A Clergyman's Daughter Married To A Fairy Man

In a certain district of Iceland, there lived a clergyman who had a daughter in the early bloom of womanhood. One day, when the conversation turned on the subject of elves or fairies, the young woman happened to say,

“I should like to be married to a fairy man, if he were only a brave one.”

Her father was very angry at her words, and gave her a good scolding and a box on the ear besides. Shortly afterwards, a child about the parsonage saw a man ride up to the door of the house, and then dismount. Watching his opportunity, the man stepped indoors, and soon reappeared, leading the clergyman’s daughter by the hand. Before he could be prevented, he mounted on horseback and rode off with her. Her sorrowful parents searched for her throughout all the neighbouring country, but nowhere could she be found.

It is told, that three winters after this time, a shepherd who had been long in the clergyman’s service, and had loved his daughter dearly, one day lost his way and all the sheep. After wandering about for hours, he found himself at the door of a farm house he had never before seen. The farmer, a fine manly looking fellow, came out, and after listening to his story offered him a bed for the night. He accepted the offer gladly, but at the same time lamented over the loss of the sheep.

“Don’t bother yourself about them to-night,” said the farmer, “be sure they will turn up again;” and with that he led him to a room up stairs. There he saw an old man and woman, and two children who were playing on the floor. But, besides these, he saw the clergyman’s lost daughter who was now the wife of the man who had asked him in.

The shepherd was entertained with the best that was in the house; and when bed-time came, was shown to a private sleeping room. The clergyman’s daughter then went to him, and handing him a leather bag, asked him faithfully to deliver to her mother some valuables she had put in it. She also bade him tell her mother that though her husband was a fairy man, he did not hinder her from saying her prayers every night. On the shepherd asking her if ever she went to church, she said she was there just as often as himself, and that she always sat under the pulpit, with her husband, beside the altar.

“How does it come that nobody ever sees you in church?”

“Oh, the reason is,” she replied, “that we always leave the church before the blessing. But don’t tell anybody what I have now mentioned. Only deliver the leather bag to my mother; for if you blab what I’ve told you, be sure you will be an unfortunate man.”

He gave her a promise of secrecy; on that, she left the room. On getting up in the morning, he was glad to learn that his lost sheep had turned up. The farmer, who had fed them on hay during the night, delivered them up to him, and put him on the right road. He got home with the sheep in safety, and after a very short journey; but he never could tell which way he came. As for the promise of secrecy, he paid no attention to it; but on the contrary gave a full and exact account of everything he had seen and heard.

Now, the clergyman, who was anxious to find his daughter, bethought himself of a plan, and that was, to pronounce the blessing before she could have time to get out of church. So he went round among his parishioners, and told them not to be shocked if they should hear him the next Sunday pronounce the blessing at an earlier stage of the service than usual. When next Sunday came, his daughter occupied her customary seat, though not visible to any one in the church. In the middle of the service the clergyman stopped and pronounced the blessing. His daughter, thus caught unawares, was obliged to discover herself. He did what he could to induce her to stay, but all in vain.

“If you try to force me,” said she, “the consequences will be very serious; and besides, it would not be right in me to leave a husband who has always treated me so kindly.”

Of the shepherd, it is told, that he was from that day unfortunate in all that he had to do with. But one cannot be sorry for him, as he brought his troubles on his own head through his want of truthfulness.