Elidore

the days of Henry Beauclerc of England there was a little lad named Elidore, who was being brought up to be a cleric. Day after day he would trudge from his mother’s house, and she was a widow, up to the monks’ Scriptorium. There he would learn his A B C, to read it and to write it. But he was a lazy little rogue was this Elidore, and as fast as he learned to write one letter, he forgot another; so it was very little progress he was making. Now when the good monks saw this they remembered the saying of the Book: “Spare the rod and spoil the child,” and whenever Elidore forgot a letter they tried to make him remember it with the rod. At first they used it seldom and lightly, but Elidore was not a boy to be driven, and the more they thwacked him the less he learned: so the thwackings became more frequent and more severe, till Elidore could not stand them any longer. So one day when he was twelve years old he upped with him and offed with him into the [165]great forest near St. David’s. There for two long days and two long nights he wandered about eating nothing but hips and haws. At last he found himself at the mouth of a cave, at the side of a river, and there he sank down, all tired and exhausted. Suddenly two little pigmies appeared to him and said: “Come with us, and we will lead you into a land full of games and sports:” so Elidore raised himself and went with these two; at first through an underground passage all in the dark, but soon they came out into a most beautiful country, with rivers and meadows, woods and plains, as pleasant as can be; only this there was curious about it, that the sun never shone and clouds[166] were always over the sky, so that neither sun was seen by day, nor moon and stars at night.

The two little men led Elidore before their king, who asked why and whence he came. Elidore told him, and the king said: “Thou shalt attend on my son,” and waved him away. So for a long time Elidore waited on the king’s son, and joined in all the games and sports of the little men.

They were little, but they were not dwarfs, for all their limbs were of suitable size one with another. Their hair was fair, and hung upon their shoulders like that of women. They had little horses, about the size of greyhounds; and did not eat flesh, fowl, or fish, but lived on milk flavoured with saffron. And as they had such curious ways, so they had strange thoughts. No oath took they, but never a lie they spoke. They would jeer and scoff at men for their struggles, lying, and treachery. Yet though they were so good they worshipped none, unless you might say they were worshippers of Truth.

After a time Elidore began to long to see boys and men of his own size, and he begged permission to go and visit his mother. So the King gave him permission: so the little men led him along the passage, and guided him through the forest, till he came near his mother’s cottage, and when he entered, was not she rejoiced to see her dear son again? “Where have you been? What have you done?” she cried; and he had to tell her all that had happened to him. She begged of him to stay with her, but he had promised the King to go back. And soon he returned, after making his mother promise not to [167]tell where he was, or with whom. Henceforth Elidore lived, partly with the little men, and partly with his mother. Now one day, when he was with his mother, he told her of the yellow balls they used in their play, and which she felt sure must be of gold. So she begged of him that the next time he came back to her he would bring with him one of these balls. When the time came for him to go back to his mother again, he did not wait for the little men to guide him back, as he now knew the road. But seizing one of the yellow balls with which he used to play, he rushed home through the passage. Now as he got near his mother’s house he seemed to hear tiny footsteps behind him, and he rushed up to the door as quickly as he could. Just as he reached it his foot slipped, and he fell down, and the ball rolled out of his hand, just to the feet of his mother. At that moment two little men rushed forward, seized the ball and ran away, making faces, and spitting at the boy as they passed him. Elidore remained with his mother for a time; but he missed the play and games of the little men, and determined to go back to them. But when he came to where the cave had been, near the river where the underground passage commenced, he could not find it again, and though he searched again and again in the years to come, he could not get back to that fair country. So after a time he went back to the monastery, and became in due course a monk. And men used to come and seek him out, and ask him what had happened to him when he was in the Land of the Little Men. Nor could he ever speak of that happy time without shedding tears.

