TALESFROMTHEPERILOUSREALM

BYJ.R.R.Tolkien

HoughtonMifflinHarcourt

TableofContentsTitlePageINTRODUCTIONROVERANDOM12345

FARMERGILESOFHAMFOREWORDFARMERGILESOFHAM

THEADVENTURESOFTOMBOMBADILPREFACE1THEADVENTURESOFTOMBOMBADIL2BOMBADILGOESBOATING3ERRANTRY4PRINCESSMEE5THEMANINTHEMOONSTAYEDUPTOOLATE6THEMANINTHEMOONCAMEDOWNTOOSOON7THESTONETROLL8PERRY-THE-WINKLE9THEMEWLIPS10OLIPHAUNT11FASTITOCALON12CAT13SHADOW-BRIDE14THEHOARD15THESEA-BELL16THELASTSHIP

SMITHOFWOOTTONMAJORSMITHOFWOOTTONMAJOR

LEAFBYNIGGLELEAFBYNIGGLE

APPENDIXONFAIRY-STORIESFAIRY-STORYORIGINS

CHILDRENFANTASYRECOVERY,ESCAPE,CONSOLATIONEPILOGUENOTES

AbouttheAuthorWorksbyJ.R.R.TolkienCopyright

INTRODUCTIONWedonotknowwhenTolkienbegantoturnhisthoughtstothePerilousRealmofFaërie.Inhisessay“OnFairystories”,tobefoundattheendofthisbook,headmitsthathetooknoparticularinterestintalesofthatkindasachild:theywerejustoneofmanyinterests.A“realtaste”forthem,hesays,“waswakenedbyphilologyonthethresholdofmanhood,andquickenedtofulllifebywar”.Thisseemstobestrictlyaccurate.Thefirstofhisworkstotakeaninterestinfairies,thatweknowof,isapoemcalled“Wood-sunshine”,writtenin1910,whenTolkienwaseighteenandstillatKingEdward’sSchoolinBirmingham.Bytheendof1915,theyearinwhichhetookhisOxforddegreeandimmediatelyjoinedthearmytofightintheGreatWar,hehadwrittenseveralmore,someofthemcontainingmajorelementsofwhatwouldbehisdevelopedFaëriemythology.Bytheendof1917,mostofwhichhespentinmilitaryhospitalorwaitingtobepassedfitforactiveserviceoncemore,hehadwrittenthefirstdraftoftaleswhichwouldsixtyyearslaterbepublishedinTheSilmarillion,andmuchofMiddle-earth,asalsoofElvenhomebeyondit,hadtakenshapeinhismind.

Whathappenedthenisalongstory,aboutwhichwenowknowagreatdealmorethanwedid,butonceagainitwassummedupconciselyandsuggestivelybyTolkienhimself,inthestory“LeafbyNiggle”.Itisgenerallyacceptedthatthishasastrongelementofself-portraitaboutit,withTolkienthewriter—aconfirmed“niggler”,ashesaidhimself—transposedasNigglethepainter.Niggle,thestorytellsus,wasbusyonallkindsofpictures,butoneinparticularstartedtogrowonhim.Itbeganasjustasingleleaf,butthenitbecameatree,andthetreegrewtobeaTree,andbehinditawholecountrystartedtoopenout,with“glimpsesofaforestmarchingovertheland,andofmountainstippedwithsnow”.Niggle,Tolkienwrote,“lostinterestinhisotherpictures;orelsehetookthemandtackedthemontotheedgesofhisgreatpicture”.

OnceagainthisisanaccurateaccountofwhatTolkiencanbeseendoinginthe1920s,1930s,and1940s.Duringthosethirtyyearshekeptworkingatvariantsof“Silmarillion”stories,writingoccasionalpoems,oftenanonymously,andmakingupotherstories,notalwayswrittendownandsometimestoldinitiallyonlytohischildren.TheHobbitstartedlifeasoneofthese,setinMiddleearth,buttobeginwithconnectedonlytangentiallywiththeElvish

historyoftheSilmarils:itwas,tousethemodernterm,aspin-off.TheLordoftheRingswasafurtherspin-off,thistimefromTheHobbit,andinitiallymotivatedbyTolkien’spublisher’sstrongdesireforaHobbit-sequel.ButwhatTolkienstartedtodo,justlikeNiggle,wastotakethingshehadwrittenbeforeandstart“tackingthemontotheedges”.TomBombadil,whohadbegunasthenameforachild’stoy,gotintoprintin1934astheheroofapoem,andthenbecameperhapsthemostmysteriousfigureintheworldofTheLordoftheRings.Thatworkalsodrewinotherpoems,someofthemcomic,likeSamGamgee’s“Oliphaunt”rhyme,firstpublishedin1927,othersgraveandsad,liketheversionStridergivesonWeathertopofthetaleofBerenandLúthien,againgoingbacktoapoempublishedin1925,andbasedonastorywrittenevenearlier.

Quitewhatwasthe“leaf”ofTolkien’soriginalinspiration,andwhathemeantby“theTree”,wecannotbesure,thoughthe“forestmarchingovertheland”doessoundveryliketheEnts.ButthelittleallegorymakesonefurtherpointwhichcorroborateswhatTolkiensaidelsewhere,andthatisthat“fairy-stories”,whoevertellsthem,arenotaboutfairiessomuchasaboutFaërie,thePerilousRealmitself.Tolkienindeedassertedtherearenotmanystoriesactuallyaboutfairies,orevenaboutelves,andmostofthem—hewastoomodesttoadd,unlesstheywerewrittenbyTolkienhimself—werenotveryinteresting.Mostgoodfairy-storiesareabout“theaventuresofmeninthePerilousRealmoruponitsshadowymarches”,averyexactdescriptiononceagainofTolkien’sowntalesofBerenonthemarchesorbordersofDoriath,TúrinskirmishingaroundNargothrond,orTuorescapingfromtheFallofGondolin.Tolkienremainedstronglyambivalentabouttheverynotionof“fairy”.Hedislikedtheword,asaborrowingfromFrench—theEnglishwordis“elf”—andhealsodislikedthewholeVictoriancultoffairiesaslittle,pretty,ineffectivecreatures,pronetobeingco-optedintotheserviceofmoraltalesforchildren,andoftenirretrievablyphony.Muchofhisessay“OnFairy—Stories”,indeed(publishedin1945inamemorialvolumeforCharlesWilliams,andthereexpandedfromalecturegivenin1939inhonourofAndrewLangthefairy-talecollector)isavowedlycorrective,bothofscholarlyterminologyandofpopulartaste.Tolkienthoughtheknewbetter,wasintouchwitholder,deeper,andmorepowerfulconceptionsthantheVictoriansknew,eventhoseaslearnedasAndrewLang.

However,whilehehadnotimeforfairies,TolkienwasallforFaërieitself,theland,asBilboBagginsputsit,of“dragonsandgoblinsandgiants”,thelandwhereonemayhearof“therescueofprincessesandtheunexpectedluckof

widow’ssons”.ThestoriesandpoemsinthisbookshowTolkientryingoutvariousapproachestoperilousrealmsofonekindoranother,allofthemsuggestive,original,independent.Theyrepresent,onemaysay,thepicturesNiggledidnot“tackontotheedgesofhisgreatpicture”.Theyhinttantalisinglyatdirectionswhichmighthavebeenexploredfurther,likethelaterunwrittenhistoryofFarmerGiles’sLittleKingdom.AndtheygivequitedifferentviewsofTolkien’sinspiration,spreadoveraperiodofatleastfortyyears,andextendingfrommaturitytooldage.Also,asithappens,weknowagooddealabouthoweachofthemcameintobeing.

Roverandom,notpublishedtill1998,beganmorethanseventyyearsearlierasastorywithasinglelimitedpurpose:toconsolealittleboyforthelossofhistoydog.InSeptember1925theTolkienfamily,father,mother,andthreesons,John(agedeight),Michael(agedfive),andbabyChristopher,wentonholidaytotheseasidetownofFileyinYorkshire.Michaelatthattimewasveryattachedtoasmalltoydog,whichwenteverywherewithhim.Heandhisfatherandelderbrotherwentdowntothebeach,heputitdowntoplay,butwhentheywentbackforittheycouldn’tfindit:thedogwaswhitewithblackspots,andonawhiteshinglebeachitwasinvisible.Theylookedforitwithoutsuccessthatdayandthenext,andthenastormwreckedthebeachandmadefurthersearchimpossible.TocheerMichaelup,TolkieninventedastoryinwhichtoyRoverwasnotatoy,butarealdogturnedintoatoybyanangrywizard;thetoythenmetafriendlywizardonthebeach,whosenthimoffonvariousquestsinordertobecomearealdogagain,andbereunitedwithhisone-timeowner,theboycalled“Two”.LikeallTolkien’sstories,thisgrewinthetelling,beingwrittendown,withseveralofTolkien’sownillustrations,probablyaroundChristmas1927,andreachingfinalshapeataboutthesametimeasTheHobbit,in1936.

BesidesthebeachatFiley,whereRovermeetsthesandwizardPsamathos,Roverandomhasthreemainsettings,thelightsideoftheMoon,wheretheManintheMoonhashistower,thedarkside,wheresleepingchildrencomedownthemoon-pathtoplayinthevalleyofdreams,andtheunderseakingdomofthemer-king,wheretheangrywizardArtaxerxeshasgonetotakeupapositionasPacificAtlanticMagician,orPAM.BothintheMoonandundertheseaRoverisbefriendedbyamoon-dog,oramer-dog,bothcalledRover,whichiswhyhehastotakethenameRoverandom.Thethreeofthemgetintocontinualscrapes,teasingtheGreatWhiteDragonontheMoon,andstirringuptheSea-serpenton

theocean-bed,whosewrithingssendastormliketheonethatscatteredtheshingleatFiley,whileRoverandomiscarriedbythegreatwhaleUinacrosstheShadowySeasandbeyondtheMagicIslestowithinsightofElvenhomeitselfandthelightofFaery—thenearestTolkiencomestoattachingthisstorytohisgreatermythology.“Ishouldcatchit,ifthiswasfoundout!”,saysUin,divinghastily,andwehearnomoreofwhatwouldbeValinor.

“Catchit!”capturesthetoneofthisearlyandhumorouspiece.Thelittledogs’adventuresareplayful,theanimalswhotransportthem,MewthegullandUinthewhale,arenoworsethancondescending,andeventhethreewizardswhomakeanappearancearegood-naturedor,inthecaseofArtaxerxes,somethinglessthancompetent.Neverthelesstherearehintsofthingsolderanddarkeranddeeper.TheGreatWhiteDragonthedogsteaseontheMoonisalsotheWhiteDragonofEnglandintheMerlinlegend,foreveratwarwiththeRedDragonoftheWelsh;theSea-serpentrecallstheMidgardSerpentwhowillbethedeathofThoronthedayofRagnarok;mer-dogRoverremembersaVikingmasterwhosoundsverylikethefamousKingOlafTryggvason.Thereismyth,andlegend,andevenhistory,inRoverandom.NordidTolkienforgetthatevenforchildrentheremustbesuggestionsofperilinthePerilousRealm.ThedarksideoftheMoonhasblackspiders,aswellasgreyonesreadytopicklelittledogsfortheirlarders,whileonthewhiteside“thereweresword-flies,andglass-beetleswithjawslikesteel-traps,andpaleunicornetswithstingslikespears…Andworsethantheinsectsweretheshadowbats”,nottomention,onthewaybackfromthevalleywherethechildrengoindreams,“nastycreepythingsinthebogs”thatwithouttheManintheMoon’sprotection“wouldotherwisehavegrabbedthelittledogquick”.Therearesea-goblinstoo,andawholelistofcalamitiescausedbyArtaxerxestippingouthisspells.AlreadyTolkienhadgraspedtheeffectofsuggestion,ofstoriesnottold,ofbeingsandpowers(liketheNecromancerinTheHobbit)heldjustoutofsight.Whateverlogicmaysay,timespentondetails,evenwhentheyleadnowhere,isnotallsimply“niggling”.

Humourisalsothedominanttoneof“FarmerGilesofHam”,butitishumourofadifferentsort,moreadultandevenscholarly.Onceagain,thisstorybeganasataletoldimpromptutoTolkien’schildren:hiseldestsonJohnrememberedbeingtoldaversionofitasthefamilyshelteredunderabridgefromastorm,probablyaftertheymovedtoOxfordin1926.(OneofthemajorscenesinthestoryisthedragonChrysophylaxcomingoutfromunderabridge

toroutthekingandhisarmy.)Inthefirstwrittenversion,thenarratoris“Daddy”,andachildinterruptstoaskwhatisa“blunderbuss”.Thetalewassteadilyexpanded,reachingitsfinalshapewhenitwasreadtoanOxfordstudentsocietyinJanuary1940,andwaseventuallypublishedin1949.

Thefirstjokeliesinthetitle,forwehavetwoofthem,oneinEnglishandoneinLatin.TolkienpretendstohavetranslatedthestoryoutofLatin,andinhis“Foreword”imitatesakindofscholarlyintroduction,whichisthoroughlypatronising.Theimaginaryeditordespisestheimaginarynarrator’sLatin,seesthetaleasusefulmainlyforexplainingplace-names,andraisesasnobbisheyebrowatthosedeludedpeoplewho“mayfindthecharacterandadventuresofitsheroattractiveinthemselves”.Butthetaletakesitsrevenge.Theeditorshowshisapprovalof“soberannals”and“historiansofthereignofArthur”,butthe“swiftalternationsofwarandpeace”hementionscomefromthestartoftheromanceofSirGawainandtheGreenKnight,asmarvellousandunhistoricalasourceasonecouldhopetofind.Asthestoryindicates,thetruthisthatthe“popularlays”whichtheeditorsneersataremuchmorereliablethanthescholarlycommentaryimposedonthem.AllthroughFarmerGiles,theoldandthetraditionaldefeatthelearnedandnew-fangled.The“FourWiseClerksofOxenford”defineablunderbuss,andtheirdefinitionisthatofthegreatOxfordEnglishDictionarywith(inTolkien’sday)itsfoursuccessiveeditors.Giles’sblunderbuss,however,defiesthedefinitionandworksjustthesame.“Plainheavyswords”are“outoffashion”attheking’scourt,andthekinggivesoneawaytoGilesasbeingofnovalue:buttheswordis“Tailbiter”(orifoneinsistsonusingLatin,“Caudimordax”),andGilesisheartenedbyhavingit,eveninthefaceofdragons,becauseofhisloveoftheoldtalesandheroicsongswhichhavegoneoutoffashiontoo.

Goneoutoffashion,maybe,butnotgoneaway.AllhislifeTolkienwasfascinatedbysurvivals:wordsandphrasesandsayings,evenstoriesandrhymes,whichcamefromaprehistoricpastbutwhichhadbeenpassedonbywordofmouth,quitenaturally,oftengarbledandgenerallyunrecognized,rightdowntomoderncommonexperience.Fairy-storiesareanobviousexample,keptinbeingforcenturiesnotbyscholarsbutbyoldgranniesandnursemaids.Nursery-rhymestoo.Wheredotheycomefrom?OldKingColefiguresinTolkien’s“Foreword”(suitablytransferredtoscholarlypseudohistory),andChrysophylaxquotes“HumptyDumpty”whenhecomesoutfromunderthebridge.Twomorenursery-rhymeswererewrittenasthe“ManintheMoon”poemsinTomBombadil.Riddlesaresurvivalsaswell,toldbyAnglo-Saxons(westillhave

morethanahundredofthem),andbymodernschoolchildren.Andthentherearepopularsayings,alwaysopentorevision—“SunnySam”theblacksmithinvertsacoupleoftheminFarmerGiles,asdoesBilboinTheLordoftheRings,withhis“Allthatisgolddoesnotglitter”—butneverdyingout.Andthecommonesttypesofsurvivalarenames,ofpeopleandofplaces.Theyoftendescendfromremoteantiquity,theirmeaningisoftenforgotten,buttheyarestilloverpoweringlypresent.Tolkienwasconvincedthatoldheroicnameshungoneveninnamesassociatedwithhisownfamily,andoneinspirationforFarmerGilesmustbetheurgeto“makesense”ofthelocalBuckinghamshireplacenamesofTameandWorminghall.

Mythsarethegreatestofsurvivals,though,andthemostimportantrevengeinFarmerGilesistherevengeofthemythicalontheeveryday.Forwhoistosaywhichiswhich?Itistheyoungandsillydragonswhoconclude“Soknightsaremythical!…Wealwaysthoughtso.”Itisthesillyover-civilisedcourtwhichpreferssweetandstickyMockDragon’sTailtoRealTail.Thecourtiers’descendants(Tolkienimplies)willeventuallysubstitutetheirfeebleimitationsfortherealthingeveninfantasy—justlikeNokestheCookinSmithofWoottonMajor,withhissaddiminishedideaoftheFairyQueenandFaërieitself.Gilesdealsfirmlyandfairlywithkingandcourtanddragonalike,thoughweshouldnotforgettheassistancehereceivesfromtheparson—ascholarwhomakesupforalltheothers—andfromthestory’sunsungheroine,thegreymare.Sheknewwhatshewasdoingallthetime,evenwhenshesniffedatGiles’sunnecessaryspurs.Hedidn’tneedtopretendtobeaknight.

TheAdventuresofTomBombadilalsoowetheirexistencetopromptingfromTolkien’sfamily.In1961hisAuntJaneNeavesuggestedtohimthathemightbringoutalittlebookwithTomBombadilinit,whichpeoplelikehercouldaffordtobuyasChristmaspresents.Tolkienrespondedbycollectingaclutchofpoemshehadalreadywrittenatdifferenttimesovertheprecedingfortyyearsormore.Mostofthesixteenhadbeenprinted,sometimesinveryobscurepublications,inthe1920sand1930s,butTolkientooktheopportunityin1962torevisethemthoroughly.BythistimeTheLordoftheRingshadappeared,andwasalreadywell-known,andTolkiendidwhatNigglehaddonewithhisearlierpictures:heputtheseearlycompositionsintotheoverallframeofhisgreaterone.Onceagainheusedthedeviceofthescholarlyeditor,thistimesomeonewhohasaccesstotheRedBookofWestmarch,thehobbit-compilationfrom

whichTheLordoftheRingswassupposedtohavebeendrawn,andwhohasdecidedthistimetoeditnotthemainstorybutthe“marginalia”—thethingswhichmedievalscribesinrealityoftenwroteroundtheedgesoftheirmoreofficialworks.

ThisdeviceallowedTolkientoputinpoemswhichwereclearlyjustjokes,likeno.12,“Cat”,writtenaslateas1956forhisgranddaughterJoanna;orpoemswhichhadnoconnectionwithMiddle-earth,likeno.9,“TheMewlips”,originallyprintedinTheOxfordMagazinefor1937andtheresub-titled“LinesInducedbySensationsWhenWaitingforanAnswerattheDoorofanExaltedAcademicPerson”;orpoemswhichdidhavesuchaconnection,butonewhichnowmadeTolkienuneasy.No.3,“Errantry”,forinstance,hadbeenfirstwrittenatleastthirtyyearsbefore,andhadthenbeenrevisedtobecomeasongsungbyBilboinTheLordoftheRings,butthenamesinitdidnotfitTolkien’sincreasinglydevelopedElvishlanguages.Editor-TolkienaccordinglyexplainsthatwhilethepoemisBilbo’s,hemusthavewrittenitnotlongafterhisretirementtoRivendell,atatimewhenhedidnotknowmuchaboutElvishtradition.BythetimeBilbocomposedtheLordoftheRingsversion,heknewbetter,thoughStriderstillthinksheshouldhaveleftwellalone.Severalotherpoems,likenos.7and8,thetwotroll-poems,orno.10,“Oliphaunt”,areascribedtoSamGamgee,whichhelpstoaccountfortheirnon-seriousnature.Nos.5and6,thetwo“ManintheMoon”poems,bothofthemdatingbackto1923,confirmTolkien’sinterestinnursery-rhymes:theyare,inTolkien’simagination,theoldcompletepoemsofwhichmodernchildren’srhymesaregarbleddescendants,andthekindofthingthatwouldhavebeenpopularinhisimaginaryShire.

ThefirsttwoandlastthreepoemsinthecollectionhowevershowTolkienworkingmoredeeplyandmoreseriously.No.1,thetitlepoem,hadalsobeenpublishedinTheOxfordMagazine,in1934,butno.2,“BombadilGoesBoating”,maydatebackevenfurther.LikeRoverandom,BombadilhadbegunasthenameofoneoftheTolkienchildren’stoys,buthadsoonestablishedhimselfasakindofimageoftheEnglishcountrysideandthecountry-folkandtheirenduringtraditions,powerful,indeedmasterful,butuninterestedinexercisingpower.InbothpoemsTomiscontinuallythreatened,seriouslybyBarrow-wight,jokinglybyotter-ladandbythehobbitswhoshootarrowsintohishat,orelseteasedbythewrenandthekingfisher,andagainbythehobbits.Hegivesasgoodashegets,orbetter,butwhilethefirstpoemendsonanoteoftriumphandcontentment,thesecondendsonanoteofloss:Tomwillnotcome

back.Thelastthreepoemsareallheavilyreworkedfromearlieroriginals,and

havebecomethematicallymuchdarker.“TheHoard”(goingbackto1923)describeswhatTolkieninTheHobbitwouldcall“dragon-sickness”,thegreedandpossessivenesswhichsuccessivelyoverpowerselfanddwarfanddragonandheroandleadsallofthem—likeThorinOakenshieldinTheHobbitandtheelf-kingThingol“Greycloak”inTheSilmarillion—totheirdeaths.“TheLastShip”showsTolkienbalancedbetweentwourges,ontheonehandthewishtoescapemortalityandtraveltotheUndyingLandslikeFrodo,andontheotherthesensethatthisisnotonlyimpossible,butultimatelyunwelcome:therightthingtodoistoturnbackandliveone’slife,likeSamGamgee.Rightitmaybe,butasArwenfinds,ifthereisnowaytoreverseitthatchoiceisbitter.Finally,“TheSea-Bell”remindsuswhythePerilousRealmisperilous.Thosewhohavetravelledtoit,likethespeakerofthepoem,knowtheywillnotbeallowedtostaythere,butwhentheycomeback,theyareoverwhelmedbyasenseofloss.AsSamGamgeesaysofGaladriel,theinhabitantsofFaëriemaymeannoharm,buttheyarestilldangerousforordinarymortals.Thosewhoencounterthemmayneverbethesameagain.InTolkien’seditorialfiction,thoughthespeakershouldnotbeidentifiedwithFrodohimself,thehobbit-scribewhocalledthepoem“FrodosDreme”wasexpressingthefearcreatedintheShirebythedimly-understoodeventsoftheWaroftheRing,asalso(inreality)Tolkien’sownsenseoflossandage.

ThesethemesbecomestrongerinTolkien’slastpublishedstory,SmithofWoottonMajor.Thisbeganwitharequestfromapublisher,in1964,thatTolkienshouldwriteaprefacetoanewillustratededitionofthestory“TheGoldenKey”,bytheVictorianauthorGeorgeMacDonald.(Tolkienhadpraisedthestoryinhisessay“OnFairy-Stories”nearlytwentyyearsbefore.)Tolkienagreed,beganworkonthepreface,andgotafewpagesintoitwhenhestartedtoillustratehisargumentabouttheunexpectedpowerofFaëriewithastoryaboutacooktryingtobakeacakeforachildren’sparty.Butatthatpointhebrokeoffthepreface,whichwasneverresumed,andwrotethestoryinstead.AdevelopedversionwasreadtoalargeaudienceinOxfordon28October1966,andthestorywaspublishedthefollowingyear.

Itstitleisalmostaggressivelyplain,evenmoresothanFarmerGilesofHam,andTolkienhimselfnotedthatitsoundedlikeanold-fashionedschool

story.Thename“Wootton”,however,thoughperfectlyordinaryinEngland,hasameaning,asallnamesoncedid.Itmeans“thetowninthewood”,andthesecondsentenceconfirmsthatitwas“deepinthetrees”.WoodsandforestswereimportantforTolkien,recurringfromMirkwoodtoFangorn,andoneoftheirrecurrent(andrealistic)featuresisthatinthempeoplelosetheirbearingsandtheirway.OnefeelsthisistrueoftheinhabitantsofWoottonMajor,ormanyofthem:abitsmug,easilysatisfied,concernedaboveallwithfoodanddrink—notentirelybadqualities,butlimited.TothisSmithisanexception.Atthechildren’spartywhichthevillageholdseverytwenty-fouryearsheswallowsastar,andthisstarishispassportintoFaërie(orFaery,asTolkienspellsithere).ThestoryfollowsSmith’slife,recountingsomeofhisvisionsandexperiencesinFaërie,butalsotakesusthroughrepeatedfestivalstillthetimewhenSmithhastogiveupthestar,andallowittobebakedintoacakeforsomeotherchildtosucceedhim.SmithknowswhenheleavesFaërieforthelasttimethat“hiswaynowledbacktobereavement”.Heisinthesameposition,ifwithmoreacceptance,asthenarratorof“TheSea-bell”.Thestoryis“afarewelltoFairyland”.

ThisdoesnotmeanthatSmithhasbeenafailure.HispassporttotheOtherWorldhasmadehimabetterpersoninthisone,andhislifehasdonesomethingtoweakenwhatTolkiencalled,inacommentaryonhisownstory,“theironringofthefamiliar”andthe“adamantineringofbelief”,inWootton,thateverythingworthknowingisknownalready.Thestarisalsopassedon,inanunexpectedway,andwillcontinuetobe.Neverthelessthepowerofthebanalremainsstrong,andthemainconflictinthestoryliesbetweenAlf—anemissaryfromFaërieintotherealworld,asSmithisavisitorintheoppositedirection—andhispredecessorasMasterCooktothevillage,whosenameisNokes.NokessumsupmuchofwhatTolkiendislikedinreallife.ItissadthathehassuchalimitedideahimselfofFaërie,ofwhateverliesbeyondthehumdrumworldofthevillagedeepamongthetrees,butitisinexcusablethathedeniesthattherecanbeanymoreimaginativeone,andtriestokeepthechildrendowntohisownlevel.Sweetandstickyishisideaofacake,insipidlyprettyishisideaoffairies.AgainstthisstandSmith’svisionsofthegrimelf-warriorsreturningfrombattlesontheDarkMarches,oftheKing’sTree,thewildWindandtheweepingbirch,theelf-maidensdancing.NokesisdauntedintheendbyhisapprenticeAlf,revealedastheKingofFaërie,butheneverchangeshismind.Hegetsthelastwordinthestory,mostoftheinhabitantsofWoottonarehappytoseeAlfgo,andthestarpassesoutofSmith’sfamilyandintoNokes’s.IfSmithandAlfand

Faëriehavehadaneffect,itwilltakeawhiletoshow.Butthatmaybejustthewaythingsare.

Thewaytheyareinthisworld,thatis.In“LeafbyNiggle”Tolkienpresentshisvisionofaworldelsewhere,onewithroominitforMiddle-earthandFaërieandallotherhearts’desiresaswell.Nevertheless,althoughitpresentsa“divinecomedy”andendswithworld-shakinglaughter,thestorybeganinfear.Tolkienreportedinmorethanoneletterthatthewholestorycametohiminadreamandthathewroteitdownimmediately,atsometime(reportsvary)between1939and1942.Thisisthemoreplausibleinthatitissoobviouswhatkindofadreamitwas:ananxiety-dream,ofthekindweallget.Studentswithanexamtotakedreamthattheyhaveoversleptandmissedit,academicsduetomakeapresentationdreamtheyhavearrivedonthepodiumwithnothingtoreadandnothingintheirheads,andthefearattheheartof“LeafbyNiggle”isclearlythatofnevergettingfinished.Niggleknowshehasadeadline—itisobviouslydeath,thejourneyweallhavetotake—hehasapaintinghedesperatelywantstofinish,butheputsthingsoffandputsthingsoff,andwhenhefinallybucklesdowntoit,firstthereisacallonhistimehecannotrefuse,andthenhegetssick,andthenanInspectorturnsupandcondemnshispaintingasscrap,andashestartstocontestthistheDriverturnsupandtellshimhemustleavenowwithnomorethanhecansnatchup.Heleaveseventhatlittlebagonthetrain,andwhenheturnsbackforit,thetrainhasgone.Thiskindofone-thing-after-anotherdreamisalltoofamiliar.Themotiveforitisalsoeasytoimagine,inTolkien’scase.By1940hehadbeenworkingonhis“Silmarillion”mythologyformorethantwentyyears,andnoneofithadbeenpublishedexceptforascatteringofpoemsandthe“spin-off”TheHobbit.HehadbeenwritingTheLordoftheRingssinceChristmas1937,andittoowasgoingslowly.Hisstudywasfullofdraftsandrevisions.Onecanguessalsothat,likemostprofessors,hefoundhismanyadministrativedutiesadistraction,thoughNiggle(andperhapsTolkien)isguiltilyawarethatheiseasilydistracted,andnotagoodmanagerofhistime.

Concentrationandtime-managementarewhatNigglehastolearnintheWorkhouse,whichmostcriticshaveidentifiedasaversionofPurgatory.HisrewardistofindthatintheOtherWorld,dreamscometrue:therebeforehimishisTree,betterthanhehadeverpainteditandbettereventhanhehadimaginedit,andbeyondittheForestandtheMountainsthathehadonlybeguntoimagine.Andyetthereisroomformoreimprovement,andtomakeitNigglehas

toworkwithhisneighbourParish,whointherealworldhadseemedonlyanotherdistraction.WhatbecomestheirjointvisionisrecognizedastherapeuticallyvaluableevenbytheVoiceswhojudgepeople’slives,buteventhenitisonlyanintroductiontoagreatervisionmortalscanonlyguessat.Buteveryonehastostartsomewhere.AstheFairyQueensaysinSmith,“Betteralittledoll,maybe,thannomemoryofFaeryatall”,andbetterFaerythannosenseofanythingbeyondthemundaneworldofeveryday.

“Leaf”afterallhastwoendings,oneintheOtherWorldandoneintheworldwhichNiggleleft.TheOtherWorldendingisoneofjoyandlaughter,butintherealworldhopeandmemoryarecrushed.Niggle’sgreatpaintingoftheTreewasusedtopatchahole,oneleafofitwenttoamuseum,butthattoowasburneddownandNigglewasentirelyforgotten.Thelastwordseversaidabouthimare“neverknewhepainted”,andthefutureseemstobelongtopeoplelikeCouncillorTompkins,withhisviewsonpracticaleducationand—rememberthatthisisastoryofatlatesttheearly1940s—theeliminationofundesirableelementsofSociety.Ifthereisaremedyforus,Tolkiensays,stressingthatNiggleusestheword“quiteliterally”,itwillbe“agift”.Anotherwordfor“gift”is“grace”.

“LeafbyNiggle”ends,then,bothwithwhatTolkienin“OnFairy-Stories”calls“dyscatastrophe…sorrowandfailure”,andwithwhatheregardsasthe“highestfunction”offairy-storyandofevangelium,the“goodnews”orGospelbeyondit,andthatis“eucatastrophe”,the“suddenjoyous‘turn’”,the“suddenandmiraculousgrace”,whichonefindsinGrimm,inmodernfairy-tale,andsupremelyinTolkien’sown“TalesofthePerilousRealm”.IntheMiddleEnglishpoemSirOrfeo,whichTolkieneditedin1943-4(inananonymouspamphletofwhich,characteristically,hardlyanycopiessurvive),thebaronscomfortthestewardwhohasjustbeentoldhislordisdead,“andtellethhimhouitgeth,/Itisnobotofmannesdeth”.That’sthewayitgoes,theysay,there’snohelpforit,orasTolkienrenderedthelastlineinhisposthumously-publishedtranslationof1975,“deathofmannomancanmend”.Thebaronsarecompassionate,well-intentioned,andaboveallsensible:thatisthewaythingsgo.Butthepoemprovesthemwrong,justthisonce,forOrfeoisalive,andhasrescuedhisqueenfromcaptivityinFaërieaswell.Wefindthesame“turn”inTheLordoftheRings,asSam,whohaslaindowntodieonMountDoomafterthedestructionoftheRing,wakestofindhimselfalive,rescued,andfacedby

theresurrectedGandalf.ThereisjoyinthePerilousRealm,andonitsDarkMarchestoo,allthestrongerforthereal-lifesorrowsandlosseswhichitchallengesandsurmounts.

TOMSHIPPEY

ROVERANDOM

1

Onceuponatimetherewasalittledog,andhisnamewasRover.Hewasverysmall,andveryyoung,orhewouldhaveknownbetter;andhewasveryhappyplayinginthegardeninthesunshinewithayellowball,orhewouldneverhavedonewhathedid.

Noteveryoldmanwithraggedtrousersisabadoldman:somearebone-and-bottlemen,andhavelittledogsoftheirown;andsomearegardeners;andafew,averyfew,arewizardsprowlingroundonaholidaylookingforsomethingtodo.Thisonewasawizard,theonethatnowwalkedintothestory.Hecamewanderingupthegarden-pathinaraggedoldcoat,withanoldpipeinhismouth,andanoldgreenhatonhishead.IfRoverhadnotbeensobusybarkingattheball,hemighthavenoticedthebluefeatherstuckinthebackofthegreenhat,andthenhewouldhavesuspectedthatthemanwasawizard,asanyothersensiblelittledogwould;butheneversawthefeatheratall.

Whentheoldmanstoopeddownandpickeduptheball—hewasthinkingofturningitintoanorange,orevenaboneorapieceofmeatforRover—Rovergrowled,andsaid:

‘Putitdown!’Withoutevera‘please’.Ofcoursethewizard,beingawizard,understoodperfectly,andhe

answeredbackagain:‘Bequiet,silly!’Withoutevera‘please’.Thenheputtheballinhispocket,justtoteasethedog,andturnedaway.I

amsorrytosaythatRoverimmediatelybithistrousers,andtoreoutquiteapiece.Perhapshealsotoreoutapieceofthewizard.Anywaytheoldmansuddenlyturnedroundveryangryandshouted:

‘Idiot!Goandbeatoy!’Afterthatthemostpeculiarthingsbegantohappen.Roverwasonlyalittle

dogtobeginwith,buthesuddenlyfeltverymuchsmaller.Thegrassseemedtogrowmonstrouslytallandwavefarabovehishead;andalongwayawaythroughthegrass,likethesunrisingthroughthetreesofaforest,hecouldseethehugeyellowball,wherethewizardhadthrownitdownagain.Heheardthegateclickastheoldmanwentout,buthecouldnotseehim.Hetriedtobark,butonlyalittletinynoisecameout,toosmallforordinarypeopletohear;andI

don’tsupposeevenadogwouldhavenoticedit.SosmallhadhebecomethatIamsure,ifacathadcomealongjustthen,

shewouldhavethoughtRoverwasamouse,andwouldhaveeatenhim.Tinkerwould.Tinkerwasthelargeblackcatthatlivedinthesamehouse.

AttheverythoughtofTinker,Roverbegantofeelthoroughlyfrightened;butcatsweresoonputrightoutofhismind.Thegardenabouthimsuddenlyvanished,andRoverfelthimselfwhiskedoff,hedidn’tknowwhere.Whentherushwasover,hefoundhewasinthedark,lyingagainstalotofhardthings;andtherehelay,inastuffyboxbythefeelofit,veryuncomfortablyforalongwhile.Hehadnothingtoeatordrink;butworstofall,hefoundhecouldnotmove.Atfirsthethoughtthiswasbecausehewaspackedsotight,butafterwardshediscoveredthatinthedaytimehecouldonlymoveverylittle,andwithagreateffort,andthenonlywhennoonewaslooking.Onlyaftermidnightcouldhewalkandwaghistail,andabitstifflyatthat.Hehadbecomeatoy.Andbecausehehadnotsaid‘please’tothewizard,nowalldaylonghehadtositupandbeg.Hewasfixedlikethat.

Afterwhatseemedaverylong,darktimehetriedoncemoretobarkloudenoughtomakepeoplehear.Thenhetriedtobitetheotherthingsintheboxwithhim,stupidlittletoyanimals,reallyonlymadeofwoodorlead,notenchantedrealdogslikeRover.Butitwasnogood;hecouldnotbarkorbite.

Suddenlysomeonecameandtookoffthelidofthebox,andletinthelight.‘Wehadbetterputafewoftheseanimalsinthewindowthismorning,

Harry,’saidavoice,andahandcameintothebox.‘Wheredidthisonecomefrom?’saidthevoice,asthehandtookholdofRover.‘Idon’trememberseeingthisonebefore.It’snobusinessinthethreepennybox,I’msure.Didyoueverseeanythingsoreal-looking?Lookatitsfuranditseyes!’

‘Markhimsixpence,’saidHarry,‘andputhiminthefrontofthewindow!’ThereinthefrontofthewindowinthehotsunpoorlittleRoverhadtosit

allthemorning,andalltheafternoon,tillnearlytea-time;andallthewhilehehadtositupandpretendtobeg,thoughreallyinhisinsidehewasveryangryindeed.

‘I’llrunawayfromtheveryfirstpeoplethatbuyme,’hesaidtotheothertoys.‘I’mreal.I’mnotatoy,andIwon’tbeatoy!ButIwishsomeonewouldcomeandbuymequick.Ihatethisshop,andIcan’tmoveallstuckupinthewindowlikethis.’

‘Whatdoyouwanttomovefor?’saidtheothertoys.‘Wedon’t.It’smorecomfortablestandingstillthinkingofnothing.Themoreyourest,thelongeryoulive.Sojustshutup!Wecan’tsleepwhileyou’retalking,andtherearehardtimesinroughnurseriesinfrontofsomeofus.’

Theywouldnotsayanymore,sopoorRoverhadnooneatalltotalkto,andhewasverymiserable,andverysorryhehadbittenthewizard’strousers.

Icouldnotsaywhetheritwasthewizardornotwhosentthemothertotakethelittledogawayfromtheshop.Anyway,justwhenRoverwasfeelinghismiserablest,intotheshopshewalkedwithashopping-basket.ShehadseenRoverthroughthewindow,andthoughtwhatanicelittledoghewouldbeforherboy.Shehadthreeboys,andonewasparticularlyfondoflittledogs,especiallyoflittleblackandwhitedogs.SosheboughtRover,andhewasscrewedupinpaperandputinherbasketamongthethingsshehadbeenbuyingfortea.

Roversoonmanagedtowrigglehisheadoutofthepaper.Hesmeltcake.Buthefoundhecouldnotgetatit;andrightdownthereamongthepaperbagshegrowledalittletoygrowl.Onlytheshrimpsheardhim,andtheyaskedhimwhatwasthematter.Hetoldthemallaboutit,andexpectedthemtobeverysorryforhim,buttheyonlysaid:

‘Howwouldyouliketobeboiled?Haveyoueverbeenboiled?’‘No!Ihaveneverbeenboiled,asfarasIremember,’saidRover,‘thoughI

havesometimesbeenbathed,andthatisnotparticularlynice.ButIexpectboilingisn’thalfasbadasbeingbewitched.’

‘Thenyouhavecertainlyneverbeenboiled,’theyanswered.‘Youknownothingaboutit.It’stheveryworstthingthatcouldhappentoanyone—wearestillredwithrageattheveryidea.’

Roverdidnotliketheshrimps,sohesaid:‘Nevermind,theywillsooneatyouup,andIshallsitandwatchthem!’

Afterthattheshrimpshadnomoretosaytohim,andhewaslefttolieandwonderwhatsortofpeoplehadboughthim.

Hesoonfoundout.Hewascarriedtoahouse,andthebasketwassetdownonatable,andalltheparcelsweretakenout.Theshrimpsweretakenofftothelarder,butRoverwasgivenstraightawaytothelittleboyhehadbeenboughtfor,whotookhimintothenurseryandtalkedtohim.

Roverwouldhavelikedthelittleboy,ifhehadnotbeentooangrytolisten

towhathewassayingtohim.Thelittleboybarkedathiminthebestdog-languagehecouldmanage(hewasrathergoodatit),butRovernevertriedtoanswer.Allthetimehewasthinkinghehadsaidhewouldrunawayfromthefirstpeoplethatboughthim,andhewaswonderinghowhecoulddoit;andallthetimehehadtositupandpretendtobeg,whilethelittleboypattedhimandpushedhimabout,overthetableandalongthefloor.

Atlastnightcame,andthelittleboywenttobed;andRoverwasputonachairbythebedside,stillbegginguntilitwasquitedark.Theblindwasdown;butoutsidethemoonroseupoutofthesea,andlaidthesilverpathacrossthewatersthatisthewaytoplacesattheedgeoftheworldandbeyond,forthosethatcanwalkonit.Thefatherandmotherandthethreelittleboyslivedclosebytheseainawhitehousethatlookedrightoutoverthewavestonowhere.

Whenthelittleboyswereasleep,Roverstretchedhistired,stifflegsandgavealittlebarkthatnobodyheardexceptanoldwickedspiderupacorner.Thenhejumpedfromthechairtothebed,andfromthebedhetumbledoffontothecarpet;andthenheranawayoutoftheroomanddownthestairsandalloverthehouse.

Althoughhewasverypleasedtobeabletomoveagain,andhavingoncebeenrealandproperlyalivehecouldjumpandrunagooddealbetterthanmosttoysatnight,hefounditverydifficultanddangerousgettingabout.Hewasnowsosmallthatgoingdownstairswasalmostlikejumpingoffwalls;andgettingupstairsagainwasverytiringandawkwardindeed.Anditwasallnouse.Hefoundallthedoorsshutandlocked,ofcourse;andtherewasnotacrackoraholebywhichhecouldcreepout.SopoorRovercouldnotrunawaythatnight,andmorningfoundaverytiredlittledogsittingupandpretendingtobegonthechair,justwherehehadbeenleft.

Thetwoolderboysusedtogetup,whenitwasfine,andrunalongthesandsbeforetheirbreakfast.Thatmorningwhentheywokeandpulleduptheblind,theysawthesunjumpingoutofthesea,allfiery-redwithcloudsabouthishead,asifhehadhadacoldbatheandwasdryinghimselfwithtowels.Theyweresoonupanddressed;andofftheywentdownthecliffandontotheshoreforawalk—andRoverwentwiththem.

JustaslittleboyTwo(towhomRoverbelonged)wasleavingthebedroom,hesawRoversittingonthechest-of-drawerswherehehadputhimwhilehewas

dressing.‘Heisbeggingtogoout!’hesaid,andputhiminhistrouser-pocket.ButRoverwasnotbeggingtogoout,andcertainlynotinatrouser-pocket.

Hewantedtorestandgetreadyforthenightagain;forhethoughtthatthistimehemightfindawayoutandescape,andwanderawayandaway,untilhecamebacktohishomeandhisgardenandhisyellowballonthelawn.Hehadasortofideathatifoncehecouldgetbacktothelawn,itmightcomeallright:theenchantmentmightbreak,orhemightwakeupandfindithadallbeenadream.So,asthelittleboysscrambleddownthecliffpathandgallopedalongthesands,hetriedtobarkandstruggleandwriggleinthepocket.Tryhowhewould,hecouldonlymoveaverylittle,eventhoughhewashiddenandnoonecouldseehim.Stillhedidwhathecould,andluckhelpedhim.Therewasahandkerchiefinthepocket,allcrumpledandbundledup,sothatRoverwasnotverydeepdown,andwhatwithhiseffortsandthegallopingofhismaster,beforelonghehadmanagedtopokeouthisnoseandhaveasniffround.

Verysurprisedhewas,too,atwhathesmeltandwhathesaw.Hehadnevereitherseenorsmelttheseabefore,andthecountryvillagewherehehadbeenbornwasmilesandmilesfromsoundorsnuffofit.

Suddenly,ashewasleaningout,agreatbigbird,allwhiteandgrey,wentsweepingbyjustovertheheadsoftheboys,makinganoiselikeagreatcatonwings.Roverwassostartledthathefellrightoutofthepocketontothesoftsand,andnooneheardhim.Thegreatbirdflewonandaway,nevernoticinghistinybarks,andthelittleboyswalkedonandonalongthesands,andneverthoughtabouthimatall.

AtfirstRoverwasverypleasedwithhimself.‘I’verunaway!I’verunaway!’hebarked,toybarkingthatonlyothertoys

couldhaveheard,andtherewerenonetolisten.Thenherolledoverandlayinthecleandrysandthatwasstillcoolfromlyingoutallnightunderthestars.

Butwhenthelittleboyswentbyontheirwayhome,andnevernoticedhim,andhewasleftallaloneontheemptyshore,hewasnotquitesopleased.Theshorewasdesertedexceptbythegulls.Besidethemarksoftheirclawsonthesandtheonlyotherfootprintstobeseenwerethetracksofthelittleboys’feet.Thatmorningtheyhadgonefortheirwalkonaverylonelypartofthebeachthattheyseldomvisited.Indeeditwasnotoftenthatanyonewentthere;forthoughthesandwascleanandyellow,andtheshinglewhite,andtheseabluewithsilverfoaminalittlecoveunderthegreycliffs,therewasaqueerfeelingthere,except

justatearlymorningwhenthesunwasnew.Peoplesaidthatstrangethingscamethere,sometimesevenintheafternoon;andbytheeveningtheplacewasfullofmermenandmermaidens,nottospeakofthesmallersea-goblinsthatrodetheirsmallsea-horseswithbridlesofgreenweedrightuptothecliffsandleftthemlyinginthefoamattheedgeofthewater.

Nowthereasonofallthisqueernesswassimple:theoldestofallthesand-sorcererslivedinthatcove,Psamathistsasthesea-peoplecallthemintheirsplashinglanguage.PsamathosPsamathideswasthisone’sname,orsohesaid,andagreatfusshemadeabouttheproperpronunciation.Buthewasawiseoldthing,andallsortsofstrangefolkcametoseehim;forhewasanexcellentmagician,andverykindly(totherightpeople)intothebargain,ifabitcrustyonthesurface.Themer-folkusedtolaughoverhisjokesforweeksafteroneofhismidnightparties.Butitwasnoteasytofindhiminthedaytime.Helikedtolieburiedinthewarmsandwhenthesunwasshining,sothatnotmorethanthetipofoneofhislongearsstuckout;andevenifbothofhisearswereshowing,mostpeoplelikeyouandmewouldhavetakenthemforbitsofstick.

ItispossiblethatoldPsamathosknewallaboutRover.Hecertainlyknewtheoldwizardwhohadenchantedhim;formagiciansandwizardsarefewandfarbetween,andtheyknowoneanotherverywell,andkeepaneyeononeanother’sdoingstoo,notalwaysbeingthebestoffriendsinprivatelife.AtanyratetherewasRoverlyinginthesoftsandandbeginningtofeelverylonelyandratherqueer,andtherewasPsamathos,thoughRoverdidnotseehim,peepingathimoutofapileofsandthatthemermaidshadmadeforhimthenightbefore.

Butthesand-sorcerersaidnothing.AndRoversaidnothing.Andbreakfast-timewentby,andthesungothighandhot.Roverlookedatthesea,whichsoundedcool,andthenhegotahorriblefright.Atfirsthethoughtthatthesandmusthavegotintohiseyes,butsoonhesawthattherecouldbenomistake:theseawasmovingnearerandnearer,andswallowingupmoreandmoresand;andthewavesweregettingbiggerandbiggerandmorefoamyallthetime.

Thetidewascomingin,andRoverwaslyingjustbelowthehigh-watermark,buthedidnotknowanythingaboutthat.Hegrewmoreandmoreterrifiedashewatched,andthoughtofthesplashingwavescomingrightuptothecliffsandwashinghimawayintothefoamingsea(farworsethananysoapybathing-tub),stillmiserablybegging.

Thatisindeedwhatmighthavehappenedtohim;butitdidnot.IdaresayPsamathoshadsomethingtodowithit;atanyrateIimaginethatthewizard’sspellwasnotsostronginthatqueercove,soclosetotheresidenceofanothermagician.Certainlywhentheseahadcomeverynear,andRoverwasnearlyburstingwithfrightashestruggledtorollabitfurtherupthebeach,hesuddenlyfoundhecouldmove.

Hissizewasnotchanged,buthewasnolongeratoy.Hecouldmovequicklyandproperlywithallhislegs,daytimethoughitstillwas.Heneednotbeganymore,andhecouldrunoverthesandswheretheywereharder;andhecouldbark—nottoybarks,butrealsharplittlefairy-dogbarksequaltohisfairy-dogsize.Hewassodelighted,andhebarkedsoloud,thatifyouhadbeenthere,youwouldhaveheardhimthen,clearandfar-away-like,liketheechoofasheep-dogcomingdownthewindinthehills.

Andthenthesand-sorcerersuddenlystuckhisheadoutofthesand.Hecertainlywasugly,andaboutasbigasaverylargedog;buttoRoverinhisenchantedsizehelookedhideousandmonstrous.Roversatdownandstoppedbarkingatonce.

‘Whatareyoumakingsuchanoiseabout,littledog?’saidPsamathosPsamathides.‘Thisismytimeforsleep!’

Asamatteroffactalltimesweretimesforhimtogotosleep,unlesssomethingwasgoingonwhichamusedhim,suchasadanceofthemermaidsinthecove(athisinvitation).Inthatcasehegotoutofthesandandsatonarocktoseethefun.Mermaidsmaybeverygracefulinthewater,butwhentheytriedtodanceontheirtailsontheshore,Psamathosthoughtthemcomical.

‘Thisismytimeforsleep!’hesaidagain,whenRoverdidnotanswer.StillRoversaidnothing,andonlywaggedhistailapologetically.

‘DoyouknowwhoIam?’heasked.‘IamPsamathosPsamathides,thechiefofallthePsamathists!’Hesaidthisseveraltimesveryproudly,pronouncingeveryletter,andwitheveryPheblewacloudofsanddownhisnose.

Roverwasnearlyburiedinit,andhesattherelookingsofrightenedandsounhappythatthesand-sorcerertookpityonhim.Infacthesuddenlystoppedlookingfierceandburstoutlaughing:

‘Youareafunnylittledog,LittleDog!IndeedIdon’tremembereverhavingseenanotherlittledogthatwasquitesuchalittledog,LittleDog!’

Andthenhelaughedagain,andafterthathesuddenlylookedsolemn.‘Haveyoubeenhavinganyquarrelswithwizardslately?’heaskedalmost

inawhisper;andheshutoneeye,andlookedsofriendlyandsoknowingoutoftheotheronethatRovertoldhimallaboutit.Itwasprobablyquiteunnecessary,forPsamathos,asItoldyou,probablyknewaboutitbeforehand;stillRoverfeltallthebetterfortalkingtosomeonewhoappearedtounderstandandhadmoresensethanmeretoys.

‘Itwasawizardallright,’saidthesorcerer,whenRoverhadfinishedhistale.‘OldArtaxerxes,Ishouldthinkfromyourdescription.HecomesfromPersia.Buthelosthiswayoneday,aseventhebestwizardssometimesdo(unlesstheyalwaysstayathomelikeme),andthefirstpersonhemetontheroadwentandputhimonthewaytoPershoreinstead.Hehaslivedinthoseparts,exceptonholidays,eversince.Theysayheisanimbleplum-gathererforanoldman—twothousand,ifheisaday—andextremelyfondofcider.Butthat’sneitherherenorthere.’BywhichPsamathosmeantthathewasgettingawayfromwhathewantedtosay.‘Thepointis,whatcanIdoforyou?’

‘Idon’tknow,’saidRover.‘Doyouwanttogohome?IamafraidIcan’tmakeyouyourpropersize,at

leastnotwithoutaskingArtaxerxes’permissionfirst,asIdon’twanttoquarrelwithhimatthemoment.ButIthinkImightventuretosendyouhome.Afterall,Artaxerxescanalwayssendyoubackagain,ifhewantsto.Thoughofcoursehemightsendyousomewheremuchworsethanatoyshopnexttime,ifhewasreallyannoyed.’

Roverdidnotlikethesoundofthisatall,andheventuredtosaythatifhewentbackhomesosmall,hemightnotberecognized,exceptbyTinkerthecat;andhedidnotverymuchwanttoberecognizedbyTinkerinhispresentstate.

‘Verywell!’saidPsamathos.‘Wemustthinkofsomethingelse.Inthemeantime,asyouarerealagain,wouldyoulikesomethingtoeat?’

BeforeRoverhadtimetosay‘Yes,please!YES!PLEASE!’thereappearedonthesandsinfrontofhimalittleplatewithbreadandgravyandtwotinybonesofjusttherightsize,andalittledrinking-bowlfullofwaterwithdrinkpuppydrinkwrittenrounditinsmallblueletters.Heateanddrankalltherewasbeforeheasked:‘Howdidyoudothat?—Thankyou!’

Hesuddenlythoughtofaddingthe‘thankyou’,aswizardsandpeopleofthatsortseemedrathertouchyfolk.Psamathosonlysmiled;soRoverlaydownonthehotsandandwenttosleep,anddreamedofbones,andofchasingcatsupplum-treesonlytoseethemchangeintowizardswithgreenhatswhothrewenormousplumslikemarrowsathim.Andthewindblewgentlyallthetime,andburiedhimalmostoverhisheadinblownsand.

Thatiswhythelittleboysneverfoundhim,althoughtheycamedownintothecovespeciallytolookforhim,assoonaslittleboyTwofoundhewaslost.Theirfatherwaswiththemthistime;andwhentheyhadlookedandlookedtillthesunbegantogetlowandtea-timish,hetookthembackhomeandwouldnotstayanylonger:heknewtoomanyqueerthingsaboutthatplace.LittleboyTwohadtobecontentforsometimeafterthatwithanordinarythreepennytoydog(fromthesameshop);butsomehow,thoughhehadonlyhadhimsuchashortwhile,hedidnotforgethislittlebegging-dog.

Atthemoment,however,youcanthinkofhimsittingdownverymournfultohistea,withoutanydogatall;whilefarawayinlandtheoldladywhohadkeptRoverandspoiledhim,whenhewasanordinary,proper-sizedanimal,wasjustwritingoutanadvertisementforalostpuppy—‘whitewithblackears,andanswerstothenameofRover’;andwhileRoverhimselfsleptawayonthesands,andPsamathosdozedclosebywithhisshortarmsfoldedonhisfattummy.

2

WhenRoverwokeup,thesunwasverylow;theshadowofthecliffswasrightacrossthesands,andPsamathoswasnowheretobeseen.Alargeseagullwasstandingclosebylookingathim,andforamomentRoverwasafraidthathemightbegoingtoeathim.

Buttheseagullsaid:‘Goodevening!Ihavewaitedalongtimeforyoutowakeup.Psamathossaidthatyouwouldwakeabouttea-time,butitislongpastthatnow.’

‘Please,whatareyouwaitingformefor,MrBird?’askedRoververypolitely.

‘MynameisMew,’saidtheseagull,‘andI’mwaitingtotakeyouaway,assoonasthemoonrises,alongthemoon’spath.Butwehaveoneortwothingstodobeforethat.Getuponmybackandseehowyoulikeflying!’

Roverdidnotlikeitatallatfirst.ItwasallrightwhileMewwasclosetotheground,glidingsmoothlyalongwithhiswingsstretchedoutstiffandstill;butwhenheshotupintotheair,orturnedsharpfromsidetoside,slopingadifferentwayeachtime,orstoopedsuddenandsteep,asifhewasgoingtodiveintothesea,thenthelittledog,withthewindwhistlinginhisears,wishedhewassafedownontheearthagain.

Hesaidsoseveraltimes,butallthatMewwouldanswerwas:‘Holdon!Wehaven’tbegunyet!’

Theyhadbeenflyingaboutlikethisforalittle,andRoverhadjustbeguntogetusedtoit,andrathertiredofit,whensuddenly‘We’reoff!’criedMew;andRoververynearlywasoff.ForMewroselikearocketsteeplyintotheair,andthensetoffatagreatpacestraightdownthewind.SoontheyweresohighthatRovercouldsee,farawayandrightovertheland,thesungoingdownbehinddarkhills.Theyweremakingforsomeverytallblackcliffsofsheerrock,toosheerforanyonetoclimb.Atthebottomtheseawassplashingandsuckingattheirfeet,andnothinggrewontheirfaces,yettheywerecoveredwithwhitethings,paleinthedusk.Hundredsofsea-birdsweresittingthereonnarrowledges,sometimestalkingmournfullytogether,sometimessayingnothing,andsometimesslippingsuddenlyfromtheirperchestoswoopandcurveintheair,beforedivingdowntotheseafarbelowwherethewaveslookedlikelittle

wrinkles.ThiswaswhereMewlived,andhehadseveralpeopletosee,includingthe

oldestandmostimportantofalltheBlackbackedGulls,andmessagestocollectbeforehesetout.SohesetRoverdownononeofthenarrowledges,muchnarrowerthanadoorstep,andtoldhimtowaitthereandnottofalloff.

YoumaybesurethatRovertookcarenottofalloff,andthatwithastiffsidewayswindblowinghedidnotlikethefeelingofitatall,crouchingascloseashecouldagainstthefaceofthecliff,andwhimpering.Itwasaltogetheraverynastyplaceforabewitchedandworriedlittledogtobein.

Atlastthesunlightfadedoutoftheskyentirely,andamistwasonthesea,andthefirststarsshowedinthegatheringdark.Thenabovethemist,faroutacrossthesea,themoonroseroundandyellowandbegantolayitsshiningpathonthewater.

Soonafter,MewcamebackandpickedupRover,whohadbeguntoshivermiserably.Thebird’sfeathersseemedwarmandcomfortableafterthecoldledgeonthecliff,andhesnuggledinascloseashecould.ThenMewleaptintotheairfarabovethesea,andalltheothergullssprangofftheirledges,andcriedandwailedgood-byetothem,asofftheyspedalongthemoon’spaththatnowstretchedstraightfromtheshoretothedarkedgeofnowhere.

Roverdidnotknowintheleastwherethemoon’spathledto,andatpresenthewasmuchtoofrightenedandexcitedtoask,andanywayhewasbeginningtogetusedtoextraordinarythingshappeningtohim.

Astheyflewalongabovethesilvershimmeronthesea,themoonrosehigherandgrewwhiterandmorebright,tillnostarsdaredstayanywherenearit,anditwasleftshiningallaloneintheeasternsky.NodoubtMewwasgoingbyPsamathos’orderstowherePsamathoswantedhimtogo,andnodoubtPsamathoshelpedMewwithmagic,forhecertainlyflewfasterandstraighterthaneventhegreatgullsordinarilyfly,evenstraightdownthewindwhentheyareinahurry.YetitwasagesbeforeRoversawanythingexceptthemoonlightandtheseabelow;andallthetimethemoongotbiggerandbigger,andtheairgotcolderandcolder.

Suddenlyontheedgeoftheseahesawadarkthing,anditgrewastheyflewtowardsit,untilhecouldseethatitwasanisland.Overthewateranduptothemcamethesoundofatremendousbarking,anoisemadeupofallthedifferentkindsandsizesofbarksthereare:yapsandyelps,andyammersandyowls,growlingandgrizzling,whickeringandwhining,snickeringandsnarling,mumpingandmoaning,andthemostenormousbaying,likeagiantbloodhound

inthebackyardofanogre.AllRover’sfurroundhisnecksuddenlybecameveryrealagain,andstoodupstiffasbristles;andhethoughthewouldliketogodownandquarrelwithallthedogsthereatonce—untilherememberedhowsmallhewas.

‘That’stheIsleofDogs,’saidMew,‘orrathertheIsleofLostDogs,whereallthelostdogsgothataredeservingorlucky.Itisn’tabadplace,I’mtold,fordogs;andtheycanmakeasmuchnoiseastheylikewithoutanyonetellingthemtobequietorthrowinganythingatthem.Theyhaveabeautifulconcert,allbarkingtogethertheirfavouritenoises,wheneverthemoonshinesbright.Theytellmetherearebone-treesthere,too,withfruitlikejuicymeat-bonesthatdropsoffthetreeswhenit’sripe.No!Wearenotgoingtherejustnow!Yousee,youcan’tbecalledexactlyadog,thoughyouarenolongerquiteatoy.InfactPsamathoswasratherpuzzled,Ibelieve,toknowwhattodowithyou,whenyousaidyoudidn’twanttogohome.’

‘Wherearewegoingto,then?’askedRover.HewasdisappointedatnothavingacloserlookattheIsleofDogs,afterheheardofthebone-trees.

‘Straightupthemoon’spathtotheedgeoftheworld,andthenovertheedgeandontothemoon.That’swhatoldPsamathossaid.’

Roverdidnotliketheideaofgoingovertheedgeoftheworldatall,andthemoonlookedacoldsortofplace.‘Whytothemoon?’heasked.‘TherearelotsofplacesontheworldIhaveneverbeento.Ineverheardoftherebeingbonesinthemoon,orevendogs.’

‘Thereisatleastonedog,fortheMan-in-the-Moonkeepsone;andsinceheisadecentoldfellow,aswellasthegreatestofallthemagicians,therearesuretobebonesforthedog,andprobablyforvisitors.Asforwhyyouarebeingsentthere,Idaresayyouwillfindthatoutingoodtime,ifyoukeepyourwitsaboutyouanddon’twastetimegrumbling.IthinkitisverykindofPsamathostobotheraboutyouatall;infactIdon’tunderstandwhyhedoes.Itisn’tlikehimtodothingswithoutagoodbigreason—andyoudon’tseemgoodorbig.’

‘Thankyou,’saidRover,feelingcrushed.‘Itisverykindofallthesewizardstotroublethemselvesaboutme,Iamsure,thoughitisratherupsetting.Youneverknowwhatwillhappennext,whenonceyougetmixedupwithwizardsandtheirfriends.’

‘Itisverymuchbetterluckthananyyappinglittlepetpuppy-dogdeserves,’saidtheseagull,andafterthattheyhadnomoreconversationforalongwhile.

Themoongotbiggerandbrighter,andtheworldbelowgotdarkerandfartheroff.Atlast,allofasudden,theworldcametoanend,andRovercouldseethestarsshiningupoutoftheblacknessunderneath.Fardownhecouldseethewhitesprayinthemoonlightwherewaterfallsfellovertheworld’sedgeanddroppedstraightintospace.Itmadehimfeelmostuncomfortablygiddy,andhenestledintoMew’sfeathersandshuthiseyesforalong,longtime.

Whenheopenedthemagainthemoonwasalllaidoutbelowthem,anewwhiteworldshininglikesnow,withwideopenspacesofpaleblueandgreenwherethetallpointedmountainsthrewtheirlongshadowsfaracrossthefloor.

Ontopofoneofthetallestofthese,onesotallthatitseemedtostabuptowardsthemasMewsweptdown,Rovercouldseeawhitetower.Itwaswhitewithpinkandpalegreenlinesinit,shimmeringasifthetowerwerebuiltofmillionsofseashellsstillwetwithfoamandgleaming;andthetowerstoodontheedgeofawhiteprecipice,whiteasacliffofchalk,butshiningwithmoonlightmorebrightlythanapaneofglassfarawayonacloudlessnight.

Therewasnopathdownthatcliff,asfarasRovercouldsee;butthatdidnotmatteratthemoment,forMewwassailingswiftlydown,andsoonhesettledrightontheroofofthetower,atadizzyheightabovethemoon-worldthatmadethecliffsbytheseawhereMewlivedseemlowandsafe.

ToRover’sgreatsurprisealittledoorintheroofimmediatelyopenedclosebesidethem,andanoldmanwithalongsilverybeardpoppedhisheadout.

‘Notbadgoing,that!’hesaid.‘I’vebeentimingyoueversinceyoupassedovertheedge—athousandmilesaminute,Ishouldreckon.Youareinahurrythismorning!I’mgladyoudidn’tbumpintomydog.Whereinthemoonhashegottonow,Iwonder?’

Hedrewoutanenormouslylongtelescopeandputittooneeye.‘Thereheis!Thereheis!’heshouted.‘Worryingthemoonbeamsagain,

drathim!Comedown,sir!Comedown,sir!’hecalledupintotheair,andthenbegantowhistlealongclearsilvernote.

Roverlookedupintotheair,thinkingthatthisfunnyoldmanmustbequitemadtowhistletohisdogupinthesky;buttohisastonishmenthesawfarupabovethetoweralittlewhitedogonwhitewingschasingthingsthatlookedliketransparentbutterflies.

‘Rover!Rover!’calledtheoldman;andjustasourRoverjumpeduponMew’sbacktosay‘HereIam!’—withoutwaitingtowonderhowtheoldman

knewhisname—hesawthelittleflyingdogdivestraightdownoutoftheskyandsettleontheoldman’sshoulders.

ThenherealisedthattheMan-in-the-Moon’sdogmustalsobecalledRover.Hewasnotatallpleased,butasnobodytookanynoticeofhim,hesatdownagainandbegantogrowltohimself.

TheMan-in-the-Moon’sRoverhadgoodears,andheatoncejumpedontotheroofofthetowerandbegantobarklikemad;andthenhesatdownandgrowled:‘Whobroughtthatotherdoghere?’

‘Whatotherdog?’saidtheMan.‘Thatsillylittlepuppyontheseagull’sback,’saidthemoon-dog.Then,ofcourse,Roverjumpedupagainandbarkedhisloudest:‘Sillylittle

puppyyourself!WhosaidthatyoucouldcallyourselfRover,athingmorelikeacatorabatthanadog?’Fromwhichyoucanseethattheyweregoingtobeveryfriendlybeforelong.Thatistheway,anyhow,thatlittledogsusuallytalktostrangersoftheirownkind.

‘Oflyaway,youtwo!Andstopmakingsuchanoise!Iwanttotalktothepostman,’saidtheMan.

‘Comeon,tinytot!’saidthemoon-dog;andthenRoverrememberedwhatatinytothewas,evenbesidethemoon-dogwhowasonlysmall,andinsteadofbarkingsomethingrudeheonlysaid:‘Iwouldliketo,ifonlyIhadsomewingsandknewhowtofly.’

‘Wings?’saidtheMan-in-the-Moon.‘That’seasy!Haveapairandbeoff!’Mewlaughed,andactuallythrewhimoffhisback,rightovertheedgeof

thetower’sroof!ButRoverhadonlygaspedonce,andhadonlybeguntoimaginehimselffallingandfallingdownlikeastoneontothewhiterocksinthevalleymilesbelow,whenhediscoveredthathehadgotabeautifulpairofwhitewingswithblackspots(tomatchhimself).Allthesame,hehadfallenalongwaybeforehecouldstop,ashewasn’tusedtowings.Ittookhimalittlewhiletogetreallyusedtothem,thoughlongbeforetheManhadfinishedtalkingtoMewhewasalreadytryingtochasethemoon-dogroundthetower.Hewasjustbeginningtogettiredbythesefirstefforts,whenthemoon-dogdiveddowntothemountain-topandsettledattheedgeoftheprecipiceatthefootofthewalls.Roverwentdownafterhim,andsoontheyweresittingsidebyside,takingbreathwiththeirtongueshangingout.

‘SoyouarecalledRoverafterme?’saidthemoon-dog.‘Notafteryou,’saidourRover.‘I’msuremymistresshadneverheardof

youwhenshegavememyname.’

‘Thatdoesn’tmatter.IwasthefirstdogthatwasevercalledRover,thousandsofyearsago—soyoumusthavebeencalledRoverafterme!IwasaRovertoo!Ineverwouldstopanywhere,orbelongtoanyonebeforeIcamehere.IdidnothingbutrunawayfromthetimeIwasapuppy;andIkeptonrunningandrovinguntilonefinemorning—averyfinemorning,withthesuninmyeyes—Ifellovertheworld’sedgechasingabutterfly.

‘Anastysensation,Icantellyou!Luckilythemoonwasjustpassingundertheworldatthemoment,andafteraterribletimefallingrightthroughclouds,andbumpingintoshootingstars,andthatsortofthing,Itumbledontoit.SlapintooneoftheenormoussilvernetsthatthegiantgreyspidersherespinfrommountaintomountainIfell,andthespiderwasjustcomingdownhisladdertopicklemeandcarrymeofftohislarder,whentheMan-in-the-Moonappeared.

‘Heseesabsolutelyeverythingthathappensonthissideofthemoonwiththattelescopeofhis.Thespidersareafraidofhim,becauseheonlyletsthemaloneiftheyspinsilverthreadsandropesforhim.Hemorethansuspectsthattheycatchhismoonbeams—andthathewon’tallow—thoughtheypretendtoliveonlyondragonmothsandshadowbats.Hefoundmoonbeams’wingsinthatspider’slarder,andheturnedhimintoalumpofstone,asquickaskissyourhand.Thenhepickedmeupandpattedme,andsaid:“Thatwasanastydrop!Youhadbetterhaveapairofwingstopreventanymoreaccidents—nowflyoffandamuseyourself!Don’tworrythemoonbeams,anddon’tkillmywhiterabbits!Andcomehomewhenyoufeelhungry;thewindowisusuallyopenontheroof!”

‘Ithoughthewasadecentsort,butrathermad.Butdon’tyoumakethatmistake—abouthisbeingmad,Imean.Idaren’treallyhurthismoonbeamsorhisrabbits.Hecanturnyouintodreadfullyuncomfortableshapes.Nowtellmewhyyoucamewiththepostman!’

‘Thepostman?’saidRover.‘Yes,Mew,theoldsand-sorcerer’spostman,ofcourse,’saidthemoon-dog.Roverhadhardlyfinishedtellingthetaleofhisadventureswhentheyheard

theManwhistling.Uptheyshottotheroof.Theretheoldmanwassittingwithhislegsdanglingovertheledge,throwingenvelopesawayasfastasheopenedtheletters.Thewindtookthemwhirlingoffintothesky,andMewflewafterthemandcaughtthemandputthembackintoalittlebag.

‘I’vejustbeenreadingaboutyou,Roverandom,mydog,’hesaid.‘(RoverandomIcallyou,andRoverandomyou’llhavetobe;can’thavetwoRoversabouthere.)AndIquiteagreewithmyfriendSamathos(I’mnotgoing

toputinanyridiculousPtopleasehim)thatyouhadbetterstophereforalittlewhile.IhavealsogotaletterfromArtaxerxes,ifyouknowwhothatis,andevenifyoudon’t,tellingmetosendyoustraightback.Heseemsmightyannoyedwithyouforrunningaway,andwithSamathosforhelpingyou.Butwewon’tbotherabouthim;andneitherneedyou,aslongasyoustayhere.

