h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

Hi there...*waves*
How are you?

I like fairy tales too, mainly Welsh ones... I'll put one below... I've got loads floating about on my comp. so if they seem you cuppa chai I can sort you out with some




Long, long ago, at the farm of Pantannas, in Glamorgan, there lived a churlish old husbandman. He hated the Fair Folk who danced on his fields to the light of the moon, and longed to discover some way of ridding his land of them.

Not being able to think of any plan, he went to an old witch and told her of his wish. She made him promise to give her one night's milking on his farm, and then advised him thus:

"Wherever you see a fairy ring in your fields, plough it and sow it with corn," she said. "When the fairies find the greensward gone, they will never revisit the spot."

The farmer took her advice. He yoked his oxen and drove his iron ploughshare through every circle in which the fairies had danced at night, and sowed it with corn. The nightly sounds of dance and song ceased, and no fairy was afterwards seen in the fields of Pantannas.

The farmer rejoiced greatly, imagining vain things, until one evening in the spring of the year, when the wheat was green in the fields. The farmer was returning home in the red light of the setting sun, when a tiny little man in a red coat came to him, unsheathed a little sword, and directing the point towards him, said:

"Dial a ddaw, Vengeance cometh,
Y mae gerliaw. Fast it approacheth."

After saying this, the mannikin disappeared. The farmer tried to laugh; but there was something in the angry, grim looks of the little man, which made him feel very uncomfortable.

Spring, however, turned into summer, and summer into autumn, without anything happening, and the farmer thought that he had been very foolish to fear the threat of the little man in the red coat.

In the autumn, when the corn was golden in the fields and ripe for the sickle, the farmer and his family were one night going to bed. Suddenly they heard a mighty noise, which shook the house as though it would fall. As they trembled with fear, they heard a loud voice saying,

"Daw dial. Vengeance cometh."

Next morning, no ear or straw was to be seen in the cornfields, only black ashes. The fairies had burnt all the harvest.

The farmer was walking through his fields, gazing ruefully at the destruction wrought by the fairies, when he was met by the same little man as before.

Pointing his sword threateningly, the elf said,

"Nid yw ond dechreu. It but beginneth."

The farmer's face turned as white as milk, and he began to plead for pardon. He was quite willing, he said, to allow the fields where the fairies had been wont to dance and sing to grow again into a greensward.

They could dance in their rings as often as they wished without interference, provided only they would punish him no more.

"No," was the stern reply. "The word of the King has gone forth that he will avenge himself on thee, and no power can recall it."

The farmer burst into tears, and begged so sorrowfully to be forgiven for his fault that the little man at last pitied him and said that he would speak to his lord. "I will come again at the hour of sunset three days hence and bring thee my lord's behest."

When the time came on the third day, the sprite was awaiting the farmer at the appointed spot. "The King's word," he said, "cannot be recalled, and vengeance must come. Still, since thou repentest thee of thy fault and art anxious to atone it, the curse shall not fall in thy time nor in that of thy sons, but will await thy distant posterity."

This promise comforted the farmer. The dark-green circles of grass grew again, the gay elves danced in them, and the sounds of music gladdened the fields as of old.

The dread voice came at times, repeating the threat,

"Daw dial, Vengeance will come," but the farmer passed away in peaceful old age, and his sons followed him to the churchyard without feeling any effects of the curse pronounced by the King of the fairies.

More than a hundred years after the first warning had been uttered, Madoc, the heir of Pantannas, was betrothed to Teleri, the daughter of the squire of Pen Craig Pat and the wedding was to take place in a few weeks. It was Christmas-tide, and they made a feast at Pantannas to which Teleri and all her kin were bidden.

The feast sped merrily, and all were seated round the hearth, passing the hours with tale and song. Suddenly, above the noise of the river which flowed outside the house, they seemed to hear a voice saying,

"Daeth amser ymddial. The time for revenge is come."

A silence fell on all the joyous company. They went out and listened if they could hear the voice a second time; but long though they lingered, they could make out no sound except the angry noise of the full river plunging down its rocky bed. They went back into the house; gradually their fears were chased away, and all was as before.

Again, above the sounds of mirth and the noise of the waters as they boiled over the boulders was heard a clear voice,

"Daeth yr amser. The time is come."

A dread noise crashed around them, and the house shook to its foundations. As they sat speechless with fear, behold, a shapeless hag appeared at the window. Then one, bolder than the rest, said, "What dost thou, ugly little thing, want here?"

"I have naught to do with thee, chatterer," said the hag. "I had come to tell the doom which awaits this house and that other which hopes to be allied with it, but as thou hast insulted me, the veil which conceals it shall not be lifted by me." With that she vanished, no one knew how or whither.

When she had gone, the voice proclaimed again, more loudly than before,

"Daeth amser ymddial. The time for vengeance is come."

