming, she cried out:--

"Well, daughter?"

"Well, mother?" answered the unhappy girl, throwing out of her mouth a viper and a toad.

"Oh, mercy!" cried the mother, "what is it I see? It is her sister who has caused all this, but she shall pay for it," and immediately she ran to beat her. The poor child fled away from her, and went to hide herself in the forest nearby.

The King's son, who was returning from the chase, met her, and seeing her so beautiful, asked her what she did there alone and why she cried.

"Alas! sir, my mother has turned me out of doors."

The King's son, who saw five or six pearls and as many diamonds come out of her mouth, desired her to tell him how that happened. She told him the whole story. The King's son fell in love with her, and, considering that such a gift was worth more than any marriage portion another bride could bring, conducted her to the palace of the King, his father, and there married her.

As for her sister, she made herself so much hated that her own mother turned her out of doors. The miserable girl, after wandering about and finding no one to take her in, went to a corner of the wood, and there died

I have always had a strong interest in the unknown both in the fields of science and spirituality for I am a firm believer that both can walk hand in hand along with magic.

I have written many stories and poems which I have been saving into this blog. For me this blog is more valuable than all the gold in the world.  And that is all because of YOU! my dearest Friends and Followers. Thank you very much for being here.

Wednesday, 11 June 2014

Myths, Legends and Stories From the Elves

Hi my dear friends, I have some new legends for you today, Legends and Myths and stories from the elves, Great new information. I hope you Enjoy these short and interesting stories. 

I also wish to let you know dear friends this blog is here for your entertainment and learning so please share your thoughts as well. Thank you.

Much love from the Fairy Lady
Myths, Legends and Stories From the Elves

Elves, like other races, venerate the names and deeds of their heroes. Frequently, some of the heroes from other races have been fabricated—mostly to illustrate some religious point or another. Not so with the elves. Although their heroes also serve to make a point of some sort, all of them existed in some form or another. Heroes such as Fistilanthus Woodhelvin and his half-elf brother Gilanthus (both of whom faced the dread pit fiend Marlikora at the cost of their own lives and saved the elf lands) live on in the glorious tales of storytellers. Elven legend tells that they will someday return when the elves most need them and that they will aid certain blessed elves or half-elves in times of gravest need. Their bravery and courage thus inspires those in mortal peril. Other heroes, like Feradar Jaralmus, serve as examples of elven life. Although in his life he neither slew terrible beasts nor singlehandedly fought off menaces from the planes beyond, his love and compassion saved the elves from fractioning still further, teaching them the value of life and tolerance. Many other heroes once lived (and, indeed, still live) in the halls of the sages, inspiring and teaching those who hear the tales

Elven lore is not solely concerned with tales of goodness; there are also tales of dark, twisted evil. Fionna Casilltenirra, the first elf vampire, still haunts the dreams of romantic young elves seeking delight in the arms of humans. And the story of Besathan Ridire, the elf who made a pact with the Spider Queen Lolth and suffered eternal torment at her hands, is told every now and then to show children the questionable value of dealing with evil. All elven legends make a point of some sort, whether they deal with an inspirational story of heroics and valor or with more humble values such as compassion and simple charity. In both life and deeds, elves strive to teach and to learn. They see their lives as quests for understanding, and they do their best to complete their personal quests; elven legends often help point the way to fulfilling those dreams. Sometimes there is more to an elven myth than meets the human eye. The moral gem hidden within a tale may be far too subtle for humans to understand completely. This chapter presents but a few of the tales the elves have collected over their millenia of existence.

The Legend of Fionna Casilltenirranna

When the Elves all lived in the forests and had not yet spread to the seas or the mountains, there was a beautiful Elf named Fionna Casilltenirra. Barely past 100 years old, she met a Human who intrigued her completely. Shy and retiring at first, she grew more open and let herself be seen when he traveled in the woods.

Their elders swore to them that such a match would never work, but Fionna and Killian had eyes only for each other. They wed in secret. Five years of bliss passed before Fionna saw that Killian was aging far more rapidly than she. The lovers searched for some way to avoid the cruel hand fate would one day deal them, but they could find no answer. In abject despair, Fionna went to a Human Vampire of whom she had heard. She begged Vasily for his help, asking that Killian be made a Vampire so the two could share life for the length of her days instead of Killian's.