‘Nowflyoffandamuseyourself.Don’tworrythemoonbeams,anddon’tkillmywhiterabbits,andcomehomewhenyouarehungry!Thewindowontheroofisusuallyopen.Good-bye!’

Hevanishedimmediatelyintothinair;andanybodywhohasneverbeentherewilltellyouhowextremelythinthemoon-airis.

‘Well,good-bye,Roverandom!’saidMew.‘Ihopeyouenjoymakingtroubleamongthewizards.Farewellforthepresent.Don’tkillthewhiterabbits,andallwillyetbewell,andyouwillgethomesafe—whetheryouwanttoornot.’

ThenMewflewoffatsuchapacethatbeforeyoucouldsay‘whizz!’hewasadotinthesky,andthenhadvanished.Roverwasnownotonlyturnedintotoy-size,buthisnamehadbeenaltered,andhewasleftallaloneonthemoon—allaloneexceptfortheMan-in-the-Moonandhisdog.

Roverandom—aswehadbettercallhimtoo,forthepresent,toavoidconfusion—didn’tmind.Hisnewwingsweregreatfun,andthemoonturnedouttobearemarkablyinterestingplace,sothatheforgottoponderanymorewhyPsamathoshadsenthimthere.Itwasalongtimebeforehefoundout.

Inthemeanwhilehehadallsortsofadventures,byhimselfandwiththemoon-Rover.Hedidn’toftenflyaboutintheairfarfromthetower;forinthemoon,andespeciallyonthewhiteside,theinsectsareverylargeandfierce,andoftensopaleandsotransparentandsosilentthatyouhardlyhearorseethemcoming.Themoonbeamsonlyshineandflutter,andRoverandomwasnotfrightenedofthem;thebigwhitedragon-mothswithfieryeyesweremuchmorealarming;andthereweresword-flies,andglass-beetleswithjawslikesteel-traps,andpaleunicornetswithstingslikespears,andfifty-sevenvarietiesofspidersreadytoeatanythingtheycouldcatch.Andworsethantheinsectsweretheshadowbats.

Roverandomdidwhatthebirdsdoonthatsideofthemoon:heflewverylittleexceptnearathome,orinopenspaceswithagoodviewallround,andfarfrominsecthiding-places;andhewalkedaboutveryquietly,especiallyinthe

woods.Mostthingstherewentaboutveryquietly,andthebirdsseldomeventwittered.Whatsoundstherewere,weremadechieflybytheplants.Theflowers—thewhitebells,thefairbellsandthesilverbells,thetinklebellsandtheringaroses;therhymeroyalsandthepennywhistles,thetintrumpetsandthecreamhorns(averypalecream),andmanyotherswithuntranslatablenames—madetunesalldaylong.Andthefeather-grassesandtheferns—fairy-fiddlestrings,polyphonies,andbrasstongues,andthecrackeninthewoods—andallthereedsbythemilk-whiteponds,theykeptupthemusic,softly,eveninthenight.Infacttherewasalwaysafaintthinmusicgoingon.

Butthebirdsweresilent;andverytinymostofthemwere,hoppingaboutinthegreygrassbeneaththetrees,dodgingthefliesandtheswoopingflutterbies;andmanyofthemhadlosttheirwingsorforgottenhowtousethem.Roverandomusedtostartlethemintheirlittleground-nests,ashestalkedquietlythroughthepalegrass,huntingthelittlewhitemice,orsnuffingaftergreysquirrelsontheedgesofthewoods.

Thewoodswerefilledwithsilverbellsallringingsoftlytogetherwhenhefirstsawthem.Thetallblacktrunksstoodstraightup,highaschurches,outofthesilvercarpet,andtheywereroofedwithpaleblueleavesthatneverfell;sothatnoteventhelongesttelescopeonearthhaseverseenthosetalltrunksorthesilverbellsbeneaththem.Laterintheyearthetreesallbursttogetherintopalegoldenblossoms;andsincethewoodsofthemoonarenearlyendless,nodoubtthataltersthelookofthemoonfrombelowontheworld.

ButyoumustnotimaginethatallofRoverandom’stimewasspentcreepingaboutlikethat.Afterall,thedogsknewthattheMan’seyewasonthem,andtheydidagoodmanyadventurousthingsandhadagreatdealoffun.Sometimestheywanderedofftogetherformilesandmiles,andforgottogobacktothetowerfordays.Onceortwicetheywentupintothemountainsfaraway,tilllookingbacktheycouldseethemoon-toweronlyasashiningneedleinthedistance;andtheysatonthewhiterocksandwatchedthetinysheep(nobiggerthantheMan-in-the-Moon’sRover)wanderinginherdsoverthehillsides.Everysheepcarriedagoldenbell,andeverybellrangeachtimeeachsheepmovedafootforwardtogetafreshmouthfulofgreygrass;andallthebellsrangintune,andallthesheepshonelikesnow,andnooneeverworriedthem.TheRoversweremuchtoowellbrought-up(andafraidoftheMan)todoso,andtherewerenootherdogsinallthemoon,norcows,norhorses,norlions,nortigers,nor

wolves;infactnothinglargeronfourfeetthanrabbitsandsquirrels(andtoy-sizedatthat),exceptjustoccasionallytobeseenstandingsolemnlyinthoughtanenormouswhiteelephantalmostasbigasadonkey.Ihaven’tmentionedthedragons,becausetheydon’tcomeintothestoryjustyet,andanywaytheylivedaverylongwayoff,farfromthetower,beingallveryafraidoftheMan-in-the-Moon,exceptone(andevenhewashalf-afraid).

Wheneverthedogsdidgobacktothetowerandflyinatthewindow,theyalwaysfoundtheirdinnerjustready,asiftheyhadarrangedthetime;buttheyseldomsaworheardtheManabout.Hehadaworkshopdowninthecellars,andcloudsofwhitesteamandgreymistusedtocomeupthestairsandfloatawayoutoftheupperwindows.

‘Whatdoeshedowithhimselfallday?’saidRoverandomtoRover.‘Do?’saidthemoon-dog.‘Ohe’salwaysprettybusy—thoughheseems

busierthanIhaveseenhimforalongtime,sinceyouarrived.Makingdreams,Ibelieve.’

‘Whatdoeshemakedreamsfor?’‘O!fortheothersideofthemoon.Noonehasdreamsonthisside;the

dreamersallgoroundtotheback.’Roverandomsatdownandscratched;hedidn’tthinktheexplanation

explained.Themoon-dogwouldnottellhimanymoreallthesame:andifyouaskme,Idon’tthinkheknewmuchaboutit.

However,somethinghappenedsoonafterthat,thatputsuchquestionsoutofRoverandom’smindaltogetherforawhile.Thetwodogswentandhadaveryexcitingadventure,muchtooexcitingwhileitlasted;butthatwastheirownfault.Theywentawayforseveraldays,muchfartherthantheyhadeverbeenbeforesinceRoverandomcame;andtheydidnotbothertothinkwheretheyweregoing.Infacttheywentandlostthemselves,andmistakingthewaygotfartherandfartherfromthetowerwhentheythoughttheyweregettingback.Themoon-dogsaidhehadroamedalloverthewhitesideofthemoonandknewitallbyheart(hewasveryapttoexaggerate),buteventuallyhehadtoadmitthatthecountryseemedabitstrange.

‘I’mafraidit’saverylongtimesinceIcamehere,’hesaid,‘andI’mbeginningtoforgetitabit.’

Asamatteroffacthehadneverbeentherebeforeatall.Unawarestheyhadwanderedtooneartotheshadowyedgeofthedarkside,whereallsortsofhalf-forgottenthingslinger,andpathsandmemoriesgetconfused.Justwhentheyfeltsurethatatlasttheywereontherightwayhome,theyweresurprisedtofind

sometallmountainsrisingbeforethem,silent,bare,andominous;andthesethemoon-dogmadenopretenceofeverhavingseenbefore.Theyweregrey,notwhite,andlookedasiftheyweremadeofoldcoldashes;andlongdimvalleyslayamongthem,withoutasignoflife.

Thenitbegantosnow.Itoftendoessnowinthemoon,butthesnow(astheycallit)isusuallyniceandwarm,andquitedry,andturnsintofinewhitesandandallblowsaway.Thiswasmorelikeoursort.Itwaswetandcold;anditwasdirty.

‘Itmakesmehomesick,’saidthemoon-dog.‘It’sjustlikethestuffthatusedtofallinthetownwhereIwasapuppy—ontheworld,youknow.O!thechimneysthere,tallasmoon-trees;andtheblacksmoke;andtheredfurnacefires!Igetabittiredofwhiteattimes.It’sverydifficulttogetreallydirtyonthemoon.’

Thisrathershowsupthemoon-dog’slowtastes;andastherewerenosuchtownsontheworldhundredsofyearsago,youcanalsoseethathehadexaggeratedthelengthoftimesincehefellovertheedgeaverygreatdealtoo.However,justatthatmoment,aspeciallylargeanddirtyflakehithiminthelefteye,andhechangedhismind.

‘Ithinkthisstuffhasmisseditswayandfallenoffthebeastlyoldworld,’hesaid.‘Ratandrabbitit!Andweseemtohavemissedourwayaltogether,too.Batandbotherit!Let’sfindaholetocreepin!’

Ittooksometimetofindaholeofanysort,andtheywereverywetandcoldbeforetheydid:infactsomiserablethattheytookthefirstsheltertheycameto,andnoprecautions—whicharethefirstthingsyououghttotakeinunfamiliarplacesontheedgeofthemoon.Thesheltertheycrawledintowasnotaholebutacave,andaverylargecavetoo;itwasdarkbutitwasdry.

‘Thisisniceandwarm,’saidthemoon-dog,andheclosedhiseyesandwentoffintoadozealmostimmediately.

‘Ow!’heyelpednotlongafterwards,wakingstraightupdog-fashionoutofacomfortabledream.‘Muchtoowarm!’

Hejumpedup.HecouldhearlittleRoverandombarkingawayfurtherinsidethecave,andwhenhewenttoseewhatwasup,hesawatrickleoffirecreepingalongthefloortowardsthem.Hedidnotfeelhomesickforredfurnacesjustthen;andheseizedlittleRoverandombythebackofhislittleneck,andboltedoutofthecaveasquickaslightning,andflewuptoapeakofstonejustoutside.

Therethetwosatinthesnowshiveringandwatching;whichwasverysilly

ofthem.Theyoughttohaveflownoffhome,oranywhere,fasterthanthewind.Themoon-dogdidnotknoweverythingaboutthemoon,asyousee,orhewouldhaveknownthatthiswasthelairoftheGreatWhiteDragon—theonethatwasonlyhalf-afraidoftheMan(andscarcelythatwhenhewasangry).TheManhimselfwasabitbotheredbythisdragon.‘Thatdrattedcreature’waswhathecalledhim,whenhereferredtohimatall.

Allthewhitedragonsoriginallycomefromthemoon,asyouprobablyknow;butthisonehadbeentotheworldandback,sohehadlearnedathingortwo.HefoughttheRedDragoninCaerdragoninMerlin’stime,asyouwillfindinallthemoreup-to-datehistorybooks;afterwhichtheotherdragonwasVeryRed.LaterhedidlotsmoredamageintheThreeIslands,andwenttoliveonthetopofSnowdonforatime.Peopledidnotbothertoclimbupwhilethatlasted—exceptforoneman,andthedragoncaughthimdrinkingoutofabottle.Thatmanfinishedinsuchahurrythatheleftthebottleonthetop,andhisexamplehasbeenfollowedbymanypeoplesince.Alongtimesince,andnotuntilthedragonhadflownofftoGwynfa,sometimeafterKingArthur’sdisappearance,atatimewhendragons’tailswereesteemedagreatdelicacybytheSaxonKings.

Gwynfaisnotsofarfromtheworld’sedge,anditisaneasyflightfromtheretothemoonforadragonsotitanicandsoenormouslybadasthisonehadbecome.Henowlivedonthemoon’sedge;forhewasnotquitesurehowmuchtheMan-in-the-Mooncoulddowithhisspellsandcontrivances.Allthesame,heactuallydaredattimestointerferewiththecolour-scheme.Sometimesheletrealredandgreenflamesoutofhiscavewhenhewashavingadragon-feastorwasinatantrum;andcloudsofsmokewerefrequent.Onceortwicehehadbeenknowntoturnthewholemoonred,orputitoutaltogether.OnsuchuncomfortableoccasionstheMan-in-the-Moonshuthimselfup(andhisdog),andallhesaidwas‘Thatdrattedcreatureagain’.Heneverexplainedwhatcreature,orwherehelived;hesimplywentdownintothecellars,uncorkedhisbestspells,andgotthingsclearedupasquickaspossible.

Nowyouknowallaboutit;andifthedogshadknownhalfasmuchtheywouldneverhavestoppedthere.Butstoptheydid,atleastaslongasithastakenmetoexplainabouttheWhiteDragon,andbythattimethewholeofhim,whitewithgreeneyes,andleakinggreenfireateveryjoint,andsnortingblacksmokelikeasteamer,hadcomeoutofthecave.Thenheletoffthemostawfulbellow.Themountainsrockedandechoed,andthesnowdriedup;avalanchestumbled

down,andwaterfallsstoodstill.Thatdragonhadwings,likethesailsthatshipshadwhentheystillwere

shipsandnotsteam-engines;andhedidnotdisdaintokillanythingfromamousetoanemperor’sdaughter.Hemeanttokillthosetwodogs;andhetoldthemsoseveraltimesbeforehegotupintotheair.Thatwashismistake.Theybothwhizzedofftheirrocklikerockets,andwentawaydownthewindatapacethatMewhimselfwouldhavebeenproudof.Thedragoncameafterthem,flappinglikeaflapdragonandsnappinglikeasnapdragon,knockingthetopsofmountainsoff,andsettingallthesheep-bellsringinglikeatownonfire.(Nowyouseewhytheyallhadbells.)

Veryluckily,downthewindwastherightdirection.Alsoamoststupendousrocketwentupfromthetowerassoonasthebellsgotfrantic.Itcouldbeseenalloverthemoonlikeagoldenumbrellaburstingintoathousandsilvertassels,anditcausedanunpredictedfallofshootingstarsontheworldnotlongafter.Ifitwasaguidetothepoordogs,itwasalsomeantasawarningtothedragon;buthehadgotfartoomuchsteamuptotakeanynotice.

Sothechasewentfiercelyon.Ifyouhaveeverseenabirdchasingabutterfly,andifyoucanimagineamorethangiganticbirdchasingtwoperfectlyinsignificantbutterfliesamongwhitemountains,thenyoucanjustbegintoimaginethetwistings,dodgings,hairbreadthescapes,andthewildzigzagrushofthatflighthome.Morethanonce,beforetheygotevenhalfway,Roverandom’stailwassingedbythedragon’sbreath.

WhatwastheMan-in-the-Moondoing?Well,heletoffatrulymagnificentrocket;andafterthathesaid‘Dratthatcreature!’andalso‘Dratthosepuppies!Theywillbringonaneclipsebeforeitisdue!’Andthenhewentdownintothecellarsanduncorkedadark,blackspellthatlookedlikejellifiedtarandhoney(andsmeltliketheFifthofNovemberandcabbageboilingover).

AtthatverymomentthedragonswoopeduprightabovethetowerandliftedahugeclawtobatRoverandom—bathimrightoffintotheblanknowhere.Butheneverdid.TheMan-in-the-Moonshotthespellupoutofalowerwindow,andhitthedragonsploshonthestomach(wherealldragonsarepeculiarlytender),andknockedhimcrank-sideways.Helostallhiswits,andflewbangintoamountainbeforehecouldgethissteeringright;anditwasdifficulttosaywhichwasmostdamaged,hisnoseorthemountain—bothwereoutofshape.

Sothetwodogsfellinthroughthetopwindow,andnevergotbacktheirbreathforaweek;andthedragonslowlymadehislopsidedwayhome,whereherubbedhisnoseformonths.Thenexteclipsewasafailure,forthedragonwas

toobusylickinghistummytoattendtoit.Andhenevergottheblacksploshesoffwherethespellhithim.Iamafraidtheywilllastforever.TheycallhimtheMottledMonsternow.

3

ThenextdaytheMan-in-the-MoonlookedatRoverandomandsaid:‘Thatwasanarrowsqueak!Youseemtohaveexploredthewhitesideprettywellforayoungdog.Ithink,whenyouhavegotyourbreathback,itwillbetimeforyoutovisittheotherside.’

‘CanIcometoo?’askedthemoon-dog.‘Itwouldn’tbegoodforyou,’saidtheMan,‘andIdon’tadviseyouto.You

mightseethingsthatwouldmakeyoumorehomesickthanfireandchimney-stacks,andthatwouldturnoutasbadasdragons.’

Themoon-dogdidnotblush,becausehecouldnot;andhedidnotsayanything,buthewentandsatdowninacornerandwonderedhowmuchtheoldmanknewofeverythingthatwenton,andeverythingthatwassaid,too.Alsoforalittlewhilehewonderedwhatexactlytheoldmanmeant;butthatdidnotbotherhimlong—hewasalightheartedfellow.

AsforRoverandom,whenhehadgothisbreathback,afewdayslater,theMan-in-the-Mooncameandwhistledforhim.Thendownanddowntheywenttogether;downthestairs,andintothecellarswhichwerecutinsidethecliffandhadsmallwindowslookingoutofthesideoftheprecipiceoverthewideplacesofthemoon;andthendownsecretstepsthatseemedtoleadrightunderthemountains,untilafteralongwhiletheycameintoacompletelydarkplace,andstopped,thoughRoverandom’sheadwentonturninggiddilyafterthemilesofcorkscrewingdownwards.

IncompletedarknesstheMan-in-the-Moonshonepalelyallbyhimselflikeaglow-worm,andthatwasallthelighttheyhad.Itwasquiteenough,though,toseethedoorby—abigdoorinthefloor.Thistheoldmanpulledup,andasitwaslifteddarknessseemedtowellupoutoftheopeninglikeafog,sothatRoverandomcouldnolongerseeeventhefaintglimmeringoftheManthroughit.

‘Downyougo,gooddog!’saidhisvoiceoutoftheblackness.Andyouwon’tbesurprisedtobetoldthatRoverandomwasnotagooddog,andwouldnotbudge.Hebackedintothefurthestcornerofthelittleroom,andsethisearsback.Hewasmorefrightenedofthatholethanoftheoldman.

Butitwasnotanygood.TheMan-in-the-Moonsimplypickedhimupand

droppedhimplumpintotheblackhole;andashefellandfellintonothing,Roverandomheardhimcallingout,alreadyfarabovehim:‘Dropstraight,andthenflyonwiththewind!Waitformeattheotherend!’

Thatoughttohavecomfortedhim,butitdidnot.Roverandomalwayssaidafterwardsthathedidnotthinkevenfallingovertheworld’sedgecouldbeworse;andthatanywayitwasthenastiestpartofallhisadventures,andstillmadehimfeelasifhehadlosthistummywheneverhethoughtofit.Youcantellheisstillthinkingofitwhenhecriesoutandtwitchesinhissleeponthehearthrug.

Allthesame,itcametoanend.Afteralongwhilehisfallinggraduallysloweddown,untilatlasthealmoststopped.Therestofthewayhehadtousehiswings;anditwaslikeflyingup,up,throughabigchimney—luckilywithastrongdraughthelpinghimalong.Jollygladhewaswhenhegotatlasttothetop.

Therehelaypantingattheedgeoftheholeattheotherend,waitingobediently,andanxiously,fortheMan-in-the-Moon.Itwasagoodwhilebeforeheappeared,andRoverandomhadtimetoseethathewasatthebottomofadeepdarkvalley,ringedroundwithlowdarkhills.Blackcloudsseemedtorestupontheirtops;andbeyondthecloudswasjustonestar.

Suddenlythelittledogfeltverysleepy;abirdinsomegloomybushesnearbywassingingadrowsysongthatseemedstrangeandwonderfultohimafterthelittledumbbirdsoftheothersidetowhichhehadgotused.Heshuthiseyes.

‘Wakeup,youdoglet!’calledavoice;andRoverandombouncedupjustintimetoseetheManclimbingoutoftheholeonasilverropewhichalargegreyspider(muchlargerthanhimself)wasfasteningtoatreecloseby.

TheManclimbedout.‘Thankyou!’hesaidtothespider.‘Andnowbeoff!’Andoffthespiderwent,andwasgladtogo.Thereareblackspidersonthedarkside,poisonousones,ifnotaslargeasthemonstersofthewhiteside.Theyhateanythingwhiteorpaleorlight,andespeciallypalespiders,whichtheyhatelikerichrelationsthatpayinfrequentvisits.

Thegreyspiderdroppedbackdowntheropeintothehole,andablackspiderdroppedoutofthetreeatthesamemoment.

‘Nowthen!’criedtheoldmantotheblackspider.‘Comebackthere!Thatismyprivatedoor,anddon’tyouforgetit.Just

makemeanicehammockfromthosetwoyew-trees,andI’llforgiveyou.‘It’salongishclimbdownandupthroughthemiddleofthemoon,’hesaid

toRoverandom,‘andIthinkalittlerestbeforetheyarrivewoulddomegood.Theyareverynice,buttheyneedagooddealofenergy.OfcourseIcouldtaketowings,onlyIwear‘emoutsofast;alsoitwouldmeanwideningthehole,asmysizeinwingswouldhardlyfit,andI’mabeautifulrope-climber.

‘Nowwhatdoyouthinkofthisside?’theMancontinued.‘Darkwithapalesky,whiletotherwaspalewithadarksky,eh?Quiteachange,onlythereisnotmuchmorerealcolourherethanthere,notwhatIcallrealcolour,loudandlotsofittogether.Thereareafewgleamsunderthetrees,ifyoulook,firefliesanddiamond-beetlesandruby-moths,andsuchlike.Tootiny,though;tootinylikeallthebrightthingsonthisside.Andtheyliveaterriblelifeofit,whatwithowlslikeeaglesandasblackascoal,andcrowslikevulturesandasnumerousassparrows,andalltheseblackspiders.It’stheblack-velvetbob-owlers,flyingalltogetherinclouds,thatIpersonallylikeleast.Theywon’tevengetoutofmyway;Ihardlydaregiveoutaglimmer,ortheyallgettangledinmybeard.

‘Stillthissidehasitscharms,youngdog;andoneofthemisthatnobodyandno-doggyonearthhaseverseenitbefore—whentheywereawake—exceptyou!’

ThentheMansuddenlyjumpedintothehammock,whichtheblackspiderhadbeenspinningforhimwhilehewastalking,andwentfastasleepinatwinkling.

Roverandomsataloneandwatchedhim,withawaryeyeforblackspiderstoo.Littlegleamsoffirelight,red,green,gold,andblue,flashedandshiftedhereandtherebeneaththedarkwindlesstrees.Theskywaspalewithstrangestarsabovethefloatingwispsofvelvetcloud.Thousandsofnightingalesseemedtobesinginginsomeothervalley,faintbeyondthenearerhills.AndthenRoverandomheardthesoundofchildren’svoices,ortheechooftheechooftheirvoicescomingdownasuddensoft-stirringbreeze.Hesatupandbarkedtheloudestbarkhehadbarkedsincethistalebegan.

‘Blessme!’criedtheMan-in-the-Moon,jumpingupwideawake,straightoutofthehammockontothegrass,andnearlyontoRoverandom’stail.‘Havetheyarrivedalready?’

‘Who?’askedRoverandom.‘Well,ifyoudidn’thearthem,whatdidyouyapfor?’saidtheoldman.

‘Comeon!Thisistheway.’

Theywentdownalonggreypath,markedatthesideswithfaintlyluminous

stones,andoverhungwithbushes.Itledonandon,andthebushesbecamepine-trees,andtheairwasfilledwiththesmellofpine-treesatnight.Thenthepathbegantoclimb;andafteratimetheycametothetopofthelowestpointintheringofhillsthathadshutthemin.

ThenRoverandomlookeddownintothenextvalley;andallthenightingalesstoppedsinging,liketurningoffatap,andchildren’svoicesfloatedupclearandsweet,fortheyweresingingafairsongwithmanyvoicesblendedtoonemusic.

Downthehillsideracedandjumpedtheoldmanandthedogtogether.Myword!theMan-in-the-Mooncouldleapfromrocktorock!

‘Comeon,comeon!’hecalled.‘Imaybeabeardedbilly-goat,awildorgardengoat,butyoucan’tcatchme!’AndRoverandomhadtoflytokeepupwithhim.

Andsotheycamesuddenlytoasheerprecipice,notveryhigh,butdarkandpolishedlikejet.Lookingover,Roverandomsawbelowagardenintwilight;andashelookeditchangedtothesoftglowofanafternoonsun,thoughhecouldnotseewherethesoftlightcamefromthatlitallthatshelteredplaceandneverstrayedbeyond.Greyfountainswerethere,andlonglawns;andchildreneverywhere,dancingsleepily,walkingdreamily,andtalkingtothemselves.Somestirredasifjustwakingfromdeepsleep;somewerealreadyrunningwideawakeandlaughing:theyweredigging,gatheringflowers,buildingtentsandhouses,chasingbutterflies,kickingballs,climbingtrees;andallweresinging.

‘Wheredotheyallcomefrom?’askedRoverandom,bewilderedanddelighted.

‘Fromtheirhomesandbeds,ofcourse,’saidtheMan.‘Andhowdotheygethere?’‘ThatIain’tgoingtotellyouatall;andyou’llneverfindout.Youare

lucky,andsoisanyone,togetherebyanywayatall;butthechildrendon’tcomebyyourway,atanyrate.Somecomeoften,andsomecomeseldom,andImakemostofthedream.Someofittheybringwiththem,ofcourse,likelunchtoschool,andsome(Iamsorrytosay)thespidersmake—butnotinthisvalley,andnotifIcatch‘ematit.Andnowlet’sgoandjointheparty!’

Thecliffofjetslopedsteeplydown.Itwasmuchtoosmoothevenforaspidertoclimb—notthatanyspidereverdaredtry;forhemightslidedown,butneitherhenoranythingelsecouldgetupagain;andinthatgardenwerehiddensentinels,nottomentiontheMan-in-the-Moon,withoutwhomnopartywascomplete,fortheywerehisownparties.

Andhenowslidbangintothemiddleofthisone.Hejustsatdownandtobogganed,swish!rightintothemidstofacrowdofchildrenwithRoverandomrollingontopofhim,quiteforgettingthathecouldfly.Orcouldhaveflown—forwhenhepickedhimselfupatthebottomhefoundthathiswingshadgone.

‘What’sthatlittledogdoing?’saidasmallboytotheMan.Roverandomwasgoingroundandroundlikeatop,tryingtolookathisownback.

‘Lookingforhiswings,myboy.Hethinkshehasrubbedthemoffonthetoboggan-run,butthey’reinmypocket.Nowingsalloweddownhere,peopledon’tgetoutofherewithoutleave,dothey?’

‘No!Daddy-long-beard!’saidabouttwentychildrenallatonce,andoneboycaughtholdoftheoldman’sbeardandclimbedupitontohisshoulder.Roverandomexpectedtoseehimturnedintoamothorapieceofindiarubber,orsomething,onthespot.

But‘Myword!you’reabitofarope-climber,myboy!’saidtheMan.‘I’llhavetogiveyoulessons.’Andhetossedtheboyrightupintotheair.Hedidnotfalldownagain;notabitofit.Hestuckupintheair;andtheMan-in-the-Moonthrewhimasilverropethatheslippedoutofhispocket.

‘Justclimbdownthatquick!’hesaid;anddowntheboyslitheredintotheoldman’sarms,wherehewaswelltickled.‘You’llwakeup,ifyoulaughsoloud,’saidtheMan,andheputhimdownonthegrassandwalkedoffintothecrowd.

Roverandomwaslefttoamusehimself,andhewasjustmakingforabeautifulyellowball(‘Justlikemyownathome,’hethought)whenheheardavoiceheknew.

‘There’smylittledog!’itsaid.‘There’smylittledog!Ialwaysthoughthewasreal.Fancyhimbeinghere,whenI’velookedandlookedalloverthesandsandcalledandwhistledeverydayforhim!’

AssoonasRoverandomheardthatvoice,hesatupandbegged.‘Mylittlebeggingdog!’saidlittleboyTwo(ofcourse);andheranupand

pattedhim.‘Wherehaveyoubeento?’ButallRoverandomcouldsayatfirstwas:‘CanyouhearwhatI’m

saying?’‘OfcourseIcan,’saidlittleboyTwo.‘Butwhenmummybroughtyou

homebefore,youwouldn’tlistentomeatall,althoughIdidmybestbark-talkforyou.AndIdon’tbelieveyoutriedtosaymuchtomeeither;youseemedto

bethinkingofsomethingelse.’Roverandomsaidhowsorryhewas,andhetoldthelittleboyhowhehad

fallenoutofhispocket;andallaboutPsamathos,andMew,andmanyoftheadventureshehadhadsincehewaslost.Thatishowthelittleboyandhisbrothersgottoknowabouttheoddfellowinthesand,andlearnedalotofotherusefulthingstheymightotherwisehavemissed.LittleboyTwothoughtthat‘Roverandom’wasasplendidname.‘Ishallcallyouthattoo,’hesaid.‘Anddon’tforgetthatyoustillbelongtome!’

Thentheyhadagamewiththeball,andagameofhide-and-seek,andarunandalongwalk,andarabbit-hunt(withnoresult,ofcourse,exceptexcitement:therabbitswereexceedinglyshadowy),andmuchsplashingintheponds,andallkindsofotherthingsoneafteranotherforendlessages;andtheygottolikeoneanotherbetterandbetter.Thelittleboywasrollingoverandoveronthedewygrass,inaverybed-timishlight(butnooneseemstomindwetgrassorbed-timeinthatplace),andthelittledogwasrollingoverandoverwithhim,andstandingonhisheadlikenodogoneartheverhasdonesinceMotherHubbard’sdeaddogdidit;andthelittleboywaslaughingtillhe—vanishedquitesuddenlyandleftRoverandomallaloneonthelawn!

‘He’swakedup,that’sall,’saidtheMan-in-the-Moon,whosuddenlyappeared.‘Gonehome,andabouttimetoo.Why!it’sonlyaquarterofanhourbeforehisbreakfasttime.He’llmisshiswalkonthesandsthismorning.Well,well!Iamafraidit’sourtimetogo,too.’

So,veryreluctantly,Roverandomwentbacktothewhitesidewiththeoldman.Theywalkedalltheway,andittookaverylongtime;andRoverandomdidnotenjoyitasmuchasheoughttohavedone.Fortheysawallkindsofqueerthings,andhadmanyadventures—perfectlysafe,ofcourse,withtheMan-in-the-Mooncloseathand.Thatwasjustaswell,astherewerelotsofnastycreepythingsinthebogsthatwouldotherwisehavegrabbedthelittledogquick.Thedarksidewasaswetasthewhitesidewasdry,andfullofthemostextraordinaryplantsandcreatures,whichIwouldtellyouabout,ifRoverandomhadtakenanyparticularnoticeofthem.Buthedidnot;hewasthinkingofthegardenandthelittleboy.

Atlasttheycametothegreyedge,andtheylookedpastthecindervalleyswheremanyofthedragonslived,throughagapinthemountainstothegreatwhiteplainandtheshiningcliffs.Theysawtheworldrise,apalegreenandgold

moon,hugeandroundabovetheshouldersoftheLunarMountains;andRoverandomthought:‘Thatiswheremylittleboylives!’Itseemedaterribleandenormouswayaway.

‘Dodreamscometrue?’heasked.‘Someofminedo,’saidtheoldman.‘Some,butnotall;andseldomanyof

themstraightaway,orquiteliketheywereindreamingthem.Butwhydoyouwanttoknowaboutdreams?’

‘Iwasonlywondering,’saidRoverandom.‘Aboutthatlittleboy,’saidtheMan.‘Ithoughtso.’Hethenpulleda

telescopeoutofhispocket.Itopenedouttoanenormouslength.‘Alittlelookwilldoyounoharm,Ithink,’hesaid.

Roverandomlookedthroughit—whenhehadmanagedatlasttoshutoneeyeandkeeptheotheropen.Hesawtheworldplainly.Firsthesawthefarendofthemoon’spathfallingstraightontothesea;andhethoughthesaw,faintandratherthin,longlinesofsmallpeoplesailingswiftlydownit,buthecouldnotbequitesure.Themoonlightquicklyfaded.Sunlightbegantogrow;andsuddenlytherewasthecoveofthesandsorcerer(butnosignofPsamathos—Psamathosdidnotallowhimselftobepeepedat);andafterawhilethetwolittleboyswalkedintotheroundpicture,goinghandinhandalongtheshore.‘Lookingforshellsorforme?’wonderedthedog.

Verysoonthepictureshiftedandhesawthelittleboys’father’swhitehouseonthecliff,withitsgardenrunningdowntothesea;andatthegatehesaw—anunpleasantsurprise—theoldwizardsittingonastonesmokinghispipe,asifhehadnothingtodobutwatchthereforever,withhisoldgreenhatonthebackofhisheadandhiswaistcoatunbuttoned.

‘What’soldArta-what-d’you-call-himdoingatthegate?’Roverandomasked.‘Ishouldhavethoughthehadforgottenaboutmelongago.Andaren’thisholidaysoveryet?’

‘No,he’swaitingforyou,mydoglet.Hehasn’tforgotten.Ifyouturnuptherejustnow,realortoy,he’llputsomenewbewitchmentonyouprettyquick.Itisn’tthathemindssomuchabouthistrousers—theyweresoonmended—butheisveryannoyedwithSamathosforinterfering;andSamathoshasn’tfinishedmakinghisarrangementsyetfordealingwithhim.’

JustthenRoverandomsawArtaxerxes’hatblownoffbythewind,andoffthewizardranafterit;andplaintosee,hehadawonderfulpatchonhistrousers,anorangecolouredpatchwithblackspots.

‘Ishouldhavethoughtthatawizardcouldhavemanagedtopatchhis

trousersbetterthanthat!’saidRoverandom.‘Buthethinkshehasmanageditbeautifully!’saidtheoldman.‘He

bewitchedapieceoffsomebody’swindow-curtains;theygotfireinsurance,andhegotasplashofcolour,andbotharesatisfied.Still,youareright.Heisfailing,Idobelieve.Sadafterallthesecenturiestoseeamangoingoffhismagic;butluckyforyou,perhaps.’ThentheMan-in-the-Moonclosedthetelescopewithasnap,andofftheywentagain.

‘Hereareyourwingsagain,’hesaidwhentheyhadreachedthetower.‘Nowflyoffandamuseyourself!Don’tworrythemoonbeams,don’tkillmywhiterabbits,andcomebackwhenyoufeelhungry!—orhaveanyothersortofpain.’

Roverandomatonceflewofftofindthemoon-dogandtellhimabouttheotherside;buttheotherdogwasabitjealousofavisitorbeingallowedtoseethingswhichhecouldnot,andhepretendednottobeinterested.

‘Soundsanastypartaltogether,’hegrowled.‘I’msureIdon’twanttoseeit.Isupposeyou’llbeboredwiththewhitesidenow,andonlyhavingmetogoaboutwith,insteadofallyourtwo-leggedfriends.It’sapitythePersianwizardissuchasticker,andyoucan’tgohome.’

Roverandomwasratherhurt;andhetoldthemoondogoverandoveragainthathewasjollygladtobebackatthetower,andwouldneverbeboredwiththewhiteside.Theysoonsettleddowntobegoodfriendsagain,anddidlotsandlotsofthingstogether;andyetwhatthemoon-doghadsaidinbadtemperturnedouttobetrue.ItwasnotRoverandom’sfault,andhedidhisbestnottoshowit,butsomehownoneoftheadventuresorexplorationsseemedsoexcitingtohimastheyhaddonebefore,andhewasalwaysthinkingofthefunhehadinthegardenwithlittleboyTwo.

Theyvisitedthevalleyofthewhitemoon-gnomes(moonums,forshort)thatrideaboutonrabbits,andmakepancakesoutofsnowflakes,andgrowlittlegoldenappletreesnobiggerthanbuttercupsintheirneatorchards.Theyputbrokenglassandtintacksoutsidethelairsofsomeofthelesserdragons(whiletheywereasleep),andlayawaketillthemiddleofthenighttohearthemroarwithrage—dragonsoftenhavetendertummies,asIhavetoldyoualready,andtheygooutforadrinkattwelvemidnighteverynightoftheirlives,nottospeakofbetween-whiles.Sometimesthedogsevendaredtogospider-baiting—bitingwebsandsettingfreethemoonbeams,andflyingoffjustintime,whilethe

spidersthrewlassoesatthemfromthehill-tops.ButallthewhileRoverandomwaslookingoutforPostmanMewandNewsoftheWorld(mostlymurdersandfootball-matches,asevenalittledogknows;butthereissometimessomethingbetterinanoddcorner).

HemissedMew’snextvisit,ashewasawayonaramble,buttheoldmanwasstillreadingthelettersandnewswhenhegotback(andheseemedinamightygoodhumourtoo,sittingontheroofwithhisfeetdanglingovertheedge,puffingatanenormouswhiteclay-pipe,sendingoutcloudsofsmokelikearailway-engine,andsmilingrightroundhisroundoldface).

Roverandomfelthecouldbearitnolonger.‘I’vegotapaininmyinside,’hesaid.‘Iwanttogobacktothelittleboy,sothathisdreamcancometrue.’

Theoldmanputdownhisletter(itwasaboutArtaxerxes,andveryamusing),andtookthepipeoutofhismouth.‘Mustyougo?Can’tyoustay?Thisissosudden!Sopleasedtohavemetyou!Youmustdropinagainoneday.Deelightedtoseeyouanytime!’hesaidallinabreath.

‘Verywell!’hewentonmoresensibly.‘Artaxerxesisarrangedfor.’‘How??’askedRoverandom,reallyexcitedagain.‘HehasmarriedamermaidandgonetoliveatthebottomoftheDeepBlue

Sea.’‘Ihopeshewillpatchhistrousersbetter!Agreenseaweedpatchwouldgo

wellwithhisgreenhat.’‘Mydeardog!Hewasmarriedinacompletenewsuitofseaweedgreen

withpinkcoralbuttonsandepaulettesofsea-anemones;andtheyburnthisoldhatonthebeach!Samathosarrangeditall.O!Samathosisverydeep,asdeepastheDeepBlueSea,andIexpecthemeanstosettlelotsofthingstohislikingthisway,lotsmorethanjustyou,mydog.

‘Iwonderhowitwillturnout!Artaxerxesisgettingintohistwentiethortwenty-firstchildhoodatthemoment,itseemstome;andhemakesalotoffussaboutverylittlethings.Mostobstinateheis,tobesure.Heusedtobeaprettygoodmagician,butheisbecomingbadtemperedandathoroughnuisance.WhenhecameanddugupoldSamathoswithawoodenspadeinthemiddleoftheafternoon,andpulledhimoutofhisholebytheears,theSamathistthoughtthingshadgonetoofar,andIdon’twonder.“Suchalotofdisturbance,justatmybesttimeforsleeping,andallaboutawretchedlittledog”:thatiswhathewritestome,andyouneedn’tblush.

‘SoheinvitedArtaxerxestoamermaid-party,whenboththeirtempershadcooleddownabit,andthatishowitallhappened.TheytookArtaxerxesoutfor

amoonlightswim,andhewillnevergobacktoPersia,orevenPershore.Hefellinlovewiththerichmer-king’selderlybutlovelydaughter,andtheyweremarriedthenextnight.

‘Itisprobablyjustaswell.TherehasnotbeenaresidentMagicianintheOceanforsometime.Proteus,Poseidon,Triton,Neptune,andallthatlot,they’veallturnedintominnowsormusselslongago,andinanycasetheyneverkneworbotheredmuchaboutthingsoutsidetheMediterranean—theyweretoofondofsardines.OldNiordretiredalongwhileago,too.Hewasofcourseonlyabletogivehalfhisattentiontobusinessafterhissillymarriagewiththegiantess—youremembershefellinlovewithhimbecausehehadcleanfeet(soconvenientinthehome),andfelloutoflovewithhim,whenitwastoolate,becausetheywerewet.He’sonhislastlegsnow,Ihear;quitedoddery,poorolddear.Oil-fuelhasgivenhimadreadfulcough,andhehasretiredtothecoastofIcelandforalittlesunshine.

‘TherewastheOldManoftheSea,ofcourse.Hewasmycousin,andI’mnotproudofit.Hewasabitofaburden—wouldn’twalk,andalwayswantedtobecarried,asIdaresayyouhaveheard.Thatwasthedeathofhim.Hesatonafloatingmine(ifyouknowwhatImean)ayearortwoago,rightononeofthebuttons!Notevenmymagiccoulddoanythingwiththatcase.ItwasworsethantheoneofHumptyDumpty.’

‘WhataboutBritannia?’askedRoverandom,whoafterallwasanEnglishdog;thoughreallyhewasabitboredwithallthis,andwantedtohearmoreabouthisownwizard.‘IthoughtBritanniaruledthewaves.’

‘Sheneverreallygetsherfeetwet.Shepreferspattinglionsonthebeach,andsittingonapennywithaneelforkinherhand—andinanycasethereismoretomanageintheseathanwaves.NowtheyhavegotArtaxerxes,andIhopehewillbeofuse.He’llspendthefirstfewyearstryingtogrowplumsonpolyps,Iexpect,iftheylethim;andthat’llbeeasierthankeepingthemerfolkinorder.

‘Well,well,well!WherewasI?Ofcourse—youcangobacknow,ifyouwantto.Infact,nottobetoopolite,it’stimeyouwentbackassoonaspossible.OldSamathosisyourfirstcall—anddon’tfollowmybadexampleandforgetyourPswhenyoumeet!’

Mewturnedupagaintheverynextday,withanextrapost—animmensenumberoflettersfortheMan-in-the-Moon,andbundlesofnewspapers:TheIllustratedWeeklyWeed,OceanNotions,TheMer-mail,TheConch,andThe

MorningSplash.Theyallhadexactlythesame(exclusive)picturesofArtaxerxes’weddingonthebeachatfullmoon,withMrPsamathosPsamathides,thewellknownfinancier(ameretitleofrespect),grinninginthebackground.Buttheywerenicerthanourpictures,fortheywereatleastcoloured;andthemermaidreallydidlookbeautiful(hertailwasinthefoam).

Thetimehadcometosaygood-bye.TheMan-in-the-MoonbeamedonRoverandom;andthemoon-dogtriedtolookunconcerned.Roverandomhimselfhadratheradroopingtail,butallhesaidwas:‘Good-bye,pup!Takecareofyourself,don’tworrythemoonbeams,don’tkillthewhiterabbits,anddon’teattoomuchsupper!’

‘Pupyourself!’saidthemoon-Rover.‘Andstopeatingwizards’trousers!’Thatwasall;andyet,Ibelieve,hewasalwaysworryingtheoldMan-in-the-MoontosendhimonaholidaytovisitRoverandom,andthathehasbeenallowedtogoseveraltimessincethen.

AfterthatRoverandomwentbackwithMew,andtheManwentbackintohiscellars,andthemoon-dogsatontheroofandwatchedthemoutofsight.

4

TherewasacoldwindblowingofftheNorthStarwhentheygotneartheworld’sedge,andthechillysprayofthewaterfallssplashedoverthem.Ithadbeenstiffergoingonthewayback,foroldPsamathos’magicwasnotinsuchahurryjustthen;andtheyweregladtorestontheIsleofDogs.ButasRoverandomwasstillhisenchantedsize,hedidnotenjoyhimselfmuchthere.Theotherdogsweretoolargeandnoisy,andtooscornful;andthebonesofthebone-treesweretoolargeandbony.

ItwasdawnofthedayafterthedayaftertomorrowwhenatlasttheysightedtheblackcliffsofMew’shome;andthesunwaswarmontheirbacks,andthetipsofthesand-hillockswerealreadypaleanddry,bythetimetheyalightedinthecoveofPsamathos.

Mewgavealittlecry,andtappedwithhisbeakonabitofwoodlyingontheground.Thebitofwoodimmediatelygrewstraightupintotheair,andturnedintoPsamathos’leftear,andwasjoinedbyanotherear,andquicklyfollowedbytherestofthesorcerer’suglyheadandneck.

‘Whatdoyoutwowantatthistimeofday?’growledPsamathos.‘It’smyfavouritetimeforsleep.’

‘We’reback!’saidtheseagull.‘Andyou’veallowedyourselftobecarriedbackonhisback,Isee,’

Psamathossaid,turningtothelittledog.‘Afterdragon-huntingIshouldhavethoughtyouwouldhavefoundalittle

flightbackhomequiteeasy.’‘Butplease,sir,’saidRoverandom,‘Ileftmywingsbehind;theydidn’t

reallybelongtome.AndIshouldratherliketobeanordinarydogagain.’‘O!allright.StillIhopeyouhaveenjoyedyourselfas“Roverandom”.You

oughttohavedone.NowyoucanbejustRoveragain,ifyoureallywanttobe;andyoucangohomeandplaywithyouryellowball,andsleeponarmchairswhenyougetthechance,andsitonlaps,andbearespectablelittleyap-dogagain.’

‘Whataboutthelittleboy?’saidRover.‘Butyouranawayfromhim,silly,allthewaytothemoon,Ithought!’said

Psamathos,pretendingtobeannoyedandsurprised,butgivingamerrytwinkle

outofoneknowingeye.‘HomeIsaid,andhomeImeant.Don’tsplutterandargue!’

PoorRoverwassplutteringbecausehewastryingtogetinaverypolite‘MrP-samathos’.Eventuallyhedid.

‘P-P-Please,MrP-P-P-samathos,’hesaid,mosttouchingly.‘P-Pleasep-pardonme,butIhavemethimagain;andIshouldn’trunawaynow;andreallyIbelongtohim,don’tI?SoIoughttogobacktohim.’

‘Stuffandnonsense!Ofcourseyoudon’tandoughtn’t!Youbelongtotheoldladythatboughtyoufirst,andbackyou’llhavetogotoher.Youcan’tbuystolengoods,orbewitchedoneseither,asyouwouldknow,ifyouknewtheLaw,yousillylittledog.LittleboyTwo’smotherwastedsixpenceonyou,andthat’sanendofit.Andwhat’sindream-meetingsanyway?’woundupPsamathoswithahugewink.

‘IthoughtsomeoftheMan-in-the-Moon’sdreamscametrue,’saidlittleRoversadly.

‘O!didyou!Wellthat’stheMan-in-the-Moon’saffair.Mybusinessistochangeyoubackatonceintoyourpropersize,andsendyoubackwhereyoubelong.Artaxerxeshasdepartedtootherspheresofusefulness,soweneedn’tbotherabouthimanymore.Comehere!’

HetookholdofRover,andhewavedhisfathandoverthelittledog’shead,andheypresto—therewasnochangeatall!Hediditalloveragain,andstilltherewasnochange.

ThenPsamathosgotrightupoutofthesand,andRoversawforthefirsttimethathehadlegslikearabbit.Hestampedandramped,andkickedsandintotheair,andtrampledontheseashells,andsnortedlikeanangrypugdog;andstillnothinghappenedatall!

‘Donebyaseaweedwizard,blisterandwarthim!’heswore.‘DonebyaPersianplum-picker,potandjamhim!’heshouted,andkeptonshoutingtillhewastired.Thenhesatdown.

‘Well,well!’hesaidatlastwhenhewascooler.‘Liveandlearn!ButArtaxerxesismostpeculiar.Whocouldhaveguessedthathewouldrememberyouamidstalltheexcitementofhiswedding,andgoandwastehisstrongestincantationonadogbeforegoingonhishoneymoon—asifhisfirstspellwasn’tmorethananysillylittlepuppyisworth?Ifitisn’tenoughtosplitone’sskin.

‘Well!Idon’tneedtothinkoutwhatistobedone,atanyrate,’Psamathoscontinued.‘Thereisonlyonepossiblething.Youhavegottogoandfindhimandbeghispardon.Butmyword!I’llrememberthisagainsthim,tilltheseais

twiceassaltandhalfaswet.Justyoutwogoforawalk,andbebackinhalfanhourwhenmytemper’sbetter!’

MewandRoverwentalongtheshoreandupthecliff,MewflyingslowlyandRovertrottingalongverysad.Theystoppedoutsidethelittleboys’father’shouse;andRoverevenwentinatthegate,andsatinaflower-bedundertheboys’window.Itwasstillveryearly,buthebarkedandbarkedhopefully.Thelittleboyswereeitherstillfastasleeporaway,fornobodycametothewindow.OrsoRoverthought.Hehadforgottenthatthingsaredifferentontheworldfromtheback-gardenofthemoon,andthatArtaxerxes’bewitchmentwasstillonhissize,andthesizeofhisbark.

AfteralittlewhileMewtookhimmournfullybacktothecove.Thereanaltogethernewsurprisewaswaitingforhim.Psamathoswastalkingtoawhale!Averylargewhale,UintheoldestoftheRightWhales.HelookedlikeamountaintolittleRover,lyingwithhisgreatheadinadeeppoolnearthewater’sedge.

‘SorryIcouldn’tgetanythingsmalleratamoment’snotice,’saidPsamathos.‘Butheisverycomfortable!’‘Walkin!’saidthewhale.

‘Good-bye!Walkin!’saidtheseagull.‘Walkin!’saidPsamathos;‘andbequickaboutit!Anddon’tbiteorscratch

aboutinside;youmightgiveUinacough,andthatyouwouldfinduncomfy.’ThiswasalmostasbadasbeingaskedtojumpintotheholeintheMan-in-

the-Moon’scellar,andRoverbackedaway,sothatMewandPsamathoshadtopushhimin.Pushhimtheydid,too,withoutacoax;andthewhale’sjawsshuttowithasnap.

Insideitwasverydarkindeed,andfishy.ThereRoversatandtrembled;andashesat(notdaringeventoscratchhisownears)heheard,orthoughtheheard,theswishandbeatingofthewhale’stailinthewaters;andhefelt,orthoughthefelt,thewhaleplungedeeperanddownertowardsthebottomoftheDeepBlueSea.

Butwhenthewhalestoppedandopenedhismouthwideagain(delightedtodoso:whalesprefergoingabouttrawlingwiththeirjawswideopenandagoodtideoffoodcomingin,butUinwasaconsiderateanimal)andRoverpeepedout,itwasdeep,altogetherimmeasurablydeep,butnotatallblue.Therewasonlyapalegreenlight;andRoverwalkedouttofindhimselfonawhitepathofsandwindingthroughadimandfantasticforest.

‘Straightalong!Youhaven’tfartogo,’saidUin.Roverwentstraightalong,asstraightasthepathwouldallow,andsoon

beforehimhesawthegateofagreatpalace,madeitseemedofpinkandwhitestonethatshonewithapalelightcomingthroughit;andthroughthemanywindowslightsofgreenandblueshoneclear.Allroundthewallshugesea-treesgrew,tallerthanthedomesofthepalacethatswelledupvast,gleaminginthedarkwater.Thegreatindiarubbertrunksofthetreesbentandswayedlikegrasses,andtheshadowoftheirendlessbrancheswasthrongedwithgoldfish,andsilverfish,andredfish,andbluefish,andphosphorescentfishlikebirds.Butthefishesdidnotsing.Themermaidssanginsidethepalace.Howtheysang!Andallthesea-fairiessanginchorus,andthemusicfloatedoutofthewindows,hundredsofmer-folkplayingonhornsandpipesandconchesofshell.

Sea-goblinsweregrinningathimoutofthedarknessunderthetrees,andRoverhurriedalongasfastashecould—hefoundhisstepsslowandladendeepdownunderthewater.Andwhydidn’thedrown?Idon’tknow,butIsupposePsamathosPsamathideshadgivensomethoughttoit(heknowsmuchmoreabouttheseathanmostpeoplewouldthink,eventhoughheneversetstoeinit,ifhecanhelpit),whileRoverandMewhadgoneforawalk,andhehadsatandsimmereddownandthoughtofanewplan.

AnywayRoverdidnotdrown;buthewasalreadywishinghewassomewhereelse,eveninthewhale’swetinside,beforehegottothedoor:suchqueershapesandfacespeeredathimoutofthepurplebushesandthespongeythicketsbesidethepaththathefeltveryunsafeindeed.Atlasthegottotheenormousdoor—agoldenarchwayfringedwithcoral,andadoorofmother-of-pearlstuddedwithsharks’teeth.Theknockerwasahugeringencrustedwithwhitebarnacles,andallthebarnacles’littleredstreamerswerehangingout;butofcourseRovercouldnotreachit,norcouldhehavemoveditanyway.Sohebarked,andtohissurprisehisbarkcamequiteloud.Themusicinsidestoppedatthethirdbark,andthedooropened.

Whodoyouthinkopenedit?Artaxerxeshimself,dressedinwhatlookedlikeplum-colouredvelvet,andgreensilktrousers;andhestillhadalargepipeinhismouth,onlyitwasblowingbeautifulrainbow-colouredbubblesinsteadoftobacco-smoke;buthehadnohat.

‘Hullo!’hesaid.‘Soyou’veturnedup!IthoughtyouwouldgettiredofoldP-samathos’(howhesnortedoverthatexaggeratedP)‘beforelong.Hecan’tdoquiteevery-thing.Well,whathaveyoucomedownherefor?Wearejusthavingaparty,andyou’reinterruptingthemusic.’

‘Please,MrArterxaxes,ImeanErtaxarxes,’beganRover,ratherflusteredandtryingtobeverypolite.

‘Onevermindaboutgettingitright!Idon’tmind!’saidthewizardrathercrossly.‘Getontotheexplanation,andmakeitshort;I’venotimeforlongrigmaroles.’Hehadbecomeratherfullofhisownimportance(withstrangers),sincehismarriagetotherichmer-king’sdaughter,andhisappointmenttothepostofPacificandAtlanticMagician(thePAMtheycalledhimforshort,whenhewasnotpresent).‘Ifyouwanttoseemeaboutanythingpressing,youhadbettercomeinandwaitinthehall;Imightfindamomentafterthedance.’

HeclosedthedoorbehindRoverandwentoff.Thelittledogfoundhimselfinahugedarkspaceunderadimly-lighteddome.Therewerepointedarchwayscurtainedwithseaweedallround,andmostofthemweredark;butoneofthemwasfulloflight,andmusiccameloudlythroughit,musicthatseemedtogoonandonforever,neverrepeatingandneverstoppingforarest.

Roversoongotverytiredofwaiting,sohewalkedalongtotheshiningdoorwayandpeepedthroughthecurtains.Hewaslookingintoavastballroomwithsevendomesandtenthousandcoralpillars,litwithpurestmagicandfilledwithwarmandsparklingwater.Thereallthegolden-hairedmermaidsandthedarkhairedsirensweredancinginterwovendancesastheysang—notdancingontheirtails,butwonderfulswim-dancing,upanddown,aswellastoandfro,intheclearwater.

Nobodynoticedthelittledog’snosepeepingthroughtheseaweedatthedoor,soaftergazingforawhilehecreptinside.Thefloorwasmadeofsilversandandpinkbutterflyshells,allopenandflappinginthegentlyswirlingwater,andhehadpickedhiswaycarefullyamongthemforsomeway,keepingclosetothewall,beforeavoicesaidsuddenlyabovehim:

‘Whatasweetlittledog!He’saland-dog,notasea-dog,I’msure.Howcouldhehavegothere—suchatinymite!’

Roverlookedupandsawabeautifulmer-ladywithalargeblackcombinhergoldenhair,sittingonaledgenotfarabovehim;herregrettabletailwasdanglingdown,andshewasmendingoneofArtaxerxes’greensocks.Shewas,ofcourse,thenewMrsArtaxerxes(usuallyknownasPrincessPam;shewasratherpopular,whichwasmorethanyoucouldsayforherhusband).Artaxerxeswasatthemomentsittingbesideher,andwhetherhehadthetimeornotforlongrigmaroles,hewaslisteningtooneofhiswife’s.Orhadbeen,beforeRoverturnedup.MrsArtaxerxesputanendtoherrigmarole,andtohersockmending,assoonasshecaughtsightofhim,andfloatingdownpickedhimupandcarriedhimbacktohercouch.Thiswasreallyawindow-seatonthefirstfloor(anindoorswindow)—therearenostairsinsea-houses,andnoumbrellas,andfor

thesamereason;andthereisnotmuchdifferencebetweendoorsandwindows,either.

Themer-ladysoonsettledherbeautiful(andrathercapacious)selfcomfortablyonhercouchagain,andputRoveronherlap;andimmediatelytherewasanawfulgrowlfromunderthewindow-seat.

‘Liedown,Rover!Liedown,gooddog!’saidMrsArtaxerxes.ShewasnottalkingtoourRover,though;shewastalkingtoawhitemer-dogwhocameoutnow,inspiteofwhatshesaid,growlingandgrumblingandbeatingthewaterwithhislittleweb-feet,andlashingitwithhislargeflattail,andblowingbubblesoutofhissharpnose.

‘Whatahorriblelittlething!’thenewdogsaid.‘Lookathismiserabletail!Lookathisfeet!Lookathissillycoat!’

‘Lookatyourself,’saidRoverfromthemer-lady’slap,‘andyouwon’twanttodoitagain!WhocalledyouRover?—acrossbetweenaduckandatadpolepretendingtobeadog!’Fromwhichyoucanseethattheytookratherafancytooneanotheratfirstsight.

Indeed,theysoonmadegreatfriends—notquitesuchfriends,perhaps,asRoverandthemoon-dog,ifonlybecauseRover’sstayundertheseawasshorter,andthedeepsarenotsuchajollyplaceasthemoonforlittledogs,beingfullofdarkandawfulplaceswherelighthasneverbeenandneverwillbe,becausetheywillneverbeuncoveredtilllighthasallgoneout.Horriblethingslivethere,toooldforimagining,toostrongforspells,toovastformeasurement.Artaxerxeshadalreadyfoundthatout.ThepostofPAMisnotthemostcomfortablejobintheworld.

‘Nowswimawayandamuseyourselves!’saidhiswife,whenthedog-argumenthaddieddownandthetwoanimalsweremerelysniffingatoneanother.‘Don’tworrythefire-fish,don’tchewthesea-anemones,don’tgetcaughtintheclams;andcomebacktosupper!’

‘Please,Ican’tswim,’saidRover.‘Dearme!Whatanuisance!’shesaid.‘NowPam!’—shewastheonlyone

sofarthatcalledhimthistohisface—‘hereissomethingyoucanreallydo,atlast!’

‘Certainly,mydear!’saidthewizard,veryanxioustoobligeher,andpleasedtobeabletoshowthathereallyhadsomemagic,andwasnotanentirelyuselessofficial(limpetstheycalltheminsea-language).Hetookalittlewandoutofhiswaistcoat-pocket—itwasreallyhisfountain-pen,butitwasnolongeranyuseforwriting:mer-folkuseaqueerstickyinkthatisabsolutelyno

useinfountain-pens—andhewaveditoverRover.Artaxerxeswas,inspiteofwhatsomepeoplehavesaid,averygood

magicianinhisownway(orRoverwouldneverhavehadtheseadventures)—ratheraminorart,butstillneedingadealofpractice.AnywayaftertheveryfirstwaveRover’stailbegantogetfishyandhisfeettogetwebby,andhiscoattogetmoreandmorelikeamackintosh.Whenthechangewasover,hesoongotusedtoit;andhefoundswimmingagooddealeasiertopickupthanflying,verynearlyaspleasant,andnotsotiring—unlessyouwantedtogodown.

Thefirstthinghedid,afteratrialswimroundtheballroom,wastobiteattheotherdog’stail.Infun,ofcourse;butfunornot,therewasnearlyafightonthespot,forthemer-dogwasabittouchy-tempered.Roveronlysavedhimselfbymakingoffasfastaspossible;nimbleandquickhehadtobe,too.Myword!therewasachase,inandoutofwindows,andalongdarkpassages,androundpillars,andoutandupandroundthedomes;tillatlastthemerdoghimselfwasexhausted,andhisbadtempertoo,andtheysatdowntogetheronthetopofthehighestcupolanexttotheflag-pole.Themer-king’sbanner,aseaweedstreamerofscarletandgreen,spangledwithpearls,wasfloatingfromit.

‘What’syourname?’saidthemer-dogafterabreathlesspause.‘Rover?’hesaid.‘That’smyname,soyoucan’thaveit.Ihaditfirst!’

‘Howdoyouknow?’‘OfcourseIknow!Icanseeyouareonlyapuppy,andyouhavenotbeen

downherehardlyfiveminutes.Iwasenchantedagesandagesago,hundredsofyears.IexpectI’mthefirstofallthedogRovers.

‘MyfirstmasterwasaRover,arealone,asea-roverwhosailedhisshipinthenorthernwaters;itwasalongshipwithredsails,anditwascarvedlikeadragonattheprow,andhecalledittheRedWormandlovedit.Ilovedhim,thoughIwasonlyapuppy,andhedidnotnoticememuch;forIwasn’tbigenoughtogohunting,andhedidn’ttakedogstosailwithhim.OnedayIwentsailingwithoutbeingasked.Hewassayingfarewelltohiswife;thewindwasblowing,andthemenwerethrustingtheRedWormoutovertherollersintothesea.Thefoamwaswhiteaboutthedragon’sneck;andIsuddenlyfeltthatIshouldnotseehimagainafterthatday,ifIdidn’tgotoo.Isneakedonboardsomehow,andhidbehindawaterbarrel;andwewerefaratseaandthelandmarkslowinthewaterbeforetheyfoundme.

‘That’swhentheycalledmeRover,whentheydraggedmeoutbymytail.“Here’safinesea-rover!”saidone.“Andastrangefateisonhim,thatturnsneverhome,”saidanotherwithqueereyes.AndindeedIneverdidgobackhome;andIhavenevergrownanybigger,thoughIhavegrownmucholder—andwiser,ofcourse.

‘Therewasasea-fightonthatvoyage,andIranuponthefore-deckwhilethearrowsfellandswordclasheduponshield.ButthemenoftheBlackSwanboardedus,anddrovemymaster’smenallovertheside.Hewasthelasttogo.Hestoodbesidethedragon’shead,andthenhedivedintotheseainallhismail;andIdivedafterhim.

‘HewenttothebottomquickerthanIdid,andthemermaidscaughthim;butItoldthemtocarryhimswifttoland,formanywouldweep,ifhedidnotcomehome.Theysmiledatme,andliftedhimup,andborehimaway;andnowsomesaytheycarriedhimtotheshore,andsomeshaketheirheadsatme.Youcan’tdependonmermaids,exceptforkeepingtheirownsecrets;they’rebetterthanoystersatthat.

‘Ioftenthinktheyreallyburiedhiminthewhitesand.FarawayfromherethereliesstillapartoftheRedWormthatthemenoftheBlackSwansank;oritwastherewhenlastIpassed.Aforestofweedwasgrowingrounditandoverit,allexceptthedragon’shead;somehownotevenbarnaclesweregrowingonthat,andunderittherewasamoundofwhitesand.

‘Ileftthosepartslongago.Iturnedslowlyintoaseadog—theoldersea-womenusedtodoagooddealofwitchcraftinthosedays,andoneofthemwaskindtome.Itwasshethatgavemeasapresenttothemer-king,thereigningone’sgrandfather,andIhavebeeninandaboutthepalaceeversince.That’sallaboutme.Ithappenedhundredsofyearsago,andIhaveseenagooddealofthehighseasandthelowseassincethen,butIhaveneverbeenbackhome.Nowtellmeaboutyou!Isupposeyoudon’tcomefromtheNorthSeabyanychance,doyou?—weusedtocallitEngland’sSeainthosedays—orknowanyoftheoldplacesinandabouttheOrkneys?’

OurRoverhadtoconfessthathehadneverheardbeforeofanythingbutjust‘thesea’,andnotmuchofthat.‘ButIhavebeentothemoon,’hesaid,andhetoldhisnewfriendasmuchaboutitashecouldmakehimunderstand.

Themer-dogenjoyedRover’staleimmensely,andbelievedatleasthalfofit.‘Ajollygoodyarn,’hesaid,‘andthebestIhaveheardforalongtime.Ihaveseenthemoon.Igoontopoccasionally,youknow,butIneverimagineditwaslikethat.Butmyword!thatsky-puphasgotacheek.ThreeRovers!Two’sbad

enough,butthree’simpossible!AndIdon’tbelieveforamomentheisolderthanIam;ifheisahundredyet,Ishouldbemightysurprised.’

Hewasprobablyquiterighttoo.Themoon-dog,asyounoticed,exaggeratedalot.‘Andanyway,’wentonthemerdog,‘heonlygavehimselfthename.Minewasgivenme.’

‘Andsowasmine,’saidourlittledog.‘Andfornoreasonatall,andbeforeyouhadbeguntoearnitanyway.I

liketheMan-in-the-Moon’sidea.IshallcallyouRoverandom,too;andifIwereyouIshouldsticktoit—youneverdoseemtoknowwhereyouaregoingnext!Let’sgodowntosupper!’

Itwasafishysupper,butRoverandomsoongotusedtothat;itseemedtosuithiswebbyfeet.Aftersupperhesuddenlyrememberedwhyhehadcomeallthewaytothebottomofthesea;andoffhewenttolookforArtaxerxes.Hefoundhimblowingbubbles,andturningthemintorealballstopleasethelittlemer-children.

‘Please,MrArtaxerxes,couldyoubebotheredtoturnme—’beganRoverandom.

‘O!goaway!’saidthewizard.‘Can’tyouseeIcan’tbebothered?Notnow,I’mbusy.’ThisiswhatArtaxerxessaidalltoooftentopeoplehedidnotthinkwereimportant.HeknewwellenoughwhatRoverwanted;buthewasnotinahurryhimself.

SoRoverandomswamoffandwenttobed,orratherroostedinabunchofseaweedgrowingonahighrockinthegarden.Therewastheoldwhalerestingjustunderneath;andifanyonetellsyouthatwhalesdon’tgodowntothebottomorstoptheredozingforhours,youneednotletthatbotheryou.OldUinwasineverywayexceptional.

‘Well?’hesaid.‘Howhaveyougoton?Iseeyouarestilltoy-size.What’sthematterwithArtaxerxes?Can’thedoanything,orwon’the?’

‘Ithinkhecan,’saidRoverandom.‘Lookatmynewshape!ButifeverItrytogetontothematterofsize,hekeepsonsayinghowbusyheis,andhehasn’ttimeforlongexplanations.’

‘Umph!’saidthewhale,andknockedatreesidewayswithhistail—theswishofitnearlywashedRoverandomoffhisrock.‘Idon’tthinkthatPAMwillbeasuccessintheseparts;butIshouldn’tworry.You’llbeallrightsoonerorlater.Inthemeanwhiletherearelotsofnewthingstoseetomorrow.Gotosleep!Good-bye!’Andheswamoffintothedark.ThereportthathetookbacktothecovemadeoldPsamathosveryangryallthesame.

Thelightsofthepalacewereallturnedoff.Nomoonorstarcamedownthroughthatdeepdarkwater.Thegreengotgloomierandgloomier,untilitwasallblack,andtherewasnotaglimmer,exceptwhenbigluminousfishwentbyslowlythroughtheweeds.YetRoverandomsleptsoundlythatnight,andthenextnight,andseveralnightsafter.Andthenextday,andthedayafter,helookedforthewizardandcouldn’tfindhimanywhere.

Onemorningwhenhewasbeginningalreadytofeelquiteasea-dogandtowonderifhehadcometostaythereforever,themer-dogsaidtohim:‘Botherthatwizard!Orrather,don’tbotherhim!Givehimamisstoday.Let’sgooffforareallylongswim!’

Offtheywent,andthelongswimturnedintoanexcursionlastingfordays.Theycoveredaterrificdistanceinthetime;theywereenchantedcreatures,youmustremember,andtherewerefewordinarythingsintheseasthatcouldkeepupwiththem.Whentheygottiredofthecliffsandmountainsatthebottom,andoftheracingrunsinthemiddleheights,theyroseupandupandup,rightthroughthewaterforamileandabit;andwhentheygottothetop,nolandwastobeseen.

Theseaallroundthemwassmoothandcalmandgrey.Thenitsuddenlyruffledandwentdarkinpatchesunderalittlecoldwind,thewindatdawn.Swiftlythesunlookedupwithashoutovertherimofthesea,redasifhehadbeendrinkinghotwine;andswiftlyheleapedintotheairandwentoffforhisdailyjourney,turningalltheedgesofthewavesgoldenandtheshadowsbetweenthemdarkgreen.Ashipwassailingonthemarginoftheseaandthesky,anditsailedrightintothesun,sothatitsmastswereblackagainstthefire.

‘Where’sthatgoingto?’askedRoverandom.‘O!JapanorHonoluluorManilaorEasterIslandorThursdayor

Vladivostok,orsomewhereorother,Isuppose,’saidthemer-dog,whosegeographywasabitvague,inspiteofhishundredsofyearsofboastedprowlings.‘ThisisthePacific,Ibelieve;butIdon’tknowwhichpart—awarmpart,bythefeelofit.It’sratheralargepieceofwater.Let’sgoandlookforsomethingtoeat!’

Whentheygotback,somedayslater,Roverandomatoncewenttolookforthewizardagain;hefelthehadgivenhimagoodlongrest.

‘Please,MrArtaxerxes,couldyoubother—‘hebeganasusual.‘No!Icouldnot!’saidArtaxerxes,evenmoredefinitelythanusual.This

timehereallywasbusy,though.TheComplaintshadcomeinbypost.Ofcourse,asyoucanimagine,allkindsofthingsgowronginthesea,thatnoteven

thebestPAMintheoceancouldprevent,andsomeofwhichheisnotevensupposedtohaveanythingtodowith.Wreckscomedownplumpnowandagainontheroofofsomebody’ssea-house;explosionsoccurinthesea-bed(Oyes!theyhavevolcanoesandallthatkindofnuisancequiteasbadlyaswehave)andblowupsomebody’sprizeflockofgoldfish,orprizebedofanemones,oroneandonlypearl-oyster,orfamousrockandcoralgarden;orsavagefishhaveafightinthehighwayandknockmer-childrenover;orabsent-mindedsharksswiminatthedining-roomwindowandspoilthedinner;orthedeep,dark,unmentionablemonstersoftheblackabyssesdohorribleandwickedthings.