Terror and gloom fell upon all. The guests before long parted and went trembling home, and Madoc took his betrothed back to Pen Craig Daf, doing all that a fond lover could to dispel her fears, for she had been struck to the heart with nameless dread.

The hours of darkness succeeded one another wearily, and no Madoc returned to Pantannas. Morning came, but still no Madoc; and his aged parents, already shaken by the vision of the hag and the strange voices which had interrupted their joyous feast, were almost beside themselves with anxiety. As the day wore on, without any sign of Madoc, they sent messengers in all directions to seek news of him, but all they could discover was that he had turned his footsteps homewards after bidding farewell to his betrothed at Pen Craig Daf. All the countryside turned out to find him. With minute care they searched every hill and dale for many miles around, and dragged the depths of every river, but never a trace of him could they find.

When many weeks of unavailing search had gone by, the father and mother sought an aged hermit who dwelt in a cave high up the country, and asked him whether their lost son would come back to them. He told the lamenting parents that the judgement threatened in olden times by the fairies had overtaken the hapless youth, and bade them hope no more to see him, whether he were alive or dead. It might perhaps come to pass that after generations had gone by he would reappear, but not in their lifetime.

Time rolled on, weeks grew into months and months into years, and gradually all came to believe that the hermit had spoken true. All, that is to say, except one. The gentle maiden, Teleri, never ceased to believe that her beloved was alive and would come again. Every morning when the sun burst open the gates of dawn, she would stand upon the summit of a high rock, looking over the landscape far and near. At even, again, she would be seen at the same spot, seeking some sign of her lover's return until the sun sank behind the battlements of the west. Madoc's father and mother died, and their mortal remains were laid to rest, but Teleri never failed of hope. Year after year she watched until her bright eyes became dim and her chestnut hair was silvered. Worn out with fruitless longing, she died before her time, and they buried her in the graveyard of the old Chapel of the Fan. One by one those who had known Madoc died, and his strange disappearance became only a faint tradition.

Teleri’s undying belief that her lover was still alive was, however, true. This is what had happened to him.. As he was returning home from Pen Craig Daf, the sounds of the sweetest music he had ever heard in his life came out of a cave in the Raven's Rift, and he stopped to listen. The strains after a while seemed to recede further into the cave, and he stepped inside to hear better. The melody retreated further and further, and Madoc, forgetting everything else, followed it further and further into the recesses of the cavern. After he had been listening for an hour or two, as he thought, the music ceased, and suddenly remembering that after the strange events of the night his parents would be anxious for his return, he retraced his footsteps rapidly to the mouth of the cave. When he issued forth from the hollow, the sun was high in the heavens, and he realised that he had been listening to the music longer than he had at first thought. He hastened towards Pantannas, opened the door and went in. Sitting by the fire was an aged man who asked him,

"Who art thou that comest in so boldly?"

A sense of bewilderment came over Madoc. He looked round him. The inside of the house seemed different from what he had been accustomed to. He went to the window and looked out. There appeared to him to be several curious differences in the aspect of the country also. He became dimly conscious that some great change had passed over his life, and answered faintly, "I am Madoc."

"Madoc?" said the aged man. "Madoc? I know thee not. There is no Madoc living in this place, nor have I ever known any man of that name. The only Madoc I have ever heard of was one, who, my grandfather said, disappeared suddenly from this place, nobody knew whither, many scores of years ago."

Madoc sank on a chair and wept. The old man's heart went out to him in his grief, and he rose to comfort him. He put his hand on his shoulder, when lo ! the weeping figure crumbled into thin dust.

thats sad, i wish that it wouldnt of ended so badly , im going to tell you off a fairytale I know. I dont know when it originated but i love the story and have read it many a time:

The Boy who turned into a goat


Once there was a farmer his wife and two children catherine who was 15 and Matthew who was 11.
They lived happily for many years together in their little cottage on the ouytskirts of the forest, but one day disastor struck. Raiders came and stole all of their worthy posessions and killed Catherine and Matthew's parents. They weeped for their loved ones but Catherine decided that they had to seek some way to look after themselves.
SHe recalled her mother mentioning a wealthy uncle in the big city up north. Surely he would take them in?
Catherine and Matthew began to walk to the city, the raiders had taken their only horse the route was hard going. (sorry but i gotta stop now ill post the rest tommorow)

Oooh, what a cliffhanger...


As for the Welsh one I felt the ending was one of it's strengths, if a little bleak...

