Little People, an Irish fairy tale

The reign of roses

"Don't bother them, my dear. You were lucky they found your little trap hilarious!"

"Mister O'Reilly, what happened in this valley? Why is everyone warning me against the little people?"

A long silence followed, during which the old man sipped his Connemara peated whiskey.

"Sweetheart, you may hear a lot of tales down at the pub, but also in our family there's something to tell. You've never known your cousin Billy, haven't you? Well, he might tell you about that time he became slave of the Queen of Spiny Roses for a whole moon cycle."

"Slave?"

"Don't be surprised. They're ancient souls. They conceive only those rapports they can understand and here in the citadel for a thousand years there was a Count and his servants. They don't understand this free life thing, without owners, where everyone seems equal to each other.

They have a very strict hierarchy and I can promise you.. if you keep giving enough rope, they will tie you up. At least, that's what happened to Billy."

"What did Billy have to do for the Queen?"

"At that time Billy would have sold his soul to fill his glass, to those vices the good people like to cling.

A night in the woods a little crowd of fairies bumped into giant Billy, the Queen ordered her folks to bring their guest a glass of the bitter Spirit's nectar. He guzzle that witches' brew without a single word.

He could swear it was tasty like ambrosia of all forgotten Gods.

The Queen claimed a payment for his drink and Billy started to mock her

'Is it I pay you?' said Billy 'could I not just take you

up and put you in my pocket as easily as a blackberry?'

The Queen did not let go of that insolence and the good lords tightened the invisible harness they caught him in and led him to their ruler like a steed.

She imposed a vow of obedience till the end of next moon cycle and on occasion she showed off their rivals her power over him, claiming his tongue as footrest."

"I don't get what you're saying, sir. You did tell me we've got power over fairy manifestation.. that it depends on our thoughts and our desires, our hopes and fears."

The old man smiled

"From which slavery would a man gladly be freed? From drink-slavery or from a queen-slavery?"

The girl understood that story was concealing a metaphor of redemption and humility. The old man's stories are indeed so bewildering: you never know where the symbol ends and the anecdote begins.

"Anyway when we found Billy he was covered in stings from the waist up. He said the ball of Roses court had been held on his chest. A ball where every damsel's heel is a thorn of a flower and all skirts are petals. To us he had fallen in a field full of nettles."

"What a strange story. I would never be enslaved by such a wicked Queen. Why didn't he rise up against her, I wonder."

The old man shrugged muttering a proverb of his parts "The lake is not burdened by its swan, the steed by its bridle, or a man by the soul that is in him".

***

That night Elizabeth wrote a quick note in Gaelic by the windowsill:"I want to meet you. Come and see me.".

She left a sugar cube as gift.

The girl rolled over her bed restlessly, hoping her message would reach its destination and, as often happens, sleep came all of a sudden, like a swoon.