Themer-folkhavealwaysputupwithallthis,butnotwithoutcomplaining.Theylikedcomplaining.TheyusedofcoursetowriteletterstoTheWeeklyWeed,TheMermail,andOceanNotions;buttheyhadaPAMnow,andtheywrotetohimaswell,andblamedhimforeverything,eveniftheygottheirtailsnippedbytheirownpetlobsters.Theysaidhismagicwasinadequate(asitsometimeswas)andthathissalaryoughttobereduced(whichwastruebutrude);andthathewastoobigforhisboots(whichwasalsonearthemark:theyshouldhavesaidslippers,hewastoolazytowearbootsoften);andtheysaidlotsbesidestoworryArtaxerxeseverymorning,andespeciallyonMondays.Itwasalwaysworst(byseveralhundredenvelopes)onMondays;andthiswasaMonday,soArtaxerxesthrewalumpofrockatRoverandom,andheslippedofflikeashrimpfromanet.

Hewasjollygladwhenhegotoutintothegardentofindthathewasstillunchangedinshape;andIdaresayifhehadnotremovedhimselfquickthewizardwouldhavechangedhimintoasea-slug,orsenthimtotheBackofBeyond(whereverthatis),oreventoPot(whichisatthebottomofthedeepestsea).Hewasveryannoyed,andhewentandgrumbledtothesea-Rover.

‘You’dbettergivehimaresttillMondayisover,atanyrate,’advisedthemer-dog;‘andIshouldmissoutMondaysaltogether,infuture,ifIwereyou.Comeandhaveanotherswim!’

AfterthatRoverandomgavethewizardsuchalongrestthattheyalmostforgotaboutoneanother—notquite:dogsdon’tforgetlumpsofrockveryquickly.ButtoallappearancesRoverandomhadsettleddowntobecomeapermanentpetofthepalace.Hewasalwaysoffsomewherewiththemer-dog,andoftenthemer-childrencamealongaswell.Theywerenotasjollyasreal,two-leggedchildreninRoverandom’sopinion(butthenofcourseRoverandomdidnotreallybelongtothesea,andwasnotaperfectjudge),buttheykepthimhappy;andtheymighthavekepthimthereforeverandhavemadehimforget

littleboyTwointheend,ifithadnotbeenforthingsthathappenedlater.YoucanmakeupyourmindwhetherPsamathoshadanythingtodowiththeseevents,whenwecometothem.

Therewereplentyofthesechildrentochoosefrom,atanyrate.Theoldmer-kinghadhundredsofdaughtersandthousandsofgrandchildren,andallinthesamepalace;andtheywereallfondofthetwoRovers,andsowasMrsArtaxerxes.ItwasapitythatRoverandomneverthoughtoftellingherhisstory;sheknewhowtomanagethePAMinanymood.Butinthatcase,ofcourse,Roverandomwouldhavegonebacksoonerandmissedmanyofthesights.ItwaswithMrsArtaxerxes,andsomeofthemerchildrenthathevisitedtheGreatWhiteCaves,whereallthejewelsthatarelostinthesea,andmanythathavealwaysbeeninthesea,andofcoursepearlsuponpearls,arehoardedandhidden.

Theywenttoo,anothertime,tovisitthesmallerseafairiesintheirlittleglasshousesatthebottomofthesea.Thesea-fairiesseldomswim,butwandersingingoverthebedoftheseainsmoothplaces,ordriveinshellcarriagesharnessedtothetiniestfishes;orelsetheyrideastridelittlegreencrabswithbridlesoffinethreads(whichofcoursedon’tpreventthecrabsfromgoingsideways,astheyalwayswill);andtheyhavetroubleswiththesea-goblinsthatarelarger,anduglyandrowdy,anddonothingexceptfightandhuntfishandgallopaboutonsea-horses.Thosegoblinscanliveoutofthewaterforalongwhile,andplayinthesurfatthewater’sedgeinastorm.Socansomeofthesea-fairies,buttheypreferthecalmwarmnightsofsummereveningsonlonelyshores(andnaturallyareveryseldomseeninconsequence).

AnotherdayoldUinturnedupagainandgavethetwodogsarideforachange;itwaslikeridingonamovingmountain.Theywereawayfordaysanddays;andtheyonlyturnedbackfromtheeasternedgeoftheworldjustintime.Therethewhalerosetothetopandblewoutafountainofwatersohighthatalotofitwasthrownrightofftheworldandovertheedge.

Anothertimehetookthemtotheotherside(orasnearashedared),andthatwasastilllongerandmoreexcitingjourney,themostmarvellousofallRoverandom’stravels,asherealisedlater,whenhewasgrowntobeanolderandawiserdog.Itwouldtakethewholeofanotherstory,atleast,totellyouofalltheiradventuresinUnchartedWatersandoftheirglimpsesoflandsunknowntogeography,beforetheypassedtheShadowySeasandreachedthegreatBayofFairyland(aswecallit)beyondtheMagicIsles;andsawfaroffinthelastWest

theMountainsofElvenhomeandthelightofFaeryuponthewaves.RoverandomthoughthecaughtaglimpseofthecityoftheElvesonthegreenhillbeneaththeMountains,aglintofwhitefaraway;butUindivedagainsosuddenlythathecouldnotbesure.Ifhewasright,heisoneoftheveryfewcreatures,ontwolegsorfour,whocanwalkaboutourownlandsandsaytheyhaveglimpsedthatotherland,howeverfaraway.

‘Ishouldcatchit,ifthiswasfoundout!’saidUin.‘NoonefromtheOuterLandsissupposedevertocomehere;andfeweverdonow.Mum’stheword!’

WhatdidIsayaboutdogs?Theydon’tforgetilltemperedlumpsofrock.Wellthen,inspiteofallthesevariedsight-seeingsandtheseastonishingjourneys,Roverandomkeptitinhisunderneathmindallthetime.Anditcamebackintohisuppermind,assoonaseverhegotbackhome.

Hisveryfirstthoughtwas:‘Where’sthatoldwizard?What’stheuseofbeingpolitetohim!I’llspoilhistrousersagain,ifIgethalfachance.’

Hewasinthatframeofmindwhen,aftertryinginvaintohaveawordalonewithArtaxerxes,hesawthemagiciangoby,downoneoftheroyalroadsleadingfromthepalace.Hewasofcoursetooproudathisagetogrowatailorfinsorlearntoswimproperly.Theonlythinghedidlikeafishwastodrink(eveninthesea,sohemusthavebeenthirsty);hespentalotoftimethatmighthavebeenemployedonofficialbusinessconjuringupciderintolargebarrelsinhisprivateapartments.Whenhewantedtogetaboutquickly,hedrove.WhenRoverandomsawhim,hewasdrivinginhisexpress—agiganticshellshapedlikeacockleanddrawnbysevensharks.Peoplegotoutofthewayquick,forthesharkscouldbite.

‘Let’sfollow!’saidRoverandomtothemer-dog;andfollowtheydid;andthetwobaddogsdroppedpiecesofrockintothecarriagewheneveritpassedundercliffs.Theycouldnipalongamazinglyfast,asItoldyou;andtheywhizzedahead,hidinweed-bushesandpushedanythingloosetheycouldfindovertheedge.Itannoyedthewizardintensely,buttheytookcarethathedidnotspotthem.

Artaxerxeswasinaverybadtemperbeforehestarted,andhewasinaragebeforehehadgonefar,aragenotunmixedwithanxiety.Forhewasgoingtoinvestigatethedamagedonebyanunusualwhirlpoolthathadsuddenlyappeared—andinapartoftheseathathedidnotlikeatall;hethought(andhewasquiteright)thattherewerenastythingsinthatdirectionthatwerebestleftalone.I

daresayyoucanguesswhatwasthematter;Artaxerxesdid.TheancientSea-serpentwaswaking,orhalfthinkingaboutit.

Hehadbeeninasoundsleepforyears,butnowhewasturning.Whenhewasuncoiledhewouldcertainlyhavereachedahundredmiles(somepeoplesayhewouldreachfromEdgetoEdge,butthatisanexaggeration);andwhenheiscurledupthereisonlyonecaveotherthanPot(whereheusedtolive,andmanypeoplewishhimbackthere),onlyonecaveinalltheoceansthatwillholdhim,andthatisveryunfortunatelynotahundredmilesfromthemer-king’spalace.

Whenheundidacurlortwoinhissleep,thewaterheavedandshookandbentpeople’shousesandspoilttheirreposeformilesandmilesaround.ButitwasverystupidtosendthePAMtolookintoit;forofcoursetheSea-serpentismuchtooenormousandstrongandoldandidioticforanyonetocontrol(primordial,prehistoric,autothalassic,fabulous,mythical,andsillyareotheradjectivesappliedtohim);andArtaxerxesknewitallonlytoowell.

NoteventheMan-in-the-Moonworkinghardforfiftyyearscouldhaveconcoctedaspelllargeenoughorlongenoughorstrongenoughtobindhim.OnlyoncehadtheMan-in-the-Moontried(whenspeciallyrequested),andatleastonecontinentfellintotheseaasaresult.

PooroldArtaxerxesdrovestraightuptothemouthoftheSea-serpent’scave.ButhehadnosoonergotoutofhiscarriagethanhesawthetipoftheSea-serpent’stailstickingoutoftheentrance;largeritwasthanarowofgiganticwater-barrels,andgreenandslimy.Thatwasquiteenoughforhim.HewantedtogohomeatoncebeforetheWormturnedagain—asallwormswillatoddandunexpectedmoments.

ItwaslittleRoverandomthatupseteverything!HedidnotknowanythingabouttheSea-serpentoritstremendousness;allhethoughtaboutwasbaitingtheilltemperedwizard.Sowhenachancecame—Artaxerxeswasstandingstaringstupid-likeatthevisibleendoftheserpent,andhissteedsweretakingnoparticularnoticeofanything—hecreptupandbitoneofthesharks’tails,forfun.Forfun!Whatfun!Thesharkjumpedstraightforward,andthecarriagejumpedforwardtoo;andArtaxerxes,whohadjustturnedroundtogetintoit,fellonhisback.Thenthesharkbittheonlythingitcouldreachatthemoment,whichwasthesharkinfront;andthatsharkbitthenextone;andsoon,untilthelastoftheseven,seeingnothingelsetobite—blessme!theidiot,ifhedidnotgoandbitetheSea-serpent’stail!

TheSea-serpentgaveanewandveryunexpectedturn!Andthenextthingthedogsknewwasbeingwhirledallovertheplaceinwatergonemad,bumping

intogiddyfishesandspinningsea-trees,scaredoutoftheirlivesinacloudofuprootedweeds,sand,shells,slugs,periwinkles,andoddments.Andthingsgotworseandworse,andtheserpentkeptonturning.AndtherewasoldArtaxerxes,clingingontothereinsofthesharks,beingwhirledallovertheplacetoo,andsayingthemostdreadfulthingstothem.Tothesharks,Imean.Luckilyforthisstory,heneverknewwhatRoverandomhaddone.

Idon’tknowhowthedogsgothome.Itwasalong,longtimebeforetheydid,atanyrate.FirstofalltheywerewashedupontheshoreinoneoftheterribletidescausedbytheSea-serpent’sstirrings;andthentheywerecaughtbyfishermenontheothersideoftheseaandjollynearlysenttoanAquarium(adisgustingfate);andthenhavingescapedthatbytheskinoftheirfeettheyhadtogetallthewaybackthemselvesasbesttheycouldthroughperpetualsubterraneancommotion.

Andwhenatlasttheygothometherewasaterriblecommotiontheretoo.Allthemer-folkwerecrowdedroundthepalace,allshoutingatonce:

‘BringoutthePAM!’(Yes!theycalledhimthatpublicly,andnothinglongerormoredignified.)‘BringoutthePAM!BRINGOUTTHEPAM!’

AndthePAMwashidinginthecellars.MrsArtaxerxesfoundhimthereatlast,andmadehimcomeout;andallthemer-folkshouted,whenhelookedoutofanattic-window:

‘Stopthisnonsense!STOPTHISNONSENSE!STOPTHISNONSENSE!’Andtheymadesuchahullabaloothatpeopleatalltheseasidesalloverthe

worldthoughttheseawasroaringlouderthanusual.Itwas!AndallthewhiletheSeaserpentkeptonturning,tryingabsentmindedlytogetthetipofhistailinhismouth.Butthankheavens!hewasnotproperlyandfullyawake,orhemighthavecomeoutandshakenhistailinanger,andthenanothercontinentwouldhavebeendrowned.(Ofcoursewhetherthatwouldhavebeenreallyregrettableornotdependsonwhichcontinentwastakenandwhichyouliveon.)

Butthemer-folkdidnotliveonacontinent,butinthesea,andrightinthethickofit;andverythickitwasgetting.Andtheyinsistedthatitwasthemer-king’sbusinesstomakethePAMproducesomespell,remedy,orsolutiontokeeptheSea-serpentquiet:theycouldnotgettheirhandstotheirfacestofeedthemselvesorblowtheirnoses,thewatershookso;andeverybodywasbumpingintoeverybodyelse;andallthefishwereseasick,thewaterwassowobbly;anditwassoturbidandsofullofsandthateveryonehadcoughs;andallthedancing

wasstopped.Artaxerxesgroaned,buthehadtodosomething.Sohewenttohis

workshopandshuthimselfupforafortnight,duringwhichtimetherewerethreeearthquakes,twosubmarinehurricanes,andseveralriotsofthemerpeople.Thenhecameoutandletlooseamostprodigiousspell(accompaniedwithsoothingincantation)atadistancefromthecave;andeverybodywenthomeandsatincellarswaiting—everybodyexceptMrsArtaxerxesandherunfortunatehusband.Thewizardwasobligedtostay(atadistance,butnotasafeone)andwatchtheresult;andMrsArtaxerxeswasobligedtostayandwatchthewizard.

AllthespelldidwastogivetheSerpentaterriblebaddream:hedreamedthathewascoveredalloverwithbarnacles(veryirritating,andpartlytrue),andalsobeingslowlyroastedinavolcano(verypainful,andunfortunatelyquiteimaginary).Andthatwokehim!

ProbablyArtaxerxes’magicwasbetterthanwassupposed.Atanyrate,theSea-serpentdidnotcomeout—luckilyforthisstory.Heputhisheadwherehistailwas,andyawned,openedhismouthaswideasthecave,andsnortedsoloudthateveryoneinthecellarsheardhiminallthekingdomsofthesea.

AndtheSea-serpentsaid:‘StopthisNONSENSE!’Andheadded:‘Ifthisblitheringwizarddoesn’tgoawayatonce,andifhe

eversomuchaspaddlesintheseaagain,IshallCOMEOUT;andIshalleathimfirst,andthenIshallknockeverythingtodrippingsmithereens.That’sall.Goodnight!’

AndMrsArtaxerxescarriedthePAMhomeinafaintingfit.Whenhehadrecovered—andthatwasquick,theysawtothat—hetookthe

spellofftheSerpent,andpackedhisbag;andallthepeoplesaidandshouted:‘SendthePAMaway!Agoodriddance!That’sall.Good-bye!’Andthemer-kingsaid:‘Wedon’twanttoloseyou,butwethinkyouought

togo.’AndArtaxerxesfeltverysmallandunimportantaltogether(whichwasgoodforhim).Eventhemer-doglaughedathim.

Butfunnilyenough,Roverandomwasquiteupset.Afterall,hehadhisownreasonsforknowingthatArtaxerxes’magicwasnotwithouteffect.Andhehadbittentheshark’stail,too,hadn’the?Andhehadstartedthewholethingwiththattrouser-bite.AndhebelongedtotheLandhimself,andfeltitwasabithardonapoorland-wizardbeingbaitedbyallthesesea-folk.

Anywayhecameuptotheoldfellowandsaid:‘Please,MrArtaxerxes—!’‘Well?’saidthewizard,quitekindly(hewassogladnottobecalledPAM,

andhehadnothearda‘Mister’forweeks).‘Well?Whatisit,littledog?’

‘Ibegyourpardon,Idoreally.Awfullysorry,Imean.Inevermeanttodamageyourreputation.’RoverandomwasthinkingoftheSea-serpentandtheshark’stail,but(luckily)Artaxerxesthoughthewasreferringtohistrousers.

‘Come,come!’hesaid.‘Wewon’tbringupbygones.Leastsaid,soonestmended,orpatched.Ithinkwehadbothbettergobackhomeagaintogether.’

‘Butplease,MrArtaxerxes,’saidRoverandom,‘couldyoubothertoturnmebackintomypropersize?’

‘Certainly!’saidthewizard,gladtofindsomebodythatstillbelievedhecoulddoanythingatall.‘Certainly!

Butyouarebestandsafestasyouare,whileyouaredownhere.Let’sgetawayfromthisfirst!AndIamreallyandtrulybusyjustnow.’

Andhereallyandtrulywas.Hewentintotheworkshopsandcollectedallhisparaphernalia,insignia,symbols,memoranda,booksofrecipes,arcana,apparatus,andbagsandbottlesofmiscellaneousspells.Heburnedallthatwouldburninhiswaterproofforge;andtheresthetippedintotheback-garden.Extraordinarythingstookplacethereafterwards:alltheflowerswentmad,andthevegetablesweremonstrous,andthefishesthatatethemwereturnedintosea-worms,sea-cats,sea-cows,sea-lions,sea-tigers,sea-devils,porpoises,dugongs,cephalopods,manatees,andcalamities,ormerelypoisoned;andphantasms,visions,bewilderments,illusions,andhallucinationssproutedsothickthatnobodyhadanypeaceinthepalaceatall,andtheywereobligedtomove.Infacttheybegantorespectthememoryofthatwizardaftertheyhadlosthim.Butthatwaslongafterwards.Atthemomenttheywereclamouringforhimtodepart.

WhenallwasreadyArtaxerxessaidgood-byetothemer-king—rathercoldly;andnoteventhemer-childrenseemedtomindverymuch,hehadsooftenbeenbusy,andoccasionsofthebubbles(liketheoneItoldyouabout)hadbeenrare.Someofhiscountlesssisters-in-lawtriedtobepolite,especiallyifMrsArtaxerxeswasthere;butreallyeverybodywasimpatienttoseehimgoingoutofthegate,sothattheycouldsendahumblemessagetotheSea-serpent:

‘Theregrettablewizardhasdepartedandwillreturnnomore,YourWorship.Pray,gotosleep!’

OfcourseMrsArtaxerxeswenttoo.Themer-kinghadsomanydaughtersthathecouldaffordtoloseonewithoutmuchgrief,especiallythetentheldest.Hegaveherabagofjewelsandawetkissonthedoorstepandwentbacktohisthrone.Buteverybodyelsewasverysorry,andespeciallyMrsArtaxerxes’massofmer-niecesandmer-nephews;andtheywerealsoverysorrytoloseRoverandomtoo.

Thesorriestofallandthemostdowncastwasthemerdog:‘Justdropmealinewheneveryougototheseaside,’hesaid,‘andIwillpopupandhavealookatyou.’

‘Iwon’tforget!’saidRoverandom.Andthentheywent.Theoldestwhalewaswaiting.RoverandomsatonMrsArtaxerxes’lap,and

whentheywereallsettledonthewhale’sback,offtheystarted.Andallthepeoplesaid:‘Good-bye!’veryloud,and‘Agoodriddanceof

badrubbish’quietly,butnottooquietly;andthatwastheendofArtaxerxesintheofficeofPacificandAtlanticMagician.Whohasdonetheirbewitchmentsforthemsince,Idon’tknow.OldPsamathosandtheMan-in-the-Moon,Ishouldthink,havemanageditbetweenthem;theyareperfectlycapableofit.

5

Thewhalelandedonaquietshorefar,farawayfromthecoveofPsamathos;Artaxerxeswasmostparticularaboutthat.ThereMrsArtaxerxesandthewhalewereleft,whilethewizard(withRoverandominhispocket)walkedacoupleofmilesorsototheneighbouringseasidetowntogetanoldsuitandagreenhatandsometobacco,inexchangeforthewonderfulsuitofvelvet(whichcreatedasensationinthestreets).Healsopurchasedabath-chairforMrsArtaxerxes(youmustnotforgethertail).

‘Please,MrArtaxerxes,’beganRoverandomoncemore,whentheyweresittingonthebeachagainintheafternoon.Thewizardwassmokingapipewithhisbackagainstthewhale,lookinghappierthanhehaddoneforalongwhile,andnotatallbusy.‘Whataboutmypropershape,ifyoudon’tmind?Andmypropersize,too,please!’

‘Overywell!’saidArtaxerxes.‘IthoughtImightjusthavehadanapbeforegettingbusy;butIdon’tmind.Let’sgetitover!Where’smy—‘Andthenhestoppedshort.HehadsuddenlyrememberedthathehadburntandthrownawayallhisspellsatthebottomoftheDeepBlueSea.

Hereallywasdreadfullyupset.Hegotupandfeltinhistrouser-pockets,andhiswaistcoat-pockets,andhiscoat-pockets,insideandout,andhecouldnotfindtheleastbitofmagicanywhereinanyofthem.(Ofcoursenot,thesillyoldfellow;hewassoflusteredhehadevenforgottenthatitwasonlyanhourortwosincehehadboughthissuitinapawnbroker’sshop.Asamatteroffactithadbelongedto,oratanyratehadbeensoldby,anelderlybutler,andhehadgonethroughthepocketsprettythoroughlyfirst.)

Thewizardsatdownandmoppedhisforeheadwithapurplehandkerchief,lookingthoroughlymiserableagain.‘Ireallyamvery,verysorry!’hesaid.‘Inevermeanttoleaveyoulikethisforeverandever;butnowIdon’tseethatitcanbehelped.Letitbealessontoyounottobitethetrousersofnicekindwizards!’

‘Ridiculousnonsense!’saidMrsArtaxerxes.‘Nicekindwizard,indeed!Thereisnoniceorkindorwizardaboutit,ifyoudon’tgivethelittledogbackhisshapeandsizeatonce—andwhat’smoreIshallgobacktothebottomofthe

DeepBlueSea,andnevercomebacktoyouagain.’PooroldArtaxerxeslookedalmostasworriedashedidwhentheSea-

serpentwasgivingtrouble.‘Mydear!’hesaid.‘I’mverysorry,butIwentandputmyverystrongestanti-removalspell-preserveronthedog—afterPsamathosbegantointerfere(drathim!)andjusttoshowhimthathecan’tdoeverything,andthatIwon’thavesand-rabbitwizardsinterferinginmyprivatebitoffun—andIquiteforgottosavetheantidotewhenIwasclearingupdownbelow!Iusedtokeepitinalittleblackbaghangingonthedoorinmyworkshop.

‘Dear,dearme!Iamsureyou’llagreethatitwasonlymeanttobeabitoffun,’hesaid,turningtoRoverandom,andhisoldnosegotverylargeandredwithhisdistress.

Hewentonsaying‘dear,dear,dearyme!’andshakinghisheadandbeard;andhenevernoticedthatRoverandomwasnottakinganynotice,andthewhalewaswinking.MrsArtaxerxeshadgotupandgonetoherluggage,andnowshewaslaughingandholdingoutanoldblackbaginherhand.

‘Nowstopwagglingyourbeard,andgettobusiness!’shesaid.ButwhenArtaxerxessawthebag,hewastoosurprisedforamomenttodoanythingbutlookatitwithhisoldmouthwideopen.

‘Comealong!’saidhiswife.‘Itisyourbag,isn’tit?Ipickeditup,andseveralotherlittleoddmentsthatbelongedtome,onthenastyrubbishheapyoumadeinthegarden.’Sheopenedthebagtopeepinside,andoutjumpedthewizard’smagicfountain-penwand,andalsoacloudoffunnysmokecameout,twistingitselfintostrangeshapesandcuriousfaces.

ThenArtaxerxeswokeup.‘Here,giveittome!You’rewastingit!’hecried;andhegrabbedRoverandombythescruffofhisneck,andpoppedhimkickingandyappingintothebag,beforeyoucouldsay‘knife’.Thenheturnedthebagroundthreetimes,wavingthepenintheotherhand,and—

‘Thankyou!That’lldonicely!’hesaid,andopenedthebag.Therewasaloudbang,andlo!andbehold!therewasnobag,onlyRover,

justashehadalwaysbeenbeforehefirstmetthewizardthatmorningonthelawn.Well,perhapsnotjustthesame;hewasabitbigger,ashewasnowsomemonthsolder.

Itisnogoodtryingtodescribehowexcitedhefelt,orhowfunnyandsmallereverythingseemed,eventheoldestwhale;norhowstrongandferociousRoverfelt.Forjustonemomenthelookedlonginglyatthewizard’strousers;buthedidnotwantthestorytobeginalloveragain,so,afterhehadrunamileincirclesforjoy,andnearlybarkedhisheadoff,hecamebackandsaid‘Thank

you!’;andheevenadded‘Verypleasedtohavemetyou’,whichwasverypoliteindeed.

‘That’sallright!’saidArtaxerxes.‘Andthat’sthelastmagicIshalldo.I’mgoingtoretire.Andyouhadbetterbegettinghome.Ihavenomagiclefttosendyouhomewith,soyou’llhavetowalk.Butthatwon’thurtastrongyoungdog.’

SoRoversaidgood-bye,andthewhalewinked,andMrsArtaxerxesgavehimapieceofcake;andthatwasthelasthesawofthemforalongwhile.Long,longafterwards,whenhewasvisitingaseasideplacethathehadneverbeentobefore,hefoundoutwhathadhappenedtothem;fortheywerethere.Notthewhale,ofcourse,buttheretiredwizardandhiswife.

Theyhadsettledinthatseasidetown,andArtaxerxes,takingthenameofMrA.Pam,hadsetupacigaretteandchocolateshopnearthebeach—buthewasvery,verycarefulnevertotouchthewater(evenfreshwater,andthathefoundnohardship).Apoortradeforawizard,buthedidatleasttrytoclearupthenastymessthathiscustomersmadeonthebeach;andhemadeagooddealofmoneyoutof‘Pam’sRock’,whichwasverypinkandsticky.Theremayhavebeentheleastbitofmagicinit,forchildrenlikeditsomuchtheywentoneatingitevenaftertheyhaddroppeditinthesand.

ButMrsArtaxerxes,IshouldsayMrsA.Pam,mademuchmoremoney.Shekeptbathing-tentsandvans,andgaveswimminglessons,anddrovehomeinabath-chairdrawnbywhiteponies,andworethemer-king’sjewelsintheafternoon,andbecameveryfamous,sothatnooneeveralludedtohertail.

Inthemeanwhile,however,Roverisploddingdownthecountrylanesandhighways,goingalongfollowinghisnose,whichisboundtoleadhimhomeintheend,asdogs’nosesdo.

‘AlltheMan-in-the-Moon’sdreamsdon’tcometrue,then—justashesaidhimself,’thoughtRoverashepaddedalong.‘Thiswasevidentlyonethatdidn’t.Idon’tevenknowthenameoftheplacewherethelittleboyslive,andthat’sapity.’

Thedryland,hefound,wasoftenasdangerousaplaceforadogasthemoonortheocean,thoughmuchduller.Motoraftermotorracketedby,filled(Roverthought)withthesamepeople,allmakingallspeed(andalldustandallsmell)tosomewhere.

‘Idon’tbelievehalfofthemknowwheretheyaregoingto,orwhytheyare

goingthere,orwouldknowitiftheygotthere,’grumbledRoverashecoughedandchoked;andhisfeetgottiredonthehard,gloomy,blackroads.Soheturnedintothefields,andhadmanymildadventuresofthebirdandrabbitsortinanaimlesskindofway,andmorethanoneenjoyablefightwithotherdogs,andseveralhurriedflightsfromlargerdogs.

Andsoatlast,weeksormonthssincethetalebegan(hecouldnothavetoldyouwhich),hegotbacktohisowngardengate.Andtherewasthelittleboyplayingonthelawnwiththeyellowball!Andthedreamhadcometrue,justashehadneverexpected!!

‘There’sRoverandom!!!’criedlittleboyTwowithashout.AndRoversatupandbegged,andcouldnotfindhisvoicetobark

anything,andthelittleboykissedhishead,andwentdashingintothehouse,crying:‘Here’smylittlebeggingdogcomebacklargeandreal!!!’

Hetoldhisgrandmotherallaboutit.HowwasRovertoknowthathehadbelongedtothelittleboys’grandmotherallthewhile?Hehadonlybelongedtoheramonthortwo,whenhewasbewitched.ButIwonderhowmuchPsamathosandArtaxerxeshadknownaboutit?

Thegrandmother(verysurprisedindeedasshewasatherdog’sreturnlookingsowellandnotmotorsmashedorlorry-flattenedatall)didnotunderstandwhatonearththelittleboywastalkingabout;thoughhetoldherallheknewaboutitveryexactly,andoverandoveragain.Shegatheredwithagreatdealoftrouble(shewasofcoursejustthewee-estbitdeaf)thatthedogwastobecalledRoverandomandnotRover,becausetheMan-in-the-Moonsaidso(‘Whatoddideasthechildhas,tobesure’);andthathebelongednottoherafterallbuttolittleboyTwo,becausemummybroughthimhomewiththeshrimps(‘Verywell,mydear,ifyoulike;butIthoughtIboughthimfromthegardener’sbrother’sson’).

Ihaven’ttoldyoualltheirargument,ofcourse;itwaslongandcomplicated,asitofteniswhenbothsidesareright.AllthatyouwanttoknowisthathewascalledRoverandomafterthat,andhedidbelongtothelittleboy,andwentback,whentheboys’visittotheirgrandmotherwasover,tothehousewherehehadoncesatonthechestof-drawers.Heneverdidthatagain,ofcourse.Helivedsometimesinthecountryandsometimes,mostofthetime,inthewhitehouseonthecliffbythesea.

HegottoknowoldPsamathosverywell,neverwellenoughtoleaveout

theP,butwellenough,whenhewasgrownuptoalargeanddignifieddog,todighimupoutofthesandandhissleepandhavemanyandmanyachatwithhim.IndeedRoverandomgrewtobeverywise,andhadanimmenselocalreputation,andhadallsortsofotheradventures(manyofwhichthelittleboyshared).

ButtheonesIhavetoldyouaboutwereprobablythemostunusualandthemostexciting.OnlyTinkersaysshedoesnotbelieveawordofthem.Jealouscat!

FARMERGILESOFHAMAegidiiAhenobarbiJuliiAgricoledeHammo

DominideDomitoAuleDraconarieComitis

RegniMinimiRegisetBasileimirafacinoraetmirabilisexortus

orinthevulgartongueTheRiseandWonderfulAdventuresofFarmerGiles,LordofTameCountofWorminghallandKingoftheLittleKingdom

FOREWORD

OfthehistoryoftheLittleKingdomfewfragmentshavesurvived;butbychanceanaccountofitsoriginhasbeenpreserved:alegend,perhaps,ratherthananaccount;foritisevidentlyalatecompilation,fullofmarvels,derivednotfromsoberannals,butfromthepopularlaystowhichitsauthorfrequentlyrefers.Forhimtheeventsthatherecordslayalreadyinadistantpast;butheseems,nonetheless,tohavelivedhimselfinthelandsoftheLittleKingdom.Suchgeographicalknowledgeasheshows(itisnothisstrongpoint)isofthatcountry,whileofregionsoutsideit,northorwest,heisplainlyignorant.

Anexcuseforpresentingatranslationofthiscurioustale,outofitsveryinsularLatinintothemoderntongueoftheUnitedKingdom,maybefoundintheglimpsethatitaffordsoflifeinadarkperiodofthehistoryofBritain,nottomentionthelightthatitthrowsontheoriginofsomedifficultplace-names.Somemayfindthecharacterandadventuresofitsheroattractiveinthemselves.

TheboundariesoftheLittleKingdom,eitherintimeorspace,arenoteasytodeterminefromthescantyevidence.SinceBrutuscametoBritainmanykingsandrealmshavecomeandgone.ThepartitionunderLocrin,Camber,andAlbanac,wasonlythefirstofmanyshiftingdivisions.Whatwiththeloveofpettyindependenceontheonehand,andontheotherthegreedofkingsforwiderrealms,theyearswerefilledwithswiftalternationsofwarandpeace,ofmirthandwoe,ashistoriansofthereignofArthurtellus:atimeofunsettledfrontiers,whenmenmightriseorfallsuddenly,andsong-writershadabundantmaterialandeageraudiences.Somewhereinthoselongyears,afterthedaysofKingCoelmaybe,butbeforeArthurortheSevenKingdomsoftheEnglish,wemustplacetheeventshererelated;andtheirsceneisthevalleyoftheThames,withanexcursionnorth-westtothewallsofWales.

ThecapitaloftheLittleKingdomwasevidently,asisours,initssouth-eastcorner,butitsconfinesarevague.ItseemsnevertohavereachedfaruptheThamesintotheWest,norbeyondOtmoortotheNorth;itseasternbordersaredubious.ThereareindicationsinafragmentarylegendofGeorgiussonofGilesandhispageSuovetaurilius(Suet)thatatonetimeanoutpostagainsttheMiddleKingdomwasmaintainedatFarthingho.Butthatsituationdoesnotconcernthisstory,whichisnowpresentedwithoutalterationorfurthercomment,thoughthe

originalgrandiosetitlehasbeensuitablyreducedtoFarmerGilesofHam.

FARMERGILESOFHAM

ÆgidiusdeHammowasamanwholivedinthemidmostpartsoftheIslandofBritain.InfullhisnamewasÆgidiusAhenobarbusJuliusAgricoladeHammo;forpeoplewererichlyendowedwithnamesinthosedays,nowlongago,whenthisislandwasstillhappilydividedintomanykingdoms.Therewasmoretimethen,andfolkwerefewer,sothatmostmenweredistinguished.However,thosedaysarenowover,soIwillinwhatfollowsgivethemanhisnameshortly,andinthevulgarform:hewasFarmerGilesofHam,andhehadaredbeard.Hamwasonlyavillage,butvillageswereproudandindependentstillinthosedays.

FarmerGileshadadog.Thedog’snamewasGarm.Dogshadtobecontentwithshortnamesinthevernacular:theBook-latinwasreservedfortheirbetters.Garmcouldnottalkevendog-latin;buthecouldusethevulgartongue(ascouldmostdogsofhisday)eithertobullyortobragortowheedlein.Bullyingwasforbeggarsandtrespassers,braggingforotherdogs,andwheedlingforhismaster.GarmwasbothproudandafraidofGiles,whocouldbullyandbragbetterthanhecould.

Thetimewasnotoneofhurryorbustle.Butbustlehasverylittletodowithbusiness.Mendidtheirworkwithoutit;andtheygotthroughadealbothofworkandoftalk.Therewasplentytotalkabout,formemorableeventsoccurredveryfrequently.Butatthemomentwhenthistalebeginsnothingmemorablehad,infact,happenedinHamforquitealongtime.WhichsuitedFarmerGilesdowntotheground:hewasaslowsortoffellow,rathersetinhisways,andtakenupwiththisownaffairs.Hehadhishandsfull(hesaid)keepingthewolffromthedoor:thatis,keepinghimselfasfatandcomfortableashisfatherbeforehim.Thedogwasbusyhelpinghim.NeitherofthemgavemuchthoughttotheWideWorldoutsidetheirfields,thevillage,andthenearestmarket.

ButtheWideWorldwasthere.Theforestwasnotfaroff,andawaywestandnorthweretheWildHills,andthedubiousmarchesofthemountain-country.Andamongotherthingsstillatlargethereweregiants:rudeandunculturedfolk,andtroublesomeattimes.Therewasonegiantinparticular,largerandmorestupidthanhisfellows.Ifindnomentionofhisnameinthehistories,butitdoesnotmatter.Hewasverylarge,hiswalking-stickwaslikeatree,andhistreadwasheavy.Hebrushedelmsasideliketallgrasses;andhewastheruinofroads

andthedesolationofgardens,forhisgreatfeetmadeholesinthemasdeepaswells;ifhestumbledintoahouse,thatwastheendofit.Andallthisdamagehedidwhereverhewent,forhisheadwasfarabovetheroofsofhousesandlefthisfeettolookafterthemselves.Hewasnear-sightedandalsoratherdeaf.FortunatelyhelivedfaroffintheWild,andseldomvisitedthelandsinhabitedbymen,atleastnotonpurpose.Hehadagreattumbledownhouseawayupinthemountains;buthehadveryfewfriends,owingtohisdeafnessandhisstupidity,andthescarcityofgiants.HeusedtogooutwalkingintheWildHillsandintheemptyregionsatthefeetofthemountains,allbyhimself.

Onefinesummer’sdaythisgiantwentoutforawalk,andwanderedaimlesslyalong,doingagreatdealofdamageinthewoods.Suddenlyhenoticedthatthesunwassetting,andfeltthathissupper-timewasdrawingnear;buthediscoveredthathewasinapartofthecountrythathedidnotknowatallandhadlosthisway.Makingawrongguessattherightdirectionhewalkedandhewalkeduntilitwasdarknight.Thenhesatdownandwaitedforthemoontorise.Thenhewalkedandwalkedinthemoonlight,stridingoutwithawill,forhewasanxioustogethome.Hehadlefthisbestcopperpotonthefire,andfearedthatthebottomwouldbeburned.Buthisbackwastothemountains,andhewasalreadyinthelandsinhabitedbymen.Hewas,indeed,nowdrawingneartothefarmofÆgidiusAhenobarbusJuliusAgricolaandthevillagecalled(inthevulgartongue)Ham.

Itwasafinenight.Thecowswereinthefields,andFarmerGiles’sdoghadgotoutandgoneforawalkonhisownaccount.Hehadafancyformoonshine,andrabbits.Hehadnoidea,ofcourse,thatagiantwasalsooutforawalk.Thatwouldhavegivenhimagoodreasonforgoingoutwithoutleave,butastillbetterreasonforstayingquietinthekitchen.Atabouttwoo’clockthegiantarrivedinFarmerGiles’sfields,brokethehedges,trampledonthecrops,andflattenedthemowing-grass.Infiveminuteshehaddonemoredamagethantheroyalfoxhuntcouldhavedoneinfivedays.

Garmheardathump-thumpcomingalongtheriverbank,andherantothewestsideofthelowhillonwhichthefarmhousestood,justtoseewhatwashappening.SuddenlyhesawthegiantstriderightacrosstheriverandtreaduponGalathea,thefarmer’sfavouritecow,squashingthepoorbeastasflatasthefarmercouldhavesquashedablackbeetle.

ThatwasmorethanenoughforGarm.Hegaveayelpoffrightandboltedhome.Quiteforgettingthathewasoutwithoutleave,hecameandbarkedandyammeredunderneathhismaster’sbedroomwindow.Therewasnoanswerfora

longtime.FarmerGileswasnoteasilywakened.‘Help!help!help!’criedGarm.Thewindowopenedsuddenlyandawell-aimedbottlecameflyingout.‘Ow!’saidthedog,jumpingasidewithpractisedskill.‘Help!help!help!’Outpoppedthefarmer’shead.‘Dratyou,dog!Whatbeyoua-doing?’said

he.‘Nothing,’saidthedog.‘I’llgiveyounothing!I’llflaytheskinoffyouinthemorning,’saidthe

farmer,slammingthewindow.‘Help!help!help!’criedthedog.OutcameGiles’sheadagain.‘I’llkillyou,ifyoumakeanothersound,’he

said.‘What’scometoyou,youfool?’‘Nothing,’saidthedog;‘butsomething’scometoyou.’‘Whatd’youmean?’saidGiles,startledinthemidstofhisrage.Never

beforehadGarmansweredhimsaucily.‘There’sagiantinyourfields,anenormousgiant;andhe’scomingthis

way,’saidthedog.‘Help!help!Heistramplingonyoursheep.HehasstampedonpoorGalathea,andshe’sasflatasadoormat.Help!help!He’sburstingallyourhedges,andhe’scrushingallyourcrops.Youmustbeboldandquick,master,oryouwillsoonhavenothingleft.Help!’Garmbegantohowl.

‘Shutup!’saidthefarmer,andheshutthewindow.‘Lord-a-mercy!’hesaidtohimself;andthoughthenightwaswarm,heshiveredandshook.

‘Getbacktobedanddon’tbeafool!’saidhiswife.‘Anddrownthatdoginthemorning.Thereisnocalltobelievewhatadogsays;they’lltellanytale,whencaughttruantorthieving.’

‘Maybe,Agatha,’saidhe,‘andmaybenot.Butthere’ssomethinggoingoninmyfields,orGarm’sarabbit.Thatdogwasfrightened.Andwhyshouldhecomeyammeringinthenightwhenhecouldsneakinatthebackdoorwiththemilkinthemorning?’

‘Don’tstandtherearguing!’saidshe.‘Ifyoubelievethedog,thentakehisadvice:beboldandquick!’

‘Easiersaidthandone,’answeredGiles;for,indeed,hebelievedquitehalfofGarm’stale.Inthesmallhoursofthenightgiantsseemlessunlikely.

Still,propertyisproperty;andFarmerGileshadashortwaywithtrespassersthatfewcouldoutface.Sohepulledonhisbreeches,andwentdownintothekitchenandtookhisblunderbussfromthewall.Somemaywellaskwhatablunderbusswas.Indeed,thisveryquestion,itissaid,wasputtotheFour

WiseClerksofOxenford,andafterthoughttheyreplied:‘Ablunderbussisashortgunwithalargeborefiringmanyballsorslugs,andcapableofdoingexecutionwithinalimitedrangewithoutexactaim.(Nowsupersededincivilisedcountriesbyotherfirearms.)’

However,FarmerGiles’sblunderbusshadawidemouththatopenedlikeahorn,anditdidnotfireballsorslugs,butanythingthathecouldsparetostuffin.Anditdidnotdoexecution,becauseheseldomloadedit,andneverletitoff.Thesightofitwasusuallyenoughforhispurpose.Andthiscountrywasnotyetcivilised,fortheblunderbusswasnotsuperseded:itwasindeedtheonlykindofgunthattherewas,andrareatthat.Peoplepreferredbowsandarrowsandusedgunpowdermostlyforfireworks.

Wellthen,FarmerGilestookdowntheblunderbuss,andheputinagoodchargeofpowder,justincaseextrememeasuresshouldberequired;andintothewidemouthhestuffedoldnailsandbitsofwire,piecesofbrokenpot,bonesandstonesandotherrubbish.Thenhedrewonhistop-bootsandhisovercoat,andhewentoutthroughthekitchengarden.

Themoonwaslowbehindhim,andhecouldseenothingworsethanthelongblackshadowsofbushesandtrees,buthecouldhearadreadfulstamping-stumpingcomingupthesideofthehill.Hedidnotfeeleitherboldorquick,whateverAgathamightsay;buthewasmoreanxiousabouthispropertythanhisskin.So,feelingabitlooseaboutthebelt,hewalkedtowardsthebrowofthehill.

Suddenlyupovertheedgeofitthegiant’sfaceappeared,paleinthemoonlight,whichglitteredinhislargeroundeyes.Hisfeetwerestillfarbelow,makingholesinthefields.Themoondazzledthegiantandhedidnotseethefarmer;butFarmerGilessawhimandwasscaredoutofhiswits.Hepulledthetriggerwithoutthinking,andtheblunderbusswentoffwithastaggeringbang.Byluckitwaspointedmoreorlessatthegiant’slargeuglyface.Outflewtherubbish,andthestonesandthebones,andthebitsofcrockandwire,andhalfadozennails.Andsincetherangewasindeedlimited,bychanceandnochoiceofthefarmer’smanyofthesethingsstruckthegiant:apieceofpotwentinhiseye,andalargenailstuckinhisnose.

‘Blast!’saidthegiantinhisvulgarfashion.‘I’mstung!’Thenoisehadmadenoimpressiononhim(hewasratherdeaf),buthedidnotlikethenail.Itwasalongtimesincehehadmetanyinsectfierceenoughtopiercehisthickskin;buthehadheardtellthatawayEast,intheFens,thereweredragonfliesthatcouldbitelikehotpincers.Hethoughtthathemusthaverunintosomething

ofthekind.‘Nastyunhealthyparts,evidently,’saidhe.‘Ishan’tgoanyfurtherthisway

tonight.’Sohepickedupacoupleofsheepoffthehill-side,toeatwhenhegot

home,andwentbackovertheriver,makingoffaboutnor-nor-westatagreatpace.Hefoundhiswayhomeagainintheend,forhewasatlastgoingintherightdirection;butthebottomwasburnedoffhiscopperpot.

AsforFarmerGiles,whentheblunderbusswentoffitknockedhimoverflatonhisback;andtherehelaylookingattheskyandwonderingifthegiant’sfeetwouldmisshimastheypassedby.Butnothinghappened,andthestamping-stumpingdiedawayinthedistance.Sohegotup,rubbedhisshoulder,andpickeduptheblunderbuss.Thensuddenlyheheardthesoundofpeoplecheering.

MostofthepeopleofHamhadbeenlookingoutoftheirwindows;afewhadputontheirclothesandcomeout(afterthegianthadgoneaway).Somewerenowrunningupthehillshouting.

Thevillagershadheardthehorriblethump-thumpofthegiant’sfeet,andmostofthemhadimmediatelygotunderthebed-clothes;somehadgotunderthebeds.ButGarmwasbothproudandfrightenedofhismaster.Hethoughthimterribleandsplendid,whenhewasangry;andhenaturallythoughtthatanygiantwouldthinkthesame.So,assoonashesawGilescomeoutwiththeblunderbuss(asignofgreatwrathasarule),herushedofftothevillage,barkingandcrying:

‘Comeout!Comeout!Comeout!Getup!Getup!Come,andseemygreatmaster!Heisboldandquick.Heisgoingtoshootagiantfortrespassing.Comeout!’

Thetopofthehillcouldbeseenfrommostofthehouses.Whenthepeopleandthedogsawthegiant’sfaceriseaboveit,theyquailedandheldtheirbreath,andallbutthedogamongthemthoughtthatthiswouldproveamattertoobigforGilestodealwith.Thentheblunderbusswentbang,andthegiantturnedsuddenlyandwentaway,andintheiramazementandtheirjoytheyclappedandcheered,andGarmnearlybarkedhisheadoff.

‘Hooray!’theyshouted.‘Thatwilllearnhim!MasterÆgidiushasgivenhimwhatfor.Nowhewillgohomeanddie,andservehimrightandproper.’Thentheyallcheeredagaintogether.Butevenastheycheered,theytooknotefortheirownprofitthatafterallthisblunderbusscouldreallybefired.Therehadbeensomedebateinthevillageinnsonthatpoint;butnowthematterwas

settled.FarmerGileshadlittletroublewithtrespassersafterthat.Whenallseemedsafesomeofthebolderfolkcamerightupthehilland

shookhandswithFarmerGiles.Afew—theparson,andtheblacksmith,andthemiller,andoneortwopersonsofimportance—slappedhimontheback.Thatdidnotpleasehim(hisshoulderwasverysore),buthefeltobligedtoinvitethemintohishouse.Theysatroundinthekitchendrinkinghishealthandloudlypraisinghim.Hemadenoefforttohidehisyawns,butaslongasthedrinklastedtheytooknonotice.Bythetimetheyhadallhadoneortwo(andthefarmertwoorthree),hebegantofeelquitebold;whentheyhadallhadtwoorthree(andhehimselffiveorsix),hefeltasboldashisdogthoughthim.Theypartedgoodfriends;andheslappedtheirbacksheartily.Hishandswerelarge,red,andthick;sohehadhisrevenge.

Nextdayhefoundthatthenewshadgrowninthetelling,andhehadbecomeanimportantlocalfigure.Bythemiddleofthenextweekthenewshadspreadtoallthevillageswithintwentymiles.HehadbecometheHerooftheCountryside.Verypleasanthefoundit.Nextmarketdayhegotenoughfreedrinktofloataboat:thatistosay,henearlyhadhisfill,andcamehomesingingoldheroicsongs.

AtlasteventheKinggottohearofit.Thecapitalofthatrealm,theMiddleKingdomoftheislandinthosehappydays,wassometwentyleaguesdistantfromHam,andtheypaidlittleheedatcourt,asarule,tothedoingsofrusticsintheprovinces.Butsopromptanexpulsionofagiantsoinjuriousseemedworthyofnoteandofsomelittlecourtesy.Soinduecourse—thatis,inaboutthreemonths,andonthefeastofStMichael—theKingsentamagnificentletter.Itwaswritteninreduponwhiteparchment,andexpressedtheroyalapprobationof‘ourloyalsubjectandwell-belovedÆgidiusAhenobarbusJuliusAgricoladeHammo’.

Theletterwassignedwitharedblot;butthecourtscribehadadded:

EgoAugustusBonifaciusAmbrosiusAurelianusAntoninusPiusetMagnificus,duxrex,tyrannus,etBasileusMediterranearumPartium,subscribo;

andalargeredsealwasattached.Sothedocumentwasplainlygenuine.It

affordedgreatpleasuretoGiles,andwasmuchadmired,especiallywhenitwasdiscoveredthatonecouldgetaseatandadrinkbythefarmer’sfirebyaskingtolookatit.

Betterthanthetestimonialwastheaccompanyinggift.TheKingsentabeltandalongsword.TotellthetruththeKinghadneverusedtheswordhimself.Itbelongedtothefamilyandhadbeenhanginginhisarmourytimeoutofmind.Thearmourercouldnotsayhowitcamethere,orwhatmightbetheuseofit.Plainheavyswordsofthatkindwereoutoffashionatcourtjustthen,sotheKingthoughtittheverythingforapresenttoarustic.ButFarmerGileswasdelighted,andhislocalreputationbecameenormous.

Gilesmuchenjoyedtheturnofevents.Sodidhisdog.Henevergothispromisedwhipping.Gileswasajustmanaccordingtohislights;inhishearthegaveafairshareofthecredittoGarm,thoughheneverwentasfarastomentionit.Hecontinuedtothrowhardwordsandhardthingsatthedogwhenhefeltinclined,buthewinkedatmanylittleoutings.Garmtooktowalkingfarafield.Thefarmerwentaboutwithahighstep,andlucksmiledonhim.Theautumnandearlywinterworkwentwell.Allseemedsetfair—untilthedragoncame.

Inthosedaysdragonswerealreadygettingscarceintheisland.NonehadbeenseeninthemidlandrealmofAugustusBonifaciusformanyayear.Therewere,ofcourse,thedubiousmarchesandtheuninhabitedmountains,westwardandnorthward,buttheywerealongwayoff.Inthosepartsonceuponatimetherehaddweltanumberofdragonsofonekindandanother,andtheyhadmaderaidsfarandwide.ButtheMiddleKingdomwasinthosedaysfamousforthedaringoftheKing’sknights,andsomanystraydragonshadbeenkilled,orhadreturnedwithgravedamage,thattheothersgaveupgoingthatway.

ItwasstillthecustomforDragon’sTailtobeservedupattheKing’sChristmasFeast;andeachyearaknightwaschosenforthedutyofhunting.HewassupposedtosetoutuponStNicholas’Dayandcomehomewithadragon’stailnotlaterthantheeveofthefeast.ButformanyyearsnowtheRoyalCookhadmadeamarvellousconfection,aMockDragon’sTailofcakeandalmondpaste,withcunningscalesofhardicing-sugar.ThechosenknightthencarriedthisintothehallonChristmasEve,whilethefiddlesplayedandthetrumpetsrang.TheMockDragon’sTailwaseatenafterdinneronChristinasDay,andeverybodysaid(topleasethecook)thatittastedmuchbetterthanRealTail.

Thatwasthesituationwhenarealdragonturnedupagain.Thegiantwaslargelytoblame.Afterhisadventureheusedtogoaboutinthemountainsvisitinghisscatteredrelationsmorethanhadbeenhiscustom,andmuchmorethantheyliked.Forhewasalwaystryingtoborrowalargecopperpot.Butwhetherhegottheloanofoneornot,hewouldsitandtalkinhislong-windedlumberingfashionabouttheexcellentcountrydownawayEast,andallthewondersoftheWideWorld.Hehadgotitintohisheadthathewasagreatanddaringtraveller.

‘Aniceland,’hewouldsay,‘prettyflat,softtothefeet,andplentytoeatforthetaking:cows,youknow,andsheepallovertheplace,easytospot,ifyoulookcarefully.’

‘Butwhataboutthepeople?’saidthey.‘Ineversawany,’saidhe.‘Therewasnotaknighttobeseenorheard,my

dearfellows.Nothingworsethanafewstingingfliesbytheriver.’‘Whydon’tyougobackandstaythere?’saidthey.‘Ohwell,there’snoplacelikehome,theysay,’saidhe.‘ButmaybeIshall

gobackonedaywhenIhaveamind.AndanywayIwentthereonce,whichismorethanmostfolkcansay.Nowaboutthatcopperpot.’

‘Andtheserichlands,’theywouldhurriedlyask,‘thesedelectableregionsfullofundefendedcattle,which,waydotheylie?Andhowfaroff?’

‘Oh,’hewouldanswer,‘awayeastorsou’east.Butit’salongjourney.’Andthenhewouldgivesuchanexaggeratedaccountofthedistancethathehadwalked,andthewoods,hills,andplainsthathehadcrossed,thatnoneoftheotherlesslong-leggedgiantseversetout.Still,thetalkgotabout.

Thenthewarmsummerwasfollowedbyahardwinter.Itwasbittercoldinthemountainsandfoodwasscarce.Thetalkgotlouder.Lowlandsheepandkinefromthedeeppasturesweremuchdiscussed.Thedragonsprickeduptheirears.Theywerehungry,andtheserumourswereattractive.

‘Soknightsaremythical!’saidtheyoungerandlessexperienceddragons.‘Wealwaysthoughtso.’

‘Atleasttheymaybegettingrare,’thoughttheolderandwiserworms;‘farandfewandnolongertobefeared.’

Therewasonedragonwhowasdeeplymoved.ChrysophylaxDiveswashisname,forhewasofancientandimperiallineage,andveryrich.Hewascunning,inquisitive,greedy,well-armoured,butnotoverbold.Butatanyratehewasnot

intheleastafraidoffliesorinsectsofanysortorsize;andhewasmortallyhungry.

Soonewinter’sday,aboutaweekbeforeChristmas,Chrysophylaxspreadhiswingsandtookoff.HelandedquietlyinthemiddleofthenightplumpintheheartofthemidlandrealmofAugustusBonifaciusrexetbasileus.Hedidadealofdamageinashortwhile,smashingandburning,anddevouringsheep,cattle,andhorses.

ThiswasinapartofthelandalongwayfromHam,butGarmgotthefrightofhislife.Hehadgoneoffonalongexpedition,andtakingadvantageofhismaster’sfavourhehadventuredtospendanightortwoawayfromhome.Hewasfollowinganengagingscentalongtheeavesofawood,whenheturnedacornerandcamesuddenlyuponanewandalarmingsmell;heranindeedslapintothetailofChrysophylaxDives,whohadjustlanded.NeverdidadogturnhisowntailroundandbolthomeswifterthanGarm.Thedragon,hearinghisyelp,turnedandsnorted;butGarmwasalreadyfaroutofrange.Heranalltherestofthenight,andarrivedhomeaboutbreakfast-time.

‘Help!help!help!’hecriedoutsidethebackdoor.Gilesheard,anddidnotlikethesoundofit.Itremindedhimthat

unexpectedthingsmayhappen,whenallseemstobegoingwell.‘Wife,letthatdrafteddogin,’saidhe,‘andtakeasticktohim!’Garmcamebundlingintothekitchenwithhiseyesstartingandhistongue

hangingout.‘Help!’hecried.‘Nowwhathaveyoubeena-doingthistime?’saidGiles,throwinga

sausageathim.‘Nothing,’pantedGarm,tooflusteredtogiveheedtothesausage.‘Well,stopdoingit,orI’llskinyou,’saidthefarmer.‘I’vedonenowrong.Ididn’tmeannoharm,’saidthedog.‘ButIcameona

dragonaccidental-like,anditfrightenedme.’Thefarmerchokedinhisbeer.‘Dragon?’saidhe.‘Dratyouforagood-for-

nothingnosey-parker!Whatd’youwanttogoandfindadragonforatthistimeoftheyear,andmewithmyhandsfull?Wherewasit?’

‘Oh!Northoverthehillsandfaraway,beyondtheStandingStonesandall,’saidthedog.

‘Oh,awaythere!’saidGiles,mightyrelieved.‘They’requeerfolkinthoseparts,I’veheardtell,andaughtmighthappenintheirland.Letthemgetonwithit!Don’tcomeworritingmewithsuchtales.Getout!’

Garmgotout,andspreadthenewsalloverthevillage.Hedidforgetto

mentionthathismasterwasnotscaredintheleast.‘Quitecoolhewas,andwentonwithhisbreakfast.’

Peoplechattedaboutitpleasantlyattheirdoors.‘Howlikeoldtimes!’theysaid.‘JustasChristmasiscoming,too.Soseasonable.HowpleasedtheKingwillbe!HewillbeabletohaveRealTailthisChristmas.’

Butmorenewscameinnextday.Thedragon,itappeared,wasexceptionallylargeandferocious.Hewasdoingterribledamage.

‘WhatabouttheKing’sknights?’peoplebegantosay.Othershadalreadyaskedthesamequestion.Indeed,messengerswerenow

reachingtheKingfromthevillagesmostafflictedbyChrysophylax,andtheysaidtohimasloudlyandasoftenastheydared:‘Lord,whatofyourknights?’

Buttheknightsdidnothing;theirknowledgeofthedragonwasstillquiteunofficial.SotheKingbroughtthemattertotheirnotice,fullyandformally,askingfornecessaryactionattheirearlyconvenience.Hewasgreatlydispleasedwhenhefoundthattheirconveniencewouldnotbeearlyatall,andwasindeeddailypostponed.

Yettheexcusesoftheknightswereundoubtedlysound.Firstofall,theRoyalCookhadalreadymadetheDragon’sTailforthatChristmas,beingamanwhobelievedingettingthingsdoneingoodtime.Itwouldnotdoatalltooffendhimbybringinginarealtailatthelastminute.Hewasaveryvaluableservant.

‘NevermindtheTail!Cuthisheadoffandputanendtohim!’criedthemessengersfromthevillagesmostnearlyaffected.

ButChristmashadarrived,andmostunfortunatelyagrandtournamenthadbeenarrangedforStJohn’sDay:knightsofmanyrealmshadbeeninvitedandwerecomingtocompeteforavaluableprize.ItwasobviouslyunreasonabletospoilthechancesofthemidlandKnightsbysendingtheirbestmenoffonadragon-huntbeforethetournamentwasover.

AfterthatcametheNewYearHoliday.Buteachnightthedragonhadmoved;andeachmovehadbroughthim

nearertoHam.OnthenightofNewYear’sDaypeoplecouldseeablazeinthedistance.Thedragonhadsettledinawoodabouttenmilesaway,anditwasburningmerrily.Hewasahotdragonwhenhefeltinthemood.

AfterthatpeoplebegantolookatFarmerGilesandwhisperbehindhisback.Itmadehimveryuncomfortable;buthepretendednottonoticeit.Thenextdaythedragoncameseveralmilesnearer.ThenFarmerGileshimselfbegantotalkloudlyofthescandaloftheKing’sknights.

‘Ishouldliketoknowwhattheydotoearntheirkeep,’saidhe.

‘Soshouldwe!’saideveryoneinHam.Butthemilleradded:‘Somemenstillgetknighthoodbysheermerit,Iam

told.Afterall,ourgoodÆgidiushereisalreadyaknightinamannerofspeaking.DidnottheKingsendhimaredletterandasword?’

‘There’smoretoknighthoodthanasword,’saidGiles.‘There’sdubbingandallthat,orsoIunderstand.AnywayI’vemyownbusinesstoattendto.’

‘Oh!buttheKingwoulddothedubbing,Idon’tdoubt,ifhewereasked,’saidthemiller.‘Letusaskhim,beforeitistoolate!’

‘Nay!’saidGiles.‘Dubbingisnotformysort.Iamafarmerandproudofit:aplainhonestmanandhonestmenfareillatcourt,theysay.Itismoreinyourline,MasterMiller.’

Theparsonsmiled:notatthefarmer’sretort,forGilesandthemillerwerealwaysgivingoneanotherasgoodastheygot,beingbosomenemies,asthesayingwasinHam.Theparsonhadsuddenlybeenstruckwithanotionthatpleasedhim,buthesaidnomoreatthattime.Themillerwasnotsopleased,andhescowled.

‘Plaincertainly,andhonestperhaps,’saidhe.‘Butdoyouhavetogotocourtandbeaknightbeforeyoukilladragon?Courageisallthatisneeded,asonlyyesterdayIheardMasterÆgidiusdeclare.Surelyhehasasmuchcourageasanyknight?’

Allthefolkstandingbyshouted:‘Ofcoursenot!’and‘Yesindeed!ThreecheersfortheHeroofHam!’

ThenFarmerGileswenthomefeelingveryuncomfortable.Hewasfindingthatalocalreputationmayrequirekeepingup,andthatmayproveawkward.Hekickedthedog,andhidtheswordinacupboardinthekitchen.Uptillthenithadhungoverthefireplace.

ThenextdaythedragonmovedtotheneighbouringvillageofQuercetum(Oakleyinthevulgartongue).Heatenotonlysheepandcowsandoneortwopersonsoftenderage,butheatetheparsontoo.Ratherrashlytheparsonhadsoughttodissuadehimfromhisevilways.Thentherewasaterriblecommotion.AllthepeopleofHamcameupthehillheadedbytheirownparson;andtheywaitedonFarmerGiles.

‘Welooktoyou!’theysaid;andtheyremainedstandingroundandlooking,untilthefarmer’sfacewasredderthanhisbeard.

‘Whenareyougoingtostart?’theyasked.

‘Well,Ican’tstarttoday,andthat’safact,’saidhe.‘I’vealotonhandwithmycowmansickandall.I’llseeaboutit.’Theywentaway;butintheeveningitwasrumouredthatthedragonhad

movedevennearer,sotheyallcameback.‘WelooktoyouMasterÆgidius,’theysaid.‘Well,’saidhe,‘it’sveryawkwardformejustnow.Mymarehasgone

lame,andthelambinghasstarted.I’llseeaboutitassoonasmaybe.’Sotheywentawayoncemore,notwithoutsomegrumblingand

whispering.Themillerwassniggering.Theparsonstayedbehind,andcouldnotbegotridof.Heinvitedhimselftosupper,andmadesomepointedremarks.Heevenaskedwhathadbecomeoftheswordandinsistedonseeingit.

Itwaslyinginacupboardonashelfhardlylongenoughforit,andassoonasFarmerGilesbroughtitoutinaflashitleapedfromthesheath,whichthefarmerdroppedasifithadbeenhot.Theparsonsprangtohisfeet,upsettinghisbeer.Hepickedtheswordupcarefullyandtriedtoputitbackinthesheath;butitwouldnotgosomuchasafootin,anditjumpedcleanoutagain,assoonashetookhishandoffthehilt.

‘Dearme!Thisisverypeculiar!’saidtheparson,andhetookagoodlookatbothscabbardandblade.Hewasaletteredman,butthefarmercouldonlyspelloutlargeuncialswithdifficulty,andwasnonetoosureofthereadingevenofhisownname.Thatiswhyhehadnevergivenanyheedtothestrangelettersthatcoulddimlybeseenonsheathandsword.AsfortheKing’sarmourer,hewassoaccustomedtorunes,namesandothersignsofpowerandsignificanceuponswordsandscabbardsthathehadnotbotheredhisheadaboutthem;hethoughtthemoutofdate,anyway.

Buttheparsonlookedlong,andhefrowned.Hehadexpectedtofindsomeletteringontheswordoronthescabbard,andthatwasindeedtheideathathadcometohimthedaybefore;butnowhewassurprisedatwhathesaw,forlettersandsignstherewere,tobesurebuthecouldnotmakeheadortailofthem.

‘Thereisaninscriptiononthissheath,andsome,ah,epigraphicalsignsarevisiblealsouponthesword,’hesaid.

‘Indeed?’saidGiles.‘Andwhatmaythatamountto?’‘Thecharactersarearchaicandthelanguagebarbaric,’saidtheparson,to

gaintime.‘Alittlecloserinspectionwillberequired.’Hebeggedtheloanoftheswordforthenight,andthefarmerlethimhaveitwithpleasure.

Whentheparsongothomehetookdownmanylearnedbooksfromhisshelves,andhesatupfarintothenight.Nextmorningitwasdiscoveredthatthedragonhadmovednearerstill.AllthepeopleofHambarredtheirdoorsandshutteredtheirwindows;andthosethathadcellarswentdownintothemandsatshiveringinthecandle-light.

Buttheparsonstoleoutandwentfromdoortodoor,andhetold,toallwhowouldlistenthroughacrackorakeyhole,whathehaddiscoveredinhisstudy.

‘OurgoodÆgidius,’hesaid,‘bytheKing’sgraceisnowtheownerofCaudimordax,thefamousswordthatinpopularromancesismorevulgarlycalledTailbiter.’

Thosethatheardthisnameusuallyopenedthedoor.TheyallknewtherenownofTailbiter,forthatswordhadbelongedto

Bellomarius,thegreatestofallthedragonslayersoftherealm.Someaccountsmadehimthematernalgreat-great-grandfatheroftheKing.Thesongandtalesofhisdeedsweremany,andifforgottenatcourt,werestillrememberedinthevillages.

‘Thissword,’saidtheparson,‘willnotstaysheathed,ifadragoniswithinfivemiles;andwithoutdoubtinabraveman’shandsnodragoncanresistit.’

Thenpeoplebegantotakeheartagain;andsomeunshutteredthewindowsandputtheirheadsout.Intheendtheparsonpersuadedafewtocomeandjoinhim;butonlythemillerwasreallywilling.ToseeGilesinarealfixseemedtohimworththerisk.

Theywentupthehill,notwithoutanxiouslooksnorthacrosstheriver.Therewasnosignofthedragon.Probablyhewasasleep;hehadbeenfeedingverywellalltheChristmastime.

Theparson(andthemiller)hammeredonthefarmer’sdoor.Therewasnoanswer,sotheyhammeredlouder.AtlastGilescameout.Hisfacewasveryred.Healsohadsatupfarintothenight,drinkingagooddealofale;andhehadbegunagainassoonashegotup.

Theyallcrowdedroundhim,callinghimGoodÆgidius,BoldAhenobarbus,GreatJulius,StaunchAgricola,PrideofHam,HerooftheCountryside.AndtheyspokeofCaudimordax,Tailbiter,TheSwordthatwouldnotbeSheathed,DeathorVictory.TheGloryoftheYeomanry,BackboneoftheCountry,andtheGoodofone’sFellowMen,untilthefarmer’sheadwashopelesslyconfused.

‘Nowthen!Oneatatime!’hesaid,whenhegotachance.‘What’sallthis,what’sallthis?It’smybusymorning,youknow.’

Sotheylettheparsonexplainthesituation.Thenthemillerhadthepleasureofseeingthefarmerinastightafixashecouldwish.Butthingsdidnotturnoutquiteasthemillerexpected.ForonethingGileshaddrunkadealofstrongale.ForanotherhehadaqueerfeelingofprideandencouragementwhenhelearnedthathisswordwasactuallyTailbiter.HehadbeenveryfondoftalesaboutBellomariuswhenhewasaboyandbeforehehadlearnedsensehehadsometimeswishedthathecouldhaveamarvellousandheroicswordofhisown.SoitcameoverhimallofasuddenthathewouldtakeTailbiterandgodragonhunting.Buthehadbeenusedtobargainingallhislife,andhemadeonemoreefforttopostponetheevent.

‘What!’saidhe.‘Megodragon-hunting?Inmyoldleggingsandwaistcoat?Dragon-fightsneedsomekindofarmour,fromallI’veheardtell.Thereisn’tanyarmourinthishouse,andthat’safact,’saidhe.

Thatwasabitawkward,theyallallowed;buttheysentfortheblacksmith.Theblacksmithshookhishead.Hewasaslow,gloomyman,vulgarlyknownasSunnySam,thoughhispropernamewasFabriciusCunctator.Heneverwhistledathiswork,unlesssomedisaster(suchasfrostinMay)haddulyoccurredafterhehadforetoldit.Sincehewasdailyforetellingdisastersofeverykind,fewhappenedthathehadnotforetold,andhewasabletotakecreditofthem.Itwashischiefpleasure;sonaturallyhewasreluctanttodoanythingtoavertthem.Heshookhisheadagain.

‘Ican’tmakearmouroutofnaught,’hesaid.‘Andit’snotinmyline.You’dbestgetthecarpentertomakeyouawoodenshield.Notthatitwillhelpyoumuch.He’sahotdragon.’

Theirfacesfell;butthemillerwasnotsoeasilytobeturnedfromhisplanofsendingGilestothedragon,ifhewouldgo;orofblowingthebubbleofhislocalreputation,ifherefusedintheend.‘Whataboutring-mail?’hesaid.‘Thatwouldbeahelp;anditneednotbeveryfine.Itwouldbeforbusinessandnotforshowingoffatcourt.Whataboutyouroldleatherjerkin,friendÆgidius?Andthereisagreatpileoflinksandringsinthesmithy.Idon’tsupposeMasterFabriciushimselfknowswhatmaybelyingthere.’

‘Youdon’tknowwhatyouaretalkingabout,’saidthesmith,growingcheerful.‘Ifit’srealring-mailyoumean,thenyoucan’thaveit.Itneedstheskillofthedwarfs,witheverylittleringfittingintofourothersandall.EvenifIhadthecraft,Ishouldbeworkingforweeks.Andweshallallbeinourgravesbeforethen,’saidhe,‘orleastwaysinthedragon.’