Matthew was extremely thirsty and every time he saw some water he begged catherine for a drink. They came upon a horse print filled with water. He begged Catherine for a drink. "sister sister" He cried "may i take a drink from the horse print" "No" She replied " for if you do you will turn into a horse.
They walked on a little bit and Matthew saw a cow print filled with water. "sister sister" "may i take a drink"
"No" she replied again" for if you do you will turn into a cow"
They walked again and matthew became increasingly desperate for a drink. They came upon a goat print and once again matthew pleaded. "sister sister" he begged "i am so thirsty please may i drink?"
"no" said catherine "for if you do you will turn into a goat"
But this time to his folly Matthew disregarded his sisters words and drank. As soon as the water touched his lips he began to change. At the quenching of his thirst he was a goat.
Catherine called back for him and as soon as he skipped up to her and bleated she began to weep. She wept and the kid played at her feet. A rich mercheant was riding back from a visit to the town, he heard catherines crying and stopped. Because she was beautiful and he was kindly he offered her a home and to be his wife.
She excepted only by one condition that the kid was to be kept safe. But she did not tell him that the litle goat was in fact her little brother. They lived in prosper but a witch who loved the mercheant was envious of Catherine. She plotted her revenge, one night she sneaked up into catherines room. She tied catherine up and tied a brick around her neck. she then flung her into the lake. Then she took on Catherines form and was happy because the mercheant could not tell the difference. Only the little goat knew the difference and every day he would walk down to the lake and cry. "there is a maiden in the lake a witch on the shore, This is a crying shame and shall remain evermore"
One day the witch heard this and ordered the mercheant to kill the kid. But the mercheant had become quite fond of the little kid but the witch berated him so he gave in.
He sneaked up on the kid with a knife, not wanting to cause the animal suffering. But the little goat was singing to his sister and the mercheant heard him. Then he heard a faint reply. "I am catherine the sister you sorely miss I am here but my heart is dying in my breast" The mercheant dived down and saw catherine as lovely as ever, he pulled her up and she breathed again. The witch saw this and fled but she was caught and imprisoned. Catherine smiled and hugged the mercheant. The kid bleated in happiness and flipped, on the third sommersault he became matthew again.
they all lived in the mercheants house and lived happily ever after.

Ah, tis a very nice tale

you certainly waited long enough for the ending!

Indeed I did... should I give you another Welsh tale?

why dont you do a guide entry on them?

What sort of guide entry?

like catalogue

There might be copyright issues

If I write this fairy tale I have in mind for a creative writing project I'll do it as guide entry and submit it to the AWW...

As an ACE I'm reluctant to so blatantly risk copyright infringement.

lol

You mock me?

*giggle* I surrender no more

OK, I shall be merciful

Bala Lake
Long, long ago, there was a fertile valley where now roll the waters of Bala Lake.

In a stately palace in the middle of the valley lived a cruel and unjust prince. "As a roaring lion and a ranging bear, so is a wicked ruler over the poor people." He feared not God, neither regarded man, and he so oppressed and vexed the five parishes of Penllyn that his name stank in the nostrils of the men of Meirion.

Those whom he afflicted cried to the Lord, and He sent a warning to the oppressor. As the wicked ruler walked in his garden he heard a voice saying, "Vengeance will come," but he laughed the warning to scorn. And he seemed to have reason, for he flourished exceedingly. He laid up treasure and took to wife a noble lady, who bore him a son.

To celebrate the birth of his first-born he prepared a splendid feast, and sent his servants to bid the highest in the land to it. Many made excuse, but many came, and they supped sumptuously. Every sort of meat and every sort of liquor was served that was ever seen elsewhere, and no vessel was placed upon the table that was not either of gold, or of silver, or of buffalo horn. Merry tales were told and mirthful songs were sung, and when it was more agreeable to them to dance than to listen to tales and songs, they danced to the strains of the harp.

About midnight there was an interval in the dancing and the harper was resting alone in a corner, when suddenly he heard a whisper in his ear, "Vengeance, vengeance."

He turned at once, and saw a little bird hovering about him. Having arrested the harper's attention, the bird flew slowly to the door. The harper did not go after it, and the bird came back, sang plaintively a second time in his ear, "Vengeance, vengeance," after which it again flew off to the door, beckoning, as it were, to the harper to follow. This time the harper went after it, but after getting outside he hesitated. Once more the bird returned to him and piped, "Vengeance, vengeance," mournfully and sadly in his ear.

The harper now became afraid of refusing to follow, and proceeded to walk in the direction in which the bird invited him to advance. On they went, though thicket and through bog, the bird hovering the while in front of him and leading him along the easiest and safest paths. If he but stopped for a moment the bird would sing, "Vengeance, vengeance," and he felt constrained to continue his flight. At last he reached the top of a hill, some considerable distance from the palace. By this time he was fatigued and weary (for he was an old man), and he stopped to rest. He fully expected to hear the bird's warning note as before, but on this occasion, though he listened carefully, he could hear nothing but the murmuring of the little burn hard by.

"How foolish I have been," he now thought to himself "to allow myself to be led away in this fashion from the palace! They will be looking for me to play for the next dance and I must hurry back."

In his anxiety, however, to make haste, the old harper lost his way on the hill, and found himself forced to await the break of day.

When the sun's rim appeared above the Berwyn mountains, he turned his eye in the direction of the palace. He was astonished beyond measure to see no trace of it. The whole valley was one calm, large lake, and he could descry his harp floating on the face of the waters.

very edgar allen poe