Daughter of the Fairy King
For the next bedtime I chose to begin tellin' me grandkids a different type of story: an epic adventure. I also thought me stories might be more interestin' if the hero or heroine seemed a more like one of 'em:
'A maid-child were born on a cold and strangely cloudless evenin' in Misthallow to a poor woman of the Hobaid ("Hobbit Folk"). It were the Grianstad an Gheimhridh ("Winter Solstice"), the shortest day of the year.
Her child, she said, had been conceived nine months earlier by her fairy husband on the night of their weddin'. Sadly, he disappeared the mornin' after the nuptials never to be seen again. The woman's neighbors claimed that the maid-child weren't hers at all but a changelin' left by goblins.'
'Goblins!' interjected Dooli.
'Hush now!' says his younger sister Darowva.
'I'm tryin' to hear!" complained Diolun.
Daibhidh, for a change, said nothing.
Beacha, as usual, were already fast asleep.
I continued...
'The woman named her daughter Beannaithe ("blessed"). Within hours of havin' been born Beannaithe began to sprout insect-like wings. When the neighbors saw Beannaithe they began callin' her Bumbóg ("bumblebee").
Beannaithe were a shy wee lass. The fact that folk stared at her and called her names may have been the cause. Whether it were her shyness or some other defect, Beannaithe never learnt to speak as do other children of the Hobaid.'
'Beannaithe could, however, communicate through facial expressions, gestures and peculiar hummin' sounds. Her mother learnt that Beannaithe hums "mm hm" for yes and "mm mm" for no. The meanin' of her other vocalisations could not yet be determined.'
'Is this story about Beacha?' asked Diolun.
'No, lad,' I answered. 'It isn't about Beacha at all. Beannaithe is a character in a fairy-story.'
'Are ye certain?' Diolun persisted.
'Aye, I'm quite certain,' I said with a laugh. I wasn't certain, however, whether Diolun were convinced. From the looks on their faces, I'm not certain me other grandkids were convinced, either.
Beacha herself had no reaction for she were, as usual, already asleep.
'Storytime is over,' declared me eldest daughter Ériu who'd just come from the kitchen.
'Ah!' the children complained.
Ériu and her sisters Banba and Fódla led the children off to bed with more than the usual amount of resistance.
'I hope he tells a story about me next!' I heard Diolun exclaim.
It appears that me grandkids were enjoyin' the story.