Theyallwrungtheirhandsindismay,andtheblacksmithbegantosmile.

Buttheywerenowsoalarmedthattheywereunwillingtogiveupthemiller’splanandtheyturnedtohimforcounsel.

‘Well,’saidhe,‘I’veheardtellthatintheolddaysthosethatcouldnotbuybrighthauberksoutoftheSouthlandswouldstitchsteelringsonaleathershirtandbecontentwiththat.Let’sseewhatcanbedoneinthatline?’

SoGileshadtobringouthisoldjerkin,andthesmithwashurriedbacktohissmithy.Theretheyrummagedineverycornerandturnedoverthepileofoldmetal,ashadnotbeendoneformanyayear.Atthebottomtheyfound,alldullwithrust,awholeheapofsmallrings,fallenfromsomeforgottencoat,suchasthemillerhadspokenof.Sam,moreunwillingandgloomyasthetaskseemedmorehopeful,wassettoworkonthespot,gatheringandsortingandcleaningtherings;andwhen(ashewaspleasedtopointout)thesewereclearlyinsufficientforonesobroadofbackandbreastasMasterÆgidius,theymadehimsplitupoldchainsandhammerthelinksintoringsasfineashisskillcouldcontrive.

Theytookthesmallerringsofsteelandstitchedthemontothebreastofthejerkin,andthelargerandclumsierringstheystitchedontheback;andthen,whenstillmoreringswereforthcoming,sohardwaspoorSamdriven,theytookapairofthefarmer’sbreechesandstitchedringsontothem.Anduponashelfinadarknookofthesmithythemillerfoundtheoldironframeofahelmet,andhesetthecobblertowork,coveringitwithleatheraswellashecould.

Theworktookthemalltherestoftheday,andallthenextday—whichwasTwelfthnightandtheeveoftheEpiphany,butfestivitieswereneglected.FarmerGilescelebratedtheoccasionwithmorealethanusual;butthedragonmercifullyslept.Forthemomenthehadforgottenallabouthungerorswords.

EarlyontheEpiphanytheywentupthehill,carryingthestrangeresultoftheirhandiwork.Gileswasexpectingthem.Hehadnownoexcuseslefttooffer;soheputonthemailjerkinandthebreeches.Themillersniggered.ThenGilesputonhistopbootsandanoldpairofspurs;andalsotheleather-coveredhelmet.Butatthelastmomentheclappedanoldfelthatoverthehelmet,andoverthemailcoathethrewhisbiggreycloak.

‘Whatisthepurposeofthat,Master?’theyasked.‘Well,’saidGiles,‘ifitisyournotiontogodragonhuntingjinglingand

dinglinglikeCanterburyBells,itain’tmine.Itdon’tseemsensetometoletadragonknowthatyouarecomingalongtheroadsoonerthanneedbe.Andahelmet’sahelmet,andachallengetobattle.Letthewormseeonlymyoldhatoverthehedge,andmaybeI’llgetnearerbeforethetroublebegins.’

Theyhadstitchedontheringssothattheyoverlapped,eachhanginglooseovertheonebelow,andjingletheycertainlydid.Thecloakdidsomethingtostopthenoiseofthem,butGilescutaqueerfigureinhisgear.Theydidnottellhimso.Theygirdedthebeltroundhiswaistwithdifficulty,andtheyhungthescabbarduponit;buthehadtocarrythesword,foritwouldnolongerstaysheathed,unlessheldwithmainstrength.

ThefarmercalledforGarm.Hewasajustmanaccordingtohislights.‘Dog,’hesaid,‘youarecomingwithme.’

Thedoghowled.‘Help!help!’hecried.‘Nowstopit!’saidGiles.‘OrI’llgiveyouworsethananydragoncould.

Youknowthesmellofthisworm,andmaybeyou’llproveusefulforonce.’ThenFarmerGilescalledforhisgreymare.Shegavehimaqueerlookand

sniffedatthespurs.Butshelethimgetup;andthenofftheywent,andnoneofthemfelthappy.Theytrottedthroughthevillage,andallthefolkclappedandcheered,mostlyfromtheirwindows.Thefarmerandhismareputasgoodafaceonitastheycould;butGarmhadnosenseofshameandslunkalongwithhistaildown.

Theycrossedthebridgeovertheriverattheendofthevillage.Whenatlasttheywerewelloutofsight,theyslowedtoawalk.YetalltoosoontheypassedoutofthelandsbelongingtoFarmerGilesandtootherfolkofHamandcametopartsthatthedragonhadvisited.Therewerebrokentrees,burnedhedgesandblackenedgrass,andanastyuncannysilence.

Thesunwasshiningbright,andFarmerGilesbegantowishthathedaredshedagarmentortwo;andhewonderedifhehadnottakenapinttoomany.‘AniceendtoChristmasandall,’hethought.‘AndI’llbeluckyifitdon’tprovetheendofmetoo.’Hemoppedhisfacewithalargehandkerchief—green,notred;forredragsinfuriatedragons,orsohehadheardtell.

Buthedidnotfindthedragon.Herodedownmanylanes,wideandnarrow,andoverotherfarmers’desertedfields,andstillhedidnotfindthedragon.Garmwas,ofcourse,ofnouseatall.Hekeptjustbehindthemareandrefusedtousehisnose.

Theycameatlasttoawindingroadthathadsufferedlittledamageandseemedquietandpeaceful.AfterfollowingitforhalfamileGilesbegantowonderwhetherhehadnotdonehisdutyandallthathisreputationrequired.Hehadmadeuphismindthathehadlookedlongandfarenough,andhewasjust

thinkingofturningback,andofhisdinner,andoftellinghisfriendsthatthedragonhadseenhimcomingandsimplyflownaway,whenheturnedasharpcorner.

Therewasthedragon,lyinghalfacrossabrokenhedgewithhishorribleheadinthemiddleoftheroad.‘Help!’saidGarmandbolted.Thegreymaresatdownplump,andFarmerGileswentoffbackwardsintoaditch.Whenheputhisheadout,therewasthedragonwideawakelookingathim.

‘Goodmorning!’saidthedragon.‘Youseemsurprised.’‘Goodmorning!’saidGiles.‘Iamthat.’‘Excuseme,’saidthedragon.Hehadcockedaverysuspiciousearwhenhe

caughtthesoundofringsjingling,asthefarmerfell.‘Excusemyasking,butwereyoulookingforme,byanychance?’

‘No,indeed!’saidthefarmer.‘Who’da’thoughtofseeingyouhere?Iwasjustgoingforaride.’

Hescrambledoutoftheditchinahurryandbackedawaytowardsthegreymare.Shewasnowonherfeetagainandwasnibblingsomegrassatthewayside,seemingquiteunconcerned.

‘Thenwemeetbygoodluck,’saidthedragon.Thepleasureismine.Thoseareyourholidayclothes,Isuppose.Anewfashion,perhaps?’FarmerGiles’sfelthathadfallenoffandhisgreycloakhadslippedopen;buthebrazeneditout.

‘Aye,’saidhe,‘brand-new.ButImustbeafterthatdogofmine.He’sgoneafterrabbits,Ifancy.’

‘Ifancynot,’saidChrysophylax,lickinghislips(asignofamusement).‘Hewillgethomealongtimebeforeyoudo,Iexpect.Butprayproceedonyourway,Master—letmesee,Idon’tthinkIknowyourname?’

‘NorIyours,’saidGiles;‘andwe’llleaveitatthat.’‘Asyoulike,’saidChrysophylax,lickinghislipsagain,butpretendingto

closehiseyes.Hehadawickedheart(asdragonsallhave),butnotaveryboldone(asisnotunusual).Hepreferredamealthathedidnothavetofightfor,butappetitehadreturnedafteragoodlongsleep.TheparsonofOakleyhadbeenstringy,anditwasyearssincehehadtastedalargefatman.Hehadnowmadeuphismindtotrythiseasymeat,andhewasonlywaitinguntiltheoldfoolwasoffhisguard.

Buttheoldfoolwasnotasfoolishashelooked,andhekepthiseyeonthedragon,evenwhilehewastryingtomount.Themare,however,hadotherideas,andshekickedandshiedwhenGilestriedtogetup.Thedragonbecameimpatientandmadereadytospring.

‘Excuseme!’saidhe.‘Haven’tyoudroppedsomething?’Anancienttrick,butitsucceeded;forGileshadindeeddroppedsomething.

WhenhefellhehaddroppedCaudimordax(orvulgarlyTailbiter),andthereitlaybythewayside.Hestoopedtopickitup;andthedragonsprang.ButnotasquickasTailbiter.Assoonasitwasinthefarmer’shand,itleapedforwardwithaflash,straightatthedragon’seyes.

‘Hey!’saidthedragon,andstoppedveryshort.‘Whathaveyougotthere?’‘OnlyTailbiter,thatwasgiventomebytheKing,’saidGiles.‘Mymistake!’saidthedragon.‘Ibegyourpardon.’Helayandgrovelled,

andFarmerGilesbegantofeelmorecomfortable.‘Idon’tthinkyouhavetreatedmefair.’

‘Hownot?’saidGiles.‘AndanywaywhyshouldI?’‘Youhaveconcealedyourhonourablenameandpretendedthatourmeeting

wasbychance;yetyouareplainlyaknightofhighlineage.Itused,sir,tobethecustomofknightstoissueachallengeinsuchcases,afteraproperexchangeoftitlesandcredentials.’

‘Maybeitused,andmaybeitstillis,’saidGiles,beginningtofeelpleasedwithhimself.Amanwhohasalargeandimperialdragongrovellingbeforehimmaybeexcusedifhefeelssomewhatuplifted.‘Butyouaremakingmoremistakesthanone,oldworm.Iamnoknight.IamFarmerÆgidiusofHam,Iam;andIcan’tabidetrespassers.I’veshotgiantswithmyblunderbussbeforenow,fordoinglessdamagethanyouhave.AndIissuednochallengeneither.’

Thedragonwasdisturbed.‘Cursethatgiantforaliar!’hethought.‘Ihavebeensadlymisled.Andnowwhatonearthdoesonedowithaboldfarmerandaswordsobrightandaggressive?’Hecouldrecallnoprecedentforsuchasituation.‘Chrysophylaxismyname,’saidhe,‘Chrysophy-laxtheRich.WhatcanIdoforyourhonour?’headdedingratiatingly,withoneeyeonthesword,andhopingtoescapebattle.

‘Youcantakeyourselfoff,youhornyoldvarmint,’saidGiles,alsohopingtoescapebattle.‘Ionlywanttobeshotofyou.Gorightawayfromhere,andgetbacktoyourowndirtyden!’HesteppedtowardsChrysophylax,wavinghisarmsasifhewasscaringcrows.

ThatwasquiteenoughforTailbiter.Itcircledflashingtheair;thendownitcame,smitingthedragononthejointoftherightwing,aringingblowthatshockedhimexceedingly.OfcourseGilesknewverylittleabouttherightmethodsofkillingadragon,ortheswordmighthavelandedinatendererspot;butTailbiterdidthebestitcouldininexperiencedhands.Itwasquiteenoughfor

Chrysophylax—hecouldnotusehiswingfordays.Uphegotandturnedtofly,andfoundthathecouldnot.Thefarmersprangonthemare’sback.Thedragonbegantorun.Sodidthemare.Thedragongallopedoverafieldpuffingandblowing.Sodidthemare.Thefarmerbawledandshouted,asifhewaswatchingahorserace;andallthewhilehewavedTailbiter.Thefasterthedragonranthemorebewilderedhebecame;andallthewhilethegreymareputherbestlegforemostandkeptclosebehindhim.

Ontheypoundeddownthelanes,andthroughthegapsinthefences,overmanyfieldsandacrossmanybrooks.Thedragonwassmokingandbellowingandlosingallsenseofdirection.AtlasttheycamesuddenlytothebridgeofHam,thunderedoverit,andcameroaringdownthevillagestreet.ThereGarmhadtheimpudencetosneakoutofanalleyandjoininthechase.

Allthepeoplewereattheirwindowsorontheroofs.Somelaughedandsomecheered;andsomebeattinsandpansandkettles;

andothersblewhornsandpipesandwhistles;andtheparsonhadthechurchbellsrung.Suchato-doandanongoinghadnotbeenheardinHamforahundredyears.

Justoutsidethechurchthedragongaveup.Helaydowninthemiddleoftheroadandgasped.Garmcameandsniffedathistail,butChrysophylaxwaspastallshame.

‘Goodpeople,andgallantwarrior,’hepanted,asFarmerGilesrodeup,whilethevillagersgatheredround(atareasonabledistance)withhayforks,poles,andpokersintheirhands.‘Goodpeople,don’tkillme!Iamveryrich.IwillpayforallthedamageIhavedone.IwillpayforthefuneralsofallthepeopleIhavekilled,especiallytheparsonofOakley;heshallhaveanoblecenotaph—thoughhewasratherlean.Iwillgiveyoueachareallygoodpresent,ifyouwillonlyletmegohomeandfetchit.’

‘Howmuch?’saidthefarmer.‘Well,’saidthedragon,calculatingquickly.Henoticedthatthecrowdwas

ratherlarge.‘Thirteenandeightpenceeach?’‘Nonsense!’saidGiles.‘Rubbish!’saidthepeople.‘Rot!’saidthedog.‘Twogoldenguineaseach,andchildrenhalfprice?’saidthedragon.‘Whataboutdogs?’saidGarm.‘Goon!’saidthefarmer.‘We’relistening.’‘Tenpoundsandapurseofsilverforeverysoul,andgoldcollarsforthe

dogs?’saidChrysophylaxanxiously.‘Killhim!’shoutedthepeople,gettingimpatient.‘Abagofgoldforeverybody,anddiamondsfortheladies?’said

Chrysophylaxhurriedly.‘Nowyou’retalking,butnotgoodenough,’saidFarmerGiles.‘You’veleft

dogsoutagain,’saidGarm.‘Whatsizeofbags?’saidthemen.‘Howmanydiamonds?’saidtheirwives.

‘Dearme!dearme!’saidthedragon.‘Ishallberuined.’‘Youdeserveit,’saidGiles.‘Youcanchoosebetweenbeingruinedand

beingkilledwhereyoulie.’HebrandishedTailbiter,andthedragoncowered.‘Makeupyourmind!’thepeoplecried,gettingbolderanddrawingnearer.

Chrysophylaxblinked;butdeepdowninsidehimhelaughed:asilentquiverwhichtheydidnotobserve.Theirbargaininghadbeguntoamusehim.Evidentlytheyexpectedtogetsomethingoutofit.Theyknewverylittleofthewaysofthewideandwickedworld—indeed,therewasnoonenowlivinginalltherealmwhohadhadanyactualexperienceindealingwithdragonsandtheirtricks.Chrysophylaxwasgettinghisbreathback,andhiswitsaswell.Helickedhislips.

‘Nameyourownprice!’hesaid.Thentheyallbegantotalkatonce.Chrysophylaxlistenedwithinterest.

Onlyonevoicedisturbedhim:thatoftheblacksmith.‘Nogood’llcomeofit,markmywords,’saidhe.‘Awormwon’treturn,say

whatyoulike.Butnogoodwillcomeofit,eitherway.’‘Youcanstandoutofthebargain,ifthat’syourmind,’theysaidtohim,and

wentonhaggling,takinglittlefurthernoticeofthedragon.Chrysophylaxraisedhishead;butifhethoughtofspringingonthem,orof

slippingoffduringtheargumenthewasdisappointed.FarmerGileswasstandingby,chewingastrawandconsidering;butTailbiterwasinhishand,andhiseyewasonthedragon.

‘Youliewhereyoube!’saidhe,‘oryou’llgetwhatyoudeserve,goldornogold.’

Thedragonlayflat.AtlasttheparsonwasmadespokesmanandhesteppedupbesideGiles.‘VileWorm!’hesaid.‘Youmustbringbacktothisspotallyourillgottenwealth;andafterrecompensingthosewhomyouhaveinjuredwewillshareitfairlyamongourselves.Then,ifyoumakeasolemnvownevertodisturbourlandagain,nortostirupanyothermonstertotroubleus,wewillletyoudepartwithbothyourheadandyourtailtoyourownhome.Andnowyoushalltakesuchstrongoathstoreturn(withyourransom)aseventheconscienceofawormmustholdbinding.’

Chrysophylaxaccepted,afteraplausibleshowofhesitation.Heevenshed

hottears,lamentinghisruin,tillthereweresteamingpuddlesintheroad;butnoonewasmovedbythem.Hesworemanyoaths,solemnandastonishing,thathewouldreturnwithallhiswealthonthefeastofStHilariusandStFelix.Thatgavehimeightdays,andfartooshortatimeforthejourney,aseventhoseignorantofgeographymightwellhavereflected.Nonethelesstheylethimgo,andescortedhimasfarasthebridge.

‘Toournextmeeting!’hesaid,ashepassedovertheriver.‘Iamsureweshallalllookforwardtoit.’

‘Weshallindeed,’theysaid.Theywere,ofcourse,veryfoolish.Forthoughtheoathshehadtakenshouldhaveburdenedhisconsciencewithsorrowandagreatfearofdisaster,hehad,alas!noconscienceatall.Andifthisregrettablelackinoneofimperiallineagewasbeyondthecomprehensionofthesimple,attheleasttheparsonwithhisbooklearningmighthaveguessedit.Maybehedid.Hewasagrammarian,andcoulddoubtlessseefurtherintothefuturethanothers.

Theblacksmithshookhisheadashewentbacktohissmithy.‘Ominousnames,’hesaid.‘HilariusandFelix!Idon’tlikethesoundofthem.’

TheKing,ofcourse,quicklyheardthenews.Itranthroughtherealmlikefireandlostnothinginthetelling.TheKingwasdeeplymoved,forvariousreasons,nottheleastbeingfinancial;andhemadeuphismindtorideatonceinpersontoHam,wheresuchstrangethingsseemedtohappen.

Hearrivedfourdaysafterthedragon’sdeparture,comingoverthebridgeonhiswhitehorse,withmanyknightsandtrumpeters,andalargebaggage-train.Allthepeoplehadputontheirbestclothesandlinedthestreettowelcomehim.Thecavalcadecametoahaltintheopenspacebeforethechurchgate.FarmerGileskneltbeforetheKing,whenhewaspresented;buttheKingtoldhimtorise,andactuallypattedhimontheback.Theknightspretendednottoobservethisfamiliarity.

TheKingorderedthewholevillagetoassembleinFarmerGiles’slargepasturebesidetheriver,andwhentheywereallgatheredtogether(includingGarm,whofeltthathewasconcerned),AugustusBonifaciusrexetbasileuswasgraciouslypleasedtoaddressthem.

HeexplainedcarefullythatthewealthofthemiscreantChrysophylaxallbelongedtohimselfaslordoftheland.Hepassedratherlightlyoverhisclaimtobeconsideredsuzerainofthemountain-country(whichwasdebatable);but‘wemakenodoubtinanycase,’saidhe,‘thatallthetreasureofthiswormwasstolenfromourancestors.Yetweare,asallknow,bothjustandgenerous,andour

goodliegeÆgidiusshallbesuitablyrewarded;norshallanyofourloyalsubjectsinthisplacegowithoutsometokenofouresteem,fromtheparsontotheyoungestchild.ForwearewellpleasedwithHam.Hereatleastasturdyanduncorruptedfolkstillretaintheancientcourageofourrace.’Theknightsweretalkingamongthemselvesaboutthenewfashioninhats.

Thepeoplebowedandcurtsied,andthankedhimhumbly.Buttheywishednowthattheyhadclosedwiththedragon’sofferoftenpoundsallround,andkeptthematterprivate.Theyknewenough,atanyrate,tofeelsurethattheKing’sesteemwouldnotrisetothat.Garmnoticedthattherewasnomentionofdogs.FarmerGileswastheonlyoneofthemwhowasreallycontent.Hefeltsureofsomereward,andwasmightygladanywaytohavecomesafelyoutofanastybusinesswithhislocalreputationhigherthanever.

TheKingdidnotgoaway.HepitchedhispavilionsinFarmerGiles’sfield,andwaitedforJanuarythefourteenth,makingasmerryashecouldinamiserablevillagefarfromthecapital.Theroyalretinueateupnearlyallthebread,butter,eggs,chickens,baconandmutton,anddrankupeverydropofoldaletherewasintheplaceinthenextthreedays.Thentheybegantogrumbleatshortcommons.ButtheKingpaidhandsomelyforeverything(intalliestobehonouredlaterbytheExchequer,whichhehopedwouldshortlyberichlyreplenished);sothefolkofHamwerewellsatisfied,notknowingtheactualstateoftheExchequer.

Januarythefourteenthcame,thefeastofHilariusandofFelix,andeverybodywasupandaboutearly.Theknightsputontheirarmour.Thefarmerputonhiscoatofhome-mademail,andtheysmiledopenly,untiltheycaughttheKing’sfrown.ThefarmeralsoputonTailbiter,anditwentintoitssheathaseasyasbutter,andstayedthere.Theparsonlookedhardatthesword,andnoddedtohimself.Theblacksmithlaughed.

Middaycame.Peopleweretooanxioustoeatmuch.Theafternoonpassedslowly.StillTailbitershowednosignofleapingfromthescabbard.Noneofthewatchersonthehill,noranyofthesmallboyswhohadclimbedtothetopoftalltrees,couldseeanythingbyairorbylandthatmightheraldthereturnofthedragon.

Theblacksmithwalkedaboutwhistling;butitwasnotuntileveningfellandthestarscameoutthattheotherfolkofthevillagebegantosuspectthatthedragondidnotmeantocomebackatall.Stilltheyrecalledhismanysolemnand

astonishingoathsandkeptonhoping.When,however,midnightstruckandtheappointeddaywasover,theirdisappointmentwasdeep.Theblacksmithwasdelighted.

‘Itoldyouso,’hesaid.Buttheywerestillnotconvinced.‘Afterallhewasbadlyhurt,’saidsome.‘Wedidnotgivehimenoughtime,’saidothers.‘Itisapowerfullongway

tothemountains,andhewouldhavealottocarry.Maybehehashadtogethelp.’

Butthenextdaypassedandthenext.Thentheyallgaveuphope.TheKingwasinaredrage.Thevictualsanddrinkshadrunout,andtheknightsweregrumblingloudly.Theywishedtogobacktothemerrimentsofcourt.ButtheKingwantedmoney.

Hetookleaveofhisloyalsubjects,buthewasshortandsharpaboutit;andhecancelledhalfthetalliesontheExchequer.HewasquitecoldtoFarmerGilesanddismissedhimwithanod.

‘Youwillhearfromuslater,’hesaid,androdeoffwithhisknightsandhistrumpeters.

Themorehopefulandsimple-mindedthoughtthatamessagewouldsooncomefromthecourttosummonMasterÆgidiustotheKing,tobeknightedattheleast.Inaweekthemessagecame,butitwasofdifferentsort.Itwaswrittenandsignedintriplicate:onecopyforGiles;onefortheparson;andonetobenailedonthechurchdoor.Onlythecopyaddressedtotheparsonwasofanyuse,forthecourt-handwaspeculiarandasdarktothefolkofHamastheBook-latin.Buttheparsonrendereditintothevulgartongueandreaditfromthepulpit.Itwasshortandtothepoint(foraroyalletter);theKingwasinahurry.

‘WeAugustusB.A.A.P.andM.rexetceteramakeknownthatwehavedetermined,forthesafetyofourrealmandforthekeepingofourhonour,thatthewormordragonstylinghimselfChrysophylaxtheRichshallbesoughtoutandcondignlypunishedforhismisdemeanours,torts,felonies,andfoulperjury.AlltheknightsofourRoyalHouseholdareherebycommandedtoarmandmakereadytorideuponthisquest,sosoonasMasterAegidiusA.J.Agricolashallarriveatthisourcourt.InasmuchasthesaidAegidiushasprovedhimselfatrustymanandwellabletodealwithgiants,dragons,andotherenemiesoftheKing’speace,nowthereforewecommandhimtorideforthatonce,andtojointhecompanyofour

knightswithallspeed.’

Peoplesaidthiswasahighhonourandnextdoortobeingdubbed.Themillerwasenvious.‘FriendÆgidiusisrisingintheworld,’saidhe.‘Ihopehewillknowuswhenhegetsback.’

‘Maybeheneverwill,’saidtheblacksmith.‘That’senoughfromyou,oldhorse-face!’saidthefarmer,mightyputout.

‘Honourbeblowed!IfIgetbackeventhemiller’scompanywillbewelcome.Still,itissomecomforttothinkthatIshallbemissingyoubothforabit.’Andwiththatheleftthem.

YoucannotofferexcusestotheKingasyoucantoyourneighbours;solambsornolambs,ploughingornone,milkorwater,hehadtogetuponhisgreymareandgo.Theparsonsawhimoff.

‘Ihopeyouaretakingsomestoutropewithyou?’hesaid.‘Whatfor?’saidGiles.‘Tohangmyself?’‘Nay!Takeheart,MasterÆgidius!’saidtheparson.‘Itseemstomethat

youhavealuckthatyoucantrust.Buttakealsoalongrope,foryoumayneedit,unlessmyforesightdeceivesme.Andnowfarewell,andreturnsafely!’

‘Aye!Andcomebackandfindallmyhouseandlandinapickle.Blastdragons!’saidGiles.Then,stuffingagreatcoilofropeinabagbyhissaddle,heclimbedupandrodeoff.

Hedidnottakethedog,whohadkeptwelloutofsightallthemorning.Butwhenhewasgone,Garmslunkhomeandstayedthere,andhowledallthenight,andwasbeatenforit,andwentonhowling.

‘Help,owhelp!’hecried.‘I’llneverseedearmasteragain,andhewassoterribleandsplendid.IwishIhadgonewithhim,Ido.’

‘Shutup!’saidthefarmer’swife,‘oryou’llneverlivetoseeifhecomesbackorhedon’t.’

Theblacksmithheardthehowls.‘Abadomen,’hesaidcheerfully.Manydayspassedandnonewscame.‘Nonewsisbadnews,’hesaid,and

burstintosong.

WhenFarmerGilesgottocourthewastiredanddusty.Buttheknights,inpolishedmailandwithshininghelmetsontheirheads,wereallstandingbytheirhorses.TheKing’ssummonsandtheinclusionofthefarmerhadannoyedthem,andsotheyinsistedonobeyingordersliterally,settingoffthemomentthatGilesarrived.Thepoorfarmerhadbarelytimetoswallowasopinadraughtofwine

beforehewasoffontheroadagain.Themarewasoffended.WhatshethoughtoftheKingwasluckilyunexpressed,asitwashighlydisloyal.

Itwasalreadylateintheday.‘Toolateinthedaytostartadragon-hunt,’thoughtGiles.Buttheydidnotgofar.Theknightswereinnohurry,oncetheyhadstarted.Theyrodealongattheirleisure,inastragglingline,knights,esquires,servants,andponiestrussedwithbaggage;andFarmerGilesjoggingbehindonhistiredmare.

Wheneveningcame,theyhaltedandpitchedtheirtents.NoprovisionhadbeenmadeforFarmerGilesandhehadtoborrowwhathecould.Themarewasindignant,andsheforsworeherallegiancetothehouseofAugustusBonifacius.

Thenextdaytheyrodeon,andallthedayafter.Onthethirddaytheydescriedinthedistancethedimandinhospitablemountains.BeforelongtheywereinregionswherethelordshipofAugustusBonifaciuswasnotuniversallyacknowledged.Theyrodethenwithmorecareandkeptclosertogether.

OnthefourthdaytheyreachedtheWildHillsandthebordersofthedubiouslandswherelegendarycreatureswerereputedtodwell.Suddenlyoneofthoseridingaheadcameuponominousfootprintsinthesandbyastream.Theycalledforthefarmer.

‘Whatarethese,MasterÆgidius?’theysaid.‘Dragon-marks,’saidhe.‘Leadon!’saidthey.SonowtheyrodewestwithFarmerGilesattheirhead,andalltherings

werejinglingonhisleathercoat.Thatmatteredlittle;foralltheknightswerelaughingandtalking,andaminstrelrodewiththemsingingalay.Everynowandagaintheytookuptherefrainofthesongandsangitalltogether,veryloudandstrong.Itwasencouraging,forthesongwasgood—ithadbeenmadelongbeforeindayswhenbattlesweremorecommonthantournaments;butitwasunwise.Theircomingwasnowknowntoallthecreaturesofthatland,andthedragonswerecockingtheirearsinallthecavesoftheWest.TherewasnolongeranychanceoftheircatchingoldChrysophylaxnapping.

Asluck(orthegreymareherself)wouldhaveit,whenatlasttheydrewundertheveryshadowofthedarkmountains,FarmerGiles’smarewentlame.Theyhadnowbeguntoridealongsteepandstonypaths,climbingupwardswithtoilandever-growingdisquiet.Bitbybitshedroppedbackinline,stumblingandlimpingandlookingsopatientandsadthatatlastFarmerGileswasobligedtogetoffandwalk.Soontheyfoundthemselvesrightatthebackamongthepack-ponies;butnoonetookanynoticeofthem.Theknightswerediscussing

pointsofprecedenceandetiquette,andtheirattentionwasdistracted.Otherwisetheywouldhaveobservedthatdragon-markswerenowobviousandnumerous.

Theyhadcome,indeed,totheplaceswhereChrysophylaxoftenroamed,oralightedaftertakinghisdailyexerciseintheair.Thelowerhills,andtheslopesoneithersideofthepath,hadascorchedandtrampledlook.Therewaslittlegrass,andthetwistedstumpsofheatherandgorsestoodupblackamidwidepatchesofashandburnedearth.Theregionhadbeenadragons’playgroundformanyayear.Adarkmountain-wallloomedupbeforethem.

FarmerGileswasconcernedabouthismare;buthewasgladoftheexcusefornolongerbeingsoconspicuous.Ithadnotpleasedhimtoberidingattheheadofsuchacavalcadeinthesedrearyanddubiousplaces.Alittlelaterhewasgladderstill,andhadreasontothankhisfortune(andhismare).Forjustaboutmidday—itbeingthentheFeastofCandlemas,andtheseventhdayoftheirriding—Tailbiterleapedoutofitssheath,andthedragonoutofhiscave.

Withoutwarningorformalityheswoopedouttogivebattle.Downhecameuponthemwitharushandaroar.Farfromhishomehehadnotshownhimselfoverbold,inspiteofhisancientandimperiallineage.Butnowhewasfilledwithagreatwrath;forhewasfightingathisowngate,asitwere,andwithallhistreasuretodefend.Hecameroundashoulderofthemountainlikeatonofthunderbolts,withanoiselikeagaleandagustofredlightning.

Theargumentconcerningprecedencestoppedshort.Allthehorsesshiedtoonesideortheother,andsomeoftheknightsfelloff.Theponiesandthebaggageandtheservantsturnedandranatonce.Theyhadnodoubtastotheorderofprecedence.

Suddenlytherecamearushofsmokethatsmotheredthemall,andrightinthemidstofitthedragoncrashedintotheheadoftheline.Severaloftheknightswerekilledbeforetheycouldevenissuetheirformalchallengetobattle,andseveralotherswerebowledover,horsesandall.Asfortheremainder,theirsteedstookchargeofthem,andturnedroundandfled,carryingtheirmastersoff,whethertheywisheditorno.Mostofthemwisheditindeed.

Buttheoldgreymaredidnotbudge.Maybeshewasafraidofbreakingherlegsonthesteepstonypath.Maybeshefelttootiredtorunaway.Sheknewinherbonesthatdragonsonthewingareworsebehindyouthanbeforeyou,andyouneedmorespeedthanarace-horseforflighttobeuseful.Besides,shehadseenthisChrysophylaxbefore,andrememberedchasinghimoverfieldandbrookinherowncountry,tillhelaydowntameinthevillagestreet.Anywayshestuckherlegsoutwide,andshesnorted.FarmerGileswentaspaleashisface

couldmanage,buthestayedbyherside;forthereseemednothingelsetodo.

Andsoitwasthatthedragon,chargingdowntheline,suddenlysawstraightinfrontofhimhisoldenemywithTailbiterinhishand.Itwasthelastthingheexpected.Heswervedasidelikeagreatbatandcollapsedonthehillsideclosetotheroad.Upcamethegreymare,quiteforgettingtowalklame.FarmerGiles,muchencouraged,hadscrambledhastilyonherback.

‘Excuseme,’saidhe,‘butwereyoulookingforme,byanychance?’‘No,indeed!’saidChrysophylax.‘Whowouldhavethoughtofseeingyou

here?Iwasjustflyingabout,’‘Thenwemeetbygoodluck,’saidGiles,‘andthepleasureismine;forIwaslookingforyou.What’smore,Ihaveabonetopickwithyou,severalbonesinamannerofspeaking.’

Thedragonsnorted.FarmerGilesputuphisarmtowardoffthehotgust,andwithaflashTailbitersweptforward,dangerouslynearthedragon’snose.

‘Hey!’saidhe,andstoppedsnorting.Hebegantotrembleandbackedaway,andallthefireinhimwaschilled.‘Youhavenot,Ihope,cometokillme,goodmaster?’hewhined.

‘Nay!nay!’saidthefarmer.‘Isaidnaughtaboutkilling.’Thegreymaresniffed.

‘Thenwhat,mayIask,areyoudoingwithalltheseknights?’saidChrysophylax.‘Knightsalwayskilldragons,ifwedon’tkillthemfirst.’

‘I’mdoingnothingwiththematall.They’renaughttome,’saidGiles.‘Andanyway,theyarealldeadnoworgone.WhataboutwhatyousaidlastEpiphany?’

‘Whataboutit?’saidthedragonanxiously.‘You’renighonamonthlate,’saidGiles,‘andpaymentisoverdue.I’ve

cometocollectit.YoushouldbegmypardonforallthebotherIhavebeenputto.’

‘Idoindeed!’saidhe.‘Iwishyouhadnottroubledtocome.’‘It’llbeeverybitofyourtreasurethistime,andnomarket-tricks,’said

Giles,‘ordeadyou’llbe,andIshallhangyourskinfromourchurchsteepleasawarning.

‘It’scruelhard!’saidthedragon.‘Abargain’sabargain,’saidGiles.‘Can’tIkeepjustaringortwo,andamiteofgold,inconsiderationofcash

payment?’saidhe.

‘Notabrassbutton!’saidGiles.Andsotheykeptonforawhile,chafferingandarguinglikefolkatafair.Yettheendofitwasasyoumightexpect;forwhateverelsemightbesaid,fewhadeveroutlastedFarmerGilesatabargaining.

Thedragonhadtowalkallthewaybacktohiscave,forGilesstucktohissidewithTailbiterheldmightyclose.Therewasanarrowpaththatwoundupandroundthemountain,andtherewasbarelyroomforthetwoofthem.

Themarecamejustbehindandshelookedratherthoughtful.Itwasfivemiles,ifitwasastep,andstiffgoing;andGilestrudgedalong,

puffingandblowing,butnevertakinghiseyeofftheworm.Atlastonthewestsideofthemountaintheycametothemouthofthecave.Itwaslargeandblackandforbidding,anditsbrazendoorsswungongreatpillarsofiron.Plainlyithadbeenaplaceofstrengthandprideindayslongforgotten;fordragonsdonotbuildsuchworksnordelvesuchmines,butdwellrather,whentheymay,inthetombsandtreasuriesofmightymenandgiantsofold.Thedoorsofthisdeephouseweresetwide,andintheirshadowtheyhalted.SofarChrysophylaxhadhadnochancetoescape,butcomingnowtohisowngatehesprangforwardandpreparedtoplungein.

FarmerGileshithimwiththeflatofthesword.‘Woa!’saidhe.‘Beforeyougoin,I’vesomethingtosaytoyou.Ifyouain’toutsideagaininquicktimewithsomethingworthbringing,Ishallcomeinafteryouandcutoffyourtailtobeginwith.’

Themaresniffed.ShecouldnotimagineFarmerGilesgoingdownaloneintoadragon’sdenforanymoneyonearth.ButChrysophylaxwasquitepreparedtobelieveit,withTailbiterlookingsobrightandsharpandall.Andmaybehewasright,andthemare,forallherwisdom,hadnotyetunderstoodthechangeinhermaster.FarmerGileswasbackinghisluck,andaftertwoencounterswasbeginningtofancythatnodragoncouldstanduptohim.

Anyway,outcameChrysophylaxagaininmightyquicktime,withtwentypounds(troy)ofgoldandsilver,andachestofringsandnecklacesandotherprettystuff.

‘There!’saidhe.‘Where?’saidGiles.‘That’snothalfenough,ifthat’swhatyoumean.Nor

halfwhatyou’vegot,I’llbebound.’‘Ofcoursenot!’saidthedragon,ratherperturbedtofindthatthefarmer’s

witsseemedtohavebecomebrightersincethatdayinthevillage.‘Ofcoursenot!ButIcan’tbringitalloutatonce.’

‘Norattwice,I’llwager,’saidGiles.‘Inyougoagain,andoutagaindoublequick,orI’llgiveyouatasteofTailbiter!’

‘No!’saidthedragon,andinhepoppedandoutagaindoublequick.‘There!’saidhe,puttingdownanenormousloadofgoldandtwochestsofdiamonds.

‘Nowtryagain!’saidthefarmer.‘Andtryharder!’‘It’shard,cruelhard,’saidthedragon,ashewentbackinagain.Butbythistimethegreymarewasgettingabitanxiousonherown

account.‘Who’sgoingtocarryallthisheavystuffhome,Iwonder?’thoughtshe;andshegavesuchalongsadlookatallthebagsandboxesthatthefarmerguessedhermind.

‘Neveryouworry,lass!’saidhe.‘We’llmaketheoldwormdothecarting.’‘Mercyonus!’saidthedragon,whooverheardthesewordsashecameout

ofthecaveforthethirdtimewiththebiggestloadofall,andamortofrichjewelslikegreenandredfire.‘Mercyonus!IfIcarryallthis,itwillbenearthedeathofme,andabagmoreInevercouldmanage,notifyoukilledmeforit.’

‘Thenthereismorestill,isthere?’saidthefarmer.‘Yes,’saidthedragon,‘enoughtokeepmerespectable.’Hespokenearthe

truthforararewonder,andwiselyasitturnedout.‘Ifyouwillleavemewhatremains,’saidheverywily,‘I’llbeyourfriendforever.AndIwillcarryallthistreasurebacktoyourhonour’sownhouseandnottotheKing’s.AndIwillhelpyoutokeepit,whatismore,’saidhe.

Thenthefarmertookoutatoothpickwithhislefthand,andhethoughtveryhardforaminute.Then‘Donewithyou!’hesaid,showingalaudablediscretion.Aknightwouldhavestoodoutforthewholehoardandgotacurselaiduponit.Andaslikelyasnot,ifGileshaddriventhewormtodespair,hewouldhaveturnedandfoughtintheend,TailbiterornoTailbiter.InwhichcaseGiles,ifnotslainhimself,wouldhavebeenobligedtoslaughterhistransportandleavethebestpartofhisgainsinthemountains.

Well,thatwastheendofit.Thefarmerstuffedhispocketswithjewels,justincaseanythingwentwrong;andhegavethegreymareasmallloadtocarry.AlltherestheboundonthebackofChrysophylaxinboxesandbags,tillhelookedlikearoyalpantechnicon.Therewasnochanceofhisflying,forhisloadwastoogreat,andGileshadtieddownhiswings.

‘Mightyhandythisropehasturnedoutintheend!’hethought,andherememberedtheparsonwithgratitude.

Sooffnowthedragontrotted,puffingandblowing,withthemareathis

tail,andthefarmerholdingoutCaudimordaxverybrightandthreatening.Hedaredtrynotricks.

Inspiteoftheirburdensthemareandthedragonmadebetterspeedgoingbackthanthecavalcadehadmadecoming.ForFarmerGileswasinahurry—nottheleastreasonbeingthathehadlittlefoodinhisbags.AlsohehadnotrustinChrysophylaxafterhisbreakingofoathssosolemnandbinding,andhewonderedmuchhowtogetthroughanightwithoutdeathorgreatloss.Butbeforethatnightfellheranagainintoluck;fortheyovertookhalfadozenoftheservantsandponiesthathaddepartedinhasteandwerenowwanderingatalossintheWildHills.Theyscatteredinfearandamazement,butGilesshoutedafterthem.

‘Hey,lads!’saidhe.‘Comeback!Ihaveajobforyou,andgoodwageswhilethispacketlasts.’

Sotheyenteredhisservice,beinggladofaguide,andthinkingthattheirwagesmightindeedcomemoreregularnowthanhadbeenusual.Thentheyrodeon,sevenmen,sixponies,onemare,andadragon;andGilesbegantofeellikealordandstuckouthischest.Theyhaltedasseldomastheycould.AtnightFarmerGilesropedthedragontofourpickets,onetoeachleg,withthreementowatchhiminturn.Butthegreymarekepthalfaneyeopen,incasethemenshouldtryanytricksontheirownaccount.

Afterthreedaystheywerebackoverthebordersoftheirowncountry;andtheirarrivalcausedsuchwonderanduproarashadseldombeenseenbetweenthetwoseasbefore.Inthefirstvillagethattheystoppedatfoodanddrinkwasshoweredonthemfree,andhalftheyoungladswantedtojoinintheprocession.Gileschoseoutadozenlikelyyoungfellows.Hepromisedthemgoodwages,andboughtthemsuchmountsashecouldget.Hewasbeginningtohaveideas.

Afterrestingadayherodeonagain,withhisnewescortathisheels.Theysangsongsinhishonour:roughandready,buttheysoundedgoodinhisears.Somefolkcheeredandotherslaughed.Itwasasightbothmerryandwonderful.

SoonFarmerGilestookabendsouthward,andsteeredtowardshisownhome,andneverwentnearthecourtoftheKingnorsentanymessage.ButthenewsofthereturnofMasterÆgidiusspreadlikefirefromtheWest;andtherewasgreatastonishmentandconfusion.Forhecamehardontheheelsofaroyalproclamationbiddingallthetownsandvillagestogointomourningforthefallofthebraveknightsinthepassofthemountains.

WhereverGileswentthemourningwascastaside,andbellsweresetringing,andpeoplethrongedbythewaysideshoutingandwavingtheircapsand

theirscarves.Buttheybooedthepoordragon,tillhebeganbitterlytoregretthebargainhehadmade.Itwasmosthumiliatingforoneofancientandimperiallineage.WhentheygotbacktoHamallthedogsbarkedathimscornfully.AllexceptGarm:hehadeyes,ears,andnoseonlyforhismaster.Indeed,hewentquiteoffhishead,andturnedsomersaultsallalongthestreet.

Ham,ofcourse,gavethefarmerawonderfulwelcome;butprobablynothingpleasedhimmorethanfindingthemilleratalossforasneerandtheblacksmithquiteoutofcountenance.

‘Thisisnottheendoftheaffair,markmywords!’saidhe;buthecouldnotthinkofanythingworsetosayandhunghisheadgloomily.FarmerGiles,withhissixmenandhisdozenlikelyladsandthedragonandall,wentonupthehill,andtheretheystayedquietforawhile.Onlytheparsonwasinvitedtothehouse.

Thenewssoonreachedthecapital,andforgettingtheofficialmourning,andtheirbusinessaswell,peoplegatheredinthestreets.Therewasmuchshoutingandnoise.

TheKingwasinhisgreathouse,bitinghisnailsandtugginghisbeard.Betweengriefandrage(andfinancialanxiety)hismoodwassogrimthatnoonedaredspeaktohim.Butatlastthenoiseofthetowncametohisears;itdidnotsoundlikemourningorweeping.

‘Whatisallthenoiseabout?’hedemanded.‘Tellthepeopletogoindoorsandmourndecently!Itsoundsmorelikeagoose-fair.’

‘Thedragonhascomeback,lord,’theyanswered.‘What!’saidtheKing.‘Summonourknights,orwhatisleftofthem!’‘Thereisnoneed,lord,’theyanswered.‘WithMasterÆgidiusbehindhim

thedragonistameastame.Orsoweareinformed.Thenewshasnotlongcomein,andreportsareconflicting.’

‘BlessourSoul!’saidtheKing,lookinggreatlyrelieved.‘AndtothinkthatweorderedaDirgetobesungforthefellowthedayafter

tomorrow!Cancelit!Isthereanysignofourtreasure?’‘Reportssaythatthereisaveritablemountainofit,lord,’theyanswered.‘Whenwillitarrive?’saidtheKingeagerly.‘AgoodmanthisÆgidius—

sendhimintousassoonashecomes!’Therewassomehesitationinreplyingtothis.Atlastsomeonetookcourage

andsaid:‘Yourpardon,lord,butwehearthatthefarmerhasturnedasidetowardshisownhome.Butdoubtlesshewillhastenhereinsuitableraimentattheearliestopportunity.’

‘Doubtless,’saidtheKing.‘Butconfoundhisraiment!Hehadnobusiness

togohomewithoutreporting.Wearemuchdispleased!’Theearliestopportunitypresenteditself,andpassed,andsodidmanylater

ones.Infact,FarmerGileshadbeenbackforagoodweekormore,andstillnowordornewsofhimcametothecourt.

OnthetenthdaytheKing’srageexploded.‘Sendforthefellow!’hesaid;andtheysent.Itwasaday’shardridingtoHam,eachway.

‘Hewillnotcome,lord!’saidatremblingmessengertwodayslater.‘LightningofHeaven!’saidtheKing.‘CommandhimtocomeonTuesday

next,orheshallbecastintoprisonforlife!’‘Yourpardon,lord,buthestillwillnotcome,’saidatrulymiserable

messengerreturningaloneontheTuesday.‘TenThousandThunders!’saidtheKing.‘Takethisfooltoprisoninstead!

Nowsendsomementofetchthechurlsinchains!’hebellowedtothosethatstoodby.

‘Howmanymen?’theyfaltered.‘There’sadragon,and…andTailbiter,and—’

‘Andbroomstalesandfiddlesticks!’saidtheKing.Thenheorderedhiswhitehorse,andsummonedhisknights(orwhatwasleftofthem)andacompanyofmen-at-arms,andherodeoffinfieryanger.Allthepeopleranoutoftheirhousesinsurprise.

ButFarmerGileshadnowbecomemorethantheHerooftheCountryside:hewastheDarlingoftheLand;andfolkdidnotcheertheknightsandmen-at-armsastheywentby,thoughtheystilltookofftheirhatstotheKing.AshedrewnearertoHamthelooksgrewmoresullen;insomevillagesthepeopleshuttheirdoorsandnotafacecouldbeseen.

ThentheKingchangedfromhotwrathtocoldanger.HehadagrimlookasherodeupatlasttotheriverbeyondwhichlayHamandthehouseofthefarmer.Hehadamindtoburntheplacedown.ButtherewasFarmerGilesonthebridge,sittingonthegreymarewithTailbiterinhishand.Nooneelsewastobeseen,exceptGarm,whowaslyingintheroad.

‘Goodmorning,lord!’saidGiles,ascheerfulasday,notwaitingtobespokento.

TheKingeyedhimcoldly.‘Yourmannersareunfitforourpresence,’saidhe;‘butthatdoesnotexcuseyoufromcomingwhensentfor.’

‘Ihadnotthoughtofit,lord,andthat’safact,’saidGiles.‘Ihadmattersof

myowntomind,andhadwastedtimeenoughonyourerrands.’‘TenThousandThunders!’criedtheKinginahotrageagain.‘Tothedevil

withyouandyourinsolence!Norewardwillyougetafterthis;andyouwillbeluckyifyouescapehanging.Andhangedyoushallbe,unlessyoubegourpardonhereandnow,andgiveusbackoursword.’

‘Eh?’saidGiles.‘Ihavegotmyreward,Ireckon.Finding’skeeping,andkeeping’shaving,wesayhere,andIreckonTailbiterisbetterwithmethanwithyourfolk.Butwhatarealltheseknightsandmenfor,byanychance?’heasked.‘Ifyou’vecomeonavisit,you’dbewelcomewithfewer.Ifyouwanttotakemeawayyou’llneedalotmore.’

TheKingchoked,andtheknightswentveryredandlookeddowntheirnoses.Someofthemen-at-armsgrinned,sincetheKing’sbackwasturnedtothem.

‘Givememysword!’shoutedtheKing,findinghisvoice,butforgettinghisplural.

‘Giveusyourcrown!’saidGiles:astaggeringremark,suchashadneverbeforebeenheardinallthedaysoftheMiddleKingdom.

‘LightningofHeaven!Seizehimandbindhim!’criedtheKing,justlyenragedbeyondbearing.‘Whatdoyouhangbackfor?Seizehimorslayhim!’

Themen-at-armsstrodeforward.‘Help!help!help!’criedGarm.

Justatthatmomentthedragongotupfromthebridge.Hehadlainthereconcealedunderthefarbank,deepintheriver.Nowheletoffaterriblesteam,forhehaddrunkmanygallonsofwater.Atoncetherewasathickfog,andonlytheredeyesofthedragontobeseeninit.

‘Gohome,youfools!’hebellowed.‘OrIwilltearyoutopieces.Thereareknightslyingcoldinthemountainpass,andsoontherewillbemoreintheriver.AlltheKing’shorsesandalltheKing’smen!’heroared.

ThenhesprangforwardandstruckaclawintotheKing’swhitehorse;anditgallopedawaylikethetenthousandthundersthattheKingmentionedsooften.Theotherhorsesfollowedasswiftly:somehadmetthisdragonbeforeanddidnotlikethememory.Themen-atarmsleggeditasbesttheycouldineverydirectionsavethatofHam.

Thewhitehorsewasonlyscratched,andhewasnotallowedtogofar.AfterawhiletheKingbroughthimback.Hewasmasterofhisownhorseatanyrate;

andnoonecouldsaythathewasafraidofanymanordragononthefaceoftheearth.Thefogwasgonewhenhegotback,butsowereallhisknightsandhismen.NowthingslookedverydifferentwiththeKingallalonetotalktoastoutfarmerwithTailbiterandadragonaswell.

Buttalkdidnogood.FarmerGileswasobstinate.Hewouldnotyield,andhewouldnotfight,thoughtheKingchallengedhimtosinglecombatthereandthen.

‘Nay,lord!’saidhe,laughing.‘Gohomeandgetcool!Idon’twanttohurtyou;butyouhadbestbeoff,orIwon’tbeanswerablefortheworm.Goodday!’

AndthatwastheendoftheBattleoftheBridgeofHam.NeverapennyofallthetreasuredidtheKingget,noranywordofapologyfromFarmerGiles,whowasbeginningtothinkmightywellofhimself.Whatismore,fromthatdaythepoweroftheMiddleKingdomcametoanendinthatneighbourhood.FormanyamileroundaboutmentookGilesfortheirlord.NeveramancouldtheKingwithallhistitlesgettorideagainsttherebelÆgidius;forhehadbecometheDarlingoftheLand,andthematterofsong;anditwasimpossibletosuppressallthelaysthatcelebratedhisdeeds.Thefavouriteonedealtwiththemeetingonthebridgeinahundredmock-heroiccouplets.

ChrysophylaxremainedlonginHam,muchtotheprofitofGiles;forthemanwhohasatamedragonisnaturallyrespected.Hewashousedinthetithebarn,withtheleaveoftheparson,andtherehewasguardedbythetwelvelikelylads.InthiswayarosethefirstofthetitlesofGiles:DominusdeDomitoSerpente,whichisinthevulgarLordoftheTameWorm,orshortlyofTame.Assuchhewaswidelyhonoured;buthestillpaidanominaltributetotheKing:sixoxtailsandapintofbitter,deliveredonStMatthias’Day,thatbeingthedateofthemeetingonthebridge.Beforelong,however,headvancedtheLordtoEarl,andthebeltoftheEarlofTamewasindeedofgreatlength.

AftersomeyearshebecamePrinceJuliusÆgidiusandthetributeceased.ForGiles,beingfabulouslyrich,hadbuilthimselfahallofgreatmagnificence,andgatheredgreatstrengthofmen-at-arms.Verybrightandgaytheywere,fortheirgearwasthebestthatmoneycouldbuy.

Eachofthetwelvelikelyladsbecameacaptain.Garmhadagoldcollar,andwhilehelivedroamedathiswill,aproudandhappydog,insufferabletohisfellows;forheexpectedallotherdogstoaccordhimtherespectduetotheterrorandsplendourofhismaster.Thegreymarepassedtoherdays’endinpeaceandgavenohintofherreflections.

IntheendGilesbecameaking,ofcourse,theKingoftheLittleKingdom.

HewascrownedinHaminthenameofÆgidiusDraconarius;buthewasmoreoftenknownasOldGilesWorming.Forthevulgartonguecameintofashionathiscourt,andnoneofhisspeecheswereintheBook-latin.Hewifemadeaqueenofgreatsizeandmajesty,andshekeptatighthandonthehouseholdaccounts.TherewasnogettingroundQueenAgatha—atleastitwasalongwalk.

ThusGilesbecameatlengtholdandvenerableandhadawhitebearddowntothisknees,andaveryrespectablecourt(inwhichmeritwasoftenrewarded),andanentirelyneworderofknighthood.TheseweretheWormwardens,andadragonwastheirensign:thetwelvelikelyladsweretheseniormembers.

ItmustbeadmittedthatGilesowedhisriseinalargemeasuretoluck,thoughheshowedsomewitsintheuseofit.Boththeluckandthewitsremainedwithhimtotheendofhisdays,tothegreatbenefitofhisfriendsandhisneighbours.Herewardedtheparsonveryhandsomely;andeventheblacksmithandthemillerhadtheirbit.ForGilescouldaffordtobegenerous.ButafterhebecameKingheissuedastronglawagainstunpleasantprophecy,andmademillingaroyalmonopoly.Theblacksmithchangedtothetradeofanundertaker;butthemillerbecameanobsequiousservantofthecrown.Theparsonbecameabishop,andsetuphisseeinthechurchofHam,whichwassuitablyenlarged.

NowthosewholivestillinthelandsoftheLittleKingdomwillobserveinthishistorythetrueexplanationofthenamesthatsomeofitstownsandvillagesbearinourtime.ForthelearnedinsuchmattersinformusthatHam,beingmadethechieftownofthenewrealm,byanaturalconfusionbetweentheLordofHamandtheLordofTamebecameknownbythelattername,whichitretainstothisday;forThamewithanhisfollywithoutwarrant.Whereasinmemoryofthedragon,uponwhomtheirfameandfortunewerefounded,theDraconariibuiltthemselvesagreathouse,fourmilesnorth-westofTame,uponthespotwhereGilesandChrysophylaxfirstmadeacquaintance.ThatplacebecameknownthroughoutthekingdomasAulaDraconaria,orinthevulgarWorminghall,aftertheking’snameandhisstandard.

Thefaceofthelandhaschangedsincethattime,andkingdomshavecomeandgone;woodshavefallen,andrivershaveshifted,andonlythehillsremain,andtheyareworndownbytherainandthewind.Butstillthatnameendures;thoughmennowcallitWunnle(orsoIamtold);forvillageshavefallenfromtheirpride.ButinthedaysofwhichthistalespeaksWorminghallitwas,andaRoyalSeat,andthedragon-standardflewabovethetrees;andallthingswentwellthereandmerrily,whileTailbiterwasaboveground.

Envoy

Chrysophylaxbeggedoftenforhisliberty;andheprovedexpensivetofeed,sincehecontinuedtogrow,asdragonswill,liketrees,aslongasthereislifeinthem.Soitcametopass,aftersomeyears,whenGilesfelthimselfsecurelyestablished,thatheletthepoorwormgobackhome.Theypartedwithmanyexpressionsofmutualesteem,andapactofnon-aggressionuponeitherside.InhisbadheartofheartsthedragonfeltaskindlydisposedtowardsGilesasadragoncanfeeltowardsanyone.AfteralltherewasTailbiter:hislifemighteasilyhavebeentaken,andallhishoardtoo.Asitwas,hestillhadamortoftreasureathomeinhiscave(asindeedGilessuspected).

Heflewbacktothemountains,slowlyandlaboriously,forhiswingswereclumsywithlongdisuse,andhissizeandhisarmourweregreatlyincreased.Arrivinghome,heatonceroutedoutayoungdragonwhohadhadthetemeritytotakeupresidenceinhiscavewhileChrysophylaxwasaway.ItissaidthatthenoiseofthebattlewasheardthroughoutVenedotia.When,withgreatsatisfaction,hehaddevouredhisdefeatedopponent,hefeltbetter,andthescarsofhishumiliationwereassuaged,andhesleptforalongwhile.Butatlast,wakingsuddenly,hesetoffinsearchofthattallestandstupidestofthegiants,whohadstartedallthetroubleonesummer’snightlongbefore.Hegavehimapieceofhismind,andthepoorfellowwasverymuchcrushed.

‘Ablunderbuss,wasit?’saidhe,scratchinghishead.‘Ithoughtitwashorseflies!’

finisorinthevulgar

THEADVENTURESOFTOMBOMBADIL

PREFACETheRedBookcontainsalargenumberofverses.Afewareincludedinthe

narrativeoftheDownfalloftheLordoftheRings,orintheattachedstoriesandchronicles;manymorearefoundonlooseleaves,whilesomearewrittencarelesslyinmarginsandblankspaces.Ofthelastsortmostarenonsense,nowoftenunintelligibleevenwhenlegible,orhalf-rememberedfragments.FromthesemarginaliaaredrawnNos.4,12,13;thoughabetterexampleoftheirgeneralcharacterwouldbethescribble,onthepagerecordingBilbo’sWhenwinterfirstbeginstobite:

ThewindsowhirledaweathercockHecouldnotholdhistailup;ThefrostsonippedathrostlecockHecouldnotsnapasnailup.‘Mycaseishard!thethrostlecried,And‘Allisvane’thecockreplied;Andsotheysettheirwailup.

Thepresentselectionistakenfromtheolderpieces,mainlyconcernedwithlegendsandjestsoftheShireattheendoftheThirdAge,thatappeartohavebeenmadebyHobbits,especiallybyBilboandhisfriends,ortheirimmediatedescendants.Theirauthorshipis,however,seldomindicated.Thoseoutsidethenarrativesareinvarioushands,andwereprobablywrittendownfromoraltradition.

IntheRedBookitissaidthatNo.5wasmadebyBilbo,andNo.7bySamGamgee.No.8ismarkedSG,andtheascriptionmaybeaccepted.No.11isalsomarkedSG,thoughatmostSamcanonlyhavetouchedupanolderpieceofthecomicbestiaryloreofwhichHobbitsappeartohavebeenfond.InTheLordoftheRingsSamstatedthatNo.10wastraditionalintheShire.

No.3isanexampleofanotherkindwhichseemstohaveamusedHobbits:arhymeorstorywhichreturnstoitsownbeginning,andsomaybereciteduntil

thehearersrevolt.SeveralspecimensarefoundintheRedBook,buttheothersaresimpleandcrude.No.3ismuchthelongestandmostelaborate.ItwasevidentlymadebyBilbo.ThisisindicatedbyitsobviousrelationshiptothelongpoemrecitedbyBilbo,ashisowncomposition,inthehouseofElrond.Inorigina‘nonsenserhyme’,itisintheRivendellversionfoundtransformedandapplied,somewhatincongruously,totheHigh-elvishandNúmenoreanlegendsofEärendil.ProbablybecauseBilboinventeditsmetricaldevicesandwasproudofthem.TheydonotappearinotherpiecesintheRedBook.Theolderform,heregiven,mustbelongtotheearlydaysafterBilbo’sreturnfromhisjourney.ThoughtheinfluenceofElvishtraditionsisseen,theyarenotseriouslytreated,andthenamesused(Derrilyn,Thellamie,Belmarie,Aerie)aremereinventionsintheElvishstyle,andarenotinfactElvishatall.

TheinfluenceoftheeventsattheendoftheThirdAge,andthewideningofthehorizonsoftheShirebycontactwithRivendellandGondor,istobeseeninotherpieces.No.6,thoughhereplacednexttoBilbo’sMan-in-the-Moonrhyme,andthelastitem,No.16,mustbederivedultimatelyfromGondor.TheyareevidentlybasedonthetraditionsofMen,livinginshorelandsandfamiliarwithriversrunningintotheSea.No.6actuallymentionsBelfalas(thewindybayofBel),andtheSea-wardTower,TirithAear,ofDolAmroth.No.16mentionstheSevenRivers1thatflowedintotheSeaintheSouthKingdom,andusestheGondorianname,ofHigh-elvishform,Fíriel,mortalwoman.2IntheLangstrandandDolAmroththereweremanytraditionsoftheancientElvishdwellings,andofthehavenatthemouthoftheMorthondfromwhich‘westwardships’hadsailedasfarbackasthefallofEregionintheSecondAge.Thesetwopieces,therefore,areonlyre-handlingsofSouthernmatter,thoughthismayhavereachedBilbobywayofRivendell.No.14alsodependsontheloreofRivendell,ElvishandNúmenorean,concerningtheheroicdaysattheendoftheFirstAge;itseemstocontainechoesoftheNúmenoreantaleofTúrinandMimtheDwarf.

Nos.1and2evidentlycomefromtheBuckland.Theyshowmoreknowledgeofthatcountry,andoftheDingle,thewoodedvalleyoftheWithywindle,1thananyHobbitswestoftheMarishwerelikelytopossess.TheyalsoshowthattheBucklandersknewBombadil,2though,nodoubt,theyhadaslittleunderstandingofhispowersastheShirefolkhadofGandalf’s:bothwereregardedasbenevolentpersons,mysteriousmaybeandunpredictablebutnonethelesscomic.No.1istheearlierpiece,andismadeupofvarioushobbit-versionsoflegendsconcerningBombadil.No.2usessimilartraditions,though

Tom’srailleryishereturnedinjestuponhisfriends,whotreatitwithamusement(tingedwithfear);butitwasprobablycomposedmuchlaterandafterthevisitofFrodoandhiscompanionstothehouseofBombadil.

Theverses,ofhobbitorigin,herepresentedhavegenerallytwofeaturesincommon.Theyarefondofstrangewords,andofrhymingandmetricaltricks—intheirsimplicityHobbitsevidentlyregardedsuchthingsasvirtuesorgraces,thoughtheywere,nodoubt,mereimitationsofElvishpractices.Theyarealso,atleastonthesurface,lightheartedorfrivolous,thoughsometimesonemayuneasilysuspectthatmoreismeantthanmeetstheear.No.15,certainlyofhobbitorigin,isanexception.ItisthelatestpieceandbelongstotheFourthAge;butitisincludedhere,becauseahandhasscrawledatitsheadFrodosDreme.Thatisremarkable,andthoughthepieceismostunlikelytohavebeenwrittenbyFrodohimself,thetitleshowsthatitwasassociatedwiththedarkanddespairingdreamswhichvisitedhiminMarchandOctoberduringhislastthreeyears.Buttherewerecertainlyothertraditions,concerningHobbitsthatweretakenbythe‘wandering-madness’,andiftheyeverreturned,wereafterwardsqueeranduncommunicable.ThethoughtoftheSeawasever-presentinthebackgroundofhobbitimagination;butfearofitanddistrustofallElvishlore,wastheprevailingmoodintheShireattheendoftheThirdAge,andthatmoodwascertainlynotentirelydispelledbytheeventsandchangeswithwhichthatAgeended.

1Lefnui,Morthond-Kiril-Ringló,Gilrain-Sernui,andAnduin.

2ThenamewasbornebyaprincessofGondor,throughwhomAragornclaimeddescentfromtheSouthernline.ItwasalsothenameofadaughterofElanor,daughterofSam,buthername,ifconnectedwiththerhyme,mustbederivedfromit;itcouldnothaveariseninWestmarch.

1GrindwallwasasmallhytheonthenorthbankoftheWithywindle;itwasoutsidetheHay,andsowaswellwatchedandprotectedbyagrindorfenceextendedintothewater.Breredon(BriarHill)wasalittlevillageonrisinggroundbehindthehythe,inthenarrowtonguebetweentheendoftheHighHayandtheBrandywine.AttheMithe,theoutflowoftheShirebourn,wasalanding-stage,fromwhichalanerantoDeephallowandsoontotheCausewayroadthatwentthroughRusheyandStock.

2Indeedtheyprobablygavehimthisname(itisBucklandishinform)toaddtohismanyolderones.

1THEADVENTURESOFTOM

BOMBADILOldTomBombadilwasamerryfellow;brightbluehisjacketwasandhisbootswereyellow,greenwerehisgirdleandhisbreechesallofleather;heworeinhistallhataswan-wingfeather.HelivedupunderHill,wheretheWithywindleranfromagrassywelldownintothedingle.

OldTominsummertimewalkedaboutthemeadowsgatheringthebuttercups,runningaftershadows,ticklingthebumblebeesthatbuzzedamongtheflowers,sittingbythewatersideforhoursuponhours.

Therehisbearddangledlongdownintothewater:upcameGoldberry,theRiver-woman’sdaughter;pulledTom’shanginghair.Inhewenta-wallowingunderthewater-lilies,bubblinganda-swallowing.

‘Hey,TomBombadil!Whitherareyougoing?’saidfairGoldberry.‘Bubblesyouareblowing,frighteningthefinnyfishandthebrownwater-rat,startlingthedabchicks,anddrowningyourfeather-hat!’

‘Youbringitbackagain,there’saprettymaiden!’saidTomBombadil.‘Idonotcareforwading.Godown!Sleepagainwherethepoolsareshadyfarbelowwillow-roots,littlewater-lady!’

Backtohermother’shouseinthedeepesthollowswamyoungGoldberry.ButTom,hewouldnotfollow;onknottedwillow-rootshesatinsunnyweather,dryinghisyellowbootsandhisdraggledfeather.

UpwokeWillow-man,beganuponhissinging,sangTomfastasleepunderbranchesswinging;inacrackcaughthimtight:snick!itclosedtogether,trappedTomBombadil,coatandhatandfeather.

‘Ha,TomBombadil!Whatbeyoua-thinking,peepinginsidemytree,watchingmea-drinkingdeepinmywoodenhouse,ticklingmewithfeather,drippingwetdownmyfacelikearainyweather?’‘Youletmeoutagain,OldManWillow!Iamstifflyinghere;they’renosortofpillow,yourhardcrookedroots.Drinkyourriver-water!GobacktosleepagainliketheRiver-daughter!’

Willow-manlethimloosewhenheheardhimspeaking;lockedfasthiswoodenhouse,mutteringandcreaking,whisperinginsidethetree.Outfromwillow-dingleTomwentwalkingonuptheWithywindle.Undertheforest-eaveshesatawhilea-listening:ontheboughspipingbirdswerechirrupingandwhistling.Butterfliesabouthisheadwentquiveringandwinking,untilgreycloudscameup,asthesunwassinking.

ThenTomhurriedon.Rainbegantoshiver,roundringsspatteringintherunningriver;awindblew,shakenleaveschillydropsweredripping;intoashelteringholeOldTomwentskipping.

OutcameBadger-brockwithhissnowyforehead

andhisdarkblinkingeyes.Inthehillhequarriedwithhiswifeandmanysons.Bythecoattheycaughthim,pulledhiminsidetheirearth,downtheirtunnelsbroughthim.Insidetheirsecrethouse,theretheysata-mumbling:‘Ho,TomBombadil!Wherehaveyoucometumbling,burstinginthefront-door?Badger-folkhavecaughtyou.You’llneverfinditout,thewaythatwehavebroughtyou!’

‘Now,oldBadger-brock,doyouhearmetalking?Youshowmeoutatonce!Imustbea-walking.Showmetoyourbackdoorunderbriar-roses;then-cleangrimypaws,wipeyourearthynoses!Gobacktosleepagainonyourstrawpillow,likefairGoldberryandOldManWillow!’

ThenalltheBadger-folksaid:‘Webegyourpardon!’TheyshowedTomoutagaintotheirthornygarden,wentbackandhidthemselves,a-shiveringanda-shaking,blockedupalltheirdoors,earthtogetherraking.

Rainhadpassed.Theskywasclear,andinthesummer-gloamingOldTomBombadillaughedashecamehoming,unlockedhisdooragain,andopenedupashutter.Inthekitchenroundthelampmothsbegantoflutter;Tomthroughthewindowsawwakingstarscomewinking,andthenewslendermoonearlywestwardsinking.DarkcameunderHill.Tom,helitacandle;upstairscreakingwent,turnedthedoor-handle.‘Hoo,TomBombadil!Lookwhatnighthasbroughtyou!I’mherebehindthedoor.NowatlastI’vecaughtyou!You’dforgottenBarrow-wightdwellingintheoldmoundupthereonhill-topwiththeringofstonesround.He’sgotlooseagain.Underearthhe’lltakeyou.PoorTomBombadil,paleandcoldhe’llmakeyou!’

‘Goout!Shutthedoor,andnevercomebackafter!Takeawaygleamingeyes,takeyourhollowlaughter!Gobacktograssymound,onyourstonypillowlaydownyourbonyhead,likeOldManWillow,likeyoungGoldberry,andBadger-folkinburrow!Gobacktoburiedgoldandforgottensorrow!’

OutfledBarrow-wightthroughthewindowleaping,throughtheyard,overwalllikeashadowsweeping,uphillwailingwentbacktoleaningstone-rings,backunderlonelymound,rattlinghisbone-rings.

OldTomBombadillayuponhispillowsweeterthanGoldberry,quieterthantheWillow,snuggerthantheBadger-folkortheBarrow-dwellers;sleptlikeahumming-top,snoredlikeabellows.Hewokeinmorning-light,whistledlikeastarling,sang,‘Come,derry-dol,merry-dol,mydarling!’Heclappedonhisbatteredhat,boots,andcoatandfeather,openedthewindowwidetothesunnyweather.

WiseoldBombadil,hewasawaryfellow;brightbluehisjacketwas,andhisbootswereyellow.NoneevercaughtoldTominuplandorindingle,walkingtheforest-paths,orbytheWithywindle,oroutonthelily-poolsinboatuponthewater.ButonedayTom,hewentandcaughttheRiver-daughter,ingreengown,flowinghair,sittingintherushes,singingoldwater-songstobirdsuponthebushes.