The Vampire was overwhelmed by Fionna's beauty and agreed to her plans, with one stipulation: that she, too, consent to become a Vampire. In her love for Killian, Fionna never thought of the danger to her very spirit—she agreed to Vasily's dastardly request. The Vampire took Fionna in his arms and told her he would bestow upon Killian the "gift" of eternal life. He drained her, then laid her on the floor of his catacomb. He looked at Fionna and marveled at her beauty; desire coursed in him, as did treachery, and he vowed that none but he should possess her. When Vasily found Killian, he snapped the Human's neck instead of making him anew in Vampire form.

When Fionna discovered Vasily's treachery, she flew at him in rage. Confident that she was his thrall, Vasily was amused rather than alarmed. That proved a fatal error on his part, for his head was ripped from his shoulders by the grieving Elven Vampiress.

Bereft of her love and her life, Fionna wandered the world searching for someone new to take the place of her beloved, but only hatred and fear met her advances. Anger and malice found their way into her heart, and she gave herself wholly to evil.

Jarsali and the Treant

Following a similar, though ultimately contradictory, view to the tale of Fionna Casilltenirra, the story of Jarsali and the Treant glorifies love of any sort—provided that love is true and good. While some elves refuse to acknowledge the truth of this story, claiming it is truly myth and has no basis in fact, others believe it holds the germ of truth. They cling to it as a justification for the paths they have taken themselves.

Jarsali Oaklimbs was a sylvan elf of the truest grain—even to the point of shunning others of her race, preferring instead the company of the woodlands well over that of her fellows. How her heart came to be full of suspicion and bitterness at her mortal comrades, no one knew; they only knew that Jarsali was a strange girl, even for an elf.

Nothing assuaged the sorrow in her soul save the nearness of the primordial trees. Her wanderings from camp took her deeper and deeper into the virgin forest, to places where even few elves had ever set foot. In the heart of the wood, she found a living tree holding court with his minions. Her shock was great.

Remember, this was a time before the elves had spread across the world, and they knew little of all its races. Few had ever heard of a treant, much less seen one. Although her tribe had, Jarsali had never heeded the lessons of her compatriots, for she had no desire to learn from their experiences.

Entranced by the sight of the treant, she crept closer to investigate. Suddenly, great bark-covered limbs from a nearby "tree" lifted her from the ground and held her captive. The animated oak brought her before its liege.

Jarsali stood prisoner before the treant lord, and something in her heart cracked and was set free. The elf maiden fell instantly in love with the enduring beauty of the craggy wood before her. The treant eyed Jarsali's flushed cheeks and bright eyes. Suthurithidan, the son of Garanahil the First Treant, saw hidden behind the elf's truculent air a spirit of fire that could not be quenched. It was the treant's first true look at an elf, and he was entranced. With a silent flicker of his twiggy finger, he commanded the tree to release the elf maid. The two stared at each other, sunlight filtering through the dappled leaves; then Suthurithidan turned and melted into the forest.

Jarsali returned to her camp. Her companions were amazed at her newly softened manner, so changed was it from her usual self. They wondered what could have happened on her latest excursion into the woods, but none said anything, feeling only gratitude and not caring the cause. When Jarsali crept away a week later, unable to forget the treant Suthurithidan, some few smiled, thinking perhaps she had found a lover with a nearby tribe. One elf, however, did not smile—he frowned. Azalarer had thought to wed Jarsali himself, for he lusted after the elf maid. The words of his people were an irritant to his pride.

Jarsali found again the treant lord, and this time neither could deny the truth of how well their souls matched the other. The initial exhilaration inspired by their first meeting provided the impetus for the rest of their relationship, and the feelings between two such dissimilar beings deepened. In time, they found that they were truly in love, each unwilling to continue life without the other beside them.

But Azalarer grew suspicious of Jarsali's continued change. He and his cohorts followed her into the depths of the forest. Intent only upon meeting her love, Jarsali's ordinarily sharp hearing did not warn her of this pursuit. Azalarer and the others found her then, and they beheld a sight none had ever thought to witness in all their years: An elf maid embraced by a living tree!

Azalarer's heart grew black. He taunted Jarsali cruelly and incited the prejudices of his comrades. In righteous wrath, they tore Jarsali from the arms of the surprised tree lord and spirited her back to camp. There Azalarer fanned the flames of xenophobia. The elves had never heard of such a strange coupling; they were outraged that Jarsali's chosen was not even humanoid, much less elven. They locked her behind a stout wood stockade and angrily began debating what to do with her.

Jarsali called upon all the elven gods of the forest and of love, and she called upon the gods of Suthurithidan, too. She prayed for both release from the stockade and from her elven form, that she might not have to endure the cruelties the elves inflicted upon her in the name of racial purity. The gods heard her pleas: They gave her the answer to one by granting the other.