Now it happened once, when this Elidore was old, that David, Bishop of St. David’s, came to visit his monastery and ask him about the manners and customs of the little[168] men, and above all, he was curious to know what language they spoke; and Elidore told him some of their words. When they asked for water, they would say: Udor udorum; and when they wanted salt, they would say: Hapru udorum. And from this, the Bishop, who was a learned man, discovered that they spoke some sort of Greek. For Udor is Greek for Water, and Hap for Salt.

Hence we know that the Britons came from Troy, being descendants from Brito, son of Priam, King of Troy.

Moral

Elidore’s choice to leave the fairy realm with bread for his poor mother shows that love and duty to family matter more than magic or pleasure. Returning to those who need us brings more lasting joy than any enchantment.

Historical & Cultural Context

Celtic folk tales emerge from the Gaelic, Welsh and Breton storytelling traditions, weaving fairy lore, saints and heroes (like Fionn mac Cumhaill and Cuchulain) with the thin veil between the mortal world and the Otherworld.

Elidore is a Welsh tale appearing in medieval manuscripts from the time of Henry Beauclerc, documented by chroniclers of the period. It belongs to the “fairy changeling” and “loyal child” motif types, found in Celtic tradition and the Mabinogion. The story exemplifies medieval Christian retellings of older pagan Celtic beliefs about fairy abduction and the Otherworld. Scholars note connections to broader European folklore while recognizing its distinctly Welsh and Celtic elements of magical realm interaction and filial duty.

Reflection & Discussion

1. What would you do if offered magic but your family needed you?
2. Why does Elidore give up the fairy bread instead of keeping it?
3. How does choosing family over magic change Elidore’s life?

Did You Know?

• Irish fairy tales feature the Tuatha Dé Danann, a mythical race of supernatural beings said to have inhabited Ireland before the Celts.
• The leprechaun, one of Ireland’s most famous fairy creatures, originally appeared as a water sprite in ancient Celtic folklore.
• Celtic storytellers, known as ‘seanchaí,’ were among the most respected members of Irish society for centuries.

What This Tale Teaches Us Today

Old stories keep their power because their lessons never stop being useful. Here is how this one still applies:

• Respect for the unseen world is a form of practical humility. Celtic tales teach attention to things we cannot fully understand.
• The natural world – trees, rivers, hills – is never just scenery in Celtic folklore. It is part of the cast, and deserves respect.
• Hospitality was a sacred duty in Celtic culture. The same value matters in modern communities that want to thrive.

Why This Story Still Matters

Elidore comes from the deep wellspring of Celtic folk tradition – a tradition that has survived Roman invasion, Viking raids, English colonization, and modern globalization. Celtic storytellers built their tales on a worldview where the natural and the supernatural constantly interpenetrate, where small acts of hospitality or rudeness can shape destinies, and where poetry matters as much as battle. Modern Irish, Welsh, Scottish, Cornish, and Breton communities continue to treasure these tales as part of who they are. When a child in any of these cultures hears a Celtic folk tale, they are inheriting something older and stranger than any empire.

Cultural Context and Continuing Influence

Folk tales like this one survived for hundreds of years through oral storytelling before any scholar thought to write them down. Grandparents told them to grandchildren, travelers traded them along roads and rivers, and mothers repeated them to babies who would one day repeat them to their own children. Each small retelling sharpened the story, discarded unnecessary parts, and polished the essential lesson. That long process of refinement is why a good folk tale feels so weighty – it has been shaped by thousands of listeners across generations, each contributing something small to the story we read today.

Modern readers sometimes wonder whether folk tales are still relevant in an age of apps and smartphones. The answer is yes, perhaps more than ever. The technology changes, but the underlying questions – about kindness, courage, loyalty, greed, family, fear, love – do not. These are the same questions that children asked around a fire in ancient India, around a hearth in medieval Ireland, around a campfire in 19th-century Korea. And they are the same questions children ask their parents today, just phrased differently. That is why a family that reads folk tales together is doing real cultural and emotional work, not simply entertaining itself.