Hecaughther,heldherfast!Water-ratswentscutteringreedshissed,heronscried,andherheartwasfluttering.SaidTomBombadil:‘Here’smyprettymaiden!Youshallcomehomewithme!Thetableisallladen:

yellowcream,honeycomb,whitebreadandbutter;rosesatthewindow-sillandpeepingroundtheshutter.YoushallcomeunderHill!Nevermindyourmotherinherdeepweedypool:thereyou’llfindnolover!’OldTomBombadilhadamerrywedding,crownedallwithbuttercups,hatandfeathershedding;hisbridewithforgetmenotsandflag-liliesforgarlandwasrobedallinsilver-green.Hesanglikeastarling,hummedlikeahoney-bee,liltedtothefiddle,claspinghisriver-maidroundherslendermiddle.

Lampsgleamedwithinhishouse,andwhitewasthebedding;inthebrighthoney-moonBadger-folkcametreading,danceddownunderHill,andOldManWillowtapped,tappedatwindow-pane,astheysleptonthepillow,onthebankinthereedsRiver-womansighingheardoldBarrow-wightinhismoundcrying.

OldTomBombadilheedednotthevoices,taps,knocks,dancingfeet,allthenightlynoises;slepttillthesunarose,thensanglikeastarling:‘Hey!Comederry-dol,merry-dol,mydarling!’sittingonthedoor-stepchoppingsticksofwillow,whilefairGoldberrycombedhertressesyellow.

2BOMBADILGOESBOATING

Theoldyearwasturningbrown;theWestWindwascalling;TomcaughtabeechenleafintheForestfalling.‘I’vecaughtahappydayblownmebythebreezes!Whywaittillmorrow-year?I’lltakeitwhenmepleases.ThisdayI’llmendmyboatandjourneyasitchanceswestdownthewithy-stream,followingmyfancies!’

LittleBirdsatontwig.‘Whillo,Tom!Iheedyou.I’veaguess,I’veaguesswhereyourfanciesleadyou.ShallIgo,shallIgo,bringhimwordtomeetyou?’

‘Nonames,youtell-tale,orI’llskinandeatyou,babblingineveryearthingsthatdon’tconcernyou!IfyoutellWillow-manwhereI’vegone,I’llburnyou,roastyouonawillow-spit.That’llendyourprying!’Willow-wrencockedhertail,pipedasshewentflying:‘Catchmefirst,catchmefirst!Nonamesareneeded.I’llperchonhishitherear:themessagewillbeheeded.“DownbyMithe,”I’llsay,“justassunissinking.”Hurryup,hurryup!That’sthetimefordrinking!’

Tomlaughedtohimself:‘MaybethenI’llgothere.Imightgobyotherways,buttodayI’llrowthere.’Heshavedoars,patchedhisboat;fromhiddencreekhehauledherthroughreedandsallow-brake,underleaningalder,thendowntheriverwent,singing:‘Silly-sallow,Flowwithy-willow-streamoverdeepandshallow!’

‘Whee!TomBombadil!Whitherbeyougoing,bobbinginacockle-boat,downtheriverrowing?’

‘MaybetoBrandywinealongtheWithywindle;maybefriendsofmindfireformewillkindledownbytheHays-end.LittlefolkIknowthere,kindattheday’send.NowandthenIgothere.’

‘Takewordtomykin,bringmebacktheirtidings!Tellmeofdivingpoolsandthefishes’hidings!’

‘Naythen,’saidBombadil,‘Iamonlyrowingjusttosmellthewaterlike,notonerrandsgoing.’‘Teehee!CockyTom!Mindyourtubdon’tfounder!Lookoutforwillow-snags!I’dlaughtoseeyouflounder.’

‘Talkless,FisherBlue!Keepyourkindlywishes!Flyoffandpreenyourselfwiththebonesoffishes!Gaylordonyourbough,athomeadirtyvarletlivinginaslovenhouse,thoughyourbreastbescarlet.I’veheardoffisher-birdsbeakinaira-danglingtoshowhowthewindisset:that’sanendofangling!’

TheKing’sfishershuthisbeak,winkedhiseye,assingingTompassedunderbough.Flash!thenhewentwinging;droppeddownjewel-blueafeather,andTomcaughtitgleaminginasun-ray:aprettygifthethoughtit.Hestuckitinhistallhat,theoldfeathercasting:‘BluenowforTom,’hesaid,‘amerryhueandlasting!’

Ringsswirledroundhisboat,hesawthebubblesquiver.Tomslappedhisoar,smack!atashadowintheriver.‘Hoosh!TomBombadil!‘TislongsincelastImetyou.

Turnedwater-boatman,eh?WhatifIupsetyou?’

‘What?Why,Whisker-lad,I’drideyoudowntheriver.Myfingersonyourbackwouldsetyourhidea-shiver.’‘Pish,TomBombadil!I’llgoandtellmymother;“Callallourkintocome,father,sister,brother!Tom’sgonemadasacootwithwoodenlegs:he’spaddlingdownWithywindlestream,anoldtuba-straddling!’

‘I’llgiveyourotter-felltoBarrow-wights.They’lltawyou!Thensmotheryouingold-rings!Yourmotherifshesawyou,she’dneverknowherson,unless‘twasbyawhisker.Nay,don’tteaseoldTom,untilyoubefarbrisker!’

‘Whoosh!’saidotter-lad,river-watersprayingoverTom’shatandall;settheboata-swaying,diveddownunderit,andbythebanklaypeering,tillTom’smerrysongfadedoutofhearing.

OldSwanofElver-islesailedpasthimproudly,gaveTomablacklook,snortedathimloudly.Tomlaughed:‘Youoldcob,doyoumissyourfeather?Givemeanewonethen!Theoldwaswornbyweather.Couldyouspeakafairword,Iwouldloveyoudearer:longneckanddumbthroat,butstillahaughtysneerer!IfonedaytheKingreturns,inuppinghemaytakeyou,brandyouryellowbill,andlesslordlymakeyou!’OldSwanhuffedhiswings,hissed,andpaddledfaster;inhiswakebobbingonTomwentrowingafter.TomcametoWithy-weir.DowntheriverrushingfoamedintoWindle-reach,a-bubblinganda-splashing;boreTomoverstonespinninglikeawindfall,bobbinglikeabottle-cork,tothehytheatGrindwall.

‘Hoy!Here’sWoodmanTomwithhisbilly-beardon!’laughedallthelittlefolkofHays-endandBreredon.‘Ware,Tom!We’llshootyoudeadwithourbowsandarrows!Wedon’tletForest-folknorbogiesfromtheBarrowscrossoverBrandywinebycockle-boatnorferry.’‘Fie,littlefatbellies!Don’tyemakesomerry!

I’veseenhobbit-folkdiggingholestohide‘em,frightenedifahornygoatorabadgereyed‘em,afearedofthemoony-beams,theiroldshadowsshunning.I’llcalltheorksonyou:that’llsendyourunning!’

‘Youmaycall,WoodmanTom.Andyoucantalkyourbeardoff.Threearrowsinyourhat!Youwe’renotafearedof!Wherewouldyougotonow?Ifforbeeryou’remaking,thebarrelsaintdeepenoughinBreredonforyourslaking!’

‘AwayoverBrandywinebyShirebournI’dbegoing,buttooswiftforcockle-boattherivernowisflowing.I’dblesslittlefolkthattookmeintheirwherry,wishthemeveningsfairandmanymorningsmerry.’RedflowedtheBrandywine;withflametheriverkindled,assunsankbeyondtheShire,andthentogreyitdwindled.MitheStepsemptystood.Nonewastheretogreethim.SilenttheCausewaylay.SaidTom:‘Amerrymeeting!’

Tomstumpedalongtheroad,asthelightwasfailing.Rusheylampsgleamedahead.Heheardavoicehimhailing.‘Whoathere!’Poniesstopped,wheelshaltedsliding.Tomwentploddingpast,neverlookedbesidehim.

‘Hothere!beggarmantrampingintheMarish!What’syourbusinesshere?Hatallstuckwitharrows!Someone’swarnedyouoff,caughtyouatyoursneaking?

Comehere!Tellmenowwhatitisyou’reseeking!Shire-ale,I’llbebound,thoughyou’venotapenny.I’llbidthemlocktheirdoors,andthenyouwon’tgetany!’

‘Well,well,Muddy-feet!Fromonethat’slateformeetingawaybackbytheMithethat’sasurlygreeting!Youoldfarmerfatthatcannotwalkforwheezing,cart-drawnlikeasack,oughttobemorepleasing.

Penny-wisetub-on-legs!Abeggarcan’tbechooser,orelseI’dbidyougo,andyouwouldbetheloser.Come,Maggot!Helpmeup!Atankardnowyouoweme.Evenincockshutlightanoldfriendshouldknowme!’Laughingtheydroveaway,inRusheyneverhalting,thoughtheinnopenstoodandtheycouldsmellthemalting.TheyturneddownMaggot’sLane,rattlingandbumping,Tominthefarmer’scartdancingroundandjumping.StarsshoneonBamfurlong,andMaggot’shousewaslighted;fireinthekitchenburnedtowelcomethebenighted.

Maggot’ssonsbowedatdoor,hisdaughtersdidtheircurtsy,hiswifebroughttankardsoutforthosethatmightbethirsty.Songstheyhadandmerrytales,thesuppingandthedancing;GoodmanMaggotthereforallhisbeltwasprancing,Tomdidahornpipewhenhewasnotquaffing,daughtersdidtheSpringle-ring,goodwifedidthelaughing.

Whenotherswenttobedinhay,fern,orfeather,closeintheinglenooktheylaidtheirheadstogether,oldTomandMuddy-feet,swappingallthetidingsfromBarrow-downstoTowerHills:ofwalkingsandofridings;ofwheat-earandbarley-corn,ofsowingandofreaping;queertalesfromBree,andtalkatsmithy,mill,andcheaping;rumoursinwhisperingtrees,south-windinthelarches,

tallWatchersbytheFord,Shadowsonthemarches.OldMaggotsleptatlastinchairbesidetheembers.EredawnTomwasgone:asdreamsonehalfremembers,somemerry,somesad,andsomeofhiddenwarning.Noneheardthedoorunlocked;ashowerofrainatmorninghisfootprintswashedaway,atMitheheleftnotraces,atHays-endtheyheardnosongnorsoundofheavypaces.

ThreedayshisboatlaybythehytheatGrindwall,andthenonemornwasgonebackupWithywindle.Otter-folk,hobbitssaid,camebynightandloosedher,draggedheroverweir,andupstreamtheypushedher.

OutfromElvet-isleOldSwancamesailing,inbeaktookherpainterupinthewatertrailing,drewherproudlyon;ottersswambesideherroundoldWillow-man’scrookedrootstoguideher;theKing’sfisherperchedonbow,onthwartthewrenwassinging,merrilythecockle-boathomewardtheywerebringing.ToTom’screektheycameatlast.Otter-ladsaid:‘Whishnow!What’sacootwithouthislegs,orafinlessfishnow?’O!silly-sallow-willow-stream!Theoarsthey’dleftbehindthem!LongtheylayatGrindwallhytheforTomtocomeandfindthem.

3ERRANTRY

Therewasamerrypassenger,amessenger,amariner:hebuiltagildedgondolatowanderin,andhadinheraloadofyelloworangesandporridgeforhisprovender;heperfumedherwithmarjoramandcardamonandlavender.

Hecalledthewindsofargosieswithcargoesintocarryhimacrosstheriversseventeenthatlaybetweentotarryhim.HelandedallinlonelinesswherestonilythepebblesontherunningriverDerrilyngoesmerrilyforeveron.Hejourneyedthenthroughmeadow-landstoShadow-landthatdrearylay,andunderhillandoverhillwentrovingstillawearyway.

Hesatandsangamelody,hiserrantrya-tarrying;hebeggedaprettybutterflythatflutteredbytomarryhim.Shescornedhimandshescoffedathim,shelaughedathimunpitying;solonghestudiedwizardry

andsigaldryandsmithying.

Hewoveatissueairy-thintosnareherin;tofollowherhemadehimbeetle-leatherwingandfeatherwingofswallow-hair.Hecaughtherinbewildermentwithfilamentofspider-thread;hemadehersoftpavilionsoflilies,andabridalbedofflowersandofthistle-downtonestledownandrestherin;andsilkenwebsoffilmywhiteandsilverlighthedressedherin.Hethreadedgemsinnecklaces,butrecklesslyshesquanderedthemandfelltobitterquarrelling;thensorrowinghewanderedon,andthereheleftherwithering,asshiveringhefledaway;withwindyweatherfollowingonswallow-winghespedaway.

Hepassedthearchipelagoeswhereyellowgrowsthemarigold,wherecountlesssilverfountainsare,andmountainsareoffairy-gold.Hetooktowarandforaying,a-harryingbeyondthesea,androamingoverBelmarieandThellamieandFantasie.

Hemadeashieldandmorionofcoralandofivory,aswordhemadeofemerald,

andterriblehisrivalrywithelven-knightsofAerieandFaerie,withpaladinsthatgolden-hairedandshining-eyedcameridingbyandchallengedhim.Ofcrystalwashishabergeon,hisscabbardofchalcedony;withsilvertippedatplenilunehisspearwashewnofebony.Hisjavelinswereofmalachiteandstalactite—hebrandishedthem,andwentandfoughtthedragon-fliesofParadise,andvanquishedthem.

HebattledwiththeDumbledors,theHummerhorns,andHoneybees,andwontheGoldenHoneycomb;andrunninghomeonsunnyseasinshipofleavesandgossamerwithblossomforacanopy,hesatandsang,andfurbishedupandburnisheduphispanoply.

Hetarriedforalittlewhileinlittleislesthatlonelylay,andfoundtherenaughtbutblowinggrass;andsoatlasttheonlywayhetook,andturned,andcominghomewithhoneycomb,tomemoryhismessagecame,anderrandtoo!Inderring-doandglamouryhehadforgotthem,journeyingandtourneying,awanderer.Sonowhemustdepartagainandstartagainhisgondola,foreverstillamessenger,

apassenger,atarrier,a-rovingasafeatherdoes,aweather-drivenmariner.

4PRINCESSMEE

LittlePrincessMeeLovelywasshe

Asinelven-songistold:

ShehadpearlsinhairAllthreadedfair;

Ofgossamershotwithgold

Washerkerchiefmade,Andasilverbraid

Ofstarsaboutherthroat.

Ofmoth-weblightAllmoonlit-white

Sheworeawovencoat,

AndroundherkirtleWasboundagirdle

Sewnwithdiamonddew.

ShewalkedbydayUndermantlegrey

Andhoodofcloudedblue;

ButshewentbynightAllglitteringbright

Underthestarlitsky,

AndherslippersfrailOffishes’mail

Flashedasshewentby

Toherdancing-pool,Andonmirrorcool

Ofwindlesswaterplayed.

AsamistoflightInwhirlingflight

Aglintlikeglassshemade

WhereverherfeetOfsilverfleet

Flickedthedancing-floor.

ShelookedonhighTotherooflesssky,

Andshelookedtotheshadowyshore;

Thenroundshewent,Andhereyesshebent

Andsawbeneathhergo

APrincessSheeAsfairasMee:

Theyweredancingtoetotoe!

SheewasaslightAsMee,andasbright;

ButSheewas,strangetotell,

HangingdownWithstarrycrown

Intoabottomlesswell!

HergleamingeyesIngreatsurprise

LookeduptotheeyesofMee:

Amarvellousthing,Head-downtoswing

Aboveastarrysea!

OnlytheirfeetCouldevermeet;

Forwherethewaysmightlie

TofindalandWheretheydonotstand

Buthangdowninthesky

NoonecouldtellNorlearninspell

Inalltheelven-lore.

SostillonherownAnelfalone

Dancingasbefore

WithpearlsinhairAndkirtlefair

Andslippersfrail

Offishes’mailwentMee:Offishes’mail

Andslippersfrail

AndkirtlefairWithpearlsinhairwentShee!

5THEMANINTHEMOONSTAYEDUPTOOLATE

Thereisaninn,amerryoldinn

beneathanoldgreyhill,

AndtheretheybrewabeersobrownThattheManintheMoonhimselfcamedown

onenighttodrinkhisfill.

Theostlerhasatipsycat

thatplaysafive-stringedfiddle;

Andupanddownherunshisbow,Nowsqueakinghigh,nowpurringlow,

nowsawinginthemiddle.

Thelandlordkeepsalittledog

thatismightyfondofjokes;

Whenthere’sgoodcheeramongtheguests,Hecocksanearatallthejests

andlaughsuntilhechokes.

Theyalsokeepahornédcow

asproudasanyqueen;

Butmusicturnsherheadlikeale,Andmakesherwavehertuftedtail

anddanceuponthegreen.

AndO!therowofsilverdishes

andthestoreofsilverspoons!

ForSundaythere’saspecialpair,Andthesetheypolishupwithcare

onSaturdayafternoons.

TheManintheMoonwasdrinkingdeep,

andthecatbegantowail;

Adishandaspoononthetabledanced,Thecowinthegardenmadlypranced,

andthelittledogchasedhistail.

TheManintheMoontookanothermug,

andthenrolledbeneathhischair;

Andtherehedozedanddreamedofale,Tillintheskythestarswerepale,

anddawnwasintheair.

Theostlersaidtohistipsycat:

‘ThewhitehorsesoftheMoon,

Theyneighandchamptheirsilverbits;Buttheirmaster’sbeenanddrownedhiswits,

andtheSun’llberisingsoon!’

Sothecatonhisfiddleplayedhey-diddle-diddle,

ajigthatwouldwakethedead:

Hesqueakedandsawedandquickenedthetune,WhilethelandlordshooktheManintheMoon:

‘It’safterthree!’hesaid.

TheyrolledtheManslowlyupthehill

andbundledhimintotheMoon,

Whilehishorsesgallopedupinrear,Andthecowcamecaperinglikeadeer,

andadishranupwithaspoon.

Nowquickerthefiddlewentdeedle-dum-diddle;

thedogbegantoroar,

Thecowandthehorsesstoodontheirheads;Theguestsallboundedfromtheirbeds

anddanceduponthefloor.

Withapingandapongthefiddle-stringsbroke!

thecowjumpedovertheMoon,

Andthelittledoglaughedtoseesuchfun,AndtheSaturdaydishwentoffatarun

withthesilverSundayspoon.

TheroundMoonrolledbehindthehill,

astheSunraisedupherhead.

Shehardlybelievedherfieryeyes;Forthoughitwasday,tohersurprise

theyallwentbacktobed!

6THEMANINTHEMOONCAME

DOWNTOOSOONTheManintheMoonhadsilvershoon,

andhisbeardwasofsilverthread;

Withopalscrownedandpearlsallbound

abouthisgirdlestead,

Inhismantlegreyhewalkedoneday

acrossashiningfloor,

Andwithcrystalkeyinsecrecy

heopenedanivorydoor.

Onafiligreestairofglimmeringhair

thenlightlydownhewent,

Andmerrywasheatlasttobefree

onamadadventurebent.

Indiamondswhitehehadlostdelight;

hewastiredofhisminaret

Oftallmoonstonethattoweredalone

onalunarmountainset.

Hewoulddareanyperilforrubyandberyl

tobroiderhispaleattire,

Fornewdiademsoflustrousgems,

emeraldandsapphire.

Hewaslonelytoowithnothingtodo

butstareattheworldofgold

Andhearktothehumthatwoulddistantlycome

asgailyrounditrolled.

Atpleniluneinhisargentmoon

inhishearthelongedforFire:

Notthelimpidlightsofwanselenites;

forredwashisdesire,

Forcrimsonandroseandember-glows,

forflamewithburningtongue,

Forthescarletskiesinaswiftsunrise

whenastormydayisyoung.

He’dhaveseasofblues,andthelivinghues

offorestgreenandfen;

Andheyearnedforthemirthofthepopulousearth

andthesanguinebloodofmen.

Hecovetedsong,andlaughterlong,

andviandshot,andwine,

Eatingpearlycakesoflightsnowflakes

anddrinkingthinmoonshine.

Hetwinkledhisfeet,ashethoughtofthemeat,

ofpepper,andpunchgalore;

Andhetrippedunawareonhisslantingstair,

andlikeameteor,

Astarinflight,ereYuleonenight

flickeringdownhefell

Fromhisladderypathtoafoamingbath

inthewindyBayofBel.

Hebegantothink,lesthemeltandsink,

whatinthemoontodo,

Whenafisherman’sboatfoundhimfarafloat

totheamazementofthecrew,

Caughtintheirnetallshimmeringwet

inaphosphorescentsheen

Ofblueywhitesandopallights

anddelicateliquidgreen.

Againsthiswishwiththemorningfish

theypackedhimbacktoland:

‘Youhadbestgetabedinaninn,’theysaid;

‘thetownisnearathand.’

Onlytheknellofoneslowbell

highintheSeawardTower

Announcedthenewsofhismoonsickcruise

atthatunseemlyhour.

Notahearthwaslaid,notabreakfastmade,

anddawnwascoldanddamp.

Therewereashesforfire,andforgrassthemire,

forthesunasmokinglamp

Inadimback-street.Notamandidhemeet,

novoicewasraisedinsong;

Thereweresnoresinstead,forallfolkwereabed

andstillwouldslumberlong.

Heknockedashepassedondoorslockedfast,

andcalledandcriedinvain,

Tillhecametoaninnthathadlightwithin,

andhetappedatawindow-pane.

Adrowsycookgaveasurlylook,

and‘Whatdoyouwant?’saidhe.

‘Iwantfireandgoldandsongsofold

andredwineflowingfree!’

‘Youwon’tgetthemhere,’saidthecookwithaleer,

‘butyoumaycomeinside.

SilverIlackandsilktomyback—

maybeI’llletyoubide.’

Asilvergiftthelatchtolift,

apearltopassthedoor;

Foraseatbythecookintheingle-nook

itcosthimtwentymore.

Forhungerordrouthnaughtpassedhismouth

tillhegavebothcrownandcloak;

Andallthathegot,inanearthenpot

brokenandblackwithsmoke,

Wasporridgecoldandtwodaysold

toeatwithawoodenspoon.

ForpuddingsofYulewithplums,poorfool,

hearrivedsomuchtoosoon:

Anunwaryguestonalunaticquest

fromtheMountainsoftheMoon.

7THESTONETROLL

Trollsataloneonhisseatofstone,Andmunchedandmumbledabareoldbone;

Formanyayearhehadgnaweditnear,

Formeatwashardtocomeby.Doneby!Gumby!

Inacaveinthehillshedweltalone,

Andmeatwashardtocomeby.

UpcameTomwithhisbigbootson.SaidhetoTroll:‘Pray,whatisyon?

Foritlooksliketheshino’mynuncleTim,

Asshouldbea-lyin’ingraveyard.Caveyard!Paveyard!

ThismanyayearhasTimbeengone,

AndIthoughthewerelyin’ingraveyard.’

‘Mylad,’saidTroll,‘thisboneIstole.Butwhatbebonesthatlieinahole?

Thynunclewasdeadasalumpo’lead,

AforeIfoundhisshinbone.

Tinbone!Thinbone!

Hecanspareashareforapooroldtroll;

Forhedon’tneedhisshinbone.’

SaidTom:‘Idon’tseewhythelikeso’theeWithoutaxin’leaveshouldgomakin’free

Withtheshankortheshino’myfather’skin;Sohandtheoldboneover!

Rover!Trover!

Thoughdeadhebe,itbelongstohe;

Sohandtheoldboneover!’

‘Foracoupleo’pins,’saysTroll,andgrins,‘I’lleattheetoo,andgnawthyshins.

Abito’freshmeatwillgodownsweet!

I’lltrymyteethontheenow.

Heenow!Seenow!

I’mtiredo’gnawingoldbonesandskins;

I’veamindtodineontheenow.’

Butjustashethoughthisdinnerwascaught,Hefoundhishandshadholdofnaught.

Beforehecouldmind,TomslippedbehindAndgavehimtheboottolarnhim.

Warnhim!Darnhim!

Abumpo’thebootontheseat,Tomthought,

Wouldbethewaytolarnhim.

ButharderthanstoneisthefleshandboneOfatrollthatsitsinthehillsalone.

Aswellsetyourboottothemountain’sroot,

Fortheseatofatrolldon’tfeelit.

Peelit!Healit!

OldTrolllaughed,whenheheardTomgroan,

Andheknewhistoescouldfeelit.

Tom’slegisgame,sincehomehecame,Andhisbootlessfootislastinglame;

ButTrolldon’tcare,andhe’sstillthere

Withthebonehebonedfromitsowner.

Doner!Boner!

Troll’soldseatisstillthesame,

Andthebonehebonedfromitsowner!

8PERRY-THE-WINKLE

TheLonelyTrollhesatonastone

andsangamournfullay:

‘Owhy,OwhymustIliveonmyown

inthehillsofFaraway?

Myfolkaregonebeyondrecall

andtakenothoughtofme;

aloneI’mleft,thelastofall

fromWeathertoptotheSea.’

‘Istealnogold,Idrinknobeer,

Ieatnokindofmeat;

butPeopleslamtheirdoorsinfear,

whenevertheyhearmyfeet.

OhowIwishthattheywereneat,

andmyhandswerenotsorough!

Yetmyheartissoft,mysmileissweet,

andmycookinggoodenough.’

‘Come,come!’hethought,‘thiswillnotdo!

Imustgoandfindafriend;

a-walkingsoftI’llwanderthrough

theShirefromendtoend.’

Downhewent,andhewalkedallnight

withhisfeetinbootsoffur;

toDelvinghecameinthemorninglight,

whenfolkwerejustastir.

Helookedaround,andwhodidhemeet

butoldMrsBunceandall

withumbrellaandbasketwalkingthestreet;

andhesmiledandstoppedtocall:

‘Goodmorning,ma’am!Gooddaytoyou!

IhopeIfindyouwell?’

Butshedroppedumbrellaandbaskettoo,

andyelledafrightfulyell.

OldPotttheMayorwasstrollingnear;

whenheheardthatawfulsound,

heturnedallpurpleandpinkwithfear,

anddiveddownunderground.

TheLonelyTrollwashurtandsad:

‘Don’tgo!’hegentlysaid,

butoldMrsBunceranhomelikemad

andhidbeneathherbed.

TheTrollwentontothemarket-place

andpeepedabovethestalls;

thesheepwentwildwhentheysawhisface,

andthegeeseflewoverthewalls.

OldFarmerHogghespilledhisale,

BillButcherthrewaknife,

andGriphisdog,heturnedhistail

andrantosavehislife.

TheoldTrollsadlysatandwept

outsidetheLockholesgate,

andPerry-the-Winkleuphecrept

andpattedhimonthepate.

‘Owhydoyouweep,yougreatbiglump?

You’rebetteroutsidethanin!’

HegavetheTrollafriendlythump,

andlaughedtoseehimgrin.

‘OPerry-the-Winkleboy,’hecried,

‘come,you’retheladforme!

Nowifyou’rewillingtotakearide,

I’llcarryyouhometotea.’

Hejumpedonhisbackandheldontight,

and‘Offyougo!’saidhe;

andtheWinklehadafeastthatnight,

andsatontheoldTroll’sknee.

Therewerepikelets,therewasbutteredtoast,

andjam,andcream,andcake,

andtheWinklestrovetoeatthemost,

thoughhisbuttonsallshouldbreak.

Thekettlesang,thefirewashot,

thepotwaslargeandbrown,

andtheWinkletriedtodrinkthelot,

inteathoughheshoulddrown.

Whenfullandtightwerecoatandskin,

theyrestedwithoutspeech,

tilltheoldTrollsaid:‘I’llnowbegin

thebaker’sarttoteach,

themakingofbeautifulcramsomebread,

ofbannockslightandbrown;

andthenyoucansleeponaheather-bed

withpillowsofowlet’sdown.’

‘YoungWinkle,where’veyoubeen?’theysaid.

‘I’vebeentoafulsometea,

andIfeelsofat,forIhavefed

oncramsomebread,’saidhe.

‘Butwhere,mylad,intheShirewasthat?

OroutinBree?’saidthey.

ButWinkleheupandansweredflat:

‘Iainta-goingtosay.’

‘ButIknowwhere,’saidPeepingJack,

‘Iwatchedhimrideaway:

hewentupontheoldTroll’sback

tothehillsofFaraway.’

ThenallthePeoplewentwithawill,

bypony;cart,ormoke,

untiltheycametoahouseinahill

andsawachimneysmoke.

TheyhammeredupontheoldTroll’sdoor.

‘Abeautifulcramsomecake

Obakeforus,please,ortwo,ormore;

Obake!’theycried,‘Obake!’

‘Gohome,gohome!’theoldTrollsaid.

‘Ineverinvitedyou.

OnlyonThursdaysIbakemybread,

andonlyforafew.’

‘Gohome!Gohome!There’ssomemistake.

Myhouseisfartoosmall;

andI’venopikelets,cream,orcake:

theWinklehaseatenall!

YouJack,andHogg,oldBunceandPott

Iwishnomoretosee.

Beoff!Beoffnowallthelot!

TheWinkle’stheboyforme!’

NowPerry-the-Winklegrewsofat

througheatingofcramsomebread,

hisweskitbust,andneverahat

wouldsituponhishead;

forEveryThursdayhewenttotea,

andsatonthekitchenfloor,

andsmallertheoldTrollseemedtobe,

ashegrewmoreandmore.

TheWinkleaBakergreatbecame,

asstillissaidinsong;

fromtheSeatoBreetherewentthefame

ofhisbreadbothshortandlong.

Butitweren’tsogoodasthecramsomebread;

nobuttersorichandfree,

asEveryThursdaytheoldTrollspread

forPerry-the-Winkle’stea.

9THEMEWLIPS

TheshadowswheretheMewlipsdwell

Aredarkandwetasink,

Andslowandsoftlyringstheirbell,

Asintheslimeyousink.

Yousinkintotheslime,whodare

Toknockupontheirdoor,

Whiledownthegrinninggargoylesstare

Andnoisomewaterspour.

Besidetherottingriver-strand

Thedroopingwillowsweep,

Andgloomilythegorcrowsstand

Croakingintheirsleep.

OvertheMerlockMountainsalongandwearyway,

Inamouldyvalleywherethetreesaregrey,

Byadarkpool’sborderswithoutwindortide,

Moonlessandsunless,theMewlipshide.

ThecellarswheretheMewlipssit

Aredeepanddankandcold

Withsinglesicklycandlelit;

Andtheretheycounttheirgold.

Theirwallsarewet,theirceilingsdrip;

Theirfeetuponthefloor

Gosoftlywithasquish-flap-flip,

Astheysidletothedoor.

Theypeepoutslyly;throughacrack

Theirfeelingfingerscreep,

Andwhenthey’vefinished,inasack

Yourbonestheytaketokeep.

BeyondtheMerlockMountains,alongandlonelyroad,

Throughthespider-shadowsandthemarshofTode,

Andthroughthewoodofhangingtreesandthegallowsweed,

YougotofindtheMewlips—andtheMewlipsfeed.

10OLIPHAUNT

Greyasamouse,Bigasahouse,Noselikeasnake,Imaketheearthshake,AsItrampthroughthegrass;TreescrackasIpass.WithhornsinmymouthIwalkintheSouth,Flappingbigears.BeyondcountofyearsIstumproundandround,Neverlieontheground,Noteventodie.OliphauntamI,Biggestofall,Huge,old,andtall.Ifeveryou’dmetme,Youwouldn’tforgetme.Ifyouneverdo,Youwon’tthinkI’mtrue;ButoldOliphauntamI,AndIneverlie.

11FASTITOCALON

Look,thereisFastitocalon!Anislandgoodtolandupon,

Although’tisratherbare.

Come,leavethesea!Andletusrun,Ordance,orliedowninthesun!

See,gullsaresittingthere!

Beware!

Gullsdonotsink.

Theretheymaysit,orstrutandprink:Theirpartitistotipthewink,

IfanyoneshoulddareUponthatisletosettle,

OronlyforawhiletogetRelieffromsicknessorthewet,

Ormaybeboilakettle.

Ah!foolishfolk,wholandonHIM,Andlittlefiresproceedtotrim

Andhopeperhapsfortea!

ItmaybethatHisshellisthick,Heseemstosleep;butHeisquick,

Andfloatsnowinthesea

Withguile;

AndwhenHehearstheirtappingfeet,Orfaintlyfeelsthesuddenheat,

WithsmileHEdives,

AndpromptlyturningupsidedownHetipsthemoff,anddeeptheydrown,

Andlosetheirsillylives

Totheirsurprise.

Bewise!

TherearemanymonstersintheSea,ButnonesoperilousasHE,OldhornyFastitocalon,Whosemightykindredallhavegone,ThelastoftheoldTurtle-fish.Soiftosaveyourlifeyouwish

ThenIadvise:

Payheedtosailors’ancientlore,Setfootonnounchartedshore!

Orbetterstill,

YourdaysatpeaceonMiddle-earth

InmirthFulfil!

12CAT

Thefatcatonthemat

mayseemtodream

ofnicemicethatsuffice

forhim,orcream;

buthefree,maybe,

walksinthought

unbowed,proud,whereloud

roaredandfought

hiskin,leanandslim,

ordeepinden

intheEastfeastedonbeasts

andtendermen.

Thegiantlionwithiron

clawinpaw,

andhugeruthlesstooth

ingoryjaw;

theparddark-starred,

fleetuponfeet,

thatoftsoftfromaloft

leapsonhismeat

wherewoodsloomingloom—

farnowtheybe,fierceandfree,andtamedishe;

butfatcatonthemat

keptasapet,hedoesnotforget.

13SHADOW-BRIDE

Therewasamanwhodweltalone,

asdayandnightwentpast

hesatasstillascarvenstone,

andyetnoshadowcast.

Thewhiteowlspercheduponhishead

beneaththewintermoon;

theywipedtheirbeaksandthoughthimdead

underthestarsofJune.

Therecamealadycladingrey

inthetwilightshining:

onemomentshewouldstandandstay,

herhairwithflowersentwining.

Hewoke,ashadhesprungofstone,

andbrokethespellthatboundhim;

heclaspedherfast,bothfleshandbone,

andwrappedhershadowroundhim.

Therenevermoreshewalksherways

bysunormoonorstar;

shedwellsbelowwhereneitherdays

noranynightsthereare.

Butonceayearwhencavernsyawn

andhiddenthingsawake,

theydancetogetherthentilldawn

andasingleshadowmake.

14THEHOARD

Whenthemoonwasnewandthesunyoungofsilverandgoldthegodssung:inthegreengrasstheysilverspilled,andthewhitewaterstheywithgoldfilled.ErethepitwasdugorHellyawned,eredwarfwasbredordragonspawned,therewereElvesofold,andstrongspellsundergreenhillsinhollowdellstheysangastheywroughtmanyfairthings,andthebrightcrownsoftheElf-kings.Buttheirdoomfell,andtheirsongwaned,byironhewnandbysteelchained.Greedthatsangnot,norwithmouthsmiled,indarkholestheirwealthpiled,gravensilverandcarvengold:overElvenhometheshadowrolled.Therewasanolddwarfinadarkcave,tosilverandgoldhisfingersclave;withhammerandtongsandanvil-stoneheworkedhishandstothehardbone,andcoinshemade,andstringsofrings,andthoughttobuythepowerofkings.Buthiseyesgrewdimandhisearsdullandtheskinyellowonhisoldskull;throughhisbonyclawwithapalesheenthestonyjewelsslippedunseen.Nofeetheheard,thoughtheearthquaked,whentheyoungdragonhisthirstslaked,andthestreamsmokedathisdarkdoor,Theflameshissedonthedankfloor,

andhediedaloneintheredfire;hisboneswereashesinthehotmire.

Therewasanolddragonundergreystone;hisredeyesblinkedashelayalone.Hisjoywasdeadandhisyouthspent,hewasknobbedandwrinkled,andhislimbsbentinthelongyearstohisgoldchained;inhisheart’sfurnacethefirewaned.Tohisbelly’sslimegemsstuckthick,silverandgoldhewouldsnuffandlick:heknewtheplaceoftheleastringbeneaththeshadowofhisblackwing.Ofthieveshethoughtonhishardbed,anddreamedthatontheirfleshhefed,theirbonescrushed,andtheirblooddrank:hisearsdroopedandhisbreathsank.Mail-ringsrang.Heheardthemnot.Avoiceechoedinhisdeepgrot:ayoungwarriorwithabrightswordcalledhimforthtodefendhishoard.Histeethwereknives,andofhornhishide,butirontorehim,andhisflamedied.

Therewasanoldkingonahighthrone:hiswhitebeardlayonkneesofbone;hismouthsavouredneithermeatnordrink,norhisearssong;hecouldonlythinkofhishugechestwithcarvenlidwherepalegemsandgoldlayhidinsecrettreasuryinthedarkground;itsstrongdoorswereiron-bound.

Theswordsofhisthanesweredullwithrust,hisgloryfallen,hisruleunjust,

hishallshollow,andhisbowerscold,butkinghewasofelvishgold.Heheardnotthehornsinthemountain-pass,hesmeltnotthebloodonthetroddengrass,buthishallswereburned,hiskingdomlost;inacoldpithisbonesweretossed.Thereisanoldhoardinadarkrock,forgottenbehinddoorsnonecanunlock;thatgrimgatenomancanpass.Onthemoundgrowsthegreengrass;theresheepfeedandthelarkssoar,andthewindblowsfromthesea-shore.TheoldhoardtheNightshallkeep,whileearthwaitsandtheElvessleep.

15THESEA-BELL

Iwalkedbythesea,andtherecametome,

asastar-beamonthewetsand,

awhiteshelllikeasea-bell;

tremblingitlayinmywethand.

InmyfingersshakenIheardwaken

adingwithin,byaharbourbar

abuoyswinging,acallringing

overendlessseas,faintnowandfar.

ThenIsawaboatsilentlyfloat

onthenight-tide,emptyandgrey.

‘Itislaterthanlate!Whydowewait?’

Ileaptinandcried:‘Bearmeaway!’

Itboremeaway,wettedwithspray,

wrappedinamist,woundinasleep,

toaforgottenstrandinastrangeland.

Inthetwilightbeyondthedeep

Iheardasea-bellswingintheswell,

dinging,dinging,andthebreakersroar

onthehiddenteethofaperilousreef;

andatlastIcametoalongshore.

Whiteitglimmered,andtheseasimmered

withstar-mirrorsinasilvernet;

cliffsofstonepaleasruel-bone

inthemoon-foamweregleamingwet.

Glitteringsandslidthroughmyhand,

dustofpearlandjewel-grist,

trumpetsofopal,rosesofcoral,

flutesofgreenandamethyst.

Butundercliff-eavesthereweregloomingcaves,

weed-curtained,darkandgrey;

acoldairstirredinmyhair,

andthelightwaned,asIhurriedaway.

Downfromahillranagreenrill;

itswaterIdranktomyheart’sease.

Upitsfountain-stairtoacountryfair

ofever-eveIcame,farfromtheseas,

climbingintomeadowsofflutteringshadows:

flowerslaytherelikefallenstars,

andonabluepool,glassyandcool,

likefloatingmoonsthenenuphars.

Aldersweresleeping,andwillowsweeping

byaslowriverofripplingweeds;

gladdon-swordsguardedthefords,

andgreenspears,andarrow-reeds.

Therewasechoofsongalltheeveninglong

downinthevalley;manyathing

runningtoandfro:hareswhiteassnow,

volesoutofholes;mothsonthewing

withlantern-eyes;inquietsurprise

brockswerestaringoutofdarkdoors.

Ihearddancingthere,musicintheair,

feetgoingquickonthegreenfloors.

ButwhereverIcameitwaseverthesame:

thefeetfled,andallwasstill;

neveragreeting,onlythefleeting

pipes,voices,hornsonthehill.

Ofriver-leavesandtherush-sheaves

Imademeamantleofjewel-green,

atallwandtohold,andaflagofgold;

myeyesshonelikethestar-sheen.

WithflowerscrownedIstoodonamound,

andshrillasacallatcock-crow

proudlyIcried:‘Whydoyouhide?

Whydononespeak,whereverIgo?

HerenowIstand,kingofthisland,

withgladdon-swordandreed-mace.

Answermycall!Comeforthall!

Speaktomewords!Showmeaface!’

Blackcameacloudasanight-shroud.

LikeadarkmolegropingIwent,

tothegroundfalling,onmyhandscrawling

witheyesblindandmybackbent.

Icrepttoawood:silentitstood

initsdeadleaves;barewereitsboughs.

TheremustIsit,wanderinginwit,

whileowlssnoredintheirhollowhouse.

ForayearandadaytheremustIstay:

beetlesweretappingintherottentrees,

spiderswereweaving,inthemouldheaving

puffballsloomedaboutmyknees.

Atlasttherecamelightinmylongnight,

andIsawmyhairhanginggrey.

‘BentthoughIbe,Imustfindthesea!

Ihavelostmyself,andIknownottheway,

butletmebegone!’ThenIstumbledon;

likeahuntingbatshadowwasoverme;

inmyearsdinnedawitheringwind,

andwithraggedbriarsItriedtocoverme.

Myhandsweretornandmykneesworn,

andyearswereheavyuponmyback.

whentheraininmyfacetookasalttaste,

andIsmelledthesmellofsea-wrack.

Birdscamesailing,mewing,wailing;

Iheardvoicesincoldcaves,

sealsbarking,androckssnarling,

andinspout-holesthegulpingofwaves.

Wintercamefast;intoamistIpassed,

toland’sendmyyearsIbore;

snowwasintheair,iceinmyhair,

darknesswaslyingonthelastshore.

Therestillafloatwaitedtheboat,

inthetidelifting,itsprowtossing.

WearyIlay,asitboremeaway,

thewavesclimbing,theseascrossing,

passingoldhullsclusteredwithgulls

andgreatshipsladenwithlight,

comingtohaven,darkasaraven,

silentassnow,deepinthenight.

Houseswereshuttered,windroundthemmuttered,

roadswereempty.Isatbyadoor,

andwheredrizzlingrainpoureddownadrain

IcastawayallthatIbore:

inmyclutchinghandsomegrainsofsand,

andasea-shellsilentanddead.

Neverwillmyearthatbellhear,

nevermyfeetthatshoretread,

neveragain,asinsadlane,

inblindalleyandinlongstreet

raggedIwalk.TomyselfItalk;

forstilltheyspeaknot,menthatImeet.

16THELASTSHIP

Fíriellookedoutatthreeo’clock:

thegreynightwasgoing;

farawayagoldencock

clearandshrillwascrowing.

Thetreesweredark,andthedawnpale,

wakingbirdswerecheeping,

awindmovedcoolandfrail

throughdimleavescreeping,

Shewatchedthegleamatwindowgrow,

tillthelonglightwasshimmering

onlandandleaf;ongrassbelow

greydewwasglimmering.

Overthefloorherwhitefeetcrept,

downthestairtheytwinkled,

throughthegrasstheydancingstepped

allwithdewbesprinkled.

Hergownhadjewelsuponitshem,

assherandowntotheriver,

andleaneduponawillow-stem,

andwatchedthewaterquiver.

Akingfisherplungeddownlikeastone

inablueflashfalling,

bendingreedsweresoftlyblown,

lily-leavesweresprawling.

Asuddenmusictohercame,

asshestoodtheregleaming

withfreehairinthemorning’sflame

onhershouldersstreaming.

Flutestherewere,andharpswerewrung,

andtherewassoundofsinging,

likewind-voiceskeenandyoung

andfarbellsringing.

Ashipwithgoldenbeakandoar

andtimberswhitecamegliding;

swanswentsailingonbefore,

hertallprowguiding.

FairfolkoutofElvenland

insilver-greywererowing,

andthreewithcrownsshesawtherestand

withbrighthairflowing.

Withharpinhandtheysangtheirsong

totheslowoarsswinging:

‘Greenistheland,theleavesarelong,

andthebirdsaresinging.

Manyadaywithdawnofgold

thisearthwilllighten,

manyaflowerwillyetunfold,

erethecornfieldswhiten.

‘Thenwhithergoye,boatmenfair,

downtherivergliding?

Totwilightandtosecretlair

inthegreatforesthiding?

ToNorthernislesandshoresofstone

onstrongswansflying,

bycoldwavestodwellalone

withthewhitegullscrying?’

‘Nay!’theyanswered.‘Faraway

onthelastroadfaring,

leavingwesternhavensgrey,

theseasofshadowdaring,

wegobacktoElvenhome,

wheretheWhiteTreeisgrowing,

andtheStarshinesuponthefoam

onthelastshoreflowing.

‘Tomortalfieldssayfarewell,

Middle-earthforsaking!

InElvenhomeaclearbell

inthehightowerisshaking.

Heregrassfadesandleavesfall,

andsunandmoonwither,

andwehaveheardthefarcall

thatbidsusjourneythither’.

Theoarswerestayed.Theyturnedaside:

‘Doyouhearthecall,Earth-maiden?

Fíriel!Fíriel!’theycried.

‘Ourshipisnotfull-laden.

Onemoreonlywemaybear.

Come!Foryourdaysarespeeding.

Come!Earth-maidenelven-fair,

ourlastcallheeding.’

Fíriellookedfromtheriver-bank,

onestepdaring;

thendeepinclayherfeetsank,

andshehaltedstaring.

Slowlytheelven-shipwentby

whisperingthroughthewater:

‘Icannotcome!’theyheardhercry.

‘IwasbornEarth’sdaughter!’

Nojewelsbrighthergownbore,

asshewalkedbackfromthemeadow

underroofanddarkdoor,

underthehouse-shadow.

Shedonnedhersmockofrussetbrown,

herlonghairbraided,

andtoherworkcamesteppingdown.

Soonthesunlightfaded.

Yearstillafteryearflows

downtheSevenRivers;

cloudpasses,sunlightglows,

reedandwillowquivers

asmornandeve,butnevermore

westwardshipshavewaded

inmortalwatersasbefore,

andtheirsonghasfaded.

SMITHOFWOOTTONMAJOR

SMITHOFWOOTTONMAJOR

Therewasavillageonce,notverylongagoforthosewithlongmemories,notveryfarawayforthosewithlonglegs.WoottonMajoritwascalledbecauseitwaslargerthanWoottonMinor,afewmilesawaydeepinthetrees;butitwasnotverylarge,thoughitwasatthattimeprosperous,andafairnumberoffolklivedinit,good,bad,andmixed,asisusual.

Itwasaremarkablevillageinitsway,beingwellknowninthecountryroundaboutfortheskillofitsworkersinvariouscrafts,butmostofallforitscooking.IthadalargeKitchenwhichbelongedtotheVillageCouncil,andtheMasterCookwasanimportantperson.TheCook’sHouseandtheKitchenadjoinedtheGreatHall,thelargestandoldestbuildingintheplaceandthemostbeautiful.Itwasbuiltofgoodstoneandgoodoakandwaswelltended,thoughitwasnolongerpaintedorgildedasithadbeenonceuponatime.IntheHallthevillagersheldtheirmeetingsanddebates,andtheirpublicfeasts,andtheirfamilygatherings.SotheCookwaskeptbusy,sinceforalltheseoccasionshehadtoprovidesuitablefare.Forthefestivals,ofwhichthereweremanyinthecourseofayear,thefarethatwasthoughtsuitablewasplentifulandrich.

Therewasonefestivaltowhichalllookedforward,foritwastheonlyoneheldinwinter.Itwentonforaweek,andonitslastdayatsundowntherewasamerry-makingcalledTheFeastofGoodChildren,towhichnotmanywereinvited.Nodoubtsomewhodeservedtobeaskedwereoverlooked,andsomewhodidnotwereinvitedbymistake;forthatisthewayofthings,howevercarefulthosewhoarrangesuchmattersmaytrytobe.InanycaseitwaslargelybychanceofbirthdaythatanychildcameinfortheTwenty-fourFeast,sincethatwasonlyheldonceintwenty-fouryears,andonlytwenty-fourchildrenwereinvited.ForthatoccasiontheMasterCookwasexpectedtodohisbest,andinadditiontomanyothergoodthingsitwasthecustomforhimtomaketheGreatCake.Bytheexcellence(orotherwise)ofthishisnamewaschieflyremembered,foraMasterCookseldomifeverlastedlongenoughinofficetomakeasecondGreatCake.

Therecameatime,however,whenthereigningMasterCook,toeveryone’ssurprise,sinceithadneverhappenedbefore,suddenlyannouncedthatheneeded

aholiday;andhewentaway,nooneknewwhere;andwhenhecamebacksomemonthslaterheseemedratherchanged.Hehadbeenakindmanwholikedtoseeotherpeopleenjoyingthemselves,buthewashimselfserious,andsaidverylittle.Nowhewasmerrier,andoftensaidanddidmostlaughablethings;andatfeastshewouldhimselfsinggaysongs,whichwasnotexpectedofMasterCooks.AlsohebroughtbackwithhimanApprentice;andthatastonishedtheVillage.

ItwasnotastonishingfortheMasterCooktohaveanapprentice.Itwasusual.TheMasterchoseoneinduetime,andhetaughthimallthathecould;andastheybothgrewoldertheapprenticetookonmoreoftheimportantwork,sothatwhentheMasterretiredordiedtherehewas,readytotakeovertheofficeandbecomeMasterCookinhisturn.ButthisMasterhadneverchosenanapprentice.Hehadalwayssaid‘timeenoughyet’,or‘I’mkeepingmyeyesopenandI’llchoose,onewhenIfindonetosuitme’.Butnowhebroughtwithhimamereboy,andnotonefromthevillage.HewasmorelithethantheWoottonladsandquicker,soft-spokenandverypolite,butridiculouslyyoungforthework,barelyinhisteensbythelookofhim.Still,choosinghisapprenticewastheMasterCook’saffair,andnoonehadtherighttointerfereinit;sotheboyremainedandstayedintheCook’sHouseuntilhewasoldenoughtofindlodgingsforhimself.Peoplesoonbecameusedtoseeinghimabout,andhemadeafewfriends.TheyandtheCookcalledhimAlf,buttotheresthewasjustPrentice.

Thenextsurprisecameonlythreeyearslater.OnespringmorningtheMasterCooktookoffhistallwhitehat,foldeduphiscleanaprons,hunguphiswhitecoat,tookastoutashstickandasmallbag,anddeparted.Hesaidgoodbyetotheapprentice.Nooneelsewasabout.

‘Goodbyefornow,Alf,’hesaid.‘Ileaveyoutomanagethingsasbestyoucan,whichisalwaysverywell.Iexpectitwillturnoutallright.Ifwemeetagain,Ihopetohearallaboutit.TellthemthatI’vegoneonanotherholiday,butthistimeIshan’tbecomingbackagain.’

TherewasquiteastirinthevillagewhenPrenticegavethismessagetopeoplewhocametotheKitchen.‘Whatathingtodo!’theysaid.‘Andwithoutwarningorfarewell!WhatarewegoingtodowithoutanyMasterCook?Hehasleftnoonetotakehisplace.’InalltheirdiscussionsnooneeverthoughtofmakingyoungPrenticeintoCook.Hehadgrownabittallerbutstilllookedlike

aboy,andhehadonlyservedforthreeyears.Intheendforlackofanyonebettertheyappointedamanofthevillage,

whocouldcookwellenoughinasmallway.WhenhewasyoungerhehadhelpedtheMasteratbusytimes,buttheMasterhadnevertakentohimandwouldnothavehimasapprentice.Hewasnowasolidsortofmanwithawifeandchildren,andcarefulwithmoney.‘Atanyratehewon’tgooffwithoutnotice,’theysaid,‘andpoorcookingisbetterthannone.ItissevenyearstillthenextGreatCake,andbythattimeheshouldbeabletomanageit.’

Nokes,forthatwashisname,wasverypleasedwiththeturnthingshadtaken.HehadalwayswishedtobecomeMasterCook,andhadneverdoubtedthathecouldmanageit.Forsometime,whenhewasaloneintheKitchen,heusedtoputonthetallwhitehatandlookathimselfinapolishedfryingpanandsay:‘Howdoyoudo,Master.Thathatsuitsyouproperly,mighthavebeenmadeforyou.Ihopethingsgowellwithyou.’

Thingswentwellenough;foratfirstNokesdidhisbest,andhehadPrenticetohelphim.Indeedhelearnedalotfromhimbywatchinghimslyly,thoughthatNokesneveradmitted.ButinduecoursethetimefortheTwenty-fourFeastdrewnear,andNokeshadtothinkaboutmakingtheGreatCake.Secretlyhewasworriedaboutit,foralthoughwithsevenyears’practicehecouldturnoutpassablecakesandpastriesforordinaryoccasions,heknewthathisGreatCakewouldbeeagerlyawaited,andwouldhavetosatisfyseverecritics.Notonlythechildren.Asmallercakeofthesamematerialsandbakinghadtobeprovidedforthosewhocametohelpatthefeast.AlsoitwasexpectedthattheGreatCakeshouldhavesomethingnovelandsurprisingaboutitandnotbeamererepetitionoftheonebefore.

Hischiefnotionwasthatitshouldbeverysweetandrich;andhedecidedthatitshouldbeentirelycoveredinsugar-icing(atwhichPrenticehadacleverhand).‘Thatwillmakeitprettyandfairylike,’hethought.Fairiesandsweetsweretwooftheveryfewnotionshehadaboutthetastesofchildren.Fairieshethoughtonegrewoutof;butofsweetsheremainedveryfond.‘Ah!fairylike,’hesaid,‘thatgivesmeanidea’;andsoitcameintohisheadthathewouldstickalittledollonapinnacleinthemiddleoftheCake,dressedallinwhite,withalittlewandinherhandendinginatinselstar,andFairyQueenwritteninpinkicingroundherfeet.

Butwhenhebeganpreparingthematerialsforthecake-makinghefound

thathehadonlydimmemoriesofwhatshouldgoinsideaGreatCake;sohelookedinsomeoldbooksofrecipesleftbehindbypreviouscooks.Theypuzzledhim,evenwhenhecouldmakeouttheirhand-writing,fortheymentionedmanythingsthathehadnotheardof,andsomethathehadforgottenandnowhadnotimetoget;buthethoughthemighttryoneortwoofthespicesthatthebooksspokeof.HescratchedhisheadandrememberedanoldblackboxwithseveraldifferentcompartmentsinwhichthelastCookhadoncekeptspicesandotherthingsforspecialcakes.Hehadnotlookedatitsincehetookover,butafterasearchhefounditonahighshelfinthestore-room.

Hetookitdownandblewthedustoffthelid;butwhenheopenedithefoundthatverylittleofthespiceswereleft,andtheyweredryandmusty.Butinonecompartmentinthecornerhediscoveredasmallstar,hardlyasbigasoneofoursixpences,black-lookingasifitwasmadeofsilverbutwastarnished.‘That’sfunny!’hesaidasheheldituptothelight.

‘No,itisn’t!’saidavoicebehindhim,sosuddenlythathejumped.ItwasthevoiceofPrentice,andhehadneverspokentotheMasterinthattonebefore.IndeedheseldomspoketoNokesatallunlesshewasspokentofirst.Veryrightandproperinayoungster;hemightbecleverwithicingbuthehadalottolearnyet:thatwasNokes’sopinion.

‘Whatdoyoumean,youngfellow?’hesaid,notmuchpleased.‘Ifitisn’tfunnywhatisit?’

‘Itisfay,’saidPrentice.‘ItcomesfromFaery.’ThentheCooklaughed.‘Allright,allright,’hesaid.‘Itmeansmuchthe

same;butcallitthatifyoulike.You’llgrowupsomeday.Nowyoucangetonwithstoningtheraisins.Ifyounoticeanyfunnyfairyones,tellme.’

‘Whatareyougoingtodowiththestar,Master?’saidPrentice.‘PutitintotheCake,ofcourse,’saidtheCook.‘Justthething,especiallyif

it’sfairy,’hesniggered.‘Idaresayyou’vebeentochildren’spartiesyourself,andnotsolongagoeither,wherelittletrinketslikethiswerestirredintothemixture,andlittlecoinsandwhatnot.Anywaywedothatinthisvillage:itamusesthechildren.’

‘Butthisisn’tatrinket,Master,it’safay-star,’saidPrentice.‘Soyou’vesaidalready,’snappedtheCook.‘Verywell,I’lltellthe

children.It’llmakethemlaugh.’‘Idon’tthinkitwill,Master,’saidPrentice.‘Butit’stherightthingtodo,

quiteright.’‘Whodoyouthinkyou’retalkingto?’saidNokes.

IntimetheCakewasmadeandbakedandiced,mostlybyPrentice.‘Asyouaresosetonfairies,I’llletyoumaketheFairyQueen,’Nokessaidtohim.

‘Verygood,Master,’heanswered.‘I’lldoitifyouaretoobusy.Butitwasyourideaandnotmine.’

‘It’smyplacetohaveideas,andnotyours,’saidNokes.

AttheFeasttheCakestoodinthemiddleofthelongtable,insidearingoftwenty-fourredcandles.Itstoproseintoasmallwhitemountain,upthesidesofwhichgrewlittletreesglitteringasifwithfrost;onitssummitstoodatinywhitefigureononefootlikeasnow-maidendancing,andinherhandwasaminutewandoficesparklingwithlight.

Thechildrenlookedatitwithwideeyes,andoneortwoclappedtheirhands,crying:‘Isn’titprettyandfairy-like!’ThatdelightedtheCook,buttheapprenticelookeddispleased.Theywerebothpresent:theMastertocutuptheCakewhenthetimecame,andtheapprenticetosharpentheknifeandhandittohim.

AtlasttheCooktooktheknifeandsteppeduptothetable.‘Ishouldtellyou,mydears,’hesaid,‘thatinsidethislovelyicingthereisacakemadeofmanynicethingstoeat;butalsostirredwellintherearemanyprettylittlethings,trinketsandlittlecoinsandwhatnot,andI’mtoldthatitisluckytofindoneinyourslice.Therearetwenty-fourintheCake,sothereshouldbeoneforeachofyou,iftheFairyQueenplaysfair.Butshedoesn’talwaysdoso:she’satrickylittlecreature.YouaskMrPrentice.’Theapprenticeturnedawayandstudiedthefacesofthechildren.

‘No!I’mforgetting,’saidtheCook.‘There’stwenty-fivethisevening.There’salsoalittlesilverstar,aspecialmagicone,orsoMrPrenticesays.Sobecareful!Ifyoubreakoneofyourprettyfrontteethonit,themagicstarwon’tmendit.ButIexpectit’saspeciallyluckythingtofind,allthesame.’

Itwasagoodcake,andnoonehadanyfaulttofindwithit,exceptthatitwasnobiggerthanwasneeded.Whenitwasallcutuptherewasalargesliceforeachofthechildren,butnothingleftover:nocomingagain.Theslicessoondisappeared,andeverynowandthenatrinketoracoinwasdiscovered.Somefoundone,andsomefoundtwo,andseveralfoundnone;forthatisthewayluckgoes,whetherthereisadollwithawandonthecakeornot.ButwhentheCakewasalleaten,therewasnosignofanymagicstar.

‘Blessme!’saidtheCook.‘Thenitcan’thavebeenmadeofsilverafterall;

itmusthavemelted.OrperhapsMrPrenticewasrightanditwasreallymagical,andit’sjustvanishedandgonebacktoFairyland.Notanicetricktoplay,Idon’tthink.’HelookedatPrenticewithasmirk,andPrenticelookedathimwithdarkeyesanddidnotsmileatall.

Allthesame,thesilverstarwasindeedafay-star:theapprenticewasnotonetomakemistakesaboutthingsofthatsort.WhathadhappenedwasthatoneoftheboysattheFeasthadswalloweditwithoutevernoticingit,althoughhehadfoundasilvercoininhissliceandhadgivenittoNell,thelittlegirlnexttohim:shelookedsodisappointedatfindingnothingluckyinhers.Hesometimeswonderedwhathadreallybecomeofthestar,anddidnotknowthatithadremainedwithhim,tuckedawayinsomeplacewhereitcouldnotbefelt;forthatwaswhatitwasintendedtodo.Thereitwaitedforalongtime,untilitsdaycame.

TheFeasthadbeeninmid-winter,butitwasnowJune,andthenightwashardlydarkatall.Theboygotupbeforedawn,forhedidnotwishtosleep:itwashistenthbirthday.Helookedoutofthewindow,andtheworldseemedquietandexpectant.Alittlebreeze,coolandfragrant,stirredthewakingtrees.Thenthedawncame,andfarawayheheardthedawn-songofthebirdsbeginning,growingasitcametowardshim,untilitrushedoverhim,fillingallthelandroundthehouse,andpassedonlikeawaveofmusicintotheWest,asthesunroseabovetherimoftheworld.

‘ItremindsmeofFaery,’heheardhimselfsay;‘butinFaerythepeoplesingtoo.’Thenhebegantosing,highandclear,instrangewordsthatheseemedtoknowbyheart;andinthatmomentthestarfelloutofhismouthandhecaughtitonhisopenhand.Itwasbrightsilvernow,glisteninginthesunlight;butitquiveredandrosealittle,asifitwasabouttoflyaway.Withoutthinkingheclappedhishandtohishead,andtherethestarstayedinthemiddleofhisforehead,andheworeitformanyyears.

Fewpeopleinthevillagenoticeditthoughitwasnotinvisibletoattentiveeyes;butitbecamepartofhisface,anditdidnotusuallyshineatall.Someofitslightpassedintohiseyes;andhisvoice,whichhadbeguntogrowbeautifulassoonasthestarcametohim,becameevermorebeautifulashegrewup.Peoplelikedtohearhimspeak,evenifitwasnomorethana‘goodmorning’.

Hebecamewellknowninhiscountry,notonlyinhisownvillagebutin

manyothersroundabout,forhisgoodworkmanship.Hisfatherwasasmith,andhefollowedhiminhiscraftandbetteredit.Smithsonhewascalledwhilehisfatherwasstillalive,andthenjustSmith.ForbythattimehewasthebestsmithbetweenFarEastonandtheWestwood,andhecouldmakeallkindsofthingsofironinhissmithy.Mostofthem,ofcourse,wereplainanduseful,meantfordailyneeds:farmtools,carpenters’tools,kitchentoolsandpotsandpans,barsandboltsandhinges,pot-hooks,fire-dogs,andhorse-shoes,andthelike.Theywerestrongandlasting,buttheyalsohadagraceaboutthem,beingshapelyintheirkinds,goodtohandleandtolookat.

Butsomethings,whenhehadtime,hemadefordelight;andtheywerebeautiful,forhecouldworkironintowonderfulformsthatlookedaslightanddelicateasasprayofleavesandblossom,butkeptthesternstrengthofiron,orseemedevenstronger.Fewcouldpassbyoneofthegatesorlatticesthathemadewithoutstoppingtoadmireit;noonecouldpassthroughitonceitwasshut.Hesangwhenhewasmakingthingsofthissort;andwhenSmithbegantosingthosenearbystoppedtheirownworkandcametothesmithytolisten.

Thatwasallthatmostpeopleknewabouthim.Itwasenoughindeedandmorethanmostmenandwomeninthevillageachieved,eventhosewhowereskilledandhardworking.Buttherewasmoretoknow.ForSmithbecameacquaintedwithFaery,andsomeregionsofitheknewaswellasanymortalcan;thoughsincetoomanyhadbecomelikeNokes,hespokeofthistofewpeople,excepthiswifeandhischildren.HiswifewasNell,towhomhegavethesilvercoin,andhisdaughterwasNan,andhissonwasNedSmithson.Fromthemitcouldnothavebeenkeptsecretanyway,fortheysometimessawthestarshiningonhisforehead,whenhecamebackfromoneofthelongwalkshewouldtakealonenowandthenintheevening,orwhenhereturnedfromajourney.

Fromtimetotimehewouldgooff,sometimeswalking,sometimesriding,anditwasgenerallysupposedthatitwasonbusiness;andsometimesitwas,andsometimesitwasnot.Atanyratenottogetordersforwork,ortobuypig-ironandcharcoalandothersupplies,thoughheattendedtosuchthingswithcareandknewhowtoturnanhonestpennyintotwopence,asthesayingwent.ButhehadbusinessofitsownkindinFaery,andhewaswelcomethere;forthestarshonebrightonhisbrow,andhewasassafeasamortalcanbeinthatperilouscountry.TheLesserEvilsavoidedthestar,andfromtheGreaterEvilshewasguarded.

Forthathewasgrateful,forhesoonbecamewiseandunderstoodthatthe

marvelsofFaerycannotbeapproachedwithoutdanger,andthatmanyoftheEvilscannotbechallengedwithoutweaponsofpowertoogreatforanymortaltowield.Heremainedalearnerandexplorer,notawarrior;andthoughintimehecouldhaveforgedweaponsthatinhisownworldwouldhavehadpowerenoughtobecomethematterofgreattalesandbeworthaking’sransom,heknewthatinFaerytheywouldhavebeenofsmallaccount.Soamongallthethingsthathemadeitisnotrememberedthatheeverforgedaswordoraspearoranarrow-head.

InFaeryatfirsthewalkedforthemostpartquietlyamongthelesserfolkandthegentlercreaturesinthewoodsandmeadsoffairvalleys,andbythebrightwatersinwhichatnightstrangestarsshoneandatdawnthegleamingpeaksoffarmountainsweremirrored.Someofhisbriefervisitshespentlookingonlyatonetreeoroneflower;butlaterinlongerjourneyshehadseenthingsofbothbeautyandterrorthathecouldnotclearlyremembernorreporttohisfriends,thoughheknewthattheydweltdeepinhisheart.Butsomethingshedidnotforget,andtheyremainedinhismindaswondersandmysteriesthatheoftenrecalled.

Whenhefirstbegantowalkfarwithoutaguidehethoughthewoulddiscoverthefurtherboundsoftheland;butgreatmountainsrosebeforehim,andgoingbylongwaysroundaboutthemhecameatlasttoadesolateshore.HestoodbesidetheSeaofWindlessStormwherethebluewaveslikesnow-cladhillsrollsilentlyoutofUnlighttothelongstrand,bearingthewhiteshipsthatreturnfrombattlesontheDarkMarchesofwhichmenknownothing.Hesawagreatshipcasthighupontheland,andthewatersfellbackinfoamwithoutasound.Theelvenmarinersweretallandterrible;theirswordsshoneandtheirspearsglintedandapiercinglightwasintheireyes.Suddenlytheylifteduptheirvoicesinasongoftriumph,andhisheartwasshakenwithfear,andhefelluponhisface,andtheypassedoverhimandwentawayintotheechoinghills.

Afterwardshewentnomoretothatstrand,believingthathewasinanislandrealmbeleagueredbytheSea,andheturnedhismindtowardsthemountains,desiringtocometotheheartofthekingdom.Onceinthesewanderingshewasovertakenbyagreymistandstrayedlongataloss,untilthemistrolledawayandhefoundthathewasinawideplain.Farofftherewasagreathillofshadow,andoutofthatshadow,whichwasitsroot,hesawthe

King’sTreespringingup,towerupontower,intothesky,anditslightwaslikethesunatnoon;anditboreatonceleavesandflowersandfruitsuncounted,andnotonewasthesameasanyotherthatgrewontheTree.

HeneversawthatTreeagain,thoughheoftensoughtforit.OnonesuchjourneyclimbingintotheOuterMountainshecametoadeepdaleamongthem,andatitsbottomlayalake,calmandunruffledthoughabreezestirredthewoodsthatsurroundedit.Inthatdalethelightwaslikearedsunset,butthelightcameupfromthelake.Fromalowcliffthatoverhungithelookeddown,anditseemedthathecouldseetoanimmeasurabledepth;andtherehebeheldstrangeshapesofflamebendingandbranchingandwaveringlikegreatweedsinasea-dingle,andfierycreatureswenttoandfroamongthem.Filledwithwonderhewentdowntothewater’sedgeandtrieditwithhisfoot,butitwasnotwater:itwasharderthanstoneandsleekerthanglass.Hesteppedonitandhefellheavily,andaringingboomranacrossthelakeandechoedinitsshores.

AtoncethebreezerosetoawildWind,roaringlikeagreatbeast,anditswepthimupandflunghimontheshore,anditdrovehimuptheslopeswhirlingandfallinglikeadeadleaf.Heputhisarmsaboutthestemofayoungbirchandclungtoit,andtheWindwrestledfiercelywiththem,tryingtotearhimaway;butthebirthwasbentdowntothegroundbytheblastandenclosedhiminitsbranches.WhenatlasttheWindpassedonheroseandsawthatthebirchwasnaked.Itwasstrippedofeveryleaf,anditwept,andtearsfellfromitsbrancheslikerain.Hesethishanduponitswhitebark,saying:‘Blessedbethebirch!WhatcanIdotomakeamendsorgivethanks?’Hefelttheanswerofthetreepassupfromhishand:‘Nothing,’itsaid.‘Goaway!TheWindishuntingyou.Youdonotbelonghere.Goawayandneverreturn!’

Asheclimbedbackoutofthatdalehefeltthetearsofthebirchtrickledownhisfaceandtheywerebitteronhislips.Hisheartwassaddenedashewentonhislongroad,andforsometimehedidnotenterFaeryagain.Buthecouldnotforsakeit,andwhenhereturnedhisdesirewasstillstrongertogodeepintotheland.

AtlasthefoundaroadthroughtheOuterMountains,andhewentontillhecametotheInnerMountains,andtheywerehighandsheeranddaunting.Yetintheendhefoundapassthathecouldscale,anduponadayofdaysgreatlydaringhecamethroughanarrowcleftandlookeddown,thoughhedidnotknow

it,intotheValeofEvermornwherethegreensurpassesthegreenofthemeadsofOuterFaeryastheysurpassoursinourspringtime.Theretheairissolucidthateyescanseetheredtonguesofbirdsastheysingonthetreesuponthefarsideofthevalley,thoughthatisverywideandthebirdsarenogreaterthanwrens.

Ontheinnersidethemountainswentdowninlongslopesfilledwiththesoundofbubblingwaterfalls,andingreatdelighthehastenedon.AshesetfootuponthegrassoftheValeheheardelvenvoicessinging,andonalawnbesideariverbrightwithlilieshecameuponmanymaidensdancing.Thespeedandthegraceandtheever-changingmodesoftheirmovementsenchantedhim,andhesteppedforwardtowardstheirring.Thensuddenlytheystoodstill,andayoungmaidenwithflowinghairandkiltedskirtcameouttomeethim.

