The Wooing of Étaín

In the time when the Tuatha Dé Danann still walked openly in Ireland, there lived among the fairy folk a woman of such extraordinary beauty that she was known throughout both the mortal and otherworld realms. Her name was Étaín, and her beauty was said to be so radiant that it could illuminate the darkest winter night and make the flowers bloom in the dead of winter.

Étaín was the daughter of Ailill, a mortal king, but her beauty caught the attention of Midir the Proud, one of the greatest of the Tuatha Dé Danann who ruled from his sidhe mound at Brí Léith. Midir had taken many forms and loved many beings throughout the ages, but when he first saw Étaín walking in her father’s garden, he knew that she was destined to be his eternal bride.

“Never have I seen such perfection,” Midir whispered to his companion, the druid Dalach. “Her skin is whiter than fresh snow, her hair shines like spun gold, and her eyes are the deep blue of summer twilight. I must have her as my wife.”

Midir approached King Ailill in his great hall, appearing not in his true godly form but as a noble warrior dressed in the finest clothes. His cloak was purple with silver threads, his tunic was of silk, and around his neck hung a golden torque that marked him as one of high rank.

“I am Midir of Brí Léith,” he announced to the king, “and I come to seek the hand of your daughter Étaín in marriage. I offer you whatever bride price you name, for her beauty surpasses that of all women.”

King Ailill, wise in the ways of both mortals and the fair folk, studied this supernatural visitor carefully. “If you are truly who you claim to be, then you must prove your worthiness through great deeds. I do not give my daughter to any man, mortal or immortal, without proof of his valor.”

Midir smiled, for he delighted in challenges. “Name your tasks, and I shall complete them all.”

“First,” said the king, “you must clear twelve plains of their rocks and brambles, making them suitable for farming. Second, you must divert twelve rivers to flow where they will serve my people best. Third, you must build a causeway across the great bog that separates my kingdom from the sea.”

“And if I complete these tasks?” asked Midir.

“Then you may claim Étaín as your bride, with my blessing and a dowry of gold and cattle.”

Midir agreed to these terms, and that very night he began his work. Using the magical powers of the Tuatha Dé Danann, he commanded the earth itself to obey his will. The rocks rolled away from the plains as if they were pebbles, the brambles withered and disappeared, and the soil became rich and dark. The rivers carved new channels according to his directions, flowing in perfect curves that would water the fields and provide fish for the people. The causeway rose from the bog in a single night, its stones fitting together so perfectly that not even the sharpest blade could slip between them.

When dawn broke, King Ailill gazed upon the transformed landscape in amazement. His kingdom had been improved beyond anything he could have imagined. True to his word, he called for Étaín to be brought before them.

When Étaín entered the hall, Midir’s heart soared like a lark at sunrise. She wore a dress of the finest white linen with a mantle of royal purple, and her golden hair was braided with silver threads. But more than her beauty, it was her grace and kindness that captivated him completely.

“My daughter,” said the king, “this lord has completed the tasks I set for him. Will you consent to be his wife?”

Étaín looked into Midir’s eyes and saw there a love as deep as the ocean and as enduring as the mountains. “I will,” she said simply, and her voice was like the sweetest music.

The wedding was celebrated for seven days and seven nights, with feasting and music that drew guests from all corners of Ireland. When it was over, Midir brought his new bride to his sidhe mound at Brí Léith, where they lived in perfect happiness for a full year.

But their joy was not to remain undisturbed. For Midir had another wife, Fuamnach, whom he had married long before he met Étaín. Fuamnach was a powerful sorceress, skilled in the dark arts of transformation and jealousy. When she learned that Midir had brought a mortal woman to be his primary wife, her rage burned like a forge fire.

“So,” Fuamnach hissed to herself as she watched Midir and Étaín walking together in the gardens of Brí Léith, “he thinks this mortal child can replace me? We shall see about that.”