Inside the stockade, Jarsali's body stiffened. Her hair grew long and turned green, and her limbs became limbs of wood and not flesh. Her feet sought the cracks in the ground, and she extended her new roots into the soil beneath. Shouldering aside the flimsy blockade, she forced her way into the sylvan camp. The elves scattered before her. Some prostrated themselves in abject terror, fearing for their lives.
Azalarer, along with those who had been deliberating Jarsali's fate, came forth from the council chambers. The elf's heart turned ever more black and cracked with rage; he grabbed a firebrand but the council restrained him. With utmost respect, they bowed to Jarsali and bade her good speed and clean water, for her transformation showed them that her love was real—that nothing they could say or do would change this simple fact.

With only the faintest bow, Jarsali turned to the forest and was reunited with her true love. The elves watched her go with a newfound respect; to this day, the sylvan elves and the treants share the custody of the woods.

Moral: True love transcends race—and sometimes even species.

Halimath's Pride

The story of Halimath Arnuanna is a cautionary tale relating the dangers of pride and arrogance, even in those who have again and again proven their superiority of skill.

Halimath was a smith who had transcended all boundaries of metalworking in his craft. A true master with the hammer and tongs, each piece of precious metal commanded his complete attention, each blow of the hammer comprised his entire world. His creations were truly marvelous and inspired such awe in others. With each passing year, his skill grew ever greater. Elves traveled the world over to see his works of art.

Centuries passed, and the grey elf decided that his life's work should culminate in the creation of one truly magnificent artifact—preferably a sword—to be wielded in the cause of good. He had no doubts about his skill, and he had the costly metals and gems with which to make and ornament this sword. But the grey elves had banned the making of any more weapons of power. They wanted no reminder of the Elfwar or the Fractioning, and they forbade Halimath to make such a sword. The elf would neither listen nor obey; breaking the laws of his land was but a small price to pay for the glory of the magic he would wrought.

Thus commenced Halimath's destruction.

The rituals the elf sought to enchant the blade were dark and arcane, their powers hardly more than he could contain. Halimath continued without regard, believing that the creation of the Sword of Justice would atone for any evils he committed while creating it. The first spell he cast almost cost him his life, so strong were the magicks within it. This spell ensured life to the wielder of the blade for as long as the Sword was held. A second spell enchanted the weapon so that it could only be used on the side of goodness, and the third ensured the Sword would strike down the foes of the wielder with but a single blow.

Rumors of Halimath's transgressions reached the ears of the grey elf elders. The wisest and most just of them, Andriana, confronted Halimath and demanded the truth. To her folly, she held up the Sword to emphasize her point. The master smith flew into an insane rage at his creation being so touched. His massive fist struck the frail elf woman, and she crumpled to the floor. Blood splattered across the blade in Andriana's hands and stained the carpet beneath her still-breathing form. Halimath stared down at the woman in horror, his senses returning to him in the cold light of what he had done. He knew the other elders would never allow him to finish the Sword of Justice, and that thought alone consumed him. He grabbed the Sword and fled.

Shortly after, the grey elf elders discovered Halimath's misdeeds. Though Andriana lived, the elders swore the blood oath against Halimath. They hounded the elf day and night, until they finally cornered him; though bruised in body and spirit, he was still unrepentant.

Halimath let out a great cry and raised the Sword of Justice in defiance against the elves who harried him. He leaped to attack, but the blade crumbled to dust in his hands. When the arrows pierced his body, Halimath fell dead.

Moral: Obsession destroys everything.

Haranavei Koehlanna

Although many human cultures have adapted this familiar story for their own use, the elves claim original credit for it.

An elf village was destroyed by an orc raiding party—the only survivor an elf woman, great with child. She fled into the burning forest and forded a swollen stream. On the other side, she found refuge in a tiny human village. There, she gave birth to her child, for labor was brought on by her traumas. With her dying breath she named her infant daughter Haranavei Koehlanna, and she bade a woodcutter care for her child. The elf woman perished that night.

Under the care of the villager, who was now the mayor, Haranavei grew into a child of amazing beauty. The human women of the household took exception to this beauty, and they did their best to ensure that such loveliness would never show. The mother and her daughters made Haranavei clean the middens, the sties, and the fireplaces every day. The poor elf child worked from before dawn to after dusk. The people whom she called "family" sought always to humiliate her for her pointed ears and thin features, and to belittle her beauty. Their taunts hurt an innocent heart.