Shelaughedasshespoketohim,saying:‘Youarebecomingbold,Starbrow,areyounot?HaveyounofearwhattheQueenmightsay,ifsheknewofthis?Unlessyouhaveherleave.’Hewasabashed,forhebecameawareofhisownthoughtandknewthatshereadit:thatthestaronhisforeheadwasapassporttogowhereverhewished;andnowheknewthatitwasnot.Butshesmiledasshespokeagain:Come!Nowthatyouarehereyoushalldancewithme’;andshetookhishandandledhimintothering.

Theretheydancedtogether,andforawhileheknewwhatitwastohavetheswiftnessandthepowerandthejoytoaccompanyher.Forawhile.Butsoonasitseemedtheyhaltedagain,andshestoopedandtookupawhiteflowerfrombeforeherfeet,andshesetitinhishair.‘Farewellnow!’shesaid.‘Maybeweshallmeetagain,bytheQueen’sleave.’

Herememberednothingofthejourneyhomefromthatmeeting,untilhefoundhimselfridingalongtheroadsinhisowncountry;andinsomevillagespeoplestaredathiminwonderandwatchedhimtillherodeoutofsight.Whenhecametohisownhousehisdaughterranoutandgreetedhimwithdelight—hehadreturnedsoonerthanwasexpected,butnonetoosoonforthosethatawaitedhim.‘Daddy!’shecried.‘Wherehaveyoubeen?Yourstarisshiningbright!’

Whenhecrossedthethresholdthestardimmedagain;butNelltookhimbythehandandledhimtothehearth,andtheresheturnedandlookedathim.‘DearMan,’shesaid,‘wherehaveyoubeenandwhathaveyouseen?Thereisaflowerinyourhair.’Shelifteditgentlyfromhishead,anditlayonherhand.Itseemedlikeathingseenfromagreatdistance,yetthereitwas,andalightcamefromitthatcastshadowsonthewallsoftheroom,nowgrowingdarkintheevening.

Theshadowofthemanbeforeherloomedupanditsgreatheadwasbowedoverher.‘Youlooklikeagiant,Dad,’saidhisson,whohadnotspokenbefore.

Theflowerdidnotwithernorgrowdim;andtheykeptitasasecretandatreasure.Thesmithmadealittlecasketwithakeyforit,andthereitlayandwashandeddownformanygenerationsinhiskin;andthosewhoinheritedthekeywouldattimesopenthecasketandlooklongattheLivingFlower,tillthecasketclosedagain:thetimeofitsshuttingwasnottheirstochoose.

Theyearsdidnothaltinthevillage.Manynowhadpassed.AttheChildren’sFeastwhenhereceivedthestarthesmithwasnotyettenyearsold.ThencameanotherTwenty-fourFeast,bywhichtimeAlfhadbecomeMasterCookandhadchosenanewapprentice,Harper.TwelveyearslaterthesmithhadreturnedwiththeLivingFlower;andnowanotherChildren’sTwenty-fourFeastwasdueinthewintertocome.OnedayinthatyearSmithwaswalkinginthewoodsofOuterFaery,anditwasautumn.Goldenleaveswereontheboughsandredleaveswereontheground.Footstepscamebehindhim,buthedidnotheedthemorturnround,forhewasdeepinthought.

Onthatvisithehadreceivedasummonsandhadmadeafarjourney.Longeritseemedtohimthananyhehadyetmade.Hewasguidedandguarded,buthehadlittlememoryofthewaysthathehadtaken;foroftenhehadbeenblindfoldedbymistorbyshadow,untilatlasthecametoahighplaceunderanight-skyofinnumerablestars.TherehewasbroughtbeforetheQueenherself.Sheworenocrownandhadnothrone.Shestoodthereinhermajestyandherglory,andallaboutherwasagreathostshimmeringandglitteringlikethestarsabove;butshewastallerthanthepointsoftheirgreatspears,anduponherheadthereburnedawhiteflame.Shemadeasignforhimtoapproach,andtremblinghesteppedforward.Ahighcleartrumpetsounded,andbehold!theywerealone.

Hestoodbeforeher,andhedidnotkneelincourtesy,forhewasdismayedandfeltthatforonesolowlyallgestureswereinvain.Atlengthhelookedupandbeheldherfaceandhereyesbentgravelyuponhim;andhewastroubledandamazed,forinthatmomentheknewheragain:thefairmaidoftheGreenVale,thedanceratwhosefeettheflowerssprang.Shesmiledseeinghismemory,anddrewtowardshim;andtheyspokelongtogether,forthemostpartwithoutwords,andhelearnedmanythingsinherthought,someofwhichgavehimjoy,andothersfilledhimwithgrief.Thenhismindturnedbackretracinghislife,untilhecametothedayoftheChildren’sFeastandthecomingofthestar,and

suddenlyhesawagainthelittledancingfigurewithitswand,andinshameheloweredhiseyesfromtheQueen’sbeauty.

ButshelaughedagainasshehadlaughedintheValeofEvermorn.‘Donotbegrievedforme,Starbrow,’shesaid.‘Nortoomuchashamedofyourownfolk.Betteralittledoll,maybe,thannomemoryofFaeryatall.Forsometheonlyglimpse.Forsometheawaking.Eversincethatdayyouhavedesiredinyourhearttoseeme,andIhavegrantedyourwish.ButIcangiveyounomore.NowatfarewellIwillmakeyoumymessenger.IfyoumeettheKing,saytohim:Thetimehascome.Lethimchoose.’

‘ButLadyofFaery,’hestammered,‘wherethenistheKing?’ForhehadaskedthisquestionmanytimesofthepeopleofFaery,andtheyhadallsaidthesame:‘Hehasnottoldus.’

AndtheQueenanswered:‘Ifhehasnottoldyou,Star-brow,thenImaynot.Buthemakesmanyjourneysandmaybemetinunlikelyplaces.Nowkneelofyourcourtesy.’

Thenheknelt,andshestoopedandlaidherhandonhishead,andagreatstillnesscameuponhim;andheseemedtobebothintheWorldandinFaery,andalsooutsidethemandsurveyingthem,sothathewasatonceinbereavement,andinownership,andinpeace.Whenafterawhilethestillnesspassedheraisedhisheadandstoodup.Thedawnwasintheskyandthestarswerepale,andtheQueenwasgone.Faroffheheardtheechoofatrumpetinthemountains.Thehighfieldwherehestoodwassilentandempty:andheknewthathiswaynowledbacktobereavement.

Thatmeeting-placewasnowfarbehindhim,andherehewas,walkingamongthefallenleaves,ponderingallthathehadseenandlearned.Thefootstepscamenearer.Thensuddenlyavoicesaidathisside:‘Areyougoingmyway,Starbrow?’

Hestartedandcameoutofhisthoughts,andhesawamanbesidehim.Hewastall,andhewalkedlightlyandquickly;hewasdressedallindarkgreenandworeahoodthatpartlyovershadowedhisface.Thesmithwaspuzzled,foronlythepeopleofFaerycalledhim‘Starbrow’,buthecouldnotremembereverhavingseenthismantherebefore;andyethefeltuneasilythatheshouldknowhim.‘Whatwayareyougoingthen?’hesaid.

‘Iamgoingbacktoyourvillagenow,’themananswered,‘andIhopethatyouarealsoreturning.’

‘Iamindeed,’saidthesmith.‘Letuswalktogether.Butnowsomethinghascomebacktomymind.BeforeIbeganmyhomewardjourneyaGreatLadygavemeamessage,butweshallsoonbepassingfromFaery,andIdonotthinkthatIshalleverreturn.Willyou?’

‘Yes,Ishall.Youmaygivethemessagetome.’‘ButthemessagewastotheKing.Doyouknowwheretofindhim?’‘Ido.Whatwasthemessage?’‘TheLadyonlyaskedmetosaytohim:Thetimehascome.Lethim

choose.’‘Iunderstand.Troubleyourselfnofurther.’

Theywentonthensidebysideinsilencesavefortherustleoftheleavesabouttheirfeet;butafterafewmileswhiletheywerestillwithintheboundsofFaerythemanhalted.Heturnedtowardsthesmithandthrewbackhishood.Thenthesmithknewhim.HewasAlfthePrentice,asthesmithstillcalledhiminhisownmind,rememberingalwaysthedaywhenasayouthAlfhadstoodintheHall,holdingthebrightknifeforthecuttingoftheCake,andhiseyeshadgleamedinthelightofthecandles.Hemustbeanoldmannow,forhehadbeenMasterCookformanyyears;butherestandingundertheeavesoftheOuterWoodhelookedliketheapprenticeoflongago,thoughmoremasterly:therewasnogreyinhishairnorlineonhisface,andhiseyesgleamedasiftheyreflectedalight.

‘Ishouldliketospeaktoyou,SmithSmithson,beforewegobacktoyourcountry,’hesaid.Thesmithwonderedatthat,forhehimselfhadoftenwishedtotalktoAlf,buthadneverbeenabletodoso.Alfhadalwaysgreetedhimkindlyandhadlookedathimwithfriendlyeyes,buthadseemedtoavoidtalkingtohimalone.Hewaslookingnowatthesmithwithfriendlyeyes;butheliftedhishandandwithhisforefingertouchedthestaronhisbrow.Thegleamlefthiseyes,andthenthesmithknewthatithadcomefromthestar,andthatitmusthavebeenshiningbrightlybutnowwasdimmed.Hewassurprisedanddrewawayangrily.

‘Doyounotthink,MasterSmith,’saidAlf,‘thatitistimeforyoutogivethisthingup?’

‘Whatisthattoyou,MasterCook?’heanswered.‘AndwhyshouldIdoso?Isn’titmine?Itcametome,andmayamannotkeepthingsthatcometohimso,attheleastasaremembrance?’

‘Somethings.Thosethatarefreegiftsandgivenforremembrance.But

othersarenotsogiven.Theycannotbelongtoamanforever,norbetreasuredasheirlooms.Theyarelent.Youhavenotthought,perhaps,thatsomeoneelsemayneedthisthing.Butitisso.Timeispressing.’

Thenthesmithwastroubled,forhewasagenerousman,andherememberedwithgratitudeallthatthestarhadbroughttohim.‘ThenwhatshouldIdo?’heasked.‘ShouldIgiveittooneoftheGreatinFaery?ShouldIgiveittotheKing?’AndashesaidthisahopespranginhisheartthatonsuchanerrandhemightoncemoreenterFaery.

‘Youcouldgiveittome,’saidAlf,‘butyoumightfindthattoohard.Willyoucomewithmetomystoreroomandputitbackintheboxwhereyourgrandfatherlaidit?’

‘Ididnotknowthat,’saidthesmith.‘Nooneknewbutme.Iwastheonlyonewithhim.’‘ThenIsupposethatyouknowhowhecamebythestar,andwhyheputit

inthebox?’‘HebroughtitfromFaery:thatyouknowwithoutasking,’Alfanswered.

‘Heleftitbehindinthehopethatitmightcometoyou,hisonlygrandchild.Sohetoldme,forhethoughtthatIcouldarrangethat.Hewasyourmother’sfather.Idonotknowwhethershetoldyoumuchabouthim,ifindeedsheknewmuchtotell.Riderwashisname,andhewasagreattraveller:hehadseenmanythingsandcoulddomanythingsbeforehesettleddownandbecameMasterCook.Buthewentawaywhenyouwereonlytwoyearsold—andtheycouldfindnoonebettertofollowhimthanNokes,poorman.Still,asweexpected,IbecameMasterintime.ThisyearIshallmakeanotherGreatCake:theonlyCook,asfarasisremembered,evertomakeasecondone.Iwishtoputthestarinit.’

‘Verywell,youshallhaveit,’saidthesmith.HelookedatAlfasifhewastryingtoreadhisthought.‘Doyouknowwhowillfindit?’

‘Whatisthattoyou,MasterSmith?’‘Ishouldliketoknow,ifyoudo,MasterCook.Itmightmakeiteasierfor

metopartwithathingsodeartome.Mydaughter’schildistooyoung.’‘Itmightanditmightnot.Weshallsee,’saidAlf.

Theysaidnomore,andtheywentontheirwayuntiltheypassedoutofFaeryandcamebackatlasttothevillage.ThentheywalkedtotheHall;andintheworldthesunwasnowsettingandaredlightwasinthewindows.Thegildedcarvingsonthegreatdoorglowed,andstrangefacesofmanycolours

lookeddownfromthewater-sproutsundertheroof.NotlongagotheHallhadbeenre-glazedandre-painted,andtherehadbeenmuchdebateontheCouncilaboutit.Somedislikeditandcalledit‘new-fangled’,butsomewithmoreknowledgeknewthatitwasareturntooldcustom.Still,sinceithadcostnooneapennyandtheMasterCookmusthavepaidforithimself,hewasallowedtohavehisownway.Butthesmithhadnotseenitinsuchalightbefore,andhestoodandlookedattheHallinwonder,forgettinghiserrand.

Hefeltatouchonhisarm,andAlfledhimroundtoasmalldoorattheback.Heopeneditandledthesmithdownadarkpassageintothestore-room.Therehelitatallcandle,andunlockingacupboardhetookdownfromashelftheblackbox.Itwaspolishednowandadornedwithsilverscrolls.

Heraisedthelidandshowedittothesmith.Onesmallcompartmentwasempty;theotherswerenowfilledwithspices,freshandpungent,andthesmith’seyesbegantowater.Heputhishandtohisforehead,andthestarcameawayreadily,buthefeltasuddenstabofpain,andtearsrandownhisface.Thoughthestarshonebrightlyagainasitlayinhishand,hecouldnotseeit,exceptasablurreddazzleoflightthatseemedfaraway.

‘Icannotseeclearly,’hesaid.‘Youmustputitinforme.’Heheldouthishand,andAlftookthestarandlaiditinitsplace,anditwentdark.

Thesmithturnedawaywithoutanotherwordandgropedhiswaytothedoor.Onthethresholdhefoundthathissighthadclearedagain.ItwaseveningandtheEven-starwasshininginaluminousskyclosetotheMoon.Ashestoodforamomentlookingattheirbeauty,hefeltahandonhisshoulderandturned.

‘Yougavemethestarfreely,’saidAlf.‘Ifyoustillwishtoknowtowhichchilditwillgo,Iwilltellyou.’

‘Idoindeed.’‘Itshallgotoanyonethatyouappoint.’Thesmithwastakenabackanddidnotansweratonce.‘Well,’hesaid

hesitating,‘Iwonderwhatyoumaythinkofmychoice.IbelieveyouhavelittlereasontolovethenameofNokes,but,well,hislittlegreat-grandson,NokesofTownsend’sTim,iscomingtotheFeast.NokesofTownsendisquitedifferent.’

‘Ihaveobservedthat,’saidAlf.‘Hehadawisemother.’‘Yes,myNell’ssister.ButapartfromthekinshipIlovelittleTim.Though

he’snotanobviouschoice.’Alfsmiled.‘Neitherwereyou,’hesaid.‘ButIagree.IndeedIhadalready

chosenTim.’‘Thenwhydidyouaskmetochoose?’

‘TheQueenwishedmetodoso.IfyouhadchosendifferentlyIshouldhavegivenway.’

ThesmithlookedlongatAlf.Thensuddenlyhebowedlow.‘Iunderstandatlast,sir,’hesaid.‘Youhavedoneustoomuchhonour.’

‘Ihavebeenrepaid,’saidAlf.‘Gohomenowinpeace!’

Whenthesmithreachedhisownhouseonthewesternoutskirtsofthevillagehefoundhissonbythedooroftheforge.Hehadjustlockedit,fortheday’sworkwasdone,andnowhestoodlookingupthewhiteroadbywhichhisfatherusedtoreturnfromhisjourneys.Hearingfootsteps,heturnedinsurprisetoseehimcomingfromthevillage,andheranforwardtomeethim.Heputhisarmsabouthiminlovingwelcome.

‘I’vebeenhopingforyousinceyesterday,Dad,’hesaid.Thenlookingintohisfather’sfacehesaidanxiously:‘Howtiredyoulook!Youhavewalkedfar,maybe?’

‘Veryfarindeed,myson.AllthewayfromDaybreaktoEvening.’

Theywentintothehousetogether,anditwasdarkexceptforthefireflickeringonthehearth.Hissonlitcandles,andforawhiletheysatbythefirewithoutspeaking;foragreatwearinessandbereavementwasonthesmith.Atlasthelookedround,asifcomingtohimself,andhesaid:‘Whyarewealone?’

Hissonlookedhardathim.‘Why?Mother’soveratMinor,atNan’s.It’sthelittlelad’ssecondbirthday.Theyhopedyouwouldbetheretoo.’

‘Ahyes.Ioughttohavebeen.Ishouldhavebeen,Ned,butIwasdelayed;andIhavehadmatterstothinkofthatputallelseoutofmindforatime.ButIdidnotforgetTomling.’

Heputhishandinhisbreastanddrewoutalittlewalletofsoftleather.‘Ihavebroughthimsomething.AtrinketoldNokesmaybewouldcallit—butitcomesoutofFaery,Ned.’Outofthewallethetookalittlethingofsilver.Itwaslikethesmoothstemofatinylilyfromthetopofwhichcamethreedelicateflowers,bendingdownlikeshapelybells.Andbellstheywere,forwhenheshookthemgentlyeachflowerrangwithasmallclearnote.Atthesweetsoundthecandlesflickeredandthenforamomentshonewithawhitelight.

Ned’seyeswerewidewithwonder.‘MayIlookatit,Dad?’hesaid.Hetookitwithcarefulfingersandpeeredintotheflowers.‘Theworkisamarvel!’hesaid.‘And,Dad,thereisascentinthebells:ascentthatremindsmeof,

remindsme,wellofsomethingI’veforgotten.’‘Yes,thescentcomesforalittlewhileafterthebellshaverung.Butdon’t

feartohandleit,Ned.Itwasmadeforababetoplaywith.Hecandoitnoharm,andhe’lltakenonefromit.’

Thesmithputthegiftbackinthewalletandstoweditaway.‘I’lltakeitovertoWoottonMinormyselftomorrow,’hesaid.‘NanandherTom,andMother,willforgiveme,maybe.AsforTomling,histimehasnotyetcomeforthecountingofdays…andofweeks,andofmonths,andofyears.’

‘That’sright.Yougo,Dad.I’dbegladtogowithyou;butitwillbesometimebeforeIcangetovertoMinor.Icouldn’thavegonetoday,evenifIhadn’twaitedhereforyou.There’salotofworkinhand,andmorecomingin.’

‘No,no,Smith’sson!Makeitaholiday!Thenameofgrandfatherhasn’tweakenedmyarmsyetawhile.Lettheworkcome!There’llbetwopairsofhandstotackleitnow,allworkingdays.Ishallnotbegoingonjourneysagain,Ned:notonlongones,ifyouunderstandme.’

‘It’sthatwayisit,Dad?Iwonderedwhathadbecomeofthestar.That’shard.’Hetookhisfather’shand.‘I’mgrievedforyou;butthere’sgoodinittoo,forthishouse.Doyouknow,MasterSmith,thereismuchyoucanteachmeyet,ifyouhavethetime.AndIdonotmeanonlytheworkingofiron.’

Theyhadsuppertogether,andlongaftertheyhadfinishedtheystillsatatthetable,whilethesmithtoldhissonofhislastjourneyinFaery,andofotherthingsthatcametohismind—butaboutthechoiceofthenextholderofthestarhesaidnothing.

Atlasthissonlookedathim,and‘Father,’hesaid,‘doyourememberthedaywhenyoucamebackwiththeFlower?AndIsaidthatyoulookedlikeagiantbyyourshadow.Theshadowwasthetruth.SoitwastheQueenherselfthatyoudancedwith.Yetyouhavegivenupthestar.Ihopeitmaygotosomeoneasworthy.Thechildshouldbegrateful.’

‘Thechildwon’tknow,’saidthesmith.‘That’sthewaywithsuchgifts.Well,thereitis.Ihavehandeditonandcomebacktohammerandtongs.’

Itisastrangething,butoldNokes,whohadscoffedathisapprentice,hadneverbeenabletoputoutofhismindthedisappearanceofthestarintheCake,althoughthateventhadhappenedsomanyyearsago.Hehadgrownfatandlazy,andretiredfromhisofficewhenhewassixty(nogreatageinthevillage).Hewasnowneartheendofhiseighties,andwasofenormousbulk,forhestillate

heavilyanddotedonsugar.Mostofhisdays,whennotattable,hespentinabigchairbythewindowofhiscottage,orbythedoorifitwasfineweather.Helikedtalking,sincehestillhadmanyopinionstoair;butlatelyhistalkmostlyturnedtotheoneGreatCakethathehadmade(ashewasnowfirmlyconvinced),forwheneverhefellasleepitcameintohisdreams.Prenticesometimesstoppedforawordortwo.Sotheoldcookstillcalledhim,andheexpectedhimselftobecalledMaster.ThatPrenticewascarefultodo;whichwasapointinhisfavour,thoughtherewereothersthatNokeswasmorefondof.

OneafternoonNokeswasnoddinginhischairbythedoorafterhisdinner.HewokewithastarttofindPrenticestandingbyandlookingdownathim.‘Hullo!’hesaid.‘I’mgladtoseeyou,forthatcake’sbeenonmymindagain.Iwasthinkingofitjustnowinfact.ItwasthebestcakeIevermade,andthat’ssayingsomething.Butperhapsyouhaveforgottenit.’

‘No,Master.Irememberitverywell.Butwhatistroublingyou?Itwasagoodcake,anditwasenjoyedandpraised.’

‘Ofcourse.Imadeit.Butthatdoesn’ttroubleme.It’sthelittletrinket,thestar.Icannotmakeupmymindwhatbecameofit.Ofcourseitwouldn’tmelt.Ionlysaidthattostopthechildrenfrombeingfrightened.Ihavewonderedifoneofthemdidnotswallowit.Butisthatlikely?Youmightswallowoneofthoselittlecoinsandnotnoticeit,butnotthatstar.Itwassmallbutithadsharppoints.’

‘Yes,Master.Butdoyoureallyknowwhatthestarwasmadeof?Don’ttroubleyourmindaboutit.Someoneswallowedit,Iassureyou.’

‘Thenwho?Well,I’vealongmemory,andthatdaysticksinitsomehow.Icanrecallallthechildren’snames.Letmethink.ItmusthavebeenMiller’sMolly!Shewasgreedyandboltedherfood.She’sasfatasasacknow.’

‘Yes,therearesomefolkwhogetlikethat,Master.ButMollydidnotbolthercake.Shefoundtwotrinketsinherslice.’

‘Oh,didshe?Well,itwasCooper’sHarrythen.Abarrelofaboywithabigmouthlikeafrog’s.’

‘Ishouldhavesaid,Master,thathewasaniceboywithalargefriendlygrin.Anywayhewassocarefulthathetookhisslicetopiecesbeforeheateit.Hefoundnothingbutcake.’

‘Thenitmusthavebeenthatlittlepalegirl,Draper’sLily.Sheusedtoswallowpinsasababyandcametonoharm.’

‘NotLily,Master.Sheonlyatethepasteandthesugar,andgavetheinsidetotheboythatsatnexttoher.’

‘ThenIgiveup.Whowasit?Youseemtohavebeenwatchingveryclosely.Ifyou’renotmakingitallup.’

‘ItwastheSmith’sson,Master;andIthinkitwasgoodforhim.’‘Goon!’laughedoldNokes.‘Ioughttohaveknownyouwerehavinga

gamewithme.Don’tberidiculous!Smithwasaquietslowboythen.Hemakesmorenoisenow:abitofasongster,Ihear;buthe’scautious.Norisksforhim.Chewstwicebeforeheswallows,andalwaysdid,ifyoutakemymeaning.’

‘Ido,Master.Well,ifyouwon’tbelieveitwasSmith,Ican’thelpyou.Perhapsitdoesn’tmattermuchnow.WilliteaseyourmindifItellyouthatthestarisbackintheboxnow?Hereitis!’

Prenticewaswearingadarkgreencloak,whichNokesnownoticedforthefirsttime.Fromitsfoldsheproducedtheblackboxandopeneditundertheoldcook’snose.‘Thereisthestar,Master,downinthecorner.’

OldNokesbegancoughingandsneezing,butatlasthelookedintothebox.‘Soitis!’hesaid.‘Atleastitlookslikeit.’

‘Itisthesameone,Master.Iputittheremyselfafewdaysago.ItwillgobackintheGreatCakethiswinter.’

‘A-ha!’saidNokes,leeringatPrentice;andthenhelaughedtillheshooklikeajelly.‘Isee,Isee!Twenty-fourchildrenandtwenty-fourluckybits,andthestarwasoneextra.Soyounippeditoutbeforethebakingandkeptitforanothertime.Youwerealwaysatrickyfellow:nimbleonemightsay.Andthrifty:wouldn’twasteabee’skneeofbutter.Ha,ha,ha!Sothatwasthewayofit.Imighthaveguessed.Well,that’sclearedup.NowIcanhaveanapinpeace.’Hesettleddowninhischair.‘Mindthatprenticemanofyoursplaysyounotricks!Theartfuldon’tknowallthearts,theysay.’Heclosedhiseyes.

‘Goodbye,Master!’saidPrentice,shuttingtheboxwithsuchasnapthatthecookopenedhiseyesagain.‘Nokes,’hesaid,‘yourknowledgeissogreatthatIhaveonlytwiceventuredtotellyouanything.ItoldyouthatthestarcamefromFaery;andIhavetoldyouthatitwenttothesmith.Youlaughedatme.NowatpartingIwilltellyouonethingmore.Don’tlaughagain!Youareavainoldfraud,fat,idleandsly.Ididmostofyourwork.Withoutthanksyoulearnedallthatyoucouldfromme—exceptrespectforFaery,andalittlecourtesy.Youhavenotevenenoughtobidmegoodday.’

‘Ifitcomestocourtesy,’saidNokes,‘Iseenoneincallingyoureldersandbettersbyillnames.TakeyourFairyandyournonsensesomewhereelse!Gooddaytoyou,ifthat’swhatyou’rewaitingfor.Nowgoalongwithyou!’Heflappedhishandmockingly.‘Ifyou’vegotoneofyourfairyfriendshiddenin

theKitchen,sendhimtomeandI’llhavealookathim.Ifhewaveshislittlewandandmakesmethinagain,I’llthinkbetterofhim,’helaughed.

‘WouldyouspareafewmomentsfortheKingofFaery?’theotheranswered.ToNokes’sdismayhegrewtallerashespoke.Hethrewbackhiscloak.HewasdressedlikeaMasterCookataFeast,buthiswhitegarmentsshimmeredandglinted,andonhisforeheadwasagreatjewellikearadiantstar.Hisfacewasyoungbutstern.

‘Oldman,’hesaid,‘youareatleastnotmyelder.Astomybetter:youhaveoftensneeredatmebehindmyback.Doyouchallengemenowopenly?’Hesteppedforward,andNokesshrankfromhim,trembling.Hetriedtoshoutforhelpbutfoundthathecouldhardlywhisper.

‘No,sir!’hecroaked.‘Don’tdomeaharm!I’monlyapooroldman.’TheKing’sfacesoftened.‘Alas,yes!Youspeakthetruth.Donotbeafraid!

Beatease!ButwillyounotexpecttheKingofFaerytodosomethingforyoubeforeheleavesyou?Igrantyouyourwish.Farewell!Nowgotosleep!’

HewrappedhiscloakabouthimagainandwentawaytowardstheHall;butbeforehewasoutofsighttheoldcook’sgogglingeyeshadshutandhewassnoring.

Whentheoldcookwokeagainthesunwasgoingdown.Herubbedhiseyesandshiveredalittle,fortheautumnairwaschilly.‘Ugh!Whatadream!’hesaid.‘Itmusthavebeenthatporkatdinner.’

Fromthatdayhebecamesoafraidofhavingmorebaddreamsofthatsortthathehardlydaredeatanythingforfearthatitmightupsethim,andhismealsbecameveryshortandplain.Hesoonbecamelean,andhisclothesandhisskinhungonhiminfoldsandcreases.ThechildrencalledhimoldRag-and-Bones.Thenforatimehefoundthathecouldgetaboutthevillageagainandwalkwithnomorehelpthanastick;andhelivedmanyyearslongerthanhewouldotherwisehavedone.Indeeditissaidthathejustmadehiscentury:theonlymemorablethingheeverachieved.Buttillhislastyearhecouldbeheardsayingtoanythatwouldlistentohistale:‘Alarming,youmightcallit;butasillydream,whenyoucometothinkofit.Kingo’Fairy!Why,hehadn’tnowand.Andifyoustopeatingyougrowthinner.That’snatural.Standstoreason.Thereain’tnomagicinit.’

ThetimefortheTwenty-fourFeastcameround.Smithwastheretosing

songsandhiswifetohelpwiththechildren.Smithlookedatthemastheysanganddanced,andhethoughtthattheyweremorebeautifulandlivelythantheyhadbeeninhisboyhood—foramomentitcrossedhismindtowonderwhatAlfmighthavebeendoinginhissparetime.Anyoneofthemseemedfittofindthestar.ButhiseyesweremostlyonTim:aratherplumplittleboy,clumsyinthedances,butwithasweetvoiceinthesinging.AttablehesatsilentwatchingthesharpeningoftheknifeandthecuttingoftheCake.Suddenly,hepipedup:‘DearMrCook,onlycutmeasmallsliceplease.I’veeatensomuchalready,Ifeelratherfull.’

‘Allright,Tim,’saidAlf.‘I’llcutyouaspecialslice.Ithinkyou’llfinditgodowneasily.’

SmithwatchedasTimatehiscakeslowly,butwithevidentpleasure;thoughwhenhefoundnotrinketorcoininithelookeddisappointed.Butsoonalightbegantoshineinhiseyes,andhelaughedandbecamemerry,andsangsoftlytohimself.Thenhegotupandbegantodanceallalonewithanoddgracethathehadnevershownbefore.Thechildrenalllaughedandclapped.

‘Alliswellthen,’thoughtSmith.‘Soyouaremyheir.Iwonderwhatstrangeplacesthestarwillleadyouto?PooroldNokes.StillIsupposehewillneverknowwhatashockingthinghashappenedinhisfamily.’

Heneverdid.ButonethinghappenedatthatFeastthatpleasedhimmightily.BeforeitwasovertheMasterCooktookleaveofthechildrenandofalltheothersthatwerepresent.

‘Iwillsaygoodbyenow,’hesaid.‘InadayortwoIshallbegoingaway.MasterHarperisquitereadytotakeover.Heisaverygoodcook,andasyouknowhecomesfromyourownvillage.Ishallgobackhome.Idonotthinkyouwillmissme.’

Thechildrensaidgoodbyecheerfully,andthankedtheCookprettilyforhisbeautifulCake.OnlylittleTimtookhishandandsaidquietly,‘I’msorry.’

InthevillagetherewereinfactseveralfamiliesthatdidmissAlfforsometime.Afewofhisfriends,especiallySmithandHarper,grievedathisgoing,andtheykepttheHallgildedandpaintedinmemoryofAlf.Mostpeople,however,werecontent.Theyhadhadhimforaverylongtimeandwerenotsorrytohaveachange.ButoldNokesthumpedhisstickonthefloorandsaidroundly:‘He’sgoneatlast!AndI’mgladforone.Ineverlikedhim.Hewasartful.Toonimble,youmightsay.’

LEAFBYNIGGLE

LEAFBYNIGGLE

TherewasoncealittlemancalledNiggle,whohadalongjourneytomake.Hedidnotwanttogo,indeedthewholeideawasdistastefultohim;buthecouldnotgetoutofit.Heknewhewouldhavetostartsometime,buthedidnothurrywithhispreparations.

Nigglewasapainter.Notaverysuccessfulone,partlybecausehehadmanyotherthingstodo.Mostofthesethingshethoughtwereanuisance;buthedidthemfairlywell,whenhecouldnotgetoutofthem:which(inhisopinion)wasfartoooften.Thelawsinhiscountrywereratherstrict.Therewereotherhindrances,too.Foronething,hewassometimesjustidle,anddidnothingatall.Foranother,hewaskindhearted,inaway.Youknowthesortofkindheart:itmadehimuncomfortablemoreoftenthanitmadehimdoanything;andevenwhenhedidanything,itdidnotpreventhimfromgrumbling,losinghistemperandswearing(mostlytohimself).Allthesame,itdidlandhiminagoodmanyoddjobsforhisneighbour,MrParish,amanwithalameleg.Occasionallyheevenhelpedotherpeoplefromfurtheroff,iftheycameandaskedhimto.Also,nowandagain,herememberedhisjourney,andbegantopackafewthingsinanineffectualway:atsuchtimeshedidnotpaintverymuch.

Hehadanumberofpicturesonhand;mostofthemweretoolargeandambitiousforhisskill.Hewasthesortofpainterwhocanpaintleavesbetterthantrees.Heusedtospendalongtimeonasingleleaf,tryingtocatchitsshape,anditssheen,andtheglisteningofdewdropsonitsedges.Yethewantedtopaintawholetree,withallofitsleavesinthesamestyle,andallofthemdifferent.

Therewasonepictureinparticularwhichbotheredhim.Ithadbegunwithaleafcaughtinthewind,anditbecameatree;andthetreegrew,sendingoutinnumerablebranches,andthrustingoutthemostfantasticroots.Strangebirdscameandsettledonthetwigsandhadtobeattendedto.ThenallroundtheTree,andbehindit,throughthegapsintheleavesandboughs,acountrybegantoopenout;andtherewereglimpsesofaforestmarchingovertheland,andofmountainstippedwithsnow.Nigglelostinterestinhisotherpictures;orelsehetookthemandtackedthemontotheedgesofhisgreatpicture.Soonthecanvasbecamesolargethathehadtogetaladder,andheranupanddownit,puttingin

atouchhere,andrubbingoutapatchthere.Whenpeoplecametocall,heseemedpoliteenough,thoughhefiddledalittlewiththepencilsonhisdesk.Helistenedtowhattheysaid,butunderneathhewasthinkingallthetimeabouthisbigcanvas,inthetallshedthathadbeenbuiltforitoutinhisgarden(onaplotwhereoncehehadgrownpotatoes).

Hecouldnotgetridofhiskindheart.‘IwishIwasmorestrong-minded’hesometimessaidtohimself,meaningthathewishedotherpeople’stroublesdidnotmakehimfeeluncomfortable.Butforalongtimehewasnotseriouslyperturbed.‘Atanyrate,Ishallgetthisonepicturedone,myrealpicture,beforeIhavetogoonthatwretchedjourney,’heusedtosay.Yethewasbeginningtoseethathecouldnotputoffhisstartindefinitely.Thepicturewouldhavetostopjustgrowingandgetfinished.

Oneday,Nigglestoodalittlewayofffromhispictureandconsidereditwithunusualattentionanddetachment.Hecouldnotmakeuphismindwhathethoughtaboutit,andwishedhehadsomefriendwhowouldtellhimwhattothink.Actuallyitseemedtohimwhollyunsatisfactory,andyetverylovely,theonlyreallybeautifulpictureintheworld.Whathewouldhavelikedatthatmomentwouldhavebeentoseehimselfwalkin,andslaphimonthebackandsay(withobvioussincerity):‘Absolutelymagnificent!Iseeexactlywhatyouaregettingat.Dogetonwithit,anddon’tbotheraboutanythingelse!Wewillarrangeforapublicpension,sothatyouneednot.’

However,therewasnopublicpension.Andonethinghecouldsee:itwouldneedsomeconcentration,somework,harduninterruptedwork,tofinishthepicture,evenatitspresentsize.Herolleduphissleeves,andbegantoconcentrate.Hetriedforseveraldaysnottobotheraboutotherthings.Buttherecameatremendouscropofinterruptions.Thingswentwronginhishouse;hehadtogoandserveonajuryinthetown;adistantfriendfeltill;MrParishwaslaidupwithlumbago;andvisitorskeptoncoming.Itwasspringtime,andtheywantedafreeteainthecountry:Nigglelivedinapleasantlittlehouse,milesawayfromthetown.Hecursedtheminhisheart,buthecouldnotdenythathehadinvitedthemhimself,awaybackinthewinter,whenhehadnotthoughtitan‘interruption’tovisittheshopsandhaveteawithacquaintancesinthetown.Hetriedtohardenhisheart;butitwasnotasuccess.Thereweremanythingsthathehadnotthefacetosaynoto,whetherhethoughtthemdutiesornot;andthereweresomethingshewascompelledtodo,whateverhethought.Someofhisvisitorshintedthathisgardenwasratherneglected,andthathemightgetavisitfromanInspector.Veryfewofthemknewabouthispicture,ofcourse;butif

theyhadknown,itwouldnothavemademuchdifference.Idoubtiftheywouldhavethoughtthatitmatteredmuch.Idaresayitwasnotreallyaverygoodpicture,thoughitmayhavehadsomegoodpassages.TheTree,atanyrate,wascurious.Quiteuniqueinitsway.SowasNiggle;thoughhewasalsoaveryordinaryandrathersillylittleman.

AtlengthNiggle’stimebecamereallyprecious.Hisacquaintancesinthedistanttownbegantorememberthatthelittlemanhadgottomakeatroublesomejourney,andsomebegantocalculatehowlongatthelatesthecouldputoffstarting.Theywonderedwhowouldtakehishouse,andifthegardenwouldbebetterkept.

Theautumncame,verywetandwindy.Thelittlepainterwasinhisshed.Hewasupontheladder,tryingtocatchthegleamofthewesteringsunonthepeakofasnow-mountain,whichhehadglimpsedjusttotheleftoftheleafytipofoneoftheTree’sbranches.Heknewthathewouldhavetobeleavingsoon:perhapsearlynextyear.Hecouldonlyjustgetthepicturefinished,andonlysoso,atthat:thereweresomecornerswherehewouldnothavetimenowtodomorethanhintatwhathewanted.

Therewasaknockonthedoor.‘Comein!’hesaidsharply,andclimbeddowntheladder.Hestoodonthefloortwiddlinghisbrush.Itwashisneighbour,Parish:hisonlyrealneighbour,allotherfolklivedalongwayoff.Still,hedidnotlikethemanverymuch:partlybecausehewassooftenintroubleandinneedofhelp;andalsobecausehedidnotcareaboutpainting,butwasverycriticalaboutgardening.WhenParishlookedatNiggle’sgarden(whichwasoften)hesawmostlyweeds;andwhenhelookedatNiggle’spictures(whichwasseldom)hesawonlygreenandgreypatchesandblacklines,whichseemedtohimnonsensical.Hedidnotmindmentioningtheweeds(aneighbourlyduty),butherefrainedfromgivinganyopinionofthepictures.Hethoughtthiswasverykind,andhedidnotrealisethat,evenifitwaskind,itwasnotkindenough.Helpwiththeweeds(andperhapspraiseforthepictures)wouldhavebeenbetter.

‘Well,Parish,whatisit?’saidNiggle.‘Ioughtn’ttointerruptyou,Iknow,’saidParish(withoutaglanceatthe

picture).‘Youareverybusy,I’msure.’Nigglehadmeanttosaysomethinglikethathimself,buthehadmissedhis

chance.Allhesaidwas:‘Yes.’‘ButIhavenooneelsetoturnto,’saidParish.‘Quiteso,’saidNigglewithasigh:oneofthosesighsthatareaprivate

comment,butwhicharenotmadequiteinaudible.‘WhatcanIdoforyou?’‘Mywifehasbeenillforsomedays,andIamgettingworried,’saidParish.

‘Andthewindhasblownhalfthetilesoffmyroof,andwaterispouringintothebedroom.IthinkIoughttogetthedoctor.Andthebuilders,too,onlytheytakesolongtocome.Iwaswonderingifyouhadanywoodandcanvasyoucouldspare,justtopatchmeupandseemethroughforadayortwo.’Nowhedidlookatthepicture.

‘Dear,dear!’saidNiggle.‘Youareunlucky.Ihopeitisnomorethanacoldthatyourwifehasgot.I’llcomeroundpresently,andhelpyoumovethepatientdownstairs.’

‘Thankyouverymuch,’saidParish,rathercoolly.‘Butitisnotacold,itisafever.Ishouldnothavebotheredyouforacold.Andmywifeisinbeddownstairsalready.Ican’tgetupanddownwithtrays,notwithmyleg.ButIseeyouarebusy.Sorrytohavetroubledyou.Ihadratherhopedyoumighthavebeenabletosparethetimetogoforthedoctor,seeinghowI’mplaced;andthebuildertoo,ifyoureallyhavenocanvasyoucanspare.’

‘Ofcourse,’saidNiggle;thoughotherwordswereinhisheart,whichatthemomentwasmerelysoftwithoutfeelingatallkind.‘Icouldgo.I’llgo,ifyouarereallyworried.’

‘Iamworried,veryworried.IwishIwasnotlame,’saidParish.SoNigglewent.Yousee,itwasawkward.Parishwashisneighbour,and

everyoneelsealongwayoff.Nigglehadabicycle,andParishhadnot,andcouldnotrideone.Parishhadalameleg,agenuinelamelegwhichgavehimagooddealofpain:thathadtoberemembered,aswellashissourexpressionandwhiningvoice.Ofcourse,Nigglehadapictureandbarelytimetofinishit.ButitseemedthatthiswasathingthatParishhadtoreckonwithandnotNiggle.Parish,however,didnotreckonwithpictures;andNigglecouldnotalterthat.‘Curseit!’hesaidtohimself,ashegotouthisbicycle.

Itwaswetandwindy,anddaylightwaswaning.‘Nomoreworkformetoday!’thoughtNiggle,andallthetimethathewasriding,hewaseitherswearingtohimself,orimaginingthestrokesofhisbrushonthemountain,andonthesprayofleavesbesideit,thathehadfirstimaginedinthespring.Hisfingerstwitchedonthehandlebars.Nowhewasoutoftheshed,hesawexactlythewayinwhichtotreatthatshiningspraywhichframedthedistantvisionofthemountain.Buthehadasinkingfeelinginhisheart,asortoffearthathewouldnevernowgetachancetotryitout.

Nigglefoundthedoctor,andheleftanoteatthebuilder’s.Theofficewas

shut,andthebuilderhadgonehometohisfireside.Nigglegotsoakedtotheskin,andcaughtachillhimself.ThedoctordidnotsetoutaspromptlyasNigglehaddone.Hearrivednextday,whichwasquiteconvenientforhim,asbythattimethereweretwopatientstodealwith,inneighbouringhouses.Nigglewasinbed,withahightemperature,andmarvellouspatternsofleavesandinvolvedbranchesforminginhisheadandontheceiling.ItdidnotcomforthimtolearnthatMrsParishhadonlyhadacold,andwasgettingup.Heturnedhisfacetothewallandburiedhimselfinleaves.

Heremainedinbedsometime.Thewindwentonblowing.IttookawayagoodmanymoreofParish’stiles,andsomeofNiggle’saswell:hisownroofbegantoleak.Thebuilderdidnotcome.Niggledidnotcare;notforadayortwo.Thenhecrawledouttolookforsomefood(Nigglehadnowife).Parishdidnotcomeround:therainhadgotintohislegandmadeitache;andhiswifewasbusymoppingupwater,andwonderingif‘thatMrNiggle’hadforgottentocallatthebuilder’s.Hadsheseenanychanceofborrowinganythinguseful,shewouldhavesentParishround,legornoleg;butshedidnot,soNigglewaslefttohimself.

AttheendofaweekorsoNiggletotteredouttohisshedagain.Hetriedtoclimbtheladder,butitmadehisheadgiddy.Hesatandlookedatthepicture,buttherewerenopatternsofleavesorvisionsofmountainsinhismindthatday.Hecouldhavepaintedafar-offviewofasandydesert,buthehadnottheenergy.

Nextdayhefeltagooddealbetter.Heclimbedtheladder,andbegantopaint.Hehadjustbeguntogetintoitagain,whentherecameaknockonthedoor.

‘Damn!’saidNiggle.Buthemightjustaswellhavesaid‘Comein!’politely,forthedooropenedallthesame.Thistimeaverytallmancamein,atotalstranger.

‘Thisisaprivatestudio,’saidNiggle.‘Iambusy.Goaway!’‘IamanInspectorofHouses,’saidtheman,holdinguphisappointment-

card,sothatNiggleonhisladdercouldseeit.‘Oh!’hesaid.‘Yourneighbour’shouseisnotsatisfactoryatall,’saidtheInspector.‘Iknow,’saidNiggle.‘Itookanotetothebuilder’salongtimeago,but

theyhavenevercome.ThenIhavebeenill.’‘Isee,’saidtheInspector.‘Butyouarenotillnow.’‘ButI’mnotabuilder.ParishoughttomakeacomplainttotheTown

Council,andgethelpfromtheEmergencyService.’

‘Theyarebusywithworsedamagethananyuphere,’saidtheInspector.‘Therehasbeenafloodinthevalley,andmanyfamiliesarehomeless.Youshouldhavehelpedyourneighbourtomaketemporaryrepairsandpreventthedamagefromgettingmorecostlytomendthannecessary.Thatisthelaw.Thereisplentyofmaterialhere:canvas,wood,waterproofpaint.’

‘Where?’askedNiggleindignantly.‘There!’saidtheInspector,pointingtothepicture.‘Mypicture!’exclaimedNiggle.‘Idaresayitis,’saidtheInspector.‘Buthousescomefirst.Thatisthelaw.’‘ButIcan’t…’Nigglesaidnomore,foratthatmomentanothermancame

in.VerymuchliketheInspectorhewas,almosthisdouble:tall,dressedallinblack.

‘Comealong!’hesaid.‘IamtheDriver.’Nigglestumbleddownfromtheladder.Hisfeverseemedtohavecomeon

again,andhisheadwasswimming;hefeltcoldallover.‘Driver?Driver?’hechattered.‘Driverofwhat?’‘You,andyourcarriage,’saidtheman.‘Thecarriagewasorderedlongago.

Ithascomeatlast.It’swaiting.Youstarttodayonyourjourney,youknow.’‘Therenow!’saidtheInspector.‘You’llhavetogo;butit’sabadwayto

startonyourjourney,leavingyourjobsundone.Still,wecanatleastmakesomeuseofthiscanvasnow.’

‘Ohdear!’saidpoorNiggle,beginningtoweep.‘Andit’snotevenfinished!’

‘Notfinished!’saidtheDriver.‘Well,it’sfinishedwith,asfarasyou’reconcerned,atanyrate.Comealong!’

Nigglewent,quitequietly.TheDrivergavehimnotimetopack,sayingthatheoughttohavedonethatbefore,andtheywouldmissthetrain;soallNigglecoulddowastograbalittlebaginthehall.Hefoundthatitcontainedonlyapaint-boxandasmallbookofhisownsketches:neitherfoodnorclothes.Theycaughtthetrainallright.Nigglewasfeelingverytiredandsleepy;hewashardlyawareofwhatwasgoingonwhentheybundledhimintohiscompartment.Hedidnotcaremuch:hehadforgottenwherehewassupposedtobegoing,orwhathewasgoingfor.Thetrainranalmostatonceintoadarktunnel.

Nigglewokeupinaverylarge,dimrailwaystation.APorterwentalongtheplatformshouting,buthewasnotshoutingthenameoftheplace;hewasshoutingNiggle!

Nigglegotoutinahurry,andfoundthathehadlefthislittlebagbehind.Heturnedback,butthetrainhadgoneaway.

‘Ah,thereyouare!’saidthePorter.‘Thisway!What!Noluggage?YouwillhavetogototheWorkhouse.’

Nigglefeltveryill,andfaintedontheplatform.TheyputhiminanambulanceandtookhimtotheWorkhouseInfirmary.

Hedidnotlikethetreatmentatall.Themedicinetheygavehimwasbitter.Theofficialsandattendantswereunfriendly,silent,andstrict;andheneversawanyoneelse,exceptaveryseveredoctor,whovisitedhimoccasionally.Itwasmorelikebeinginaprisonthaninahospital.Hehadtoworkhard,atstatedhours:atdigging,carpentry,andpaintingbareboardsalloneplaincolour.Hewasneverallowedoutside,andthewindowsalllookedinwards.Theykepthiminthedarkforhoursatastretch,‘todosomethinking,’theysaid.Helostcountoftime.Hedidnotevenbegintofeelbetter,notifthatcouldbejudgedbywhetherhefeltanypleasureindoinganything.Hedidnot,noteveningettingintobed.

Atfirst,duringthefirstcenturyorso(Iammerelygivinghisimpressions),heusedtoworryaimlesslyaboutthepast.Onethinghekeptonrepeatingtohimself,ashelayinthedark:‘IwishIhadcalledonParishthefirstmorningafterthehighwindsbegan.Imeantto.Thefirstloosetileswouldhavebeeneasytofix.ThenMrsParishmightneverhavecaughtcold.ThenIshouldnothavecaughtcoldeither.ThenIshouldhavehadaweeklonger.’Butintimeheforgotwhatitwasthathehadwantedaweeklongerfor.Ifheworriedatallafterthat,itwasabouthisjobsinthehospital.Heplannedthemout,thinkinghowquicklyhecouldstopthatboardcreaking,orrehangthatdoor,ormendthattable-leg.Probablyhereallybecameratheruseful,thoughnooneevertoldhimso.Butthat,ofcourse,cannothavebeenthereasonwhytheykeptthepoorlittlemansolong.Theymayhavebeenwaitingforhimtogetbetter,andjudging‘better’bysomeoddmedicalstandardoftheirown.

Atanyrate,poorNigglegotnopleasureoutoflife,notwhathehadbeenusedtocallpleasure.Hewascertainlynotamused.Butitcouldnotbedeniedthathebegantohaveafeelingof—wellsatisfaction:breadratherthanjam.Hecouldtakeupataskthemomentonebellrang,andlayitasidepromptlythemomentthenextonewent,alltidyandreadytobecontinuedattherighttime.Hegotthroughquitealotinaday,now;hefinishedsmallthingsoffneatly.Hehadno‘timeofhisown’(exceptaloneinhisbed-cell),andyethewasbecomingmasterofhistime;hebegantoknowjustwhathecoulddowithit.Therewasno

senseofrush.Hewasquieterinsidenow,andatresting-timehecouldreallyrest.Thensuddenlytheychangedallhishours;theyhardlylethimgotobedat

all;theytookhimoffcarpentryaltogetherandkepthimatplaindigging,dayafterday.Hetookitfairlywell.Itwasalongwhilebeforeheevenbegantogropeinthebackofhismindforthecursesthathehadpracticallyforgotten.Hewentondigging,tillhisbackseemedbroken,hishandswereraw,andhefeltthathecouldnotmanageanotherspadeful.Nobodythankedhim.Butthedoctorcameandlookedathim.

‘Knockoff!’hesaid.‘Completerest—inthedark.’

Nigglewaslyinginthedark,restingcompletely;sothat,ashehadnotbeeneitherfeelingorthinkingatall,hemighthavebeenlyingthereforhoursorforyears,asfarashecouldtell.ButnowheheardVoices:notvoicesthathehadeverheardbefore.ThereseemedtobeaMedicalBoard,orperhapsaCourtofInquiry,goingoncloseathand,inanadjoiningroomwiththedooropen,possibly,thoughhecouldnotseeanylight.

‘NowtheNigglecase,’saidaVoice,aseverevoice,moreseverethanthedoctor’s.

‘Whatwasthematterwithhim?’saidaSecondVoice,avoicethatyoumighthavecalledgentle,thoughitwasnotsoft—itwasavoiceofauthority,andsoundedatoncehopefulandsad.‘WhatwasthematterwithNiggle?Hisheartwasintherightplace.’

‘Yes,butitdidnotfunctionproperly,’saidtheFirstVoice.‘Andhisheadwasnotscrewedontightenough:hehardlyeverthoughtatall.Lookatthetimehewasted,notevenamusinghimself!Henevergotreadyforhisjourney.Hewasmoderatelywell-off,andyethearrivedherealmostdestitute,andhadtobeputinthepaupers’wing.Abadcase,Iamafraid.Ithinkheshouldstaysometimeyet.’

‘Itwouldnotdohimanyharm,perhaps,’saidtheSecondVoice.‘But,ofcourse,heisonlyalittleman.Hewasnevermeanttobeanythingverymuch;andhewasneververystrong.LetuslookattheRecords.Yes.Therearesomefavourablepoints,youknow.’

‘Perhaps,’saidtheFirstVoice;‘butveryfewthatwillreallybearexamination.’

‘Well,’saidtheSecondVoice,‘therearethese.Hewasapainterbynature.Inaminorway,ofcourse;still,aLeafbyNigglehasacharmofitsown.Hetook

agreatdealofpainswithleaves,justfortheirownsake.Butheneverthoughtthatthatmadehimimportant.ThereisnonoteintheRecordsofhispretending,eventohimself,thatitexcusedhisneglectofthingsorderedbythelaw.’

‘Thenheshouldnothaveneglectedsomany,’saidtheFirstVoice.‘Allthesame,hedidansweragoodmanyCalls.’‘Asmallpercentage,mostlyoftheeasiersort,andhecalledthose

Interruptions.TheRecordsarefulloftheword,togetherwithalotofcomplaintsandsillyimprecations.’

‘True;buttheylookedlikeinterruptionstohim,ofcourse,poorlittleman.Andthereisthis:heneverexpectedanyReturn,assomanyofhissortcallit.ThereistheParishcase,theonethatcameinlater.HewasNiggle’sneighbour,neverdidastrokeforhim,andseldomshowedanygratitudeatall.ButthereisnonoteintheRecordsthatNiggleexpectedParish’sgratitude;hedoesnotseemtohavethoughtaboutit.’

‘Yes,thatisapoint,’saidtheFirstVoice;‘butrathersmall.IthinkyouwillfindNiggleoftenmerelyforgot.ThingshehadtodoforParishheputoutofhismindasanuisancehehaddonewith.’

‘Still,thereisthislastreport,’saidtheSecondVoice,‘thatwetbicycle-ride.Iratherlaystressonthat.Itseemsplainthatthiswasagenuinesacrifice:Niggleguessedthathewasthrowingawayhislastchancewithhispicture,andheguessed,too,thatParishwasworryingunnecessarily.’

‘Ithinkyouputittoostrongly,’saidtheFirstVoice.‘Butyouhavethelastword.Itisyourtask,ofcourse,toputthebestinterpretationonthefacts.Sometimestheywillbearit.Whatdoyoupropose?’

‘Ithinkitisacaseforalittlegentletreatmentnow,’saidtheSecondVoice.NigglethoughtthathehadneverheardanythingsogenerousasthatVoice.

ItmadeGentleTreatmentsoundlikealoadofrichgifts,andasummonstoaKing’sfeast.ThensuddenlyNigglefeltashamed.TohearthathewasconsideredacaseforGentleTreatmentoverwhelmedhim,andmadehimblushinthedark.Itwaslikebeingpubliclypraised,whenyouandalltheaudienceknewthatthepraisewasnotdeserved.Nigglehidhisblushesintheroughblanket.

Therewasasilence.ThentheFirstVoicespoketoNiggle,quiteclose.‘Youhavebeenlistening,’itsaid.

‘Yes,’saidNiggle.‘Well,whathaveyoutosay?’‘CouldyoutellmeaboutParish?’saidNiggle.‘Ishouldliketoseehim

again.Ihopeheisnotveryill?Canyoucurehisleg?Itusedtogivehima

wretchedtime.Andpleasedon’tworryabouthimandme.Hewasaverygoodneighbour,andletmehaveexcellentpotatoes,verycheap,whichsavedmealotoftime.’

‘Didhe?’saidtheFirstVoice.‘Iamgladtohearit.’Therewasanothersilence.NiggleheardtheVoicesreceding.‘Well,I

agree,’heheardtheFirstVoicesayinthedistance.‘Lethimgoontothenextstage.Tomorrow,ifyoulike.’

Nigglewokeuptofindthathisblindsweredrawn,andhislittlecellwasfullofsunshine.Hegotup,andfoundthatsomecomfortableclotheshadbeenputoutforhim,nothospitaluniform.Afterbreakfastthedoctortreatedhissorehands,puttingsomesalveonthemthathealedthematonce.HegaveNigglesomegoodadvice,andabottleoftonic(incaseheneededit).InthemiddleofthemorningtheygaveNiggleabiscuitandaglassofwine;andthentheygavehimaticket.

‘Youcangototherailwaystationnow,’saidthedoctor.‘ThePorterwilllookafteryou.Goodbye.’

Niggleslippedoutofthemaindoor,andblinkedalittle.Thesunwasverybright.Alsohehadexpectedtowalkoutintoalargetown,tomatchthesizeofthestation;buthedidnot.Hewasonthetopofahill,green,bare,sweptbyakeeninvigoratingwind.Nobodyelsewasabout.Awaydownunderthehillhecouldseetheroofofthestationshining.

Hewalkeddownhilltothestationbriskly,butwithouthurry.ThePorterspottedhimatonce.

‘Thisway!’hesaid,andledNiggletoabay,inwhichtherewasaverypleasantlittlelocaltrainstanding:onecoach,andasmallengine,bothverybright,clean,andnewlypainted.Itlookedasifthiswastheirfirstrun.Eventhetrackthatlayinfrontoftheenginelookednew:therailsshone,thechairswerepaintedgreen,andthesleepersgaveoffadelicioussmelloffreshtarinthewarmsunshine.Thecoachwasempty.

‘Wheredoesthistraingo,Porter?’askedNiggle.‘Idon’tthinktheyhavefixeditsnameyet,’saidthePorter.‘Butyou’llfind

itallright.’Heshutthedoor.Thetrainmovedoffatonce.Nigglelaybackinhisseat.Thelittleengine

puffedalonginadeepcuttingwithhighgreenbanks,roofedwithbluesky.Itdid

notseemverylongbeforetheenginegaveawhistle,thebrakeswereputon,andthetrainstopped.Therewasnostation,andnosignboard,onlyaflightofstepsupthegreenembankment.Atthetopofthestepstherewasawicket-gateinatrimhedge.Bythegatestoodhisbicycle;atleast,itlookedlikehis,andtherewasayellowlabeltiedtothebarswithNIGGLEwrittenonitinlargeblackletters.

Nigglepushedopenthegate,jumpedonthebicycle,andwentbowlingdownhillinthespringsunshine.Beforelonghefoundthatthepathonwhichhehadstartedhaddisappeared,andthebicyclewasrollingalongoveramarvellousturf.Itwasgreenandclose;andyethecouldseeeverybladedistinctly.Heseemedtorememberhavingseenordreamedofthatsweepofgrasssomewhereorother.Thecurvesofthelandwerefamiliarsomehow.Yes:thegroundwasbecominglevel,asitshould,andnow,ofcourse,itwasbeginningtoriseagain.Agreatgreenshadowcamebetweenhimandthesun.Nigglelookedup,andfelloffhisbicycle.

BeforehimstoodtheTree,hisTree,finished.IfyoucouldsaythatofaTreethatwasalive,itsleavesopening,itsbranchesgrowingandbendinginthewindthatNigglehadsooftenfeltorguesses,andhadsooftenfailedtocatch.HegazedattheTree,andslowlyheliftedhisarmsandopenedthemwide.

‘It’sagift!’hesaid.Hewasreferringtohisart,andalsototheresult;buthewasusingthewordquiteliterally.

HewentonlookingattheTree.Alltheleaveshehadeverlabouredatwerethere,ashehadimaginedthemratherthanashehadmadethem;andtherewereothersthathadonlybuddedinhismind,andmanythatmighthavebudded,ifonlyhehadhadtime.Nothingwaswrittenonthem,theywerejustexquisiteleaves,yettheyweredatedasclearasacalendar.Someofthemostbeautiful—andthemostcharacteristic,themostperfectexamplesoftheNigglestyle—wereseentohavebeenproducedincollaborationwithMrParish:therewasnootherwayofputtingit.

ThebirdswerebuildingintheTree.Astonishingbirds:howtheysang!Theyweremating,hatching,growingwings,andflyingawaysingingintotheForestevenwhilehelookedatthem.FornowhesawthattheForestwastheretoo,openingoutoneitherside,andmarchingawayintothedistance.TheMountainswereglimmeringfaraway.

AfteratimeNiggleturnedtowardstheForest.NotbecausehewastiredoftheTree,butheseemedtohavegotitallclearinhismindnow,andwasawareofit,andofitsgrowth,evenwhenhewasnotlookingatit.Ashewalkedaway,hediscoveredanoddthing:theForest,ofcourse,wasadistantForest,yethe

couldapproachit,evenenterit,withoutitslosingthatparticularcharm.Hehadneverbeforebeenabletowalkintothedistancewithoutturningitintomeresurroundings.Itreallyaddedaconsiderableattractiontowalkinginthecountry,because,asyouwalked,newdistancesopenedout;sothatyounowhaddouble,treble,andquadrupledistances,doubly,trebly,andquadruplyenchanting.Youcouldgoonandon,andhaveawholecountryinagarden,orinapicture(ifyoupreferredtocallitthat).Youcouldgoonandon,butnotperhapsforever.ThereweretheMountainsinthebackground.Theydidgetnearer,veryslowly.Theydidnotseemtobelongtothepicture,oronlyasalinktosomethingelse,aglimpsethroughthetreesofsomethingdifferent,afurtherstage:anotherpicture.

Nigglewalkedabout,buthewasnotmerelypottering.Hewaslookingroundcarefully.TheTreewasfinished,thoughnotfinishedwith—‘Justtheotherwayabouttowhatitusedtobe,’hethought—butintheForesttherewereanumberofinconclusiveregions,thatstillneededworkandthought.Nothingneededalteringanylonger,nothingwaswrong,asfarasithadgone,butitneededcontinuinguptoadefinitepoint.Nigglesawthepointprecisely,ineachcase.

Hesatdownunderaverybeautifuldistanttree—avariationoftheGreatTree,butquiteindividual,oritwouldbewithalittlemoreattention—andheconsideredwheretobeginwork,andwheretoendit,andhowmuchtimewasrequired.Hecouldnotquiteworkouthisscheme.

‘Ofcourse!’hesaid.‘WhatIneedisParish.Therearelotsofthingsaboutearth,plants,andtreesthatheknowsandIdon’t.Thisplacecannotbeleftjustasmyprivatepark.Ineedhelpandadvice:Ioughttohavegotitsooner.’

Hegotupandwalkedtotheplacewherehehaddecidedtobeginwork.Hetookoffhiscoat.Then,downinalittleshelteredhollowhiddenfromafurtherview,hesawamanlookingroundratherbewildered.Hewasleaningonaspade,butplainlydidnotknowwhattodo.Nigglehailedhim.‘Parish!’hecalled.

Parishshoulderedhisspadeandcameuptohim.Hestilllimpedalittle.Theydidnotspeak,justnoddedastheyusedtodo,passinginthelane,butnowtheywalkedabouttogether,arminarm.Withouttalking,NiggleandParishagreedexactlywheretomakethesmallhouseandgarden,whichseemedtoberequired.

Astheyworkedtogether,itbecameplainthatNigglewasnowthebetterofthetwoatorderinghistimeandgettingthingsdone.Oddlyenough,itwasNigglewhobecamemostabsorbedinbuildingandgardening,whileParishoftenwanderedaboutlookingattrees,andespeciallyattheTree.

OnedayNigglewasbusyplantingaquicksethedge,andParishwaslyingonthegrassnearby,lookingattentivelyatabeautifulandshapelylittleyellowflowergrowinginthegreenturf.NigglehadputalotofthemamongtherootsofhisTreelongago.Suddenlyparishlookedup:hisfacewasglisteninginthesun,andhewassmiling.

‘Thisisgrand!’hesaid.‘Ioughtn’ttobehere,really.Thankyouforputtinginawordforme.’

‘Nonsense,’saidNiggle.‘Idon’trememberwhatIsaid,butanywayitwasnotnearlyenough.’

‘Ohyes,itwas,’saidParish.‘Itgotmeoutalotsooner.ThatSecondVoice,youknow:hehadmesenthere;hesaidyouhadaskedtoseeme.Ioweittoyou.’

‘No.YouoweittotheSecondVoice,’saidNiggle.‘Webothdo.’Theywentonlivingandworkingtogether:Idonotknowhowlong.Itisno

usedenyingthatatfirsttheyoccasionallydisagreed,especiallywhentheygottired.Foratfirsttheydidsometimesgettired.Theyfoundthattheyhadbothbeenprovidedwithtonics.Eachbottlehadthesamelabel:AfewdropstobetakeninwaterfromtheSpring,beforeresting.

TheyfoundtheSpringintheheartoftheForest;onlyoncelongagohadNiggleimaginedit,buthehadneverdrawnit.Nowheperceivedthatitwasthesourceofthelakethatglimmered,farawayandthenourishmentofallthatgrewinthecountry.Thefewdropsmadethewaterastringent,ratherbitter,butinvigorating;anditclearedthehead.Afterdrinkingtheyrestedalone;andthentheygotupagainandthingswentonmerrily.AtsuchtimesNigglewouldthinkofwonderfulnewflowersandplants,andParishalwaysknewexactlyhowtosetthemandwheretheywoulddobest.Longbeforethetonicswerefinishedtheyhadceasedtoneedthem.Parishlosthislimp.

Astheirworkdrewtoanendtheyallowedthemselvesmoreandmoretimeforwalkingabout,lookingatthetrees,andtheflowers,andthelightsandshapes,andthelieoftheland.Sometimestheysangtogether;butNigglefoundthathewasnowbeginningtoturnhiseyes,moreandmoreoften,towardstheMountains.

Thetimecamewhenthehouseinthehollow,thegarden,thegrass,theforest,thelake,andallthecountrywasnearlycomplete,initsownproperfashion.TheGreatTreewasinfullblossom.

‘Weshallfinishthisevening,’saidParishoneday.‘Afterthatwewillgoforareallylongwalk.’

Theysetoutnextday,andtheywalkeduntiltheycamerightthroughthedistancestotheEdge.Itwasnotvisible,ofcourse:therewasnoline,orfence,orwall;buttheyknewthattheyhadcometothemarginofthatcountry.Theysawaman,helookedlikeashepherd;hewaswalkingtowardsthem,downthegrass-slopesthatledupintotheMountains.

‘Doyouwantaguide?’heasked.‘Doyouwanttogoon?’ForamomentashadowfellbetweenNiggleandParish,forNiggleknew

thathedidnowwanttogoon,and(inasense)oughttogoon;butParishdidnotwanttogoon,andwasnotyetreadytogo.

‘Imustwaitformywife,’saidParishtoNiggle.‘She’dbelonely.Irathergatheredthattheywouldsendherafterme,sometimeorother,whenshewasready,andwhenIhadgotthingsreadyforher.Thehouseisfinishednow,aswellaswecouldmakeit;butIshouldliketoshowittoher.She’llbeabletomakeitbetter,Iexpect:morehomely.Ihopeshe’lllikethiscountry,too.’Heturnedtotheshepherd.‘Areyouaguide?’heasked.‘Couldyoutellmethenameofthiscountry?’

‘Don’tyouknow?’saidtheman.‘ItisNiggle’sCountry.ItisNiggle’sPicture,ormostofit:alittleofitisnowParish’sGarden.’

‘Niggle’sPicture!’saidParishinastonishment.‘Didyouthinkofallthis,Niggle?Ineverknewyouweresoclever.Whydidn’tyoutellme?’

‘Hetriedtotellyoulongago,’saidtheman,‘butyouwouldnotlook.Hehadonlygotcanvasandpaintinthosedays,andyouwantedtomendyourroofwiththem.ThisiswhatyouandyourwifeusedtocallNiggle’sNonsense,orThatDaubing.’

‘Butitdidnotlooklikethisthen,notreal,’saidParish.‘No,itwasonlyaglimpsethen,’saidtheman;‘butyoumighthavecaught

theglimpse,ifyouhadeverthoughtitworthwhiletotry.’‘Ididnotgiveyoumuchchance,’saidNiggle.‘Inevertriedtoexplain.I

usedtocallyouOldEarthgrubber.Butwhatdoesitmatter?Wehavelivedandworkedtogethernow.Thingsmighthavebeendifferent,buttheycouldnothavebeenbetter.Allthesame,IamafraidIshallhavetobegoingon.Weshallmeetagain,Iexpect:theremustbemanymorethingswecandotogether.Goodbye!’HeshookParish’shandwarmly:agood,firm,honesthanditseemed.Heturnedandlookedbackforamoment.TheblossomontheGreatTreewasshininglikeflame.Allthebirdswereflyingintheairandsinging.ThenhesmiledandnoddedtoParishandwentoffwiththeshepherd.

Hewasgoingtolearnaboutsheep,andthehighpasturages,andlookata

widersky,andwalkeverfurtherandfurthertowardstheMountains,alwaysuphill.BeyondthatIcannotguesswhatbecameofhim.EvenlittleNiggleinhisoldhomecouldglimpsetheMountainsfaraway,andtheygotintothebordersofhispicture;butwhattheyarereallylike,andwhatliesbeyondthemonlythosecansaywhohaveclimbedthem.

‘Ithinkhewasasillylittleman,’saidCouncillorTompkins.‘Worthless,infact;nousetoSocietyatall.’

‘Oh,Idon’tknow,’saidAtkins,whowasnobodyofimportance,justaschoolmaster.‘Iamnotsosure;itdependsonwhatyoumeanbyuse.’

‘Nopracticaloreconomicuse,’saidTompkins.‘Idaresayhecouldhavebeenmadeintoaserviceablecogofsomesort,ifyouschoolmastersknewyourbusiness.Butyoudon’t,andsowegetuselesspeopleofhissort.IfIranthiscountryIshouldputhimandhisliketosomejobthatthey’refitfor,washingdishesinacommunalkitchenorsomething,andIshouldseethattheydiditproperly.OrIwouldputthemaway.Ishouldhaveputhimawaylongago.’

‘Puthimaway?Youmeanyou’dhavemadehimstartonthejourneybeforehistime?’

‘Yes,ifyoumustusethatmeaninglessoldexpression.PushhimthroughthetunnelintothegreatRubbishHeap:that’swhatImean.’