Using her sorcery, Fuamnach created a magic wind that she sent swirling around Étaín as the young woman sat by a crystal fountain, combing her golden hair. The wind grew stronger and stronger until it lifted Étaín from the ground and began to transform her. Her human form dissolved, and she became a beautiful purple butterfly with wings like stained glass windows.

The enchanted wind carried the butterfly-Étaín far from Brí Léith, tossing her through the sky for seven years. During this time, she had no rest, no food save the nectar of flowers, and no shelter save the leaves of trees. Finally, exhausted and nearly dying, she fell onto the roof of a house where a great feast was taking place.

Through a hole in the roof, Étaín fell into a golden cup filled with wine that sat before the wife of Étar, an Ulster warrior. The woman drank the wine without noticing the tiny butterfly, and thus Étaín was swallowed and, through the magic of the Tuatha Dé Danann, was reborn as a human child nine months later.

This new Étaín grew up in Ulster, not knowing her true origins but possessing the same extraordinary beauty as before. Word of her loveliness spread throughout Ireland until it reached the ears of Eochaid Airem, the High King of Ireland, who was seeking a wife.

When Eochaid saw Étaín, he was instantly entranced and made her his queen. They lived happily at Tara for several years, and Étaín became beloved by all the people for her wisdom and kindness.

But Midir had never stopped searching for his lost love. When his magic finally revealed to him that Étaín had been reborn and was now the High King’s wife, he was both overjoyed and heartbroken. She was alive, but she had no memory of their life together in the sidhe.

Disguising himself once again as a mortal nobleman, Midir appeared at the court of Tara and challenged King Eochaid to a game of fidchell, the ancient Irish board game. “I will play you for any stake you name,” Midir declared.

Eochaid, who prided himself on his skill at the game, accepted the challenge. They played for cattle first, which Midir allowed the king to win. Then they played for horses, which again Midir let Eochaid claim. But when they played the third game, Midir’s true skill emerged, and he won decisively.

“What is your prize?” asked Eochaid, somewhat worried.

“One kiss from Queen Étaín,” said Midir quietly.

Eochaid was trapped by the laws of hospitality and fair play. He could not refuse to pay the wager. Reluctantly, he agreed, but demanded that Midir wait one month before claiming his prize.

During that month, Eochaid surrounded Tara with his greatest warriors, for he sensed that this stranger was more than he appeared to be. When the appointed day came, Midir appeared in the great hall despite all the guards and defenses.

“I have come for my prize,” he said, approaching Étaín where she sat beside her husband’s throne.

As Midir took Étaín in his arms and kissed her, the memories of her previous life came flooding back. She remembered their love, their wedding, the happiness they had shared, and the cruel enchantment that had separated them.

“My beloved,” she whispered, and tears of joy ran down her cheeks.

But before Eochaid could react, Midir wrapped his cloak around both himself and Étaín, and they rose into the air, transforming into two beautiful white swans that flew out through the roof of the hall and away toward Brí Léith.

Eochaid, furious at losing his wife, gathered the greatest army Ireland had ever seen and marched on every sidhe mound in the land, demanding the return of Étaín. For seven years he dug into the fairy hills, causing such destruction that finally Midir agreed to return her.

But when Midir appeared before Eochaid, he brought with him fifty women, all identical in appearance to Étaín. “Choose,” he said to the king. “Pick your true wife from among these, and I will honor your choice.”

Eochaid studied each woman carefully, and finally chose the one he believed to be his Étaín. Midir smiled sadly and departed with the other forty-nine women, leaving the chosen woman with the king.

Eochaid and his chosen Étaín lived together for many years and had a daughter, but the woman he had chosen was not the true Étaín at all, but one of Midir’s magical servants. The real Étaín remained with Midir in the sidhe, where they lived together in eternal love and happiness.

And so the tale tells us that true love can survive any transformation, any separation, and any trial – but sometimes the price of reclaiming that love is higher than mortals can bear to pay. For while Eochaid believed he had won back his wife, he lived out his days with an illusion, while the true Étaín found her destiny at last in the otherworld where love knows no ending.