And so matters went for many years, until one day a prince rode through the now prosperous village. He was an elf prince, this much is true, and he stopped at the human village to water and feed his stallion. The mayor's daughters were smitten with his charm and elegance; in him they praised the very features they taunted in Haranavei.

The elf amused himself at the human girls' expense—until he saw the thin figure of Haranavei trudge by, bearing her heavy burden of firewood. The prince grabbed the elf maid by the arms and stared long and hard into her eyes. Then, slowly, he smiled, for his search was over. Drawmij Koehlanna had found his sister. The two wept with joy when the truth was revealed, though Drawmij was saddened at the news of his mother. He disclosed that he had been away at the time of the orc attack; he had returned to discover his home in flames. But there was no sign of his mother, whom he knew to be pregnant, and so Drawmij went in search of her and her child.

More truth was revealed at the house of the mayor's, for the elf prince saw that the humans had made a slave of his sister. He retaliated by slaying the mayor's wife and daughters, only just sparing the man's life at the request of Haranavei.

Moral: Suffer not the vanity of others.


The elven love of creation has extended itself into their stories, as has their unique perspective on the nature of time. Perhaps this story helps to explain why elves are so willing to devote years to a single project—and why they can take years away from a venture before returning to it with a fresh, new perspective.

Malissin Ariessus was a high elf architect and artist of exceeding vision, though he had no exceptional skill. His dream was to one day create the perfect tree town, where all elves could live in harmony and peace in a setting of unimaginable splendor—and improbable engineering.

Malissin did, indeed, create his city within the trees. Caelestis exceeded even Malissin's dreams, and the city excited all who saw it. Even the gods were filled with wonder at the magnificent tree town. Alas, Malissin forgot to weave the final enchantment on his city.

For many years it stood tall and proud, a monument to one elf's dream. Malissin passed on to Arvanaith, happy and secure that his tree city was all that he had hoped it would be. A great storm brewed the night of Malissin's death—a storm so great it tore asunder even the mightiest oak trees. Malissin's city was destroyed for lack of the binding spells that would have made his structures permanent—an oversight in an otherwise flawless creation.

Though the architectural principles Malissin employed are long since lost, his dream lives on in all of us. The desire to design perfection that is beloved by the gods burns in the breast of all who create, and the urge for such immortality is often irresistible.

Moral: Love of creation is the element of perfection. Patience and love of creation are the permanence of perfection.

The Death of Elves

After the Godswar, Corellon Larethian walked the world of mortal Elves, hoping to gain knowledge and experience of our lives so that he could give us the aid that a true god should. During his journeys, he came across an Elf woman of such beauty and generosity of soul that he was stricken with love. Elana returned that love. Two years later, a child was born: Eliara Larethian. Corellon's daughter was the most perfect Elf ever born. Men and Elves alike hoped to win her favor.

Eliara could not oblige them all with her love—nor could she choose who was worthy of her. For a time she spurned them all and devoted her life to the bow; as the daughter of Corellon, her skill was uncanny. The Men and Elves fought between them to see who could carry her golden quiver, and war threatened to break out between the races. Corellon and Elana turned to their daughter, and she agreed that such squabbling must stop. And so Eliara held a contest to judge her suitors' skills. A hunt there would be to see who could match her ability with the bow; the winner should have her as his bride.

During the hunt, a great red dragon was drawn to the noise and bustle of the hunting party. Seeing the Men and Elves, it opened its maw and poured forth a great gout of fire—slaying half the party outright. Eliara drew her bow and let loose an arrow. The shaft entered the beast's eye, killing it instantly. The dragon's body crashed to earth, uprooting trees as it did. The massive limb of a falling oak caught Eliara in the chest and she was crushed beneath its deadly weight.

A great funeral was held in Eliara's honor, with all her suitors in attendance. One of these, an Elf master singer named Clain Windsong, threw back his head and let forth a melodic cry of sheer, wordless anguish. As if on a cue, the other Elves took up the cry, their voices mingling and harmonizing in an outpouring of overwhelming grief. The Humans in the party, overcome by the terrible beauty of the music, died of heartbreak.

The tradition of the elven mourning song continues to this day, and it is song of such anguish as to break a listener's heart.

I hope you all enjoyed my new post on elves. Muchas gracias, many thanks, to you, for visiting and making this blog possible. Have a wonderful day my dears. With love from, The Fairy Lady

Tuesday, 10 June 2014


Hi dear members and followers. Today we visit another greek legend The Fairy Wife. Another story from Greece about the interaction between fairies and a mortal, a goatherd. It's told from the point of view of a simple farmer, complete with local color and superstitions. I hope that you enjoy it.