‘Thenyoudon’tthinkpaintingisworthanything,notworthpreserving,orimproving,orevenmakinguseof?’

‘Ofcourse,paintinghasuses,’saidTompkins.‘Butyoucouldn’tmakeuseofhispainting.Thereisplentyofscopeforboldyoungmennotafraidofnewideasandnewmethods.Noneforthisold-fashionedstuff.Privatedaydreaming.Hecouldnothavedesignedatellingpostertosavehislife.Alwaysfiddlingwithleavesandflowers.Iaskedhimwhy,once.Hesaidhethoughttheywerepretty!Canyoubelieveit?Hesaidpretty!“What,digestiveandgenitalorgansofplants?”Isaidtohim;andhehadnothingtoanswer.Sillyfootler.’

‘Footler,’sighedAtkins.‘Yes,poorlittleman,heneverfinishedanything.Ahwell,hiscanvaseshavebeenputto“betteruses”,sincehewent.ButIamnotsosure,Tompkins.Yourememberthatlargeone,theonetheyusedtopatchthedamagedhousenextdoortohis,afterthegalesandfloods?Ifoundacornerofittornoff,lyinginafield.Itwasdamaged,butlegible:amountain-peakandasprayofleaves.Ican’tgetitoutofmymind.’

‘Outofyourwhat?’saidTompkins.

‘Whoareyoutwotalkingabout?’saidPerkins,interveninginthecauseofpeace:Atkinshadflushedratherred.

‘Thename’snotworthrepeating,’saidTompkins.‘Idon’tknowwhywearetalkingabouthimatall.Hedidnotliveintown.’

‘No,’saidAtkins;‘butyouhadyoureyeonhishouse,allthesame.Thatiswhyyouusedtogoandcall,andsneerathimwhiledrinkinghistea.Well,you’vegothishousenow,aswellastheoneintown,soyouneednotgrudgehimhisname.WeweretalkingaboutNiggle,ifyouwanttoknow,Perkins.’

‘Oh,poorlittleNiggle!’saidPerkins.‘Neverknewhepainted.’ThatwasprobablythelasttimeNiggle’snameevercameupin

conversation.However,Atkinspreservedtheoddcorner.Mostofitcrumbled;butonebeautifulleafremainedintact.Atkinshaditframed.LaterheleftittotheTownMuseum,andforalongtimewhile‘Leaf:byNiggle’hungthereinarecess,andwasnoticedbyafeweyes.ButeventuallytheMuseumwasburntdown,andtheleaf,andNiggle,wereentirelyforgotteninhisoldcountry.

‘Itisprovingveryusefulindeed,’saidtheSecondVoice.‘Asaholiday,andarefreshment.Itissplendidforconvalescence;andnotonlyforthat,formanyitisthebestintroductiontotheMountains.Itworkswondersinsomecases.Iamsendingmoreandmorethere.Theyseldomhavetocomeback.’

‘No,thatisso,’saidtheFirstVoice.‘Ithinkweshallhavetogivetheregionaname.Whatdoyoupropose?’

‘ThePortersettledthatsometimeago,’saidtheSecondVoice.‘TrainforNiggle’sParishinthebay:hehasshoutedthatforalongwhilenow.Niggle’sParish.Isentamessagetobothofthemtotellthem.’

‘Whatdidtheysay?’‘Theybothlaughed.Laughed—theMountainsrangwithit!’

APPENDIX

ONFAIRY-STORIES

Iproposetospeakaboutfairy-stories,thoughIamawarethatthisisarashadventure.Faërieisaperilousland,andinitarepitfallsfortheunwaryanddungeonsfortheoverbold.AndoverboldImaybeaccounted,forthoughIhavebeenaloveroffairy-storiessinceIlearnedtoread,andhaveattimesthoughtaboutthem,Ihavenotstudiedthemprofessionally.Ihavebeenhardlymorethanawanderingexplorer(ortrespasser)intheland,fullofwonderbutnotofinformation.

Therealmoffairy-storyiswideanddeepandhighandfilledwithmanythings:allmannerofbeastsandbirdsarefoundthere;shorelessseasandstarsuncounted;beautythatisanenchantment,andanever-presentperil;bothjoyandsorrowassharpasswords.Inthatrealmamanmay,perhaps,counthimselffortunatetohavewandered,butitsveryrichnessandstrangenesstiethetongueofatravellerwhowouldreportthem.Andwhileheisthereitisdangerousforhimtoasktoomanyquestions,lestthegatesshouldbeshutandthekeysbelost.

Thereare,however,somequestionsthatonewhoistospeakaboutfairy-storiesmustexpecttoanswer,orattempttoanswer,whateverthefolkofFaëriemaythinkofhisimpertinence.Forinstance:Whatarefairy-stories?Whatistheirorigin?Whatistheuseofthem?Iwilltrytogiveanswerstothesequestions,orsuchhintsofanswerstothemasIhavegleaned—primarilyfromthestoriesthemselves,thefewofalltheirmultitudethatIknow.

FAIRY-STORY

Whatisafairy-story?InthiscaseyouwillturntotheOxfordEnglishDictionaryinvain.Itcontainsnoreferencetothecombinationfairy-story,andisunhelpfulonthesubjectoffairiesgenerally.IntheSupplement,fairytaleisrecordedsincetheyear1750,anditsleadingsenseissaidtobe(a)ataleaboutfairies,orgenerallyafairylegend;withdevelopedsenses,(b)anunrealorincrediblestory,and(c)afalsehood.

Thelasttwosenseswouldobviouslymakemytopichopelesslyvast.Butthefirstsenseistoonarrow.Nottoonarrowforanessay;itiswideenoughformanybooks,buttoonarrowtocoveractualusage.Especiallyso,ifweacceptthelexicographer’sdefinitionoffairies:‘supernaturalbeingsofdiminutivesize,inpopularbeliefsupposedtopossessmagicalpowersandtohavegreatinfluenceforgoodorevilovertheaffairsofman’.

Supernaturalisadangerousanddifficultwordinanyofitssenses,looserorstricter.Buttofairiesitcanhardlybeapplied,unlesssuperistakenmerelyasasuperlativeprefix.Foritismanwhois,incontrasttofairies,supernatural(andoftenofdiminutivestature);whereastheyarenatural,farmorenaturalthanhe.Suchistheirdoom.TheroadtofairylandisnottheroadtoHeaven;noreventoHell,Ibelieve,thoughsomehaveheldthatitmayleadthitherindirectlybytheDevil’stithe.

OseeyenotyonnarrowroadSothickbesetwi’thornsandbriers?ThatisthepathofRighteousness,Thoughafteritbutfewinquires.

Andseeyenotyonbraid,braidroadThatliesacrossthelilyleven?ThatisthepathofWickedness,ThoughsomecallittheRoadtoHeaven.

AndseeyenotyonbonnyroadThatwindsaboutyonferniebrae?ThatistheroadtofairElfland,WherethouandIthisnightmaungae.

Asfordiminutivesize:Idonotdenythatthenotionisaleadingoneinmodernuse.Ihaveoftenthoughtthatitwouldbeinterestingtotrytofindouthowthathascometobeso;butmyknowledgeisnotsufficientforacertainanswer.OfoldtherewereindeedsomeinhabitantsofFaëriethatweresmall(thoughhardlydiminutive),butsmallnesswasnotcharacteristicofthatpeopleasawhole.Thediminutivebeing,elforfairy,is(Iguess)inEnglandlargelyasophisticatedproductofliteraryfancy.1ItisperhapsnotunnaturalthatinEngland,thelandwheretheloveofthedelicateandfinehasoftenreappearedinart,fancyshouldinthismatterturntowardsthedaintyanddiminutive,asinFranceitwenttocourtandputonpowderanddiamonds.YetIsuspectthatthisflower-and-butterflyminutenesswasalsoaproductof‘rationalisation’,whichtransformedtheglamourofElflandintomerefinesse,andinvisibilityintoafragilitythatcouldhideinacowsliporshrinkbehindabladeofgrass.Itseemstobecomefashionablesoonafterthegreatvoyageshadbeguntomaketheworldseemtoonarrowtoholdbothmenandelves;whenthemagiclandofHyBreasailintheWesthadbecomethemereBrazils,thelandofred-dye-wood.2InanycaseitwaslargelyaliterarybusinessinwhichWilliamShakespeareandMichaelDraytonplayedapart.1Drayton’sNymphidiaisoneancestorofthatlonglineofflower-fairiesandflutteringspriteswithantennaethatIsodislikedasachild,andwhichmychildrenintheirturndetested.AndrewLanghadsimilarfeelings.IntheprefacetotheLilacFairyBookhereferstothetalesoftiresomecontemporaryauthors:‘theyalwaysbeginwithalittleboyorgirlwhogoesoutandmeetsthefairiesofpolyanthusesandgardeniasandappleblossom…Thesefairiestrytobefunnyandfail;ortheytrytopreachandsucceed.’

Butthebusinessbegan,asIhavesaid,longbeforethenineteenthcentury,andlongagoachievedtiresomeness,certainlythetiresomenessoftryingtobefunnyandfailing.Drayton’sNymphidiais,consideredasafairystory(astoryaboutfairies),oneoftheworsteverwritten.ThepalaceofOberonhaswallsofspider’slegs,

Andwindowsoftheeyesofcats,Andfortheroof,insteadofslats,Iscoveredwiththewingsofbats.

TheknightPigwiggenridesonafriskyearwig,andsendshislove,QueenMab,abraceletofemmets’eyes,makinganassignationinacowslip-flower.Butthetalethatistoldamidallthisprettinessisadullstoryofintrigueandslygo-betweens;thegallantknightandangryhusbandfallintothemire,andtheirwrathisstilledbyadraughtofthewatersofLethe.ItwouldhavebeenbetterifLethehadswallowedthewholeaffair.Oberon,Mab,andPigwiggenmaybediminutiveelvesorfairies,asArthur,Guinevere,andLancelotarenot;butthegoodandevilstoryofArthur’scourtisa‘fairy-story’ratherthanthistaleofOberon.

Fairy,asanounmoreorlessequivalenttoelf,isarelativelymodernword,hardlyuseduntiltheTudorperiod.ThefirstquotationintheOxfordDictionary(theonlyonebeforeA.D.1450)issignificant.ItistakenfromthepoetGower:ashewereafaierie.ButthisGowerdidnotsay.Hewroteashewereoffaierie,‘asifhewerecomefromFaërie’.Gowerwasdescribingayounggallantwhoseekstobewitchtheheartsofthemaidensinchurch.

HiscroketkembdandthereonsetANouchewithachapelet,OrellesoneofgrenelevesWhichlatecomoutofthegreves,Alforhesholdesemefreissh;Andthushelokethonthefleissh,RihtasanhaukwhichhathasihteUponthefoultherheschallihte,AndashewereoffaierieHeschewethhimtoforehereyhe.1

Thisisayoungmanofmortalbloodandbone;buthegivesamuchbetterpictureoftheinhabitantsofElflandthanthedefinitionofa‘fairy’underwhichheis,byadoubleerror,placed.ForthetroublewiththerealfolkofFaërieisthattheydonotalwayslooklikewhattheyare;andtheyputontheprideandbeautythatwewouldfainwearourselves.Atleastpartofthemagicthattheywieldforthegoodorevilofmanispowertoplayonthedesiresofhisbodyandhisheart.TheQueenofElfland,whocarriedoffThomastheRhymeruponhermilk-white

steedswifterthanthewind,cameridingbytheEildonTreeasalady,ifoneofenchantingbeauty.SothatSpenserwasinthetruetraditionwhenhecalledtheknightsofhisFaëriebythenameofElfe.ItbelongedtosuchknightsasSirGuyonratherthantoPigwiggenarmedwithahornet’ssting.

Now,thoughIhaveonlytouched(whollyinadequately)onelvesandfairies,Imustturnback;forIhavedigressedfrommypropertheme:fairy-stories.Isaidthesense‘storiesaboutfairies’wastoonarrow.1Itistoonarrow,evenifwerejectthediminutivesize,forfairystoriesarenotinnormalEnglishusagestoriesaboutfairiesorelves,butstoriesaboutFairy,thatisFaërie,therealmorstateinwhichfairieshavetheirbeing.Faëriecontainsmanythingsbesideselvesandfays,andbesidesdwarfs,witches,trolls,giants,ordragons:itholdstheseas,thesun,themoon,thesky;andtheearth,andallthingsthatareinit:treeandbird,waterandstone,wineandbread,andourselves,mortalmen,whenweareenchanted.

Storiesthatareactuallyconcernedprimarilywith‘fairies’,thatiswithcreaturesthatmightalsoinmodernEnglishbecalled‘elves’,arerelativelyrare,andasarulenotveryinteresting.Mostgood‘fairy-stories’areabouttheaventuresofmeninthePerilousRealmoruponitsshadowymarches.Naturallyso;forifelvesaretrue,andreallyexistindependentlyofourtalesaboutthem,thenthisalsoiscertainlytrue:elvesarenotprimarilyconcernedwithus,norwewiththem.Ourfatesaresundered,andourpathsseldommeet.EvenuponthebordersofFaërieweencounterthemonlyatsomechancecrossingoftheways.1

Thedefinitionofafairy-story—whatitis,orwhatitshouldbe—doesnot,then,dependonanydefinitionorhistoricalaccountofelforfairy,butuponthenatureofFaërie:thePerilousRealmitself,andtheairthatblowsinthatcountry.Iwillnotattempttodefinethat,nortodescribeitdirectly.Itcannotbedone.Faëriecannotbecaughtinanetofwords;foritisoneofitsqualitiestobeindescribable,thoughnotimperceptible.Ithasmanyingredients,butanalysiswillnotnecessarilydiscoverthesecretofthewhole.YetIhopethatwhatIhavelatertosayabouttheotherquestionswillgivesomeglimpsesofmyownimperfectvisionofit.ForthemomentIwillsayonlythis:a‘fairy-story’isonewhichtouchesonorusesFaërie,whateveritsownmainpurposemaybe:satire,adventure,morality,fantasy.FaërieitselfmayperhapsmostnearlybetranslatedbyMagic1—butitismagicofapeculiarmoodandpower,atthefurthestpolefromthevulgardevicesofthelaborious,scientific,magician.Thereisoneproviso:ifthereisanysatirepresentinthetale,onethingmustnotbemadefunof,themagicitself.Thatmustinthatstorybetakenseriously,neitherlaughedat

norexplainedaway.OfthisseriousnessthemedievalSirGawainandtheGreenKnightisanadmirableexample.

Butevenifweapplyonlythesevagueandill-definedlimits,itbecomesplainthatmany,eventhelearnedinsuchmatters,haveusedtheterm‘fairy-tale’verycarelessly.Aglanceatthosebooksofrecenttimesthatclaimtobecollectionsof‘fairy-stories’isenoughtoshowthattalesaboutfairies,aboutthefairfamilyinanyofitshouses,orevenaboutdwarfsandgoblins,areonlyasmallpartoftheircontent.That,aswehaveseen,wastobeexpected.Butthesebooksalsocontainmanytalesthatdonotuse,donoteventouchupon,Faërieatall;thathaveinfactnobusinesstobeincluded.

IwillgiveoneortwoexamplesoftheexpurgationsIwouldperform.Thiswillassistthenegativesideofdefinition.Itwillalsobefoundtoleadontothesecondquestion:whataretheoriginsoffairy-stories?

Thenumberofcollectionsoffairy-storiesisnowverygreat.InEnglishnoneprobablyrivaleitherthepopularity,ortheinclusiveness,orthegeneralmeritsofthetwelvebooksoftwelvecolourswhichweowetoAndrewLangandtohiswife.Thefirstoftheseappearedmorethanfiftyyearsago(1889),andisstillinprint.Mostofitscontentspassthetest,moreorlessclearly.Iwillnotanalysethem,thoughananalysismightbeinteresting,butInoteinpassingthatofthestoriesinthisBlueFairyBooknoneareprimarilyabout‘fairies’,fewrefertothem.MostofthetalesaretakenfromFrenchsources:ajustchoiceinsomewaysatthattime,asperhapsitwouldbestill(thoughnottomytaste,noworinchildhood).Atanyrate,sopowerfulhasbeentheinfluenceofCharlesPerrault,sincehisContesdemaMèrel’OyewerefirstEnglishedintheeighteenthcentury,andofsuchotherexcerptsfromthevaststorehouseoftheCabinetdesFéesashavebecomewellknown,thatstill,Isuppose,ifyouaskedamantonameatrandomatypical‘fairy-story’,hewouldbemostlikelytonameoneoftheseFrenchthings:suchasPuss-in-Boots,Cinderella,orLittleRedRidingHood.WithsomepeopleGrimm’sFairyTalesmightcomefirsttomind.

ButwhatistobesaidoftheappearanceintheBlueFairyBookofAVoyagetoLilliput?Iwillsaythis:itisnotafairy-story,neitherasitsauthormadeit,norasithereappears‘condensed’byMissMayKendall.Ithasnobusinessinthisplace.IfearthatitwasincludedmerelybecauseLilliputiansaresmall,evendiminutive—theonlywayinwhichtheyareatallremarkable.ButsmallnessisinFaërie,asinourworld,onlyanaccident.PygmiesarenonearertofairiesthanarePatagonians.Idonotrulethisstoryoutbecauseofitssatiricalintent:thereissatire,sustainedorintermittent,inundoubtedfairy-stories,andsatiremayoften

havebeenintendedintraditionaltaleswherewedonotnowperceiveit.Iruleitout,becausethevehicleofthesatire,brilliantinventionthoughitmaybe,belongstotheclassoftravellers’tales.Suchtalesreportmanymarvels,buttheyaremarvelstobeseeninthismortalworldinsomeregionofourowntimeandspace;distancealoneconcealsthem.ThetalesofGulliverhavenomorerightofentrythantheyarnsofBaronMunchausen;orthan,say,TheFirstMenintheMoonorTheTime-Machine.Indeed,fortheEloiandtheMorlockstherewouldbeabetterclaimthanfortheLilliputians.Lilliputiansaremerelymenpeereddownat,sardonically,fromjustabovethehouse-tops.EloiandMorlockslivefarawayinanabyssoftimesodeepastoworkanenchantmentuponthem;andiftheyaredescendedfromourselves,itmayberememberedthatanancientEnglishthinkeroncederivedtheylfe,theveryelves,throughCainfromAdam.1Thisenchantmentofdistance,especiallyofdistanttime,isweakenedonlybythepreposterousandincredibleTimeMachineitself.Butweseeinthisexampleoneofthemainreasonswhythebordersoffairy-storyareinevitablydubious.ThemagicofFaërieisnotanendinitself,itsvirtueisinitsoperations:amongthesearethesatisfactionofcertainprimordialhumandesires.Oneofthesedesiresistosurveythedepthsofspaceandtime.Anotheris(aswillbeseen)toholdcommunionwithotherlivingthings.Astorymaythusdealwiththesatisfactionofthesedesires,withorwithouttheoperationofeithermachineormagic,andinproportionasitsucceedsitwillapproachthequalityandhavetheflavouroffairystory.

Next,aftertravellers’tales,Iwouldalsoexclude,orruleoutoforder,anystorythatusesthemachineryofDream,thedreamingofactualhumansleep,toexplaintheapparentoccurrenceofitsmarvels.Attheleast,evenifthereporteddreamwasinotherrespectsinitselfafairy-story,Iwouldcondemnthewholeasgravelydefective:likeagoodpictureinadisfiguringframe.ItistruethatDreamisnotunconnectedwithFaërie.Indreamsstrangepowersofthemindmaybeunlocked.InsomeofthemamanmayforaspacewieldthepowerofFaërie,thatpowerwhich,evenasitconceivesthestory,causesittotakelivingformandcolourbeforetheeyes.Arealdreammayindeedsometimesbeafairy-storyofalmostelvisheaseandskill—whileitisbeingdreamed.Butifawakingwritertellsyouthathistaleisonlyathingimaginedinhissleep,hecheatsdeliberatelytheprimaldesireattheheartofFaërie:therealization,independentoftheconceivingmind,ofimaginedwonder.Itisoftenreportedoffairies(trulyorlyingly,Idonotknow)thattheyareworkersofillusion,thattheyarecheatersofmenby‘fantasy’;butthatisquiteanothermatter.Thatistheiraffair.Such

trickerieshappen,atanyrate,insidetalesinwhichthefairiesarenotthemselvesillusions;behindthefantasyrealwillsandpowersexist,independentofthemindsandpurposesofmen.

Itisatanyrateessentialtoagenuinefairy-story,asdistinctfromtheemploymentofthisformforlesserordebasedpurposes,thatitshouldbepresentedas‘true’.Themeaningof‘true’inthisconnectionIwillconsiderinamoment.Butsincethefairy-storydealswith‘marvels’,itcannottolerateanyframeormachinerysuggestingthatthewholestoryinwhichtheyoccurisafigmentorillusion.Thetaleitselfmay,ofcourse,besogoodthatonecanignoretheframe.Oritmaybesuccessfulandamusingasadream-story.SoareLewisCarroll’sAlicestories,withtheirdream-frameanddream-transitions.Forthis(andotherreasons)theyarenotfairy-stories.1

ThereisanothertypeofmarvelloustalethatIwouldexcludefromthetitle‘fairy-story’,againcertainlynotbecauseIdonotlikeit:namelypure‘Beast-fable’.IwillchooseanexamplefromLang’sFairyBooks:TheMonkey’sHeart,aSwahilitalewhichisgivenintheLilacFairyBook.Inthisstoryawickedsharktrickedamonkeyintoridingonhisback,andcarriedhimhalfwaytohisownland,beforeherevealedthefactthatthesultanofthatcountrywassickandneededamonkey’shearttocurehisdisease.Butthemonkeyoutwittedtheshark,andinducedhimtoreturnbyconvincinghimthatthehearthadbeenleftbehindathome,hanginginabagonatree.

Thebeast-fablehas,ofcourse,aconnectionwithfairystories.Beastsandbirdsandothercreaturesoftentalklikemeninrealfairy-stories.Insomepart(oftensmall)thismarvelderivesfromoneoftheprimal‘desires’thatlieneartheheartofFaërie:thedesireofmentoholdcommunionwithotherlivingthings.Butthespeechofbeastsinthebeast-fable,asdevelopedintoaseparatebranch,haslittlereferencetothatdesire,andoftenwhollyforgetsit.Themagicalunderstandingbymenoftheproperlanguagesofbirdsandbeastsandtrees,thatismuchnearertothetruepurposesofFaërie.Butinstoriesinwhichnohumanbeingisconcerned;orinwhichtheanimalsaretheheroesandheroines,andmenandwomen,iftheyappear,aremereadjuncts;andaboveallthoseinwhichtheanimalformisonlyamaskuponahumanface,adeviceofthesatiristorthepreacher,inthesewehavebeast-fableandnotfairy-story:whetheritbeReynardtheFox,orTheNun’sPriest’sTale,orBrerRabbit,ormerelyTheThreeLittlePigs.ThestoriesofBeatrixPotterlienearthebordersofFaërie,butoutsideit,Ithink,forthemostpart.1Theirnearnessisduelargelytotheirstrongmoralelement:bywhichImeantheirinherentmorality,notanyallegoricalsignificatio.

ButPeterRabbit,thoughitcontainsaprohibition,andthoughthereareprohibitionsinfairyland(as,probably,therearethroughouttheuniverseoneveryplaneandineverydimension),remainsabeast-fable.

NowTheMonkey’sHeartisalsoplainlyonlyabeastfable.Isuspectthatitsinclusionina‘FairyBook’isduenotprimarilytoitsentertainingquality,butpreciselytothemonkey’sheartsupposedtohavebeenleftbehindinabag.ThatwassignificanttoLang,thestudentoffolklore,eventhoughthiscuriousideaishereusedonlyasajoke;for,inthistale,themonkey’sheartwasinfactquitenormalandinhisbreast.Nonethelessthisdetailisplainlyonlyasecondaryuseofanancientandverywidespreadfolk-lorenotion,whichdoesoccurinfairystories;2thenotionthatthelifeorstrengthofamanorcreaturemayresideinsomeotherplaceorthing;orinsomepartofthebody(especiallytheheart)thatcanbedetachedandhiddeninabag,orunderastone,orinanegg.Atoneendofrecordedfolk-lorehistorythisideawasusedbyGeorgeMacDonaldinhisfairy-storyTheGiant’sHeart,whichderivesthiscentralmotive(aswellasmanyotherdetails)fromwell-knowntraditionaltales.Attheotherend,indeedinwhatisprobablyoneoftheoldeststoriesinwriting,itoccursinTheTaleoftheTwoBrothersontheEgyptianD’Orsignypapyrus.Theretheyoungerbrothersaystotheelder:

‘Ishallenchantmyheart,andIshallplaceituponthetopoftheflowerofthecedar.Nowthecedarwillbecutdownandmyheartwillfalltotheground,andthoushaltcometoseekforit,eventhoughthoupasssevenyearsinseekingit;butwhenthouhasfoundit,putitintoavaseofcoldwater,andinverytruthIshalllive.’1

Butthatpointofinterestandsuchcomparisonsasthesebringustothebrinkofthesecondquestion:Whataretheoriginsof‘fairy-stories’?Thatmust,ofcourse,mean:theoriginororiginsofthefairyelements.Toaskwhatistheoriginofstories(howeverqualified)istoaskwhatistheoriginoflanguageandofthemind.

1Iamspeakingofdevelopmentsbeforethegrowthofinterestinthefolk-loreofothercountries.TheEnglishwords,suchaself,havelongbeeninfluencedbyFrench(fromwhichfayandfaërie,fairyare

derived);butinlatertimes,throughtheiruseintranslation,bothfairyandelfhaveacquiredmuchoftheatmosphereofGerman,Scandinavian,andCeltictales,andmanycharacteristicsofthehuldu-fólk,thedaoine-sithe,andthetylwythteg.

2FortheprobabilitythattheIrishHyBreasailplayedapartinthenamingofBrazilseeNansen,InNorthernMists,ii,223-30.

1TheirinfluencewasnotconfinedtoEngland.GermanElf,ElfeappearstobederivedfromAMidsummer-night’sDream,inWieland’stranslation(1764).

1ConfessioAmantis,v.7065ff.

1ExceptinspecialcasessuchascollectionsofWelshorGaelictales.Inthesethestoriesaboutthe‘FairFamily’ortheShee-folkaresometimesdistinguishedas‘fairy-tales’from‘folk-tales’concerningothermarvels.Inthisuse‘fairytales’or‘fairy-lore’areusuallyshortaccountsoftheappearancesof‘fairies’ortheirintrusionsupontheaffairsofmen.Butthisdistinctionisaproductoftranslation.

1Thisistruealso,eveniftheyareonlycreationsofMan’smind,‘true’onlyasreflectinginaparticularwayoneofMan’svisionsofTruth.

1Seefurtherbelow,p.368.

1Beowulf,111-12.

1SeeNoteAattheend(p.389).

1TheTailorofGloucesterperhapscomesnearest.Mrs.Tiggywinklewouldbeasnear,butforthehinteddream-explanation.IwouldalsoincludeTheWindintheWillowsinBeast-fable.

2Suchas,forinstance:TheGiantthathadnoHeartinDasent’sPopularTalesfromtheNorse;orTheSea-MaideninCampbell’sPopularTalesoftheWestHighlands(no.iv,cf.alsono.i);ormoreremotelyDieKristallkugelinGrimm.

1Budge,EgyptianReadingBook,p.xxi

ORIGINS

Actuallythequestion:Whatistheoriginofthefairyelement?landsusultimatelyinthesamefundamentalinquiry;buttherearemanyelementsinfairy-stories(suchasthisdetachableheart,orswan-robes,magicrings,arbitraryprohibitions,wickedstep-mothers,andevenfairiesthemselves)thatsuchcanbestudiedwithouttacklingthismainquestion.Suchstudiesare,however,scientific(atleastinintent);theyarethepursuitoffolkloristsoranthropologists:thatisofpeopleusingthestoriesnotastheyweremeanttobeused,butasaquarryfromwhichtodigevidence,orinformation,aboutmattersinwhichtheyareinterested.Aperfectlylegitimateprocedureinitself—butignoranceorforgetfulnessofthenatureofastory(asathingtoldinitsentirety)hasoftenledsuchinquirersintostrangejudgements.Toinvestigatorsofthissortrecurringsimilarities(suchasthismatteroftheheart)seemspeciallyimportant.Somuchsothatstudentsoffolk-loreareapttogetofftheirownpropertrack,ortoexpressthemselvesinamisleading‘shorthand’:misleadinginparticular,ifitgetsoutoftheirmonographsintobooksaboutliterature.Theyareinclinedtosaythatanytwostoriesthatarebuiltroundthesamefolk-loremotive,oraremadeupofagenerallysimilarcombinationofsuchmotives,are‘thesamestories’.WereadthatBeowulf‘isonlyaversionofDatErdmänneken’;that‘TheBlackBullofNorrowayisBeautyandtheBeast’,or‘isthesamestoryasErosandPsyche’;thattheNorseMastermaid(ortheGaelicBattleoftheBirds1anditsmanycongenersandvariants)is‘thesamestoryastheGreektaleofJasonandMedea’.

Statementsofthatkindmayexpress(inundueabbreviation)someelementoftruth;buttheyarenottrueinafairy-storysense,theyarenottrueinartorliterature.Itispreciselythecolouring,theatmosphere,theunclassifiableindividualdetailsofastory,andaboveallthegeneralpurportthatinformswithlifetheundissectedbonesoftheplot,thatreallycount.Shakespeare’sKingLearisnotthesameasLayamon’sstoryinhisBrut.OrtotaketheextremecaseofRedRidingHood:itisofmerelysecondaryinterestthatthere-toldversionsofthisstory,inwhichthelittlegirlissavedbywood-cutters,isdirectlyderivedfromPerrault’sstoryinwhichshewaseatenbythewolf.Thereallyimportantthingisthatthelaterversionhasahappyending(moreorless,andifwedonot

mournthegrandmotherovermuch),andthatPerrault’sversionhadnot.Andthatisaveryprofounddifference,towhichIshallreturn.

Ofcourse,Idonotdeny,forIfeelstrongly,thefascinationofthedesiretounraveltheintricatelyknottedandramifiedhistoryofthebranchesontheTreeofTales.Itiscloselyconnectedwiththephilologists’studyofthetangledskeinofLanguage,ofwhichIknowsomesmallpieces.Butevenwithregardtolanguageitseemstomethattheessentialqualityandaptitudesofagivenlanguageinalivingmomentisbothmoreimportanttoseizeandfarmoredifficulttomakeexplicitthanitslinearhistory.Sowithregardtofairy-stories,Ifeelthatitismoreinteresting,andalsoinitswaymoredifficult,toconsiderwhattheyare,whattheyhavebecomeforus,andwhatvaluesthelongalchemicprocessesoftimehaveproducedinthem.InDasent’swordsIwouldsay:‘Wemustbesatisfiedwiththesoupthatissetbeforeus,andnotdesiretoseethebonesoftheoxoutofwhichithasbeenboiled.’1Though,oddlyenough,Dasentby‘thesoup’meantamishmashofboguspre-historyfoundedontheearlysurmisesofComparativePhilology;andby‘desiretoseethebones’hemeantademandtoseetheworkingsandtheproofsthatledtothesetheories.By‘thesoup’Imeanthestoryasitisservedupbyitsauthororteller,andby‘thebones’itssourcesormaterial—evenwhen(byrareluck)thosecanbewithcertaintydiscovered.ButIdonot,ofcourse,forbidcriticismofthesoupassoup.

Ishallthereforepasslightlyoverthequestionoforigins.Iamtoounlearnedtodealwithitinanyotherway;butitistheleastimportantofthethreequestionsformypurpose,andafewremarkswillsuffice.Itisplainenoughthatfairy-stories(inwiderorinnarrowersense)areveryancientindeed.Relatedthingsappearinveryearlyrecords;andtheyarefounduniversally,whereverthereislanguage.Wearethereforeobviouslyconfrontedwithavariantoftheproblemthatthearchaeologistencounters,orthecomparativephilologist:withthedebatebetweenindependentevolution(orratherinvention)ofthesimilar;inheritancefromacommonancestry;anddiffusionatvarioustimesfromoneormorecentres.Mostdebatesdependonanattempt(byoneorbothsides)atover-simplification;andIdonotsupposethatthisdebateisanexception.Thehistoryoffairy-storiesisprobablymorecomplexthanthephysicalhistoryofthehumanrace,andascomplexasthehistoryofhumanlanguage.Allthreethings:independentinvention,inheritance,anddiffusion,haveevidentlyplayedtheirpartinproducingtheintricatewebofStory.Itisnowbeyondallskillbutthatoftheelvestounravelit.1Ofthesethreeinventionisthemostimportantandfundamental,andso(notsurprisingly)alsothemostmysterious.Toaninventor,

thatistoastorymaker,theothertwomustintheendleadback.Diffusion(borrowinginspace)whetherofanartefactorastory,onlyreferstheproblemoforiginelsewhere.Atthecentreofthesupposeddiffusionthereisaplacewhereonceaninventorlived.Similarlywithinheritance(borrowingintime):inthiswaywearriveatlastonlyatanancestralinventor.Whileifwebelievethatsometimesthereoccurredtheindependentstrikingoutofsimilarideasandthemesordevices,wesimplymultiplytheancestralinventorbutdonotinthatwaythemoreclearlyunderstandhisgift.

Philologyhasbeendethronedfromthehighplaceitoncehadinthiscourtofinquiry.MaxMüller’sviewofmythologyasa‘diseaseoflanguage’canbeabandonedwithoutregret.Mythologyisnotadiseaseatall,thoughitmaylikeallhumanthingsbecomediseased.Youmightaswellsaythatthinkingisadiseaseofthemind.Itwouldbemorenearthetruthtosaythatlanguages,especiallymodernEuropeanlanguages,areadiseaseofmythology.ButLanguagecannot,allthesame,bedismissed.Theincarnatemind,thetongue,andthetaleareinourworldcoeval.Thehumanmind,endowedwiththepowersofgeneralisationandabstraction,seesnotonlygreen-grass,discriminatingitfromotherthings(andfindingitfairtolookupon),butseesthatitisgreenaswellasbeinggrass.Buthowpowerful,howstimulatingtotheveryfacultythatproducedit,wastheinventionoftheadjective:nospellorincantationinFaërieismorepotent.Andthatisnotsurprising:suchincantationsmightindeedbesaidtobeonlyanotherviewofadjectives,apartofspeechinamythicalgrammar.Themindthatthoughtoflight,heavy,grey,yellow,still,swift,alsoconceivedofmagicthatwouldmakeheavythingslightandabletofly,turngreyleadintoyellowgold,andthestillrockintoaswiftwater.Ifitcoulddotheone,itcoulddotheother;itinevitablydidboth.Whenwecantakegreenfromgrass,bluefromheaven,andredfromblood,wehavealreadyanenchanter’spower—upononeplane;andthedesiretowieldthatpowerintheworldexternaltoourmindsawakes.Itdoesnotfollowthatweshallusethatpowerwelluponanyplane.Wemayputadeadlygreenuponaman’sfaceandproduceahorror;wemaymaketherareandterriblebluemoontoshine;orwemaycausewoodstospringwithsilverleavesandramstowearfleecesofgold,andputhotfireintothebellyofthecoldworm.Butinsuch‘fantasy’,asitiscalled,newformismade;Faëriebegins;Manbecomesasub-creator.

AnessentialpowerofFaërieisthusthepowerofmakingimmediatelyeffectivebythewillthevisionsof‘fantasy’.Notallarebeautifulorevenwholesome,notatanyratethefantasiesoffallenMan.Andhehasstainedthe

elveswhohavethispower(inverityorfable)withhisownstain.Thisaspectof‘mythology’—sub-creation,ratherthaneitherrepresentationorsymbolicinterpretationofthebeautiesandterrorsoftheworld—is,Ithink,toolittleconsidered.IsthatbecauseitisseenratherinFaëriethanuponOlympus?Becauseitisthoughttobelongtothe‘lowermythology’ratherthantothe‘higher’?Therehasbeenmuchdebateconcerningtherelationsofthesethings,offolk-taleandmyth;but,eveniftherehadbeennodebate,thequestionwouldrequiresomenoticeinanyconsiderationoforigins,howeverbrief.

Atonetimeitwasadominantviewthatallsuchmatterwasderivedfrom‘nature-myths’.TheOlympianswerepersonificationsofthesun,ofdawn,ofnight,andsoon,andallthestoriestoldaboutthemwereoriginallymyths(allegorieswouldhavebeenabetterword)ofthegreaterelementalchangesandprocessesofnature.Epic,heroiclegend,saga,thenlocalisedthesestoriesinrealplacesandhumanisedthembyattributingthemtoancestralheroes,mightierthanmenandyetalreadymen.Andfinallytheselegends,dwindlingdown,becamefolk-tales,Märchen,fairy-stories—nursery-tales.

Thatwouldseemtobethetruthalmostupsidedown.Thenearertheso-called‘naturemyth’,orallegoryofthelargeprocessesofnature,istoitssupposedarchetype,thelessinterestingitis,andindeedthelessisitofamythcapableofthrowinganyilluminationwhateverontheworld.Letusassumeforthemoment,asthistheoryassumes,thatnothingactuallyexistscorrespondingtothe‘gods’ofmythology:nopersonalities,onlyastronomicalormeteorologicalobjects.Thenthesenaturalobjectscanonlybearrayedwithapersonalsignificanceandglorybyagift,thegiftofaperson,ofaman.Personalitycanonlybederivedfromaperson.Thegodsmayderivetheircolourandbeautyfromthehighsplendoursofnature,butitwasManwhoobtainedtheseforthem,abstractedthemfromsunandmoonandcloud;theirpersonalitytheygetdirectfromhim;theshadoworflickerofdivinitythatisuponthemtheyreceivethroughhimfromtheinvisibleworld,theSupernatural.Thereisnofundamentaldistinctionbetweenthehigherandlowermythologies.Theirpeopleslive,iftheyliveatall,bythesamelife,justasinthemortalworlddokingsandpeasants.

LetustakewhatlookslikeaclearcaseofOlympiannature-myth:theNorsegodThórr.HisnameisThunder,ofwhichThórristheNorseform;anditisnotdifficulttointerprethishammer,Miöllnir,aslightning.YetThórrhas(asfarasourlaterecordsgo)averymarkedcharacter,orpersonality,whichcannotbefoundinthunderorinlightning,eventhoughsomedetailscan,asitwere,berelatedtothesenaturalphenomena:forinstance,hisredbeard,hisloudvoice

andviolenttemper,hisblunderingandsmashingstrength.Nonethelessitisaskingaquestionwithoutmuchmeaning,ifweinquire:Whichcamefirst,nature-allegoriesaboutpersonalizedthunderinthemountains,splittingrocksandtrees;orstoriesaboutanirascible,notveryclever,red-beardfarmer,ofastrengthbeyondcommonmeasure,aperson(inallbutmerestature)veryliketheNorthernfarmers,thebœndrbywhomThórrwaschieflybeloved?ToapictureofsuchamanThórrmaybeheldtohave‘dwindled’,orfromitthegodmaybeheldtohavebeenenlarged.ButIdoubtwhethereitherviewisright—notbyitself,notifyouinsistthatoneofthesethingsmustprecedetheother.ItismorereasonabletosupposethatthefarmerpoppedupintheverymomentwhenThundergotavoiceandface;thattherewasadistantgrowlofthunderinthehillseverytimeastory-tellerheardafarmerinarage.

Thórrmust,ofcourse,bereckonedamemberofthehigheraristocracyofmythology:oneoftherulersoftheworld.YetthetalethatistoldofhiminThrymskvitha(intheElderEdda)iscertainlyjustafairy-story.Itisold,asfarasNorsepoemsgo,butthatisnotfarback(sayAD900oralittleearlier,inthiscase).Butthereisnorealreasonforsupposingthatthistaleis‘unprimitive’,atanyrateinquality:thatis,becauseitisoffolk-talekindandnotverydignified.Ifwecouldgobackwardsintime,thefairy-storymightbefoundtochangeindetails,ortogivewaytoothertales.Buttherewouldalwaysbea‘fairy-tale’aslongastherewasanyThórr.Whenthefairy-taleceased,therewouldbejustthunder,whichnohumanearhadyetheard.

Somethingreally‘higher’isoccasionallyglimpsedinmythology:Divinity,therighttopower(asdistinctfromitspossession),thedueworship;infact‘religion’.AndrewLangsaid,andisbysomestillcommendedforsaying,1thatmythologyandreligion(inthestrictsenseofthatword)aretwodistinctthingsthathavebecomeinextricablyentangled,thoughmythologyisinitselfalmostdevoidofreligioussignificance.2

Yetthesethingshaveinfactbecomeentangled—ormaybetheyweresunderedlongagoandhavesincegropedslowly,throughalabyrinthoferror,throughconfusion,backtowardsre-fusion.Evenfairy-storiesasawholehavethreefaces:theMysticaltowardstheSupernatural;theMagicaltowardsNature;andtheMirrorofscornandpitytowardsMan.TheessentialfaceofFaërieisthemiddleone,theMagical.Butthedegreeinwhichtheothersappear(ifatall)isvariable,andmaybedecidedbytheindividualstory-teller.TheMagical,thefairy-story,maybeusedasaMirourdel’Omme;anditmay(butnotsoeasily)bemadeavehicleofMystery.ThisatleastiswhatGeorgeMacDonald

attempted,achievingstoriesofpowerandbeautywhenhesucceeded,asinTheGoldenKey(whichhecalledafairy-tale);andevenwhenhepartlyfailed,asinLilith(whichhecalledaromance).

Foramomentletusreturntothe‘Soup’thatImentionedabove.Speakingofthehistoryofstoriesandespeciallyoffairy-storieswemaysaythatthePotofSoup,theCauldronofStory,hasalwaysbeenboiling,andtoithavecontinuallybeenaddednewbits,daintyandundainty.Forthisreason,totakeacasualexample,thefactthatastoryresemblingtheoneknownasTheGoosegirl(DieGänsemagdinGrimm)istoldinthethirteenthcenturyofBerthaBroadfoot,motherofCharlemagne,reallyprovesnothingeitherway:neitherthatthestorywas(inthethirteenthcentury)descendingfromOlympusorAsgardbywayofanalreadylegendarykingofold,onitswaytobecomeaHausmärchen;northatitwasonitswayup.Thestoryisfoundtobewidespread,unattachedtothemotherofCharlemagneortoanyhistoricalcharacter.FromthisfactbyitselfwecertainlycannotdeducethatitisnottrueofCharlemagne’smother,thoughthatisthekindofdeductionthatismostfrequentlymadefromthatkindofevidence.TheopinionthatthestoryisnottrueofBerthaBroadfootmustbefoundedonsomethingelse:onfeaturesinthestorywhichthecritic’sphilosophydoesnotallowtobepossiblein‘reallife’,sothathewouldactuallydisbelievethetale,evenifitwerefoundnowhereelse;orontheexistenceofgoodhistoricalevidencethatBertha’sactuallifewasquitedifferent,sothathewoulddisbelievethetale,evenifhisphilosophyallowedthatitwasperfectlypossiblein‘reallife’.Noone,Ifancy,woulddiscreditastorythattheArchbishopofCanterburyslippedonabananaskinmerelybecausehefoundthatasimilarcomicmishaphadbeenreportedofmanypeople,andespeciallyofelderlygentlemenofdignity.Hemightdisbelievethestory,ifhediscoveredthatinitanangel(orevenafairy)hadwarnedtheArchbishopthathewouldslipifheworegaitersonaFriday.Hemightalsodisbelievethestory,ifitwasstatedtohaveoccurredintheperiodbetween,say,1940and1945.Somuchforthat.Itisanobviouspoint,andithasbeenmadebefore;butIventuretomakeitagain(althoughitisalittlebesidemypresentpurpose),foritisconstantlyneglectedbythosewhoconcernthemselveswiththeoriginsoftales.

Butwhatofthebananaskin?Ourbusinesswithitreallyonlybeginswhenithasbeenrejectedbyhistorians.Itismoreusefulwhenithasbeenthrownaway.Thehistorianwouldbelikelytosaythatthebanana-skinstory‘becameattachedtotheArchbishop’,ashedoessayonfairevidencethat‘theGoosegirlMärchenbecameattachedtoBertha’.Thatwayofputtingitisharmlessenough,

inwhatiscommonlyknownas‘history’.Butisitreallyagooddescriptionofwhatisgoingonandhasgoneoninthehistoryofstory-making?Idonotthinkso.IthinkitwouldbenearerthetruthtosaythattheArchbishopbecameattachedtothebananaskin,orthatBerthawasturnedintotheGoosegirl.Betterstill:IwouldsaythatCharlemagne’smotherandtheArchbishopwereputintothePot,infactgotintotheSoup.Theywerejustnewbitsaddedtothestock.Aconsiderablehonour,forinthatsoupweremanythingsolder,morepotent,morebeautiful,comic,orterriblethantheywereinthemselves(consideredsimplyasfiguresofhistory).

ItseemsfairlyplainthatArthur,oncehistorical(butperhapsassuchnotofgreatimportance),wasalsoputintothePot.Therehewasboiledforalongtime,togetherwithmanyotherolderfiguresanddevices,ofmythologyandFaërie,andevensomeotherstraybonesofhistory(suchasAlfred’sdefenceagainsttheDanes),untilheemergedasaKingofFaërie.ThesituationissimilarinthegreatNorthern‘Arthurian’courtoftheShield-KingsofDenmark,theScyldingasofancientEnglishtradition.KingHrothgarandhisfamilyhavemanymanifestmarksoftruehistory,farmorethanArthur;yetevenintheolder(English)accountsofthemtheyareassociatedwithmanyfiguresandeventsoffairy-story:theyhavebeeninthePot.ButIrefernowtotheremnantsoftheoldestrecordedEnglishtalesofFaërie(oritsborders),inspiteofthefactthattheyarelittleknowninEngland,nottodiscusstheturningofthebear-boyintotheknightBeowulf,ortoexplaintheintrusionoftheogreGrendelintotheroyalhallofHrothgar.Iwishtopointtosomethingelsethatthesetraditionscontain:asingularlysuggestiveexampleoftherelationofthe‘fairy-taleelement’togodsandkingsandnamelessmen,illustrating(Ibelieve)theviewthatthiselementdoesnotriseorfall,butisthere,intheCauldronofStory,waitingforthegreatfiguresofMythandHistory,andfortheyetnamelessHeorShe,waitingforthemomentwhentheyarecastintothesimmeringstew,onebyoneoralltogether,withoutconsiderationofrankorprecedence.

ThegreatenemyofKingHrothgarwasFroda,KingoftheHeathobards.YetofHrothgar’sdaughterFreawaruwehearechoesofastrangetale—notausualoneinNorthernheroiclegend:thesonoftheenemyofherhouse,IngeldsonofFroda,fellinlovewithherandweddedher,disastrously.Butthatisextremelyinterestingandsignificant.InthebackgroundoftheancientfeudloomsthefigureofthatgodwhomtheNorsemencalledFrey(theLord)orYngvi-frey,andtheAnglescalledIng:agodoftheancientNorthernmythology(andreligion)ofFertilityandCorn.Theenmityoftheroyalhouseswasconnectedwiththesacred

siteofacultofthatreligion.Ingeldandhisfatherbearnamesbelongingtoit.Freawaruherselfisnamed‘ProtectionoftheLord(ofFrey)’.Yetoneofthechiefthingstoldlater(inOldIcelandic)aboutFreyisthestoryinwhichhefallsinlovefromafarwiththedaughteroftheenemiesofthegods,Gerdr,daughterofthegiantGymir,andwedsher.DoesthisprovethatIngeldandFreawaru,ortheirlove,are‘merelymythical’?Ithinknot.Historyoftenresembles‘Myth’,becausetheyarebothultimatelyofthesamestuff.IfindeedIngeldandFreawaruneverlived,oratleastneverloved,thenitisultimatelyfromnamelessmanandwomanthattheygettheirtale,orratherintowhosetaletheyhaveentered.TheyhavebeenputintotheCauldron,wheresomanypotentthingsliesimmeringagelongonthefire,amongthemLove-at-first-sight.Sotooofthegod.Ifnoyoungmanhadeverfalleninlovebychancemeetingwithamaiden,andfoundoldenmitiestostandbetweenhimandhislove,thenthegodFreywouldneverhaveseenGerdrthegiant’sdaughterfromthehigh-seatofOdin.ButifwespeakofaCauldron,wemustnotwhollyforgettheCooks.TherearemanythingsintheCauldron,buttheCooksdonotdipintheladlequiteblindly.Theirselectionisimportant.Thegodsareafterallgods,anditisamatterofsomemomentwhatstoriesaretoldofthem.Sowemustfreelyadmitthatataleofloveismorelikelytobetoldofaprinceinhistory,indeedismorelikelyactuallytohappeninanhistoricalfamilywhosetraditionsarethoseofgoldenFreyandtheVanir,ratherthanthoseofOdintheGoth,theNecromancer,glutterofthecrows,LordoftheSlain.Smallwonderthatspellmeansbothastorytold,andaformulaofpoweroverlivingmen.

Butwhenwehavedoneallthatresearch—collectionandcomparisonofthetalesofmanylands—cando;whenwehaveexplainedmanyoftheelementscommonlyfoundembeddedinfairy-stories(suchasstepmothers,enchantedbearsandbulls,cannibalwitches,taboosonnames,andthelike)asrelicsofancientcustomsoncepractisedindailylife,orofbeliefsonceheldasbeliefsandnotas‘fancies’—thereremainsstillapointtoooftenforgotten:thatistheeffectproducednowbytheseoldthingsinthestoriesastheyare.

Foronethingtheyarenowold,andantiquityhasanappealinitself.ThebeautyandhorrorofTheJuniperTree(VondemMachandelboom),withitsexquisiteandtragicbeginning,theabominablecannibalstew,thegruesomebones,thegayandvengefulbird-spiritcomingoutofamistthatrosefromthetree,hasremainedwithmesincechildhood;andyetalwaysthechiefflavourofthattalelingeringinthememorywasnotbeautyorhorror,butdistanceandagreatabyssoftime,notmeasurableevenbytwetusendJohr.Withoutthestew

andthebones—whichchildrenarenowtoooftensparedinmollifiedversionsofGrimm1—thatvisionwouldlargelyhavebeenlost.IdonotthinkIwasharmedbythehorrorinthefairytalesetting,outofwhateverdarkbeliefsandpracticesofthepastitmayhavecome.Suchstorieshavenowamythicalortotal(unanalysable)effect,aneffectquiteindependentofthefindingsofComparativeFolk-lore,andonewhichitcannotspoilorexplain;theyopenadooronOtherTime,andifwepassthrough,thoughonlyforamoment,westandoutsideourowntime,outsideTimeitself,maybe.

Ifwepause,notmerelytonotethatsucholdelementshavebeenpreserved,buttothinkhowtheyhavebeenpreserved,wemustconclude,Ithink,thatithashappened,oftenifnotalways,preciselybecauseofthisliteraryeffect.Itcannothavebeenwe,oreventhebrothersGrimm,thatfirstfeltit.Fairy-storiesarebynomeansrockymatricesoutofwhichthefossilscannotbeprisedexceptbyanexpertgeologist.Theancientelementscanbeknockedout,orforgottenanddroppedout,orreplacedbyotheringredientswiththegreatestease:asanycomparisonofastorywithcloselyrelatedvariantswillshow.Thethingsthataretheremustoftenhavebeenretained(orinserted)becausetheoralnarrators,instinctivelyorconsciously,felttheirliterary‘significance’.1Evenwhereaprohibitioninafairy-storyisguessedtobederivedfromsometaboooncepractisedlongago,ithasprobablybeenpreservedinthelaterstagesofthetale’shistorybecauseofthegreatmythicalsignificanceofprohibition.Asenseofthatsignificancemayindeedhavelainbehindsomeofthetaboosthemselves.Thoushaltnot—orelsethoushalldepartbeggaredintoendlessregret.Thegentlest‘nursery-tales’knowit.EvenPeterRabbitwasforbiddenagarden,losthisbluecoat,andtooksick.TheLockedDoorstandsasaneternalTemptation.

1SeeCampbell,op.cit.,vol.i

1PopularTalesfromtheNorse,p.xviii

1Exceptinparticularlyfortunatecases;orinafewoccasionaldetails.Itisindeedeasiertounravelasinglethread—anincident,aname,amotive—thantotracethehistoryofanypicturedefinedbymanythreads.Forwiththepictureinthetapestryanewelementhascomein:thepictureisgreaterthan,andnotexplainedby,thesumofthecomponentthreads.Thereinliestheinherentweaknessoftheanalytic(or‘scientific’)method:itfindsoutmuchaboutthingsthatoccurinstories,butlittleornothingabouttheireffectinanygivenstory.

1Forexample,byChristopherDawsoninProgressandReligion.

2Thisisborneoutbythemorecarefulandsympatheticstudyof‘primitive’peoples:thatis,peoplesstilllivinginaninheritedpaganism,whoarenot,aswesay,civilised.Thehastysurveyfindsonlytheirwildertales;acloserexaminationfindstheircosmologicalmyths;onlypatienceandinnerknowledgediscoverstheirphilosophyandreligion:thetrulyworshipful,ofwhichthe‘gods’arenotnecessarilyanembodimentatall,oronlyinavariablemeasure(oftendecidedbytheindividual).

1Theyshouldnotbesparedit—unlesstheyaresparedthewholestoryuntiltheirdigestionsarestronger.

1SeeNoteBatend(p.390).

CHILDREN

Iwillnowturntochildren,andsocometothelastandmostimportantofthethreequestions:what,ifany,arethevaluesandfunctionsoffairy-storiesnow?Itisusuallyassumedthatchildrenarethenaturalorthespeciallyappropriateaudienceforfairy-stories.Indescribingafairy-storywhichtheythinkadultsmightpossiblyreadfortheirownentertainment,reviewersfrequentlyindulgeinsuchwaggeriesas:‘thisbookisforchildrenfromtheagesofsixtosixty’.ButIhaveneveryetseenthepuffofanewmotor-modelthatbeganthus:‘thistoywillamuseinfantsfromseventeentoseventy’;thoughthattomymindwouldbemuchmoreappropriate.Isthereanyessentialconnectionbetweenchildrenandfairy-stories?Isthereanycallforcomment,ifanadultreadsthemforhimself?Readsthemastales,thatis,notstudiesthemascurios.Adultsareallowedtocollectandstudyanything,evenoldtheatreprogrammesorpaperbags.

Amongthosewhostillhaveenoughwisdomnottothinkfairy-storiespernicious,thecommonopinionseemstobethatthereisanaturalconnectionbetweenthemindsofchildrenandfairy-stories,ofthesameorderastheconnectionbetweenchildren’sbodiesandmilk.Ithinkthisisanerror;atbestanerroroffalsesentiment,andonethatisthereforemostoftenmadebythosewho,forwhateverprivatereason(suchaschildlessness),tendtothinkofchildrenasaspecialkindofcreature,almostadifferentrace,ratherthanasnormal,ifimmature,membersofaparticularfamily,andofthehumanfamilyatlarge.

Actually,theassociationofchildrenandfairy-storiesisanaccidentofourdomestichistory.Fairy-storieshaveinthemodernletteredworldbeenrelegatedtothe‘nursery’,asshabbyorold-fashionedfurnitureisrelegatedtotheplay-room,primarilybecausetheadultsdonotwantit,anddonotmindifitismisused.1Itisnotthechoiceofthechildrenwhichdecidesthis.Childrenasaclass—exceptinacommonlackofexperiencetheyarenotone—neitherlikefairy-storiesmore,norunderstandthembetterthanadultsdo;andnomorethantheylikemanyotherthings.Theyareyoungandgrowing,andnormallyhavekeenappetites,sothefairy-storiesasarulegodownwellenough.Butinfactonlysomechildren,andsomeadults,haveanyspecialtasteforthem;andwhentheyhaveit,itisnotexclusive,norevennecessarilydominant.1Itisataste,too,thatwouldnotappear,Ithink,veryearlyinchildhoodwithoutartificialstimulus;

itiscertainlyonethatdoesnotdecreasebutincreaseswithage,ifitisinnate.Itistruethatinrecenttimesfairy-storieshaveusuallybeenwrittenor

‘adapted’forchildren.Butsomaymusicbe,orverse,ornovels,orhistory,orscientificmanuals.Itisadangerousprocess,evenwhenitisnecessary.Itisindeedonlysavedfromdisasterbythefactthattheartsandsciencesarenotasawholerelegatedtothenursery;thenurseryandschoolroomaremerelygivensuchtastesandglimpsesoftheadultthingasseemfitfortheminadultopinion(oftenmuchmistaken).Anyoneofthesethingswould,ifleftaltogetherinthenursery,becomegravelyimpaired.Sowouldabeautifultable,agoodpicture,orausefulmachine(suchasamicroscope),bedefacedorbroken,ifitwereleftlongunregardedinaschoolroom.Fairy-storiesbanishedinthisway,cutofffromafulladultart,wouldintheendberuined;indeedinsofarastheyhavebeensobanished,theyhavebeenruined.

Thevalueoffairy-storiesisthusnot,inmyopinion,tobefoundbyconsideringchildreninparticular.Collectionsoffairy-storiesare,infact,bynatureatticsandlumber-rooms,onlybytemporaryandlocalcustomplayrooms.Theircontentsaredisordered,andoftenbattered,ajumbleofdifferentdates,purposes,andtastes;butamongthemmayoccasionallybefoundathingofpermanentvirtue:anoldworkofart,nottoomuchdamaged,thatonlystupiditywouldeverhavestuffedaway.

AndrewLang’sFairyBooksarenot,perhaps,lumberrooms.Theyaremorelikestallsinarummage-sale.Someonewithadusterandafaireyeforthingsthatretainsomevaluehasbeenroundtheatticsandbox-rooms.Hiscollectionsarelargelyaby-productofhisadultstudyofmythologyandfolk-lore;buttheyweremadeintoandpresentedasbooksforchildren.1SomeofthereasonsthatLanggaveareworthconsidering.

Theintroductiontothefirstoftheseriesspeaksof‘childrentowhomandforwhomtheyaretold’.‘Theyrepresent’,hesays,‘theyoungageofmantruetohisearlyloves,andhavehisunbluntededgeofbelief,afreshappetiteformarvels’.‘“Isittrue?”’hesays,‘isthegreatquestionchildrenask.’

Isuspectthatbeliefandappetiteformarvelsarehereregardedasidenticalorascloselyrelated.Theyareradicallydifferent,thoughtheappetiteformarvelsisnotatonceoratfirstdifferentiatedbyagrowinghumanmindfromitsgeneralappetite.ItseemsfairlyclearthatLangwasusingbeliefinitsordinarysense:beliefthatathingexistsorcanhappeninthereal(primary)world.Ifso,thenIfearthatLang’swords,strippedofsentiment,canonlyimplythatthetellerofmarvelloustalestochildrenmust,ormay,oratanyratedoestradeontheir

credulity,onthelackofexperiencewhichmakesitlesseasyforchildrentodistinguishfactfromfictioninparticularcases,thoughthedistinctioninitselfisfundamentaltothesanehumanmind,andtofairy-stories.

Childrenarecapable,ofcourse,ofliterarybelief,whenthestory-maker’sartisgoodenoughtoproduceit.Thatstateofmindhasbeencalled‘willingsuspensionofdisbelief’.Butthisdoesnotseemtomeagooddescriptionofwhathappens.Whatreallyhappensisthatthestorymakerprovesasuccessful‘sub-creator’.HemakesaSecondaryWorldwhichyourmindcanenter.Insideit,whatherelatesis‘true’:itaccordswiththelawsofthatworld.Youthereforebelieveit,whileyouare,asitwere,inside.Themomentdisbeliefarises,thespellisbroken;themagic,orratherart,hasfailed.YouarethenoutinthePrimaryWorldagain,lookingatthelittleabortiveSecondaryWorldfromoutside.Ifyouareobliged,bykindlinessorcircumstance,tostay,thendisbeliefmustbesuspended(orstifled),otherwiselisteningandlookingwouldbecomeintolerable.Butthissuspensionofdisbeliefisasubstituteforthegenuinething,asubterfugeweusewhencondescendingtogamesormake-believe,orwhentrying(moreorlesswillingly)tofindwhatvirtuewecanintheworkofanartthathasforusfailed.

Arealenthusiastforcricketisintheenchantedstate:SecondaryBelief.I,whenIwatchamatch,amonthelowerlevel.Icanachieve(moreorless)willingsuspensionofdisbelief,whenIamheldthereandsupportedbysomeothermotivethatwillkeepawayboredom:forinstance,awild,heraldic,preferencefordarkblueratherthanlight.Thissuspensionofdisbeliefmaythusbeasomewhattired,shabby,orsentimentalstateofmind,andsoleantothe‘adult’.Ifancyitisoftenthestateofadultsinthepresenceofafairy-story.Theyareheldthereandsupportedbysentiment(memoriesofchildhood,ornotionsofwhatchildhoodoughttobelike);theythinktheyoughttolikethetale.Butiftheyreallylikedit,foritself,theywouldnothavetosuspenddisbelief:theywouldbelieve—inthissense.

NowifLanghadmeantanythinglikethistheremighthavebeensometruthinhiswords.Itmaybearguedthatitiseasiertoworkthespellwithchildren.Perhapsitis,thoughIamnotsureofthis.Theappearancethatitissoisoften,Ithink,anadultillusionproducedbychildren’shumility,theirlackofcriticalexperienceandvocabulary,andtheirvoracity(propertotheirrapidgrowth).Theylikeortrytolikewhatisgiventothem:iftheydonotlikeit,theycannotwellexpresstheirdislikeorgivereasonsforit(andsomayconcealit);andtheylikeagreatmassofdifferentthingsindiscriminately,withouttroublingto

analysetheplanesoftheirbelief.InanycaseIdoubtifthispotion—theenchantmentoftheeffectivefairy-story—isreallyoneofthekindthatbecomes‘blunted’byuse,lesspotentafterrepeateddraughts.

‘“Isittrue?”isthegreatquestionchildrenask’,Langsaid.Theydoaskthatquestion,Iknow;anditisnotonetoberashlyoridlyanswered.1Butthatquestionishardlyevidenceof‘unbluntedbelief’,orevenofthedesireforit.Mostoftenitproceedsfromthechild’sdesiretoknowwhichkindofliteratureheisfacedwith.Children’sknowledgeoftheworldisoftensosmallthattheycannotjudge,off-handandwithouthelp,betweenthefantastic,thestrange(thatisrareorremotefacts),thenonsensical,andthemerely‘grown-up’(thatisordinarythingsoftheirparents’world,muchofwhichstillremainsunexplored).Buttheyrecognisethedifferentclasses,andmaylikeallofthemattimes.Ofcoursethebordersbetweenthemareoftenfluctuatingorconfused;butthatisnotonlytrueforchildren.Weallknowthedifferencesinkind,butwearenotalwayssurehowtoplaceanythingthatwehear.Achildmaywellbelieveareportthatthereareogresinthenextcounty;manygrown-uppersonsfinditeasytobelieveofanothercountry;andasforanotherplanet,veryfewadultsseemabletoimagineitaspeopled,ifatall,byanythingbutmonstersofiniquity.

NowIwasoneofthechildrenwhomAndrewLangwasaddressing—IwasbornataboutthesametimeastheGreenFairyBook—thechildrenforwhomheseemedtothinkthatfairy-storiesweretheequivalentoftheadultnovel,andofwhomhesaid:‘Theirtasteremainslikethetasteoftheirnakedancestorsthousandsofyearsago;andtheyseemtolikefairy-talesbetterthanhistory,poetry,geography,orarithmetic.’1Butdowereallyknowmuchaboutthese‘nakedancestors’,exceptthattheywerecertainlynotnaked?Ourfairy-stories,howeveroldcertainelementsinthemmaybe,arecertainlynotthesameastheirs.Yetifitisassumedthatwehavefairy-storiesbecausetheydid,thenprobablywehavehistory,geography,poetry,andarithmeticbecausetheylikedthesethingstoo,asfarastheycouldgetthem,andinsofarastheyhadyetseparatedthemanybranchesoftheirgeneralinterestineverything.

Andasforchildrenofthepresentday,Lang’sdescriptiondoesnotfitmyownmemories,ormyexperienceofchildren.Langmayhavebeenmistakenaboutthechildrenheknew,butifhewasnot,thenatanyratechildrendifferconsiderably,evenwithinthenarrowbordersofBritain,andsuchgeneralizationswhichtreatthemasaclass(disregardingtheirindividualtalents,andtheinfluencesofthecountrysidetheylivein,andtheirupbringing)aredelusory.Ihadnospecialchildish‘wishtobelieve’.Iwantedtoknow.Beliefdependedon

thewayinwhichstorieswerepresentedtome,byolderpeople,orbytheauthors,orontheinherenttoneandqualityofthetale.ButatnotimecanIrememberthattheenjoymentofastorywasdependentonbeliefthatsuchthingscouldhappen,orhadhappened,in‘reallife’.Fairy-storieswereplainlynotprimarilyconcernedwithpossibility,butwithdesirability.Iftheyawakeneddesire,satisfyingitwhileoftenwhettingitunbearably,theysucceeded.Itisnotnecessarytobemoreexplicithere,forIhopetosaysomethinglateraboutthisdesire,acomplexofmanyingredients,someuniversal,someparticulartomodernmen(includingmodernchildren),oreventocertainkindsofmen.IhadnodesiretohaveeitherdreamsoradventureslikeAlice,andtheaccountofthemmerelyamusedme.Ihadverylittledesiretolookforburiedtreasureorfightpirates,andTreasureIslandleftmecool.RedIndianswerebetter:therewerebowsandarrows(Ihadandhaveawhollyunsatisfieddesiretoshootwellwithabow),andstrangelanguages,andglimpsesofanarchaicmodeoflife,and,aboveall,forestsinsuchstories.ButthelandofMerlinandArthurwasbetterthanthese,andbestofallthenamelessNorthofSigurdoftheVölsungs,andtheprinceofalldragons.Suchlandswerepre-eminentlydesirable.Ineverimaginedthatthedragonwasofthesameorderasthehorse.AndthatwasnotsolelybecauseIsawhorsesdaily,butnevereventhefootprintofaworm.1ThedragonhadthetrademarkOfFaëriewrittenplainuponhim.InwhateverworldhehadhisbeingitwasanOther-world.Fantasy,themakingorglimpsingofOther-worlds,wastheheartofthedesireofFaërie.Idesireddragonswithaprofounddesire.Ofcourse,Iinmytimidbodydidnotwishtohavethemintheneighbourhood,intrudingintomyrelativelysafeworld,inwhichitwas,forinstance,possibletoreadstoriesinpeaceofmind,freefromfear.1ButtheworldthatcontainedeventheimaginationofFáfnirwasricherandmorebeautiful,atwhatevercostofperil.Thedwellerinthequietandfertileplainsmayhearofthetormentedhillsandtheunharvestedseaandlongfortheminhisheart.Fortheheartishardthoughthebodybesoft.

Allthesame,importantasInowperceivethefairystoryelementinearlyreadingtohavebeen,speakingformyselfasachild,Icanonlysaythatalikingforfairystorieswasnotadominantcharacteristicofearlytaste.Arealtasteforthemawokeafter‘nursery’days,andaftertheyears,fewbutlong-seeming,betweenlearningtoreadandgoingtoschool.Inthat(Inearlywrote‘happy’or‘golden’,itwasreallyasadandtroublous)timeIlikedmanyotherthingsaswell,orbetter:suchashistory,astronomy,botany,grammar,andetymology.IagreedwithLang’sgeneralised‘children’notatallinprinciple,andonlyin

somepointsbyaccident:Iwas,forinstance,insensitivetopoetry,andskippeditifitcameintales.PoetryIdiscoveredmuchlaterinLatinandGreek,andespeciallythroughbeingmadetotryandtranslateEnglishverseintoclassicalverse.Arealtasteforfairy-storieswaswakenedbyphilologyonthethresholdofmanhood,andquickenedtofulllifebywar.

Ihavesaid,perhaps,morethanenoughonthispoint.Atleastitwillbeplainthatinmyopinionfairy-storiesshouldnotbespeciallyassociatedwithchildren.Theyareassociatedwiththem:naturally,becausechildrenarehumanandfairy-storiesareanaturalhumantaste(thoughnotnecessarilyauniversalone);accidentally,becausefairy-storiesarealargepartoftheliterarylumberthatinlatter-dayEuropehasbeenstuffedawayinattics;unnaturally,becauseoferroneoussentimentaboutchildren,asentimentthatseemstoincreasewiththedeclineinchildren.

Itistruethattheageofchildhood-sentimenthasproducedsomedelightfulbooks(especiallycharming,however,toadults)ofthefairykindorneartoit;butithasalsoproducedadreadfulundergrowthofstorieswrittenoradaptedtowhatwasorisconceivedtobethemeasureofchildren’smindsandneeds.Theoldstoriesaremollifiedorbowdlerised,insteadofbeingreserved;theimitationsareoftenmerelysilly,Pigwiggenrywithouteventheintrigue;orpatronizing;or(deadliestofall)covertlysniggering,withaneyeontheothergrownupspresent.IwillnotaccuseAndrewLangofsniggering,butcertainlyhesmiledtohimself,andcertainlytoooftenhehadaneyeonthefacesofothercleverpeopleovertheheadsofhischild-audience—totheverygravedetrimentoftheChroniclesofPantouflia.

DasentrepliedwithvigourandjusticetotheprudishcriticsofhistranslationsfromNorsepopulartales.Yethecommittedtheastonishingfollyofparticularlyforbiddingchildrentoreadthelasttwoinhiscollection.Thatamancouldstudyfairy-storiesandnotlearnbetterthanthatseemsalmostincredible.Butneithercriticism,rejoinder,norprohibitionwouldhavebeennecessaryifchildrenhadnotunnecessarilybeenregardedastheinevitablereadersofthebook.