! I am grateful for the time that you share with me here. Sincerely yours, The Fairy Lady

DEMETROS, the goatherd, lived alone with his mother on the Keafa Hill. Near his hut and the strounga, a shed for the goats, was a spring named Neraidovreshe, Fairy Spring, for the fairies that had been seen there. Usually Demetros’ mother went to this spring with her great earthen jar to get their water, but one day she fell ill and Demetros had to go for it at night after his goats were driven home.

Since it was moonlight, he could see clearly, when he reached the Neraidovreshe, that three maidens in white were sitting on the stones at the edge. Supposing them to be shepherdesses who had come a long way for water and had stopped to rest, Demetros paid them no attention until he had filled his jar. At that moment a cock's crow sounded across the valley and, without a word, the maidens rose, joined hands and danced westward across the hills, singing and whirling around, faster and faster, until they disappeared like a wisp of white smoke.

Demetros watched them, wondering who they were, why they had come and where they had gone. He said nothing about these strange maidens, but he could think of nothing else all the next day. When night came he went again to the Neraidovreshe. It was about the same time, the moon was shining, the maidens were there; but now in addition to the first three there were three others. Just as the cock crowed the maidens rose, danced over the hills, singing, and vanished as before.

Demetros filled his water-jar and walked home with his head bent, thinking. He was so quiet that his mother asked if anything were wrong. He hesitated a little and then told her what he had seen on the two evenings.

"Beware, my son!" she cried. "The maidens may be fairies. Evil may come. Beware!"

The mother was still no better the next night and for the third time Demetros went to the Neraidovreshe. This time nine maidens in white were sitting on the stones. Once again the same things happened: a cock crowed, the maidens rose and danced away in the moonlight, singing.

"Is there any harm in watching them?" the goatherd asked himself. "They are so strange, so beautiful!" This time he forgot to fill the water-jar and he walked home still gazing westward at the far line of hills where the fairies had disappeared.

"You must have seen them again!" his mother cried. Demetros nodded. "Then go not again to the Neraidovreshe," she warned. "It would be better to die of thirst. See! already you come back without water in the jar. Tomorrow night is the night of the full moon when fairies’ power is greatest. Tomorrow night you must not leave the strounga!"

Demetros intended to obey his mother. All day he sat on the hillside, watching his goats and thinking of the maidens.

"I will not go tonight," he told himself. "I will never see them again. I do not want to see them. They might bring evil to my mother and me. I will not see them—how beautiful they were!"

That night he put his goats in the strounga as usual. Outside the door he looked up at the full moon and remembered the three other nights when he had gone to the spring. How lightly the maidens had danced! How brightly their golden hair had shown as it rippled over their shoulders!

It was now almost midnight and before Demetros knew what he was doing, he found himself hurrying toward the Neraidovreshe. He tried to stop, but he was powerless, as though he were being drawn on and on in spite of himself. He reached the spring and found ten maidens waiting for him. Nine he had seen the night before and he had thought them all lovely, but the one they had brought with them was many times fairer than they. She was more slender and graceful, with brighter, more abundant hair, and her face was more lovely than anything Demetros had ever imagined. Even the flowers she wore about her head were sweeter and the little handkerchief she carried was finer and more delicately embroidered than those of the nine others.

The ten maidens rose, joined hands in a circle about Demetros and danced around and around, never touching the ground. They sang in their silvery voices (hers the sweetest of all) and this time he could understand their song.

"Oh, to be light and oh, to be light
In the summer noonday sun;
Oh, to be light in the fairy night
When moon gossamers are spun;
On the sea sands bright and the hill snows white,
To run and to run and to run!

"Oh, to be gay and oh, to be gay
Where bright rivers glide and glance;
In gardens of May to skip and play
While fairy flutes entrance;
Oh, to be gay, and away and away
To dance and to dance and to dance!

"Oh, to be free and oh, to be free
As the north wind riding high;
Oh to be free with the lilting sea
When the wild waves wash the sky;
Oh, swift and free and a fairy to be,
To fly and to fly and to fly!"

Suddenly Demetros longed to be as light and gay and free as they.

"Come with us," begged the ten maidens. "Come with us, Demetros."

"Come and live in our palace with us," said the tenth fairy with her loveliest smile. "We shall make you happy, Demetros."

Unable to resist, he went with them a long way over the hills. He laughed and sang and forgot everything but the fairy maidens, their flowers, their smiles, their golden hair. Once he thought of his mother, ill and in need of him, and of his goats that would cry for him in the morning. He knew he should not go any farther with the fairies, but when he looked at the tenth, the most beautiful, he felt that he could not leave her as long as he lived.

Now the loveliest one was near him in the dance. Her long golden hair was sweeping past him. He breathed the fragrance of her flowers. He reached out to catch her, but only her handkerchief remained in his hand. The dance stopped. There was a scream from all the fairies. With a rush, like wind through a forest, they shot upward and disappeared—all but the tenth. She sank down upon the ground with a kind of moan and hid her face in her hands.

Demetros stood for a long while looking down at his beautiful prisoner. Then he fell to his knees beside her and tried to comfort her, but nothing that he did could stop her tears. She had risen and was following him, weeping and reluctant.

"Do not speak. Do not touch me," she said. "You have taken from me my freedom, my happiness!"

Demetros did not know what to do. He stood up, tucked the handkerchief into his selahe, leather belt, and walked slowly a little way off, thinking. When he turned he saw that she had risen and was following him, weeping and reluctant. He walked on and she came after, stopping when he stopped, moving forward as he did, until they crossed the hills to the little hut that was his home.

His mother was startled when she saw this strange, golden-haired maiden with her son. She welcomed the stranger, however, and because she saw that Demetros loved her, she kept the wonderful handkerchief wrapped in silk and locked in a box in her own room where the fairy wife never entered.

Katena, so she was called, spent her time spinning, sewing and embroidering. She made beautiful clothes for Demetros’ mother, for herself and for the little child when it came. Everybody in Loutro knew that Katena was a fairy, because whatever she did was finer and lovelier than anyone else could do in all that part of the country. The child, too, was very beautiful, with fine, golden hair and soft, white skin. All the villagers and country people called her Neraidokoretso, which means fairy child.

But Katena was not happy. Demetros could do nothing to make her smile. She never danced or sang or laughed, but sat quietly at her work, scarcely glancing up or speaking a word to anyone. Demetros became very sad, and to see him so unhappy made his mother grieved and anxious. This went on for seven years.

One Saint Konstantinos day the mother went, as is the custom, to a neighboring village to visit a cousin named Konstantinos. She left, believing everything safe until her return.

Katena said to Demetros: "Today is a holiday. I should like very much to go to Loutro to dance. I have not danced for a long time. Will you bring out one of my pretty dresses and my best handkerchief? We shall dance together as we danced on the night of the full moon seven years ago."

Demetros could not speak for his delight. His beautiful wife would dance and be happy again. He fumbled with the keys which his mother had left in his care; he caught up the first dress his eyes fell upon; he took the beautiful handkerchief from his mother's box and put it into his selahe with trembling hands. As soon as Katena was ready, she and Demetros with Neraidokoretso hastened down the hill to Loutro.

The folk were already dancing on the grass plot in the center of the village, their bright costumes, joyous faces and graceful movements making an attractive picture. They formed a great circle, but instead of joining hands they held opposite corners of a handkerchief stretched between each two of them. Katena and Demetros stepped into the circle, holding between them the fairy handkerchief which his mother had guarded these seven years.

Katena's turn came to lead the dance. Demetros dropped his corner of the handkerchief. Katena sprang from him and went whirling madly about the circle. Demetros watched her amazed. Three times she circled before the astonished villagers, then rose as though on wings and floated like a cloud into the sky.

Demetros was heart-broken. When he realized that his fairy wife had left him forever, he wanted to die. His mother, returned from her cousin Konstantinos’, tried to console him.

"My son," she said, "this is the evil which the fairy has brought upon us. Let us try to be content. Now nothing worse can come to us."

Demetros feared that Neraidokoretso would be unhappy without her mother, but every morning the child would hurry away to the fields and in the evening run home again, skipping and singing as she came. People said they often heard her talking or chanting to herself in words no one could understand.

Her grandmother was frightened at first because she could not induce the child to eat anything. One morning Demetros followed Neraidokoretso. She went straight to the Fairy Spring and, looking up, held her little arms toward the sky. Demetros heard her calling and he saw something white like a mist descending to her. A silvery voice came out of the mist and the child answered in words of strange sound.

"It is Katena," he told his mother. "She must come every day to talk to Neraidokoretso and to feed her fairy food. That is why she is in the fields all day and will eat nothing here. Katena is caring for her child."