IdonotdenythatthereisatruthinAndrewLang’swords(sentimentalthoughtheymaysound):‘HewhowouldenterintotheKingdomofFaërieshouldhavetheheartofalittlechild.’Forthatpossessionisnecessarytoallhighadventure,intokingdomsbothlessandfargreaterthanFaërie.Buthumilityandinnocence—thesethings‘theheartofachild’mustmeaninsuchacontext—donotnecessarilyimplyanuncriticalwonder,norindeedanuncriticaltenderness.

ChestertononceremarkedthatthechildreninwhosecompanyhesawMaeterlinck’sBlueBirdweredissatisfied‘becauseitdidnotendwithaDayofJudgement,anditwasnotrevealedtotheheroandtheheroinethattheDoghadbeenfaithfulandtheCatfaithless’.‘Forchildren’,hesays,‘areinnocentandlovejustice;whilemostofusarewickedandnaturallyprefermercy.’

AndrewLangwasconfusedonthispoint.HewasatpainstodefendtheslayingoftheYellowDwarfbyPrinceRicardoinoneofhisownfairy-stories.‘Ihatecruelty’,hesaid,‘…butthatwasinfairfight,swordinhand,andthedwarf,peacetohisashes!diedinharness.’Yetitisnotclearthat‘fairfight’islesscruelthan‘fairjudgement’;orthatpiercingadwarfwithaswordismorejustthantheexecutionofwickedkingsandevilstepmothers—whichLangabjures:hesendsthecriminals(asheboasts)toretirementonamplepensions.Thatismercyuntemperedbyjustice.Itistruethatthispleawasnotaddressedtochildrenbuttoparentsandguardians,towhomLangwasrecommendinghisownPrincePrigioandPrinceRicardoassuitablefortheircharges.1Itisparentsandguardianswhohaveclassifiedfairy-storiesasJuvenilia.Andthisisasmallsampleofthefalsificationofvaluesthatresults.

Ifweusechildinagoodsense(ithasalsolegitimatelyabadone)wemustnotallowthattopushusintothesentimentalityofonlyusingadultorgrown-upinabadsense(ithasalsolegitimatelyagoodone).Theprocessofgrowingolderisnotnecessarilyalliedtogrowingwickeder,thoughthetwodooftenhappentogether.Childrenaremeanttogrowup,andnottobecomePeterPans.Nottoloseinnocenceandwonder,buttoproceedontheappointedjourney:thatjourneyuponwhichitiscertainlynotbettertotravelhopefullythantoarrive,thoughwemusttravelhopefullyifwearetoarrive.Butitisoneofthelessonsoffairy-stories(ifwecanspeakofthelessonsofthingsthatdonotlecture)thatoncallow,lumpish,andselfishyouthperil,sorrow,andtheshadowofdeathcanbestowdignity,andevensometimeswisdom.

LetusnotdividethehumanraceintoEloiandMorlocks:prettychildren—‘elves’astheeighteenthcenturyoftenidioticallycalledthem—withtheirfairytales(carefullypruned),anddarkMorlockstendingtheirmachines.Iffairy-storyasakindisworthreadingatallitisworthytobewrittenforandreadbyadults.Theywill,ofcourse,putmoreinandgetmoreoutthanchildrencan.Then,asabranchofagenuineart,childrenmayhopetogetfairystoriesfitforthemtoreadandyetwithintheirmeasure;astheymayhopetogetsuitableintroductionstopoetry,history,andthesciences.Thoughitmaybebetterforthemtoreadsomethings,especiallyfairy-stories,thatarebeyondtheirmeasure

ratherthanshortofit.Theirbooksliketheirclothesshouldallowforgrowth,andtheirbooksatanyrateshouldencourageit.

Verywell,then.Ifadultsaretoreadfairy-storiesasanaturalbranchofliterature—neitherplayingatbeingchildren,norpretendingtobechoosingforchildren,norbeingboyswhowouldnotgrowup—whatarethevaluesandfunctionsofthiskind?Thatis,Ithink,thelastandmostimportantquestion.Ihavealreadyhintedatsomeofmyanswers.Firstofall:ifwrittenwithart,theprimevalueoffairy-storieswillsimplybethatvaluewhich,asliterature,theysharewithotherliteraryforms.Butfairy-storiesofferalso,inapeculiardegreeormode,thesethings:Fantasy,Recovery,Escape,Consolation,allthingsofwhichchildrenhave,asarule,lessneedthanolderpeople.Mostofthemarenowadaysverycommonlyconsideredtobebadforanybody.Iwillconsiderthembriefly,andwillbeginwithFantasy.

1Inthecaseofstoriesandothernurserylore,thereisalsoanotherfactor.Wealthierfamiliesemployedwomentolookaftertheirchildren,andthestorieswereprovidedbythesenurses,whoweresometimesintouchwithrusticandtraditionalloreforgottenbytheir‘betters’.Itislongsincethissourcedriedup,atanyrateinEngland;butitoncehadsomeimportance.Butagainthereisnoproofofthespecialfitnessofchildrenastherecipientsofthisvanishing‘folk-lore’.Thenursesmightjustaswell(orbetter)havebeenlefttochoosethepicturesandfurniture.

1SeeNoteCatend(p.392).

1ByLangandhishelpers.Itisnottrueofthemajorityofthecontentsintheiroriginal(oroldestsurviving)forms.

1Farmoreoftentheyhaveaskedme:‘Washegood?Washewicked?’Thatis,theyweremoreconcernedtogettheRightsideandtheWrongsideclear.ForthatisaquestionequallyimportantinHistoryandinFaërie.

1PrefacetotheVioletFairyBook.

1SeeNoteDatend(p.393).

1Thisis,naturally,oftenenoughwhatchildrenmeanwhentheyask:‘Isittrue?’Theymean:‘Ilikethis,butisitcontemporary?AmIsafeinmybed?’Theanswer:‘ThereiscertainlynodragoninEnglandtoday’,isallthattheywanttohear.

1PrefacetotheLilacFairyBook.

FANTASY

Thehumanmindiscapableofformingmentalimagesofthingsnotactuallypresent.Thefacultyofconceivingtheimagesis(orwas)naturallycalledImagination.Butinrecenttimes,intechnicalnotnormallanguage,Imaginationhasoftenbeenheldtobesomethinghigherthanthemereimage-making,ascribedtotheoperationsofFancy(areducedanddepreciatoryformoftheolderwordFantasy);anattemptisthusmadetorestrict,Ishouldsaymisapply,Imaginationto‘thepowerofgivingtoidealcreationstheinnerconsistencyofreality’.

Ridiculousthoughitmaybeforonesoill-instructedtohaveanopiniononthiscriticalmatter,Iventuretothinktheverbaldistinctionphilologicallyinappropriate,andtheanalysisinaccurate.Thementalpowerofimage-makingisonething,oraspect;anditshouldappropriatelybecalledImagination.Theperceptionoftheimage,thegraspofitsimplications,andthecontrol,whicharenecessarytoasuccessfulexpression,mayvaryinvividnessandstrength:butthisisadifferenceofdegreeinImagination,notadifferenceinkind.Theachievementoftheexpression,whichgives(orseemstogive)‘theinnerconsistencyofreality’,1isindeedanotherthing,oraspect,needinganothername:Art,theoperativelinkbetweenImaginationandthefinalresult,Sub-creation.FormypresentpurposeIrequireawordwhichshallembraceboththeSub-creativeArtinitselfandaqualityofstrangenessandwonderintheExpression,derivedfromtheImage:aqualityessentialtofairy-story.Ipropose,therefore,toarrogatetomyselfthepowersofHumpty-Dumpty,andtouseFantasyforthispurpose:inasense,thatis,whichcombineswithitsolderandhigheruseasanequivalentofImaginationthederivednotionsof‘unreality’(thatis,ofunlikenesstothePrimaryWorld),offreedomfromthedominationofobserved‘fact’,inshortofthefantastic.Iamthusnotonlyawarebutgladoftheetymologicalandsemanticconnectionsoffantasywithfantastic:withimagesofthingsthatarenotonly‘notactuallypresent’,butwhichareindeednottobefoundinourprimaryworldatall,oraregenerallybelievednottobefoundthere.Butwhileadmittingthat,Idonotassenttothedepreciativetone.Thattheimagesareofthingsnotintheprimaryworld(ifthatindeedispossible)isavirtuenotavice.Fantasy(inthissense)is,Ithink,notalowerbutahigherform

ofArt,indeedthemostnearlypureform,andso(whenachieved)themostpotent.

Fantasy,ofcourse,startsoutwithanadvantage:arrestingstrangeness.Butthatadvantagehasbeenturnedagainstit,andhascontributedtoitsdisrepute.Manypeopledislikebeing‘arrested’.TheydislikeanymeddlingwiththePrimaryWorld,orsuchsmallglimpsesofitasarefamiliartothem.They,therefore,stupidlyandevenmaliciouslyconfoundFantasywithDreaming,inwhichthereisnoArt;1andwithmentaldisorders,inwhichthereisnotevencontrol:withdelusionandhallucination.

Buttheerrorormalice,engenderedbydisquietandconsequentdislike,isnottheonlycauseofthisconfusion.Fantasyhasalsoanessentialdrawback:itisdifficulttoachieve.Fantasymaybe,asIthink,notlessbutmoresub-creative;butatanyrateitisfoundinpracticethat‘theinnerconsistencyofreality’ismoredifficulttoproduce,themoreunlikearetheimagesandtherearrangementsofprimarymaterialtotheactualarrangementsofthePrimaryWorld.Itiseasiertoproducethiskindof‘reality’withmore‘sober’material.Fantasythus,toooften,remainsundeveloped;itisandhasbeenusedfrivolously,oronlyhalf-seriously,ormerelyfordecoration:itremainsmerely‘fanciful’.Anyoneinheritingthefantasticdeviceofhumanlanguagecansaythegreensun.Manycanthenimagineorpictureit.Butthatisnotenough—thoughitmayalreadybeamorepotentthingthanmanya‘thumbnailsketch’or‘transcriptoflife’thatreceivesliterarypraise.

TomakeaSecondaryWorldinsidewhichthegreensunwillbecredible,commandingSecondaryBelief,willprobablyrequirelabourandthought,andwillcertainlydemandaspecialskill,akindofelvishcraft.Fewattemptsuchdifficulttasks.ButwhentheyareattemptedandinanydegreeaccomplishedthenwehavearareachievementofArt:indeednarrativeart,story-makinginitsprimaryandmostpotentmode.

InhumanartFantasyisathingbestlefttowords,totrueliterature.Inpainting,forinstance,thevisiblepresentationofthefantasticimageistechnicallytooeasy;thehandtendstooutrunthemind,eventooverthrowit.1Sillinessormorbidityarefrequentresults.ItisamisfortunethatDrama,anartfundamentallydistinctfromLiterature,shouldsocommonlybeconsideredtogetherwithit,orasabranchofit.AmongthesemisfortuneswemayreckonthedepreciationofFantasy.Forinpartatleastthisdepreciationisduetothenaturaldesireofcriticstocryuptheformsofliteratureor‘imagination’thattheythemselves,innatelyorbytraining,prefer.Andcriticisminacountrythathas

producedsogreataDrama,andpossessestheworksofWilliamShakespeare,tendstobefartoodramatic.ButDramaisnaturallyhostiletoFantasy.Fantasy,evenofthesimplestkind,hardlyeversucceedsinDrama,whenthatispresentedasitshouldbe,visiblyandaudiblyacted.Fantasticformsarenottobecounterfeited.Mendressedupastalkinganimalsmayachievebuffooneryormimicry,buttheydonotachieveFantasy.Thisis,Ithink,wellillustratedbythefailureofthebastardform,pantomime.Theneareritisto‘dramatisedfairy-story’theworseitis.Itisonlytolerablewhentheplotanditsfantasyarereducedtoamerevestigiaryframeworkforfarce,andno‘belief’ofanykindinanypartoftheperformanceisrequiredorexpectedofanybody.Thisis,ofcourse,partlyduetothefactthattheproducersofdramahaveto,ortryto,workwithmechanismtorepresenteitherFantasyorMagic.Ioncesawaso-called‘children’spantomime’,thestraightstoryofPuss-in-Boots,witheventhemetamorphosisoftheogreintoamouse.Hadthisbeenmechanicallysuccessfulitwouldeitherhaveterrifiedthespectatorsorelsehavebeenjustaturnofhigh-classconjuring.Asitwas,thoughdonewithsomeingenuityoflighting,disbeliefhadnotsomuchtobesuspendedashung,drawn,andquartered.

InMacbeth,whenitisread,Ifindthewitchestolerable:theyhaveanarrativefunctionandsomehintofdarksignificance;thoughtheyarevulgarised,poorthingsoftheirkind.Theyarealmostintolerableintheplay.Theywouldbequiteintolerable,ifIwerenotfortifiedbysomememoryofthemastheyareinthestoryasread.IamtoldthatIshouldfeeldifferentlyifIhadthemindoftheperiod,withitswitch-huntsandwitch-trials.Butthatistosay:ifIregardedthewitchesaspossible,indeedlikely,inthePrimaryWorld;inotherwords,iftheyceasedtobe‘Fantasy’.Thatargumentconcedesthepoint.Tobedissolved,ortobedegraded,isthelikelyfateofFantasywhenadramatisttriestouseit,evensuchadramatistasShakespeare.Macbethisindeedaworkbyaplaywrightwhoought,atleastonthisoccasion,tohavewrittenastory,ifhehadtheskillorpatienceforthatart.

Areason,moreimportant,Ithink,thantheinadequacyofstage-effects,isthis:Dramahas,ofitsverynature,alreadyattemptedakindofbogus,orshallIsayatleastsubstitute,magic:thevisibleandaudiblepresentationofimaginarymeninastory.Thatisinitselfanattempttocounterfeitthemagician’swand.Tointroduce,evenwithmechanicalsuccess,intothisquasi-magicalsecondaryworldafurtherfantasyormagicistodemand,asitwere,aninnerortertiaryworld.Itisaworldtoomuch.Tomakesuchathingmaynotbeimpossible.Ihaveneverseenitdonewithsuccess.Butatleastitcannotbeclaimedasthe

propermodeofDrama,inwhichwalkingandtalkingpeoplehavebeenfoundtobethenaturalinstrumentsofArtandillusion.1

Forthisprecisereason—thatthecharacters,andeventhescenes,areinDramanotimaginedbutactuallybeheld—Dramais,eventhoughitusesasimilarmaterial(words,verse,plot),anartfundamentallydifferentfromnarrativeart.Thus,ifyoupreferDramatoLiterature(asmanyliterarycriticsplainlydo),orformyourcriticaltheoriesprimarilyfromdramaticcritics,orevenfromDrama,youareapttomisunderstandpurestory-making,andtoconstrainittothelimitationsofstage-plays.Youare,forinstance,likelytoprefercharacters,eventhebasestanddullest,tothings.Verylittleabouttreesastreescanbegotintoaplay.

Now‘FaërianDrama’—thoseplayswhichaccordingtoabundantrecordstheelveshaveoftenpresentedtomen—canproduceFantasywitharealismandimmediacybeyondthecompassofanyhumanmechanism.Asaresulttheirusualeffect(uponaman)istogobeyondSecondaryBelief.IfyouarepresentataFaëriandramayouyourselfare,orthinkthatyouare,bodilyinsideitsSecondaryWorld.TheexperiencemaybeverysimilartoDreamingandhas(itwouldseem)sometimes(bymen)beenconfoundedwithit.ButinFaëriandramayouareinadreamthatsomeothermindisweaving,andtheknowledgeofthatalarmingfactmayslipfromyourgrasp.ToexperiencedirectlyaSecondaryWorld:thepotionistoostrong,andyougivetoitPrimaryBelief,howevermarvelloustheevents.Youaredeluded—whetherthatistheintentionoftheelves(alwaysoratanytime)isanotherquestion.Theyatanyratearenotthemselvesdeluded.ThisisforthemaformofArt,anddistinctfromWizardryorMagic,properlysocalled.Theydonotliveinit,thoughtheycan,perhaps,affordtospendmoretimeatitthanhumanartistscan.ThePrimaryWorld,Reality,ofelvesandmenisthesame,ifdifferentlyvaluedandperceived.

Weneedawordforthiselvishcraft,butallthewordsthathavebeenappliedtoithavebeenblurredandconfusedwithotherthings.Magicisreadytohand,andIhaveuseditabove(p.323),butIshouldnothavedoneso:MagicshouldbereservedfortheoperationsoftheMagician.Artisthehumanprocessthatproducesbytheway(itisnotitsonlyorultimateobject)SecondaryBelief.Artofthesamesort,ifmoreskilledandeffortless,theelvescanalsouse,orsothereportsseemtoshow;butthemorepotentandspeciallyelvishcraftIwill,forlackofalessdebatableword,callEnchantment.EnchantmentproducesaSecondaryWorldintowhichbothdesignerandspectatorcanenter,tothesatisfactionoftheirsenseswhiletheyareinside;butinitspurityitisartisticin

desireandpurpose.Magicproduces,orpretendstoproduce,analterationinthePrimaryWorld.Itdoesnotmatterbywhomitissaidtobepractised,fayormortal,itremainsdistinctfromtheothertwo;itisnotanartbutatechnique;itsdesireispowerinthisworld,dominationofthingsandwills.

Totheelvishcraft,Enchantment,Fantasyaspires,andwhenitissuccessfulofallformsofhumanartmostnearlyapproaches.Attheheartofmanyman-madestoriesoftheelveslies,openorconcealed,pureoralloyed,thedesireforaliving,realisedsub-creativeart,which(howevermuchitmayoutwardlyresembleit)isinwardlywhollydifferentfromthegreedforself-centredpowerwhichisthemarkofthemereMagician.Ofthisdesiretheelves,intheirbetter(butstillperilous)part,arelargelymade;anditisfromthemthatwemaylearnwhatisthecentraldesireandaspirationofhumanFantasy—eveniftheelvesare,allthemoreinsofarastheyare,onlyaproductofFantasyitself.Thatcreativedesireisonlycheatedbycounterfeits,whethertheinnocentbutclumsydevicesofthehumandramatist,orthemalevolentfraudsofthemagicians.Inthisworlditisformenunsatisfiable,andsoimperishable.Uncorrupted,itdoesnotseekdelusion,norbewitchmentanddomination;itseekssharedenrichment,partnersinmakinganddelight,notslaves.

Tomany,Fantasy,thissub-creativeartwhichplaysstrangetrickswiththeworldandallthatisinit,combiningnounsandredistributingadjectives,hasseemedsuspect,ifnotillegitimate.Tosomeithasseemedatleastachildishfolly,athingonlyforpeoplesorforpersonsintheiryouth.AsforitslegitimacyIwillsaynomorethantoquoteabriefpassagefromaletterIoncewrotetoamanwhodescribedmythandfairy-storyas‘lies’;thoughtodohimjusticehewaskindenoughandconfusedenoughtocallfairy-storymaking‘BreathingaliethroughSilver’.

‘DearSir,’Isaid—‘Althoughnowlongestranged,Manisnotwhollylostnorwhollychanged.Dis-gracedhemaybe,yetisnotde-throned,andkeepstheragsoflordshiponceheowned:Man,Sub-creator,therefractedLightthroughwhomissplinteredfromasingleWhitetomanyhues,andendlesslycombinedinlivingshapesthatmovefrommindtomind.ThoughallthecranniesoftheworldwefilledwithElvesandGoblins,thoughwedaredtobuildGodsandtheirhousesoutofdarkandlight,andsowedtheseedofdragons—‘twasourright(usedormisused).Thatrighthasnotdecayed:wemakestillbythelawinwhichwe’remade.’

Fantasyisanaturalhumanactivity.ItcertainlydoesnotdestroyoreveninsultReason;anditdoesnoteitherblunttheappetitefor,norobscuretheperceptionof,scientificverity.Onthecontrary.Thekeenerandthecleareristhereason,thebetterfantasywillitmake.Ifmenwereeverinastateinwhichtheydidnotwanttoknoworcouldnotperceivetruth(factsorevidence),thenFantasywouldlanguishuntiltheywerecured.Iftheyevergetintothatstate(itwouldnotseematallimpossible),Fantasywillperish,andbecomeMorbidDelusion.

ForcreativeFantasyisfoundeduponthehardrecognitionthatthingsaresointheworldasitappearsunderthesun;onarecognitionoffact,butnotaslaverytoit.SouponlogicwasfoundedthenonsensethatdisplaysitselfinthetalesandrhymesofLewisCarroll.Ifmenreallycouldnotdistinguishbetweenfrogsandmen,fairy-storiesaboutfrog-kingswouldnothavearisen.

Fantasycan,ofcourse,becarriedtoexcess.Itcanbeilldone.Itcanbeputtoeviluses.Itmayevendeludethemindsoutofwhichitcame.Butofwhathumanthinginthisfallenworldisthatnottrue?Menhaveconceivednotonlyofelves,buttheyhaveimaginedgods,andworshippedthem,evenworshippedthosemostdeformedbytheirauthors’ownevil.Buttheyhavemadefalsegodsoutofothermaterials:theirnotions,theirbanners,theirmonies;eventheirsciencesandtheirsocialandeconomictheorieshavedemandedhumansacrifice.Abususnontollitusum.Fantasyremainsahumanright:wemakeinourmeasureandinourderivativemode,becausewearemade:andnotonlymade,butmadeintheimageandlikenessofaMaker.

1Thatis:whichcommandsorinducesSecondaryBelief.

1Thisisnottrueofalldreams.InsomeFantasyseemstotakeapart.Butthisisexceptional.Fantasyisarational,notanirrational,activity.

1SeeNoteEatend(p.394).

1SeeNoteFatend(p.396).

RECOVERY,ESCAPE,CONSOLATION

Asforoldage,whetherpersonalorbelongingtothetimesinwhichwelive,itmaybetrue,asisoftensupposed,thatthisimposesdisabilities(cf.p.350).Butitisinthemainanideaproducedbythemerestudyoffairy-stories.Theanalyticstudyoffairy-storiesisasbadapreparationfortheenjoyingorthewritingofthemaswouldbethehistoricalstudyofthedramaofalllandsandtimesfortheenjoymentorwritingofstage-plays.Thestudymayindeedbecomedepressing.Itiseasyforthestudenttofeelthatwithallhislabourheiscollectingonlyafewleaves,manyofthemnowtornordecayed,fromthecountlessfoliageoftheTreeofTales,withwhichtheForestofDaysiscarpeted.Itseemsvaintoaddtothelitter.Whocandesignanewleaf?Thepatternsfrombudtounfolding,andthecoloursfromspringtoautumnwerealldiscoveredbymenlongago.Butthatisnottrue.Theseedofthetreecanbereplantedinalmostanysoil,eveninonesosmokeridden(asLangsaid)asthatofEngland.Springis,ofcourse,notreallylessbeautifulbecausewehaveseenorheardofotherlikeevents:likeevents,neverfromworld’sbeginningtoworld’sendthesameevent.Eachleaf,ofoakandashandthorn,isauniqueembodimentofthepattern,andforsomeeyethisveryyearmaybetheembodiment,thefirsteverseenandrecognised,thoughoakshaveputforthleavesforcountlessgenerationsofmen.

Wedonot,orneednot,despairofdrawingbecausealllinesmustbeeithercurvedorstraight,norofpaintingbecausethereareonlythree‘primary’colours.Wemayindeedbeoldernow,insofarasweareheirsinenjoymentorinpracticeofmanygenerationsofancestorsinthearts.Inthisinheritanceofwealththeremaybeadangerofboredomorofanxietytobeoriginal,andthatmayleadtoadistasteforfinedrawing,delicatepattern,and‘pretty’colours,orelsetomeremanipulationandover-elaborationofoldmaterial,cleverandheartless.Butthetrueroadofescapefromsuchwearinessisnottobefoundinthewilfullyawkward,clumsy,ormisshapen,notinmakingallthingsdarkorunremittinglyviolent;norinthemixingofcoloursonthroughsubtletytodrabness,andthefantasticalcomplicationofshapestothepointofsillinessandontowardsdelirium.Beforewereachsuchstatesweneedrecovery.Weshouldlookatgreenagain,andbestartledanew(butnotblinded)byblueandyellow

andred.Weshouldmeetthecentaurandthedragon,andthenperhapssuddenlybehold,liketheancientshepherds,sheep,anddogs,andhorses—andwolves.Thisrecoveryfairy-storieshelpustomake.Inthatsenseonlyatasteforthemmaymakeus,orkeepus,childish.

Recovery(whichincludesreturnandrenewalofhealth)isare-gaining—regainingofaclearview.Idonotsay‘seeingthingsastheyare’andinvolvemyselfwiththephilosophers,thoughImightventuretosay‘seeingthingsasweare(orwere)meanttoseethem’—asthingsapartfromourselves.Weneed,inanycase,tocleanourwindows;sothatthethingsseenclearlymaybefreedfromthedrabbluroftritenessorfamiliarity—frompossessiveness.Ofallfacesthoseofourfamiliaresaretheonesbothmostdifficulttoplayfantastictrickswith,andmostdifficultreallytoseewithfreshattention,perceivingtheirlikenessandunlikeness:thattheyarefaces,andyetuniquefaces.Thistritenessisreallythepenaltyof‘appropriation’:thethingsthataretrite,or(inabadsense)familiar,arethethingsthatwehaveappropriated,legallyormentally.Wesayweknowthem.Theyhavebecomelikethethingswhichonceattractedusbytheirglitter,ortheircolour,ortheirshape,andwelaidhandsonthem,andthenlockedtheminourhoard,acquiredthem,andacquiringceasedtolookatthem.

Ofcourse,fairy-storiesarenottheonlymeansofrecovery,orprophylacticagainstloss.Humilityisenough.Andthereis(especiallyforthehumble)Mooreeffoc,orChestertonianFantasy.Mooreeffocisafantasticword,butitcouldbeseenwrittenupineverytowninthisland.ItisCoffeeroom,viewedfromtheinsidethroughaglassdoor,asitwasseenbyDickensonadarkLondonday;anditwasusedbyChestertontodenotethequeernessofthingsthathavebecometrite,whentheyareseensuddenlyfromanewangle.Thatkindof‘fantasy’mostpeoplewouldallowtobewholesomeenough;anditcanneverlackformaterial.Butithas,Ithink,onlyalimitedpower;forthereasonthatrecoveryoffreshnessofvisionisitsonlyvirtue.ThewordMooreeffocmaycauseyousuddenlytorealisethatEnglandisanutterlyalienland,losteitherinsomeremotepastageglimpsedbyhistory,orinsomestrangedimfuturetobereachedonlybyatime-machine;toseetheamazingoddityandinterestofitsinhabitantsandtheircustomsandfeedinghabits;butitcannotdomorethanthat:actasatimetelescopefocusedononespot.Creativefantasy,becauseitismainlytryingtodosomethingelse(makesomethingnew),mayopenyourhoardandletallthelockedthingsflyawaylikecage-birds.Thegemsallturnintoflowersorflames,andyouwillbewarnedthatallyouhad(orknew)wasdangerousandpotent,notreallyeffectivelychained,freeandwild;nomoreyoursthanthey

wereyou.The‘fantastic’elementsinverseandproseofotherkinds,evenwhenonly

decorativeoroccasional,helpinthisrelease.Butnotsothoroughlyasafairy-story,athingbuiltonoraboutFantasy,ofwhichFantasyisthecore.FantasyismadeoutofthePrimaryWorld,butagoodcraftsmanloveshismaterial,andhasaknowledgeandfeelingforclay,stoneandwoodwhichonlytheartofmakingcangive.BytheforgingofGramcoldironwasrevealed;bythemakingofPegasushorseswereennobled;intheTreesoftheSunandMoonrootandstock,flowerandfruitaremanifestedinglory.

Andactuallyfairy-storiesdeallargely,or(thebetterones)mainly,withsimpleorfundamentalthings,untouchedbyFantasy,butthesesimplicitiesaremadeallthemoreluminousbytheirsetting.Forthestory-makerwhoallowshimselftobe‘freewith’Naturecanbeherlovernotherslave.Itwasinfairy-storiesthatIfirstdivinedthepotencyofthewords,andthewonderofthethings,suchasstone,andwood,andiron;treeandgrass;houseandfire;breadandwine.

IwillnowconcludebyconsideringEscapeandConsolation,whicharenaturallycloselyconnected.Thoughfairy-storiesareofcoursebynomeanstheonlymediumofEscape,theyaretodayoneofthemostobviousand(tosome)outrageousformsof‘escapist’literature;anditisthusreasonabletoattachtoaconsiderationofthemsomeconsiderationsofthisterm‘escape’incriticismgenerally.

IhaveclaimedthatEscapeisoneofthemainfunctionsoffairy-stories,andsinceIdonotdisapproveofthem,itisplainthatIdonotacceptthetoneofscornorpitywithwhich‘Escape’isnowsooftenused:atoneforwhichtheusesofthewordoutsideliterarycriticismgivenowarrantatall.InwhatthemisusersofEscapearefondofcallingRealLife,Escapeisevidentlyasaruleverypractical,andmayevenbeheroic.Inreallifeitisdifficulttoblameit,unlessitfails;incriticismitwouldseemtobetheworsethebetteritsucceeds.Evidentlywearefacedbyamisuseofwords,andalsobyaconfusionofthought.Whyshouldamanbescorned,if,findinghimselfinprison,hetriestogetoutandgohome?Orif,whenhecannotdoso,hethinksandtalksaboutothertopicsthanjailersandprison-walls?Theworldoutsidehasnotbecomelessrealbecausetheprisonercannotseeit.InusingEscapeinthiswaythecriticshavechosenthewrongword,and,whatismore,theyareconfusing,notalwaysbysincereerror,theEscapeofthePrisonerwiththeFlightoftheDeserter.JustsoaPartyspokesmanmighthavelabelleddeparturefromthemiseryoftheFührer’soranyotherReich

andevencriticismofitastreachery.Inthesamewaythesecritics,tomakeconfusionworse,andsotobringintocontempttheiropponents,sticktheirlabelofscornnotonlyontoDesertion,butontorealEscape,andwhatareoftenitscompanions,Disgust,Anger,Condemnation,andRevolt.Notonlydotheyconfoundtheescapeoftheprisonerwiththeflightofthedeserter;buttheywouldseemtoprefertheacquiescenceofthe‘quisling’totheresistanceofthepatriot.Tosuchthinkingyouhaveonlytosay‘thelandyoulovedisdoomed’toexcuseanytreachery,indeedtoglorifyit.

Foratriflinginstance:nottomention(indeednottoparade)electricstreet-lampsofmass-producedpatterninyourtaleisEscape(inthatsense).Butitmay,almostcertainlydoes,proceedfromaconsidereddisgustforsotypicalaproductoftheRobotAge,thatcombineselaborationandingenuityofmeanswithugliness,and(often)withinferiorityofresult.Theselampsmaybeexcludedfromthetalesimplybecausetheyarebadlamps;anditispossiblethatoneofthelessonstobelearntfromthestoryistherealizationofthisfact.Butoutcomesthebigstick:‘Electriclampshavecometostay’,theysay.LongagoChestertontrulyremarkedthat,assoonasheheardthatanything‘hadcometostay’,heknewthatitwouldbeverysoonreplaced—indeedregardedaspitiablyobsoleteandshabby.‘ThemarchofScience,itstempoquickenedbytheneedsofwar,goesinexorablyon…makingsomethingsobsolete,andforeshadowingnewdevelopmentsintheutilizationofelectricity’:anadvertisement.Thissaysthesamethingonlymoremenacingly.Theelectricstreet-lampmayindeedbeignored,simplybecauseitissoinsignificantandtransient.Fairy-stories,atanyrate,havemanymorepermanentandfundamentalthingstotalkabout.Lightning,forexample.Theescapistisnotsosubservienttothewhimsofevanescentfashionastheseopponents.Hedoesnotmakethings(whichitmaybequiterationaltoregardasbad)hismastersorhisgodsbyworshippingthemasinevitable,even‘inexorable’.Andhisopponents,soeasilycontemptuous,havenoguaranteethathewillstopthere:hemightrousementopulldownthestreet-lamps.Escapismhasanotherandevenwickederface:Reaction.

Notlongago—incrediblethoughitmayseem—IheardaclerkofOxenforddeclarethathe‘welcomed’theproximityofmass-productionrobotfactories,andtheroarofself-obstructivemechanicaltraffic,becauseitbroughthisuniversityinto‘contactwithreallife’.Hemayhavemeantthatthewaymenwerelivingandworkinginthetwentiethcenturywasincreasinginbarbarityatanalarmingrate,andthatthelouddemonstrationofthisinthestreetsofOxfordmightserveasawarningthatitisnotpossibletopreserveforlonganoasisofsanityina

desertofunreasonbymerefences,withoutactualoffensiveaction(practicalandintellectual).Ifearhedidnot.Inanycasetheexpression‘reallife’inthiscontextseemstofallshortofacademicstandards.Thenotionthatmotor-carsaremore‘alive’than,say,centaursordragonsiscurious;thattheyaremore‘real’than,say,horsesispatheticallyabsurd.Howreal,howstartlinglyaliveisafactorychimneycomparedwithanelmtree:poorobsoletething,insubstantialdreamofanescapist!

Formypart,IcannotconvincemyselfthattheroofofBletchleystationismore‘real’thantheclouds.AndasanartefactIfinditlessinspiringthanthelegendarydomeofheaven.Thebridgetoplatform4istomelessinterestingthanBifröstguardedbyHeimdallwiththeGjallarhorn.FromthewildnessofmyheartIcannotexcludethequestionwhetherrailway-engineers,iftheyhadbeenbroughtuponmorefantasy,mightnothavedonebetterwithalltheirabundantmeansthantheycommonlydo.Fairystoriesmightbe,Iguess,betterMastersofArtsthantheacademicpersonIhavereferredto.

Muchthathe(Imustsuppose)andothers(certainly)wouldcall‘serious’literatureisnomorethanplayunderaglassroofbythesideofamunicipalswimming-bath.Fairy-storiesmayinventmonstersthatflytheairordwellinthedeep,butatleasttheydonottrytoescapefromheavenorthesea.

Andifweleaveasideforamoment‘fantasy’,Idonotthinkthatthereaderorthemakeroffairy-storiesneedevenbeashamedofthe‘escape’ofarchaism:ofpreferringnotdragonsbuthorses,castles,sailing-ships,bowsandarrows;notonlyelves,butknightsandkingsandpriests.Foritisafterallpossibleforarationalman,afterreflection(quiteunconnectedwithfairy-storyorromance),toarriveatthecondemnation,implicitatleastinthemeresilenceof‘escapist’literature,ofprogressivethingslikefactories,orthemachine-gunsandbombsthatappeartobetheirmostnaturalandinevitable,darewesay‘inexorable’,products.

‘TherawnessanduglinessofmodernEuropeanlife’—thatreallifewhosecontactweshouldwelcome—‘isthesignofabiologicalinferiority,ofaninsufficientorfalsereactiontoenvironment.’1Themaddestcastlethatevercameoutofagiant’sbaginawildGaelicstoryisnotonlymuchlessuglythanarobot-factory,itisalso(touseaverymodernphrase)‘inaveryrealsense’agreatdealmorereal.Whyshouldwenotescapefromorcondemnthe‘grimAssyrian’absurdityoftop-hats,ortheMorlockianhorroroffactories?Theyarecondemnedevenbythewritersofthatmostescapistformofallliterature,storiesofSciencefiction.Theseprophetsoftenforetell(andmanyseemtoyearnfor)a

worldlikeonebigglass-roofedrailway-station.Butfromthemitisasaruleveryhardtogatherwhatmeninsuchaworld-townwilldo.Theymayabandonthe‘fullVictorianpanoply’forloosegarments(withzip-fasteners),butwillusethisfreedommainly,itwouldappear,inordertoplaywithmechanicaltoysinthesoon-cloyinggameofmovingathighspeed.Tojudgebysomeofthesetalestheywillstillbeaslustful,vengeful,andgreedyasever;andtheidealsoftheiridealistshardlyreachfartherthanthesplendidnotionofbuildingmoretownsofthesamesortonotherplanets.Itisindeedanageof‘improvedmeanstodeterioratedends’.Itispartoftheessentialmaladyofsuchdays—producingthedesiretoescape,notindeedfromlife,butfromourpresenttimeandself-mademisery—thatweareacutelyconsciousbothoftheuglinessofourworks,andoftheirevil.Sothattousevilanduglinessseemindissolublyallied.Wefinditdifficulttoconceiveofevilandbeautytogether.Thefearofthebeautifulfaythatranthroughtheelderagesalmosteludesourgrasp.Evenmorealarming:goodnessisitselfbereftofitsproperbeauty.InFaërieonecanindeedconceiveofanogrewhopossessesacastlehideousasanightmare(fortheeviloftheogrewillsitso),butonecannotconceiveofahousebuiltwithagoodpurpose—aninn,ahostelfortravellers,thehallofavirtuousandnobleking—thatisyetsickeninglyugly.Atthepresentdayitwouldberashtohopetoseeonethatwasnot—unlessitwasbuiltbeforeourtime.

This,however,isthemodernandspecial(oraccidental)‘escapist’aspectoffairy-stories,whichtheysharewithromances,andotherstoriesoutoforaboutthepast.Manystoriesoutofthepasthaveonlybecome‘escapist’intheirappealthroughsurvivingfromatimewhenmenwereasaruledelightedwiththeworkoftheirhandsintoourtimewhenmanymenfeeldisgustwithman-madethings.

Buttherearealsootherandmoreprofound‘escapisms’thathavealwaysappearedinfairy-taleandlegend.Thereareotherthingsmoregrimandterribletoflyfromthanthenoise,stench,ruthlessness,andextravaganceoftheinternalcombustionengine.Therearehunger,thirst,poverty,pain,sorrow,injustice,death.Andevenwhenmenarenotfacinghardthingssuchasthese,thereareancientlimitationsfromwhichfairy-storiesofferasortofescape,andoldambitionsanddesires(touchingtheveryrootsoffantasy)towhichtheyofferakindofsatisfactionandconsolation.Somearepardonableweaknessesorcuriosities:suchasthedesiretovisit,freeasafish,thedeepsea;orthelongingforthenoiseless,gracious,economicalflightofabird,thatlongingwhichtheaeroplanecheats,exceptinraremoments,seenhighandbywindanddistancenoiseless,turninginthesun:thatis,preciselywhenimaginedandnotused.

Thereareprofounderwishes:suchasthedesiretoconversewithotherlivingthings.Onthisdesire,asancientastheFall,islargelyfoundedthetalkingofbeastsandcreaturesinfairy-tales,andespeciallythemagicalunderstandingoftheirproperspeech.Thisistheroot,andnotthe‘confusion’attributedtothemindsofmenoftheunrecordedpast,analleged‘absenceofthesenseofseparationofourselvesfrombeasts’.1Avividsenseofthatseparationisveryancient;butalsoasensethatitwasaseverance:astrangefateandaguiltliesonus.OthercreaturesarelikeotherrealmswithwhichManhasbrokenoffrelations,andseesnowonlyfromtheoutsideatadistance,beingatwarwiththem,oronthetermsofanuneasyarmistice.Thereareafewmenwhoareprivilegedtotravelabroadalittle;othersmustbecontentwithtravellers’tales.Evenaboutfrogs.Inspeakingofthatratheroddbutwidespreadfairy-storyTheFrog-KingMaxMülleraskedinhisprimway:‘Howcamesuchastoryevertobeinvented?Humanbeingswere,wemayhope,atalltimessufficientlyenlightenedtoknowthatamarriagebetweenafrogandthedaughterofaqueenwasabsurd.’Indeedwemayhopeso!Forifnot,therewouldbenopointinthisstoryatall,dependingasitdoesessentiallyonthesenseoftheabsurdity.Folk-loreorigins(orguessesaboutthem)areherequitebesidethepoint.Itisoflittleavailtoconsidertotemism.Forcertainly,whatevercustomsorbeliefsaboutfrogsandwellsliebehindthisstory,thefrog-shapewasandispreservedinthefairy-story1preciselybecauseitwassoqueerandthemarriageabsurd,indeedabominable.Though,ofcourse,intheversionswhichconcernus,Gaelic,German,English,2thereisinfactnoweddingbetweenaprincessandafrog:thefrogwasanenchantedprince.Andthepointofthestoryliesnotinthinkingfrogspossiblemates,butinthenecessityofkeepingpromises(eventhosewithintolerableconsequences)that,togetherwithobservingprohibitions,runsthroughallFairyland.ThisisoneofthenotesofthehornsofElfland,andnotadimnote.

Andlastlythereistheoldestanddeepestdesire,theGreatEscape:theEscapefromDeath.Fairy-storiesprovidemanyexamplesandmodesofthis—whichmightbecalledthegenuineescapist,or(Iwouldsay)fugitivespirit.Butsodootherstories(notablythoseofscientificinspiration),andsodootherstudies.Fairy-storiesaremadebymennotbyfairies.TheHuman-storiesoftheelvesaredoubtlessfulloftheEscapefromDeathlessness.Butourstoriescannotbeexpectedalwaystoriseaboveourcommonlevel.Theyoftendo.Fewlessonsaretaughtmoreclearlyinthemthantheburdenofthatkindofimmortality,orratherendlessserialliving,towhichthe‘fugitive’wouldfly.Forthefairy-story

isspeciallyapttoteachsuchthings,ofoldandstilltoday.DeathisthethemethatmostinspiredGeorgeMacDonald.

Butthe‘consolation’offairy-taleshasanotheraspectthantheimaginativesatisfactionofancientdesires.FarmoreimportantistheConsolationoftheHappyEnding.AlmostIwouldventuretoassertthatallcompletefairystoriesmusthaveit.AtleastIwouldsaythatTragedyisthetrueformofDrama,itshighestfunction;buttheoppositeistrueofFairy-story.Sincewedonotappeartopossessawordthatexpressesthisopposite—IwillcallitEucatastrophe.Theeucatastrophictaleisthetrueformoffairy-tale,anditshighestfunction.

Theconsolationoffairy-stories,thejoyofthehappyending:ormorecorrectlyofthegoodcatastrophe,thesuddenjoyous‘turn’(forthereisnotrueendtoanyfairytale):1thisjoy,whichisoneofthethingswhichfairystoriescanproducesupremelywell,isnotessentially‘escapist’,nor‘fugitive’.Initsfairy-tale—orotherworld—setting,itisasuddenandmiraculousgrace:nevertobecountedontorecur.Itdoesnotdenytheexistenceofdyscatastrophe,ofsorrowandfailure:thepossibilityoftheseisnecessarytothejoyofdeliverance;itdenies(inthefaceofmuchevidence,ifyouwill)universalfinaldefeatandinsofarisevangelium,givingafleetingglimpseofJoy,Joybeyondthewallsoftheworld,poignantasgrief.

Itisthemarkofagoodfairy-story,ofthehigherormorecompletekind,thathoweverwilditsevents,howeverfantasticorterribletheadventures,itcangivetochildormanthathearsit,whenthe‘turn’comes,acatchofthebreath,abeatandliftingoftheheart,nearto(orindeedaccompaniedby)tears,askeenasthatgivenbyanyformofliteraryart,andhavingapeculiarquality.

Evenmodernfairy-storiescanproducethiseffectsometimes.Itisnotaneasythingtodo;itdependsonthewholestorywhichisthesettingoftheturn,andyetitreflectsaglorybackwards.Atalethatinanymeasuresucceedsinthispointhasnotwhollyfailed,whateverflawsitmaypossess,andwhatevermixtureorconfusionofpurpose.IthappenseveninAndrewLang’sownfairy-story,PrincePrigio,unsatisfactoryinmanywaysasthatis.When‘eachknightcamealiveandliftedhisswordandshouted“longlivePrincePrigio”’,thejoyhasalittleofthatstrangemythicalfairy-storyquality,greaterthantheeventdescribed.ItwouldhavenoneinLang’stale,iftheeventdescribedwerenotapieceofmoreseriousfairy-story‘fantasy’thanthemainbulkofthestory,whichisingeneralmorefrivolous,havingthehalf-mockingsmileofthecourtly,sophisticatedConte.1FarmorepowerfulandpoignantistheeffectinaserioustaleofFaërie.1Insuchstorieswhenthesudden‘turn’comeswegetapiercing

glimpseofjoy,andheart’sdesire,thatforamomentpassesoutsidetheframe,rendsindeedtheverywebofstory,andletsagleamcomethrough.

SevenlongyearsIservedforthee,TheglassyhillIclambforthee,ThebluidyshirtIwrangforthee,Andwiltthounotwaukenandturntome?

Heheardandturnedtoher.2

1ChristopherDawson,ProgressandReligion,pp.58,59.Laterheadds:‘ThefullVictorianpanoplyoftop-hatandfrock-coatundoubtedlyexpressedsomethingessentialinthenineteenthcenturyculture,andhenceithaswiththatculturespreadallovertheworld,asnofashionofclothinghaseverdonebefore.ItispossiblethatourdescendantswillrecogniseinitakindofgrimAssyrianbeauty,fitemblemoftheruthlessandgreatagethatcreatedit;buthoweverthatmaybe,itmissesthedirectandinevitablebeautythatallclothingshouldhave,becauselikeitsparentcultureitwasoutoftouchwiththelifeofnatureandofhumannatureaswell.’

1SeeNoteGatend(p.397).

1Orgroupofsimilarstories.

2TheQueenwhosoughtdrinkfromacertainWellandtheLorgann(Campbell,xxiii);DerFroschkönig;TheMaidandtheFrog

1SeeNoteHatend(p.398).

1ThisischaracteristicofLang’swaveringbalance.Onthesurfacethestoryisafollowerofthe‘courtly’Frenchcontewithasatiricaltwist,andofThackeray’sRoseandtheRinginparticular—akindwhichbeingsuperficial,evenfrivolous,bynature,doesnotproduceoraimatproducinganythingsoprofound;butunderneathliesthedeeperspiritoftheromanticLang.

1OfthekindwhichLangcalled‘traditional’,andreallypreferred.

2TheBlackBullofNorroway.

EPILOGUEThis‘joy’whichIhaveselectedasthemarkofthetruefairy-story(orromance),orasthesealuponit,meritsmoreconsideration.

Probablyeverywritermakingasecondaryworld,afantasy,everysub-creator,wishesinsomemeasuretobearealmaker,orhopesthatheisdrawingonreality:hopesthatthepeculiarqualityofthissecondaryworld(ifnotallthedetails)3arederivedfromReality,orareflowingintoit.Ifheindeedachievesaqualitythatcanfairlybedescribedbythedictionarydefinition:‘innerconsistencyofreality’,itisdifficulttoconceivehowthiscanbe,iftheworkdoesnotinsomewaypartakeofreality.Thepeculiarqualityofthe‘joy’insuccessfulFantasycanthusbeexplainedasasuddenglimpseoftheunderlyingrealityortruth.Itisnotonlya‘consolation’forthesorrowofthisworld,butasatisfaction,andananswertothatquestion,‘Isittrue?’TheanswertothisquestionthatIgaveatfirstwas(quiterightly):‘Ifyouhavebuiltyourlittleworldwell,yes:itistrueinthatworld.’Thatisenoughfortheartist(ortheartistpartoftheartist).Butinthe‘eucatastrophe’weseeinabriefvisionthattheanswermaybegreater—itmaybeafar-offgleamorechoofevangeliumintherealworld.Theuseofthiswordgivesahintofmyepilogue.Itisaseriousanddangerousmatter.Itispresumptuousofmetotouchuponsuchatheme;butifbygracewhatIsayhasinanyrespectanyvalidity,itis,ofcourse,onlyonefacetofatruthincalculablyrich:finiteonlybecausethecapacityofManforwhomthiswasdoneisfinite.

IwouldventuretosaythatapproachingtheChristianStoryfromthisdirection,ithaslongbeenmyfeeling(ajoyousfeeling)thatGodredeemedthecorruptmakingcreatures,men,inawayfittingtothisaspect,astoothers,oftheirstrangenature.TheGospelscontainafairy-story,orastoryofalargerkindwhichembracesalltheessenceoffairy-stories.Theycontainmanymarvels—peculiarlyartistic,1beautiful,andmoving:‘mythical’intheirperfect,self-containedsignificance;andamongthemarvelsisthegreatestandmostcompleteconceivableeucatastrophe.ButthisstoryhasenteredHistoryandtheprimaryworld;thedesireandaspirationofsub-creationhasbeenraisedtothefulfillmentofCreation.TheBirthofChrististheeucatastropheofMan’shistory.TheResurrectionistheeucatastropheofthestoryoftheIncarnation.Thisstorybeginsandendsinjoy.Ithaspre-eminentlythe‘innerconsistencyofreality’.

Thereisnotaleevertoldthatmenwouldratherfindwastrue,andnonewhichsomanyscepticalmenhaveacceptedastrueonitsownmerits.FortheArtofithasthesupremelyconvincingtoneofPrimaryArt,thatis,ofCreation.Torejectitleadseithertosadnessortowrath.

Itisnotdifficulttoimaginethepeculiarexcitementandjoythatonewouldfeel,ifanyspeciallybeautifulfairystorywerefoundtobe‘primarily’true,itsnarrativetobehistory,withouttherebynecessarilylosingthemythicalorallegoricalsignificancethatithadpossessed.Itisnotdifficult,foroneisnotcalledupontotryandconceiveanythingofaqualityunknown.Thejoywouldhaveexactlythesamequality,ifnotthesamedegree,asthejoywhichthe‘turn’inafairy-storygives:suchjoyhastheverytasteofprimarytruth.(Otherwiseitsnamewouldnotbejoy.)Itlooksforward(orbackward:thedirectioninthisregardisunimportant)totheGreatEucatastrophe.TheChristianjoy,theGloria,isofthesamekind;butitispre-eminently(infinitely,ifourcapacitywerenotfinite)highandjoyous.Becausethisstoryissupreme;anditistrue.Arthasbeenverified.GodistheLord,ofangels,andofmen—andofelves.LegendandHistoryhavemetandfused.

ButinGod’skingdomthepresenceofthegreatestdoesnotdepressthesmall.RedeemedManisstillman.Story,fantasy,stillgoon,andshouldgoon.TheEvangeliumhasnotabrogatedlegends;ithashallowedthem,especiallythe‘happyending’.TheChristianhasstilltowork,withmindaswellasbody,tosuffer,hope,anddie;buthemaynowperceivethatallhisbentsandfacultieshaveapurpose,whichcanberedeemed.Sogreatisthebountywithwhichhehasbeentreatedthathemaynow,perhaps,fairlydaretoguessthatinFantasyhemayactuallyassistintheeffoliationandmultipleenrichmentofcreation.Alltalesmaycometrue;andyet,atthelast,redeemed,theymaybeaslikeandasunliketheformsthatwegivethemasMan,finallyredeemed,willbelikeandunlikethefallenthatweknow.

3Forallthedetailsmaynotbe‘true’:itisseldomthatthe‘inspiration’issostrongandlastingthatitleavensallthelump,anddoesnotleavemuchthatismereuninspired‘invention’.

1TheArtishereinthestoryitselfratherthaninthetelling;fortheAuthorofthestorywasnottheevangelists.

NOTESA(page327)Theveryroot(notonlytheuse)oftheir‘marvels’issatiric,amockeryofunreason;andthe‘dream’elementisnotameremachineryofintroductionandending,butinherentintheactionandtransitions.Thesethingschildrencanperceiveandappreciate,iflefttothemselves.Buttomany,asitwastome,Aliceispresentedasafairy-storyandwhilethismisunderstandinglasts,thedistasteforthedream-machineryisfelt.ThereisnosuggestionofdreaminTheWindintheWillows.‘TheMolehadbeenworkingveryhardallthemorning,spring-cleaninghislittlehouse.’Soitbegins,andthatcorrecttoneismaintained.ItisallthemoreremarkablethatA.A.Milne,sogreatanadmirerofthisexcellentbook,shouldhaveprefacedtohisdramatisedversiona‘whimsical’openinginwhichachildisseentelephoningwithadaffodil.Orperhapsitisnotveryremarkable,foraperceptiveadmirer(asdistinctfromagreatadmirer)ofthebookwouldneverhaveattemptedtodramatiseit.Naturallyonlythesimpleringredients,thepantomime,andthesatiricbeast-fableelements,arecapableofpresentationinthisform.Theplayis,onthelowerlevelofdrama,tolerablygoodfun,especiallyforthosewhohavenotreadthebook;butsomechildrenthatItooktoseeToadofToadHall,broughtawayastheirchiefmemorynauseaattheopening.Fortheresttheypreferredtheirrecollectionsofthebook.

B(page346)Ofcourse,thesedetails,asarule,gotintothetales,eveninthedayswhentheywererealpractices,becausetheyhadastory-makingvalue.IfIweretowriteastoryinwhichithappenedthatamanwashanged,thatmightshowinlaterages,ifthestorysurvived—initselfasignthatthestorypossessedsomepermanent,andmorethanlocalortemporary,value—thatitwaswrittenataperiodwhenmenwerereallyhanged,asalegalpractice.Might:theinferencewouldnot,ofcourse,inthatfuturetimebecertain.ForcertaintyonthatpointthefutureinquirerwouldhavetoknowdefinitelywhenhangingwaspractisedandwhenIlived.Icouldhaveborrowedtheincidentfromothertimesandplaces,fromotherstories;Icouldsimplyhaveinventedit.Butevenifthisinferencehappenedtobecorrect,thehanging-scenewouldonlyoccurinthestory,(a)

becauseIwasawareofthedramatic,tragic,ormacabreforceofthisincidentinmytale,and(b)becausethosewhohandeditdownfeltthisforceenoughtomakethemkeeptheincidentin.Distanceoftime,sheerantiquityandalienness,mightlatersharpentheedgeofthetragedyorthehorror;buttheedgemustbethereevenfortheelvishhoneofantiquitytowhetit.Theleastusefulquestion,therefore,forliterarycriticsatanyrate,toaskortoansweraboutIphigeneia,daughterofAgamemnon,is:DoesthelegendofhersacrificeatAuliscomedownfromatimewhenhuman-sacrificewascommonlypractised?

Isayonly‘asarule’,becauseitisconceivablethatwhatisnowregardedasa‘story’wasoncesomethingdifferentinintent:e.g.arecordoffactorritual.Imean‘record’strictly.Astoryinventedtoexplainaritual(aprocessthatissometimessupposedtohavefrequentlyoccurred)remainsprimarilyastory.Ittakesformassuch,andwillsurvive(longaftertheritualevidently)onlybecauseofitsstory-values.Insomecasesdetailsthatnowarenotablemerelybecausetheyarestrangemayhaveoncebeensoeverydayandunregardedthattheywereslippedincasually:likementioningthataman‘raisedhishat’,or‘caughtatrain’.Butsuchcasualdetailswillnotlongsurvivechangeineverydayhabits.Notinaperiodoforaltransmission.Inaperiodofwriting(andofrapidchangesinhabits)astorymayremainunchangedlongenoughforevenitscasualdetailstoacquirethevalueofquaintnessorqueerness.MuchofDickensnowhasthisair.Onecanopentodayaneditionofanovelofhisthatwasboughtandfirstreadwhenthingsweresoineverydaylifeastheyareinthestory,thoughtheseeverydaydetailsarenowalreadyasremotefromourdailyhabitsastheElizabethanperiod.Butthatisaspecialmodernsituation.Theanthropologistsandfolk-loristsdonotimagineanyconditionsofthatkind.Butiftheyaredealingwithunletteredoraltransmission,thentheyshouldallthemorereflectthatinthatcasetheyaredealingwithitemswhoseprimaryobjectwasstorybuilding,andwhoseprimaryreasonforsurvivalwasthesame.TheFrog-King(seep.382)isnotaCredo,noramanualoftotem-law:itisaqueertalewithaplainmoral.

C(page349)Asfarasmyknowledgegoes,childrenwhohaveanearlybentforwritinghavenospecialinclinationtoattemptthewritingoffairy-stories,unlessthathasbeenalmostthesoleformofliteraturepresentedtothem;andtheyfailmostmarkedlywhentheytry.Itisnotaneasyform.Ifchildrenhaveanyspecialleaningitisto

Beast-fable,whichadultsoftenconfusewithFairy-story.ThebeststoriesbychildrenthatIhaveseenhavebeeneither‘realistic’(inintent),orhavehadastheircharactersanimalsandbirds,whowereinthemainthezoomorphichumanbeingsusualinBeast-fable.Iimaginethatthisformissooftenadoptedprincipallybecauseitallowsalargemeasureofrealism:therepresentationofdomesticeventsandtalkthatchildrenreallyknow.Theformitselfis,however,asarule,suggestedorimposedbyadults.Ithasacuriouspreponderanceintheliterature,goodandbad,thatisnowadayscommonlypresentedtoyoungchildren:Isupposeitisfelttogowith‘NaturalHistory’,semi-scientificbooksaboutbeastsandbirdsthatarealsoconsideredtobeproperpabulumfortheyoung.Anditisreinforcedbythebearsandrabbitsthatseeminrecenttimesalmosttohaveoustedhumandollsfromtheplayroomsevenoflittlegirls.Childrenmakeupsagas,oftenlongandelaborate,abouttheirdolls.Iftheseareshapedlikebears,bearswillbethecharactersofthesagas;buttheywilltalklikepeople.

D(page355)Iwasintroducedtozoologyandpalaeontology(‘forchildren’)quiteasearlyastoFaërie.Isawpicturesoflivingbeastsandoftrue(soIwastold)prehistoricanimals.Ilikedthe‘prehistoric’animalsbest:theyhadatleastlivedlongago,andhypothesis(basedonsomewhatslenderevidence)cannotavoidagleamoffantasy.ButIdidnotlikebeingtoldthatthesecreatureswere‘dragons’.Icanstillre-feeltheirritationthatIfeltinchildhoodatassertionsofinstructiverelatives(ortheirgift-books)suchasthese:‘snowflakesarefairyjewels’,or‘aremorebeautifulthanfairyjewels’;‘themarvelsoftheoceandepthsaremorewonderfulthanfairyland’.Childrenexpectthedifferencestheyfeelbutcannotanalysetobeexplainedbytheirelders,oratleastrecognised,nottobeignoredordenied.Iwaskeenlyalivetothebeautyof‘Realthings’,butitseemedtomequibblingtoconfusethiswiththewonderof‘Otherthings’.IwaseagertostudyNature,actuallymoreeagerthanIwastoreadmostfairy-stories;butIdidnotwanttobequibbledintoScienceandcheatedoutofFaëriebypeoplewhoseemedtoassumethatbysomekindoforiginalsinIshouldpreferfairytales,butaccordingtosomekindofnewreligionIoughttobeinducedtolikescience.Natureisnodoubtalifestudy,orastudyforeternity(forthosesogifted);butthereisapartofmanwhichisnot‘Nature’,andwhichthereforeisnotobligedtostudyit,andis,infact,whollyunsatisfiedbyit.

E(page364)Thereis,forexample,insurrealismcommonlypresentamorbidityorun-easeveryrarelyfoundinliteraryfantasy.Themindthatproducedthedepictedimagesmayoftenbesuspectedtohavebeeninfactalreadymorbid;yetthisisnotanecessaryexplanationinallcases.Acuriousdisturbanceofthemindisoftensetupbytheveryactofdrawingthingsofthiskind,astatesimilarinqualityandconsciousnessofmorbiditytothesensationsinahighfever,whentheminddevelopsadistressingfecundityandfacilityinfigure-making,seeingformssinisterorgrotesqueinallvisibleobjectsaboutit.

Iamspeakinghere,ofcourse,oftheprimaryexpressionofFantasyin‘pictorial’arts,notof‘illustrations’;norofthecinematograph.Howevergoodinthemselves,illustrationsdolittlegoodtofairy-stories.Theradicaldistinctionbetweenallart(includingdrama)thatoffersavisiblepresentationandtrueliteratureisthatitimposesonevisibleform.Literatureworksfrommindtomindandisthusmoreprogenitive.Itisatoncemoreuniversalandmorepoignantlyparticular.Ifitspeaksofbreadorwineorstoneortree,itappealstothewholeofthesethings,totheirideas;yeteachhearerwillgivetothemapeculiarpersonalembodimentinhisimagination.Shouldthestorysay‘heatebread’,thedramaticproducerorpaintercanonlyshow‘apieceofbread’accordingtohistasteorfancy,butthehearerofthestorywillthinkofbreadingeneralandpictureitinsomeformofhisown.Ifastorysays‘heclimbedahillandsawariverinthevalleybelow’,theillustratormaycatch,ornearlycatch,hisownvisionofsuchascene;buteveryhearerofthewordswillhavehisownpicture,anditwillbemadeoutofallthehillsandriversanddaleshehaseverseen,butspeciallyoutofTheHill,TheRiver,TheValleywhichwereforhimthefirstembodimentoftheword.

F(page366)Iamreferring,ofcourse,primarilytofantasyofformsandvisibleshapes.DramacanbemadeoutoftheimpactuponhumancharactersofsomeeventofFantasy,orFaërie,thatrequiresnomachinery,orthatcanbeassumedorreportedtohavehappened.Butthatisnotfantasyindramaticresult;thehumancharactersholdthestageanduponthemattentionisconcentrated.Dramaofthissort(exemplifiedbysomeofBarrie’splays)canbeusedfrivolously,oritcanbeusedforsatire,orforconveyingsuch‘messages’astheplaywrightmayhaveinhismind—formen.Dramaisanthropocentric.Fairy-storyandFantasyneednot

be.Thereare,forinstance,manystoriestellinghowmenandwomenhavedisappearedandspentyearsamongthefairies,withoutnoticingthepassageoftime,orappearingtogrowolder.InMaryRoseBarriewroteaplayonthistheme.Nofairyisseen.Thecruellytormentedhumanbeingsarethereallthetime.Inspiteofthesentimentalstarandtheangelicvoicesattheend(intheprintedversion)itisapainfulplay,andcaneasilybemadediabolic:bysubstituting(asIhaveseenitdone)theelvishcallfor‘angelvoices’attheend.Thenon-dramaticfairystories,insofarastheyareconcernedwiththehumanvictims,canalsobepatheticorhorrible.Buttheyneednotbe.Inmostofthemthefairiesarealsothere,onequalterms.Insomestoriestheyaretherealinterest.Manyoftheshortfolk-loreaccountsofsuchincidentspurporttobejustpiecesof‘evidence’aboutfairies,itemsinanagelongaccumulationof‘lore’concerningthemandthemodesoftheirexistence.Thesufferingsofhumanbeingswhocomeintocontactwiththem(oftenenough,wilfully)arethusseeninquiteadifferentperspective.Adramacouldbemadeaboutthesufferingsofavictimofresearchinradiology,buthardlyaboutradiumitself.Butitispossibletobeprimarilyinterestedinradium(notradiologists)—orprimarilyinterestedinFaërie,nottorturedmortals.Oneinterestwillproduceascientificbook,theotherafairy-story.Dramacannotwellcopewitheither.

G(page382)Theabsenceofthissenseisamerehypothesisconcerningmenofthelostpast,whateverwildconfusionsmenoftoday,degradedordeluded,maysuffer.Itisjustaslegitimateanhypothesis,andonemoreinagreementwithwhatlittleisrecordedconcerningthethoughtsofmenofoldonthissubject,thatthissensewasoncestronger.Thatfantasieswhichblendedthehumanformwithanimalandvegetableforms,orgavehumanfacultiestobeasts,areancientis,ofcourse,noevidenceforconfusionatall.Itis,ifanything,evidencetothecontrary.Fantasydoesnotblurthesharpoutlinesoftherealworld;foritdependsonthem.Asfarasourwestern,European,worldisconcerned,this‘senseofseparation’hasinfactbeenattackedandweakenedinmoderntimesnotbyfantasybutbyscientifictheory.Notbystoriesofcentaursorwerewolvesorenchantedbears,butbythehypotheses(ordogmaticguesses)ofscientificwriterswhoclassedMannotonlyas‘ananimal’—thatcorrectclassificationisancient—butas‘onlyananimal’.Therehasbeenaconsequentdistortionofsentiment.Thenaturalloveofmennotwhollycorruptforbeasts,andthehuman

desireto‘getinsidetheskin’oflivingthings,hasrunriot.Wenowgetmenwholoveanimalsmorethanmen;whopitysheepsomuchthattheycurseshepherdsaswolves;whoweepoveraslainwarhorseandvilifydeadsoldiers.Itisnow,notinthedayswhenfairy-storieswerebegotten,thatweget‘anabsenceofthesenseofseparation’.

H(page384)Theverbalending—usuallyheldtobeastypicaloftheendoffairy-storiesas‘onceuponatime’isofthebeginning—‘andtheylivedhappilyeverafter’isanartificialdevice.Itdoesnotdeceiveanybody.End-phrasesofthiskindaretobecomparedtothemarginsandframesofpictures,andarenomoretobethoughtofastherealendofanyparticularfragmentoftheseamlessWebofStorythantheframeisofthevisionaryscene,orthecasementoftheOuterWorld.Thesephrasesmaybeplainorelaborate,simpleorextravagant,asartificialandasnecessaryasframesplain,orcarved,orgilded.‘Andiftheyhavenotgoneawaytheyaretherestill.’‘Mystoryisdone—seethereisalittlemouse;anyonewhocatchesitmaymakehimselfafinefurcapofit.’‘Andtheylivedhappilyeverafter.’‘Andwhentheweddingwasover,theysentmehomewithlittlepapershoesonacausewayofpiecesofglass.’

Endingsofthissortsuitfairy-stories,becausesuchtaleshaveagreatersenseandgraspoftheendlessnessoftheWorldofStorythanmostmodern‘realistic’stories,alreadyhemmedwithinthenarrowconfinesoftheirownsmalltime.Asharpcutintheendlesstapestryisnotunfittinglymarkedbyaformula,evenagrotesqueorcomicone.Itwasanirresistibledevelopmentofmodernillustration(solargelyphotographic)thatbordersshouldbeabandonedandthe‘picture’endonlywiththepaper.Thismethodmaybesuitableforphotographs;butitisaltogetherinappropriateforthepicturesthatillustrateorareinspiredbyfairy-stories.Anenchantedforestrequiresamargin,evenanelaborateborder.Toprintitconterminouswiththepage,likea‘shot’oftheRockiesinPicturePost,asifitwereindeeda‘snap’offairylandora‘sketchbyourartistonthespot’,isafollyandanabuse.

Asforthebeginningsoffairy-stories:onecanscarcelyimproveontheformulaOnceuponatime.Ithasanimmediateeffect.Thiseffectcanbeappreciatedbyreading,forinstance,thefairy-storyTheTerribleHeadintheBlueFairyBook.ItisAndrewLang’sownadaptationofthestoryofPerseusandtheGorgon.Itbegins‘onceuponatime’,anditdoesnotnameanyyearorland

orperson.Nowthistreatmentdoessomethingwhichcouldbecalled‘turningmythologyintofairy-story’.Ishouldprefertosaythatitturnshighfairy-story(forsuchistheGreektale)intoaparticularformthatisatpresentfamiliarinourland:anurseryor‘oldwives’form.Namelessnessisnotavirtuebutanaccident,andshouldnothavebeenimitated;forvaguenessinthisregardisadebasement,acorruptionduetoforgetfulnessandlackofskill.Butnotso,Ithink,thetimelessness.Thatbeginningisnotpoverty-strickenbutsignificant.Itproducesatastrokethesenseofagreatunchartedworldoftime.

AbouttheAuthorFAERIEisaperilousland,andinitarepitfallsfortheunwaryanddungeonsfortheoverbold…Therealmoffairy-storyiswideanddeepandhighandfilledwithmanythings:allmannerofbeastsandbirdsarefoundthere;shorelessseasandstarsuncounted;beautythatisanenchantment,andanever-presentperil;bothjoyandsorrowassharpasswords.Inthatrealmamanmay,perhaps,counthimselffortunatetohavewandered,butitsveryrichnessandstrangenesstiethetongueofatravellerwhowouldreportthem.Andwhileheisthereitisdangerousforhimtoasktoomanyquestions,lestthegatesshouldbeshutandthekeysbelost.

J.R.R.Tolkien1

1FromOnFairy-Stories,alecturegivenon8March1939.Thefulltextisreproducedattheendofthisbook.

WorksbyJ.R.R.Tolkien

THEHOBBIT

LEAFBYNIGGLE

ONFAIRY-STORIESFARMERGILESOFHAM

THEHOMECOMINGOFBEORHTNOTHTHELORDOFTHERINGS

THEADVENTURESOFTOMBOMBADIL

THEROADGOESEVERON(WITHDONALDSWANN)SMITHOFWOOTTONMAJOR

Workspublishedposthumously

SIRGAWAINANDTHEGREENKNIGHT,PEARLANDSIRORFEO

THEFATHERCHRISTMASLETTERSTHESILMARILLION

PICTURESBYJ.R.R.TOLKIENUNFINISHEDTALES

THELETTERSOFJ.R.R.TOLKIENFINNANDHENGEST

MRBLISSTHEMONSTERSANDTHECRITICS&OTHERESSAYS

ROVERANDOMTHECHILDRENOFHÚRIN

TheHistoryofMiddle-earth—byChristopherTolkien

ITHEBOOKOFLOSTTALES,PARTONE

IITHEBOOKOFLOSTTALES,PARTTWO

IIITHELAYSOFBELERIANDIVTHESHAPINGOFMIDDLE-EARTH

VTHELOSTROADANDOTHERWRITINGS

VITHERETURNOFTHESHADOWVIITHETREASONOFISENGARD

VIIITHEWAROFTHERINGIXSAURONDEFEATED

XMORGOTH’SRINGXITHEWAROFTHEJEWELS

XIITHEPEOPLESOFMIDDLE-EARTH

CopyrightCopyright©TheJ.R.R.TolkienCopyrightTrust1949TheAdventuresofTomBombadilfirstpublished1961Copyright©TheJ.R.R.TolkienCopyrightTrust1962LeafByNigglefirstpublishedinTreeandLeaf1964Copyright©TheTolkienTrust1964SmithofWoottonMajorfirstpublished1967Copyright©TheTolkienTrust1967Roverandomfirstpublished1998Copyright©TheTolkienTrust1998Introduction©TomShippey2008

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