As the years went by Neraidokoretso grew more lovely, always more like her mother, with long, shining hair and the same beautiful smile. When she went to the fields now she took her sewing or embroidery and worked while she talked with the spirit that no one else could see. Often Demetros followed her and watched her wonderingly. She was his daughter, but she never seemed to belong to him. She did not need him and was happy without him or anything he could do for her. She was so much more a fairy than a human child that it made him afraid. He once said to his mother: "I believe something worse can happen to us than the trouble we have already suffered."

"How can that be, my son?" she asked.

"I am afraid that Neraidokoretso will not always be with us."

Demetros and his mother looked at each other without speaking. They both loved Neraidokoretso very much.

On the girl's fifteenth birthday her father followed her to the Neraidovreshe, as he had done every day for a long time. He saw again the white mist come to her out of the clouds and heard the sweet, silvery voice. She held up her arms and the mist, enfolding her, lifted her up and carried her away. After it had vanished, Demetros caught the echo of two fairy voices. He listened motionless as long as he could distinguish the sound. Then he knew that Katena and Neraidokoretso had gone from him forever.

Demetros did not keep his goats any more. He wandered day after day through the fields and woods and over the hills, looking hopelessly for his wife and child. Sometimes a shepherd or goatherd, meeting him, would hear him chanting to himself:

"Come back, come back, my fairy wife.
Come back, my fairy child.
Seeking and searching I spend my life;
I wander lone and wild.
Come back!"

Muchas gracias, many thanks, your visits are valuable to in making this blog possible. Have a beautiful day today and every day. With much love to you, The Fairy Lady

I hope you all enjoy this story part 2 from Greek folklore, I enjoyed the legends and I do hope you have found them interesting as well. I there is another legends or myths you would like please do not hesitate to ask. Thank you.

Monday, 9 June 2014


Fantasies are a part of every culture. They go by different names, including folklore and fairy tales, and the manner in which they are told are reflective of the daily lives and mythologies of the societies from which these stories come. This one is a relatively modern Greek fairy tale and deals in the pleasures and treasures of the times in which it was first told.

Fantasies are a part of every culture. They go by different names, including folklore and fairy tales, and the manner in which they are told are reflective of the daily lives and mythologies of the societies from which these stories come. This one is a relatively modern Greek fairy tale and deals in the pleasures and treasures of the times in which it was first told.

UNCLE KOSTAS, as everyone called him, had once been a prisoner of the fairies. He would sit stiffly down upon a stone and lean upon the tall, shepherd's staff which he always carried, to recount his story.

"Look," he would begin. "Do you see those hills yonder? They are the Hills of the Dragons...”

Many, many years ago Kostas was resting at noon beside a spring under the shadow of a pine in one of the Dragonorahes, Dragon Hills, after eating his bread and cheese. He closed his eyes for a little while and when he opened them, there were fairies dancing all around him in the air. He knew that he was handsome, handsome enough to tempt them to carry him away, but since he had his gun with him he thought himself safe.

Some of the fairies were singing, others were playing their flutes, and all would pause now and then to ask Kostas to play his flute and dance with them. Pointing to his gun, he shook his head and even though they were angry they dared not harm him. Suddenly the music and the dancing ceased. The fairies whispered together a moment and then disappeared like a cobweb that is brushed away.

Kostas was about to go back to his sheep, grazing lower down on the hillside, but he was unable to move, even to stretch out his hand. Then the fairies were back again and this time their queen was with them, riding on a great white horse. Around her were a thousand fairies on white horses and others kept coming and coming until the Dragonorahe was covered with them.

Kostas tried to stand up, he tried to reach his gun, but he could do nothing except gaze at the beautiful queen, with her shining, silken hair and her shimmering white garments, as she sat upon her proud horse. There was a great murmuring around him. After a while he understood that all the fairies were talking about him.

"Does he please you?" one asked the queen.

"Will you have him?" asked another.

"He is powerless now," said a third. "Shall we take him?"

The queen looked down at him thoughtfully for a long time. Then she smiled, lifted her wand and cried, "I shall have him! He is beautiful! Let us bring him with us!"

Servant fairies caught up Kostas and darted away with him as fast as an eagle flies. The queen with the thousand fairies on horseback followed and after them came the thousands and thousands of others, all in white, all dancing around and around as they swept forward.

They took him up to the highest peak of the mountain Kyllene, where there is snow nearly all the year. A yawning, black opening admitted to a long dark passage, ending in a golden gate. Beyond lay the gardens of the fairies, where the sweet, warm air of summer always dwelt.

"Here you must stay
For a year and a day,
And never, oh never,
Will you wish to go away."

sang the queen to her new prisoner and all the fairies echoed softly,

"And never, oh never,
Will you wish to go away."

Looking about him, Kostas saw that he was in a paradise! There were gardens everywhere, each with flowers of a different color. One garden was white, one yellow, one purple, then green, rose and blue, with many shades of each, so that they all blended together like the bars of a magnificent rainbow. In the center was a lake, mirror-like, upon which an island appeared to float. So clear was the water that one could see to the bottom which was studded with emeralds. Upon the surface, like great bubbles, diamonds, rubies and sapphires moved with the slow current.

On the island many youths, stolen by the fairies, were playing with flower-wreaths, chains of precious stones, and fine gold and silver-like sand. Kostas was taken to the island, given fairy clothes such as the other youths wore, and shown trees from which he could gather as much fruit as he wished.

There were as many kinds of fruit trees on the island as there were flower gardens around the lake. Figs, pears and olives, peaches and plums, as well as grapes heavy upon their vines, hung in tempting profusion. The fruit would fall to the ground when it was ripe and if no one ate it, it would harden into a jewel of the shape and color of the fruit.

Peacocks strutted about and birds of bright plumage flitted through the trees. In the lake one saw mermaids with fairy faces, graceful swans, and fish such as are not found in any other sea. All the time, for there never is any night there, fairies danced in the flower gardens, gazed at their reflections in the lake, sang or made music on their flutes, while youths played on their beautiful island, and the queen appeared happiest of all, watching the others being happy.

But Kostas, alone of all those thousands, was not happy. He enjoyed living in that paradise, but he could never forget his home and his sweetheart Christena, and he longed to go back. Then he would think of the queen. He thought she cared a great deal for him, more, perhaps, than for any of the other youths. He remembered her song:

"Here you must stay
For a year and a day,
And never, oh never,
Will you wish to go away."

Click to enlarge

In the lake one saw mermaids with fairy faces.

"I must wait," he told himself again and again. "I must wait for a year and a day."

Finally the time passed. Kostas went to the queen, bowed very humbly and said:

"Here did I stay
For a year and a day,
But always and always
I've wished to go away."

Then he told her how, even though she was so beautiful and everything was so lovely, he desired above all to go home to his sweetheart Christena. The queen did not answer immediately, and he waited in anguish on his knees with his head bowed to the ground.

"Kostas," she said at last, "will you do anything I ask you?"

"Anything!" he cried, starting up eagerly.

"Then listen. I have lost a gold vase set with turquoise and lined with golden hair. Find the vase for me by noon to-day. Be sure of the lining of golden hair, for that is important. Go!"

Hopefully, Kostas began his search in the gardens, but though he looked carefully among all the vari-colored flower beds, he found nothing. Going to the island, he searched anxiously beneath all the fruit trees and even scanned their branches, but the vase was not there. It was now almost noon.

He walked to the shore and stood looking hopelessly into the water, thinking how far he was from his desire. A strange fish, all gold and blue, appeared swimming toward him. But no, it was not a fish. It was a vase, gold set with turquoise!

Kostas seized it and held it up joyfully. The lining! He was almost afraid to look. There it was, the fine gold hair, and there was something else, more precious to him than hair or jewels or gold. It was the shepherd's clothes that he had worn when the fairies carried him away. He knew then that the queen meant to let him go. Quickly exchanging the fairy garments for the old loose cloak and short, full skirt of the shepherd, he returned to the queen and laid the vase before her, just as the sun reached the meridian.

The queen smiled and touched Kostas with her wand.

"You may go back to your home and your sweetheart," she said, "and you may take with you a strand of the hair lining the vase. It is my hair, and if you should ever wish to return to the fairy gardens, you have only to show it to the fairies and they will bring you back."

Kostas thanked her many times and arose. There was a beautiful white horse with a golden tail and mane and a human face, to carry him, and three fairy princesses with red caps, to show him the way.

Through the golden gate, through the long, dark passage, through the snow-fringed opening in the mountain and over the hills they flew until they reached the spring on the Dragonorahe. There the fairies left him, just where he had been a year and a day before.

But the strand of golden hair Kostas lost out of his cloak as they came swiftly over the hills. Afterward he searched for it tirelessly, climbing all of the Dragon Hills as high as he could go, but he never found it.

Muchas gracias, many thanks for visiting and making this blog possible. Have a wonderful day. I hope you all enjoy my new post on the Fairy Gardens. It has been on of my favorite and thought I would share a different version. With love to you all from me, The Fairy Lady