The Children of Lir Fairy Tale

Long, long ago, when wizards and heroes lived in Ireland, there was a king of the sea named Lir. With his beloved wife he had four children: an elder daughter, Fionnuala, a son named Aodh, and twin sons, Fiachra and Conn.

The children grew up kind and cheerful. They loved to sing, and anyone who heard their songs forgot all their sorrows. Lir loved his children more than life itself and spent all his days with them.

But one day the children's mother fell ill and died. Lir grieved deeply. After a time he married his late wife's younger sister, Aoife. At first Aoife seemed to love the children. But the more attention Lir gave the children, the more jealousy grew in her heart.

"Lir loves only his children, not me," she thought. Jealousy filled her heart with bitterness. And Aoife knew magic.

One summer day Aoife put the children in a carriage and took them to bathe in Lake Derravaragh. The children happily jumped into the water and began to play. Then Aoife took out her magic wand and waved it over them.

At that very moment the four children turned into four white swans! Fionnuala wept in horror. "Aoife, why have you done this? What harm did we ever do you?"

Aoife said, "You shall be swans for nine hundred years: three hundred years on this lake, three hundred years on the cold Sea of Moyle and three hundred years by the faraway ocean. The spell will break only when a prince from the north marries a princess from the south and a church bell rings."

But Aoife's magic could not take everything from them. The swans kept their human voices and could still sing beautiful songs. When Aoife returned to the palace, Lir asked about the children. Aoife lied, but Lir went to the lake and learned the truth.

In his anger Lir drove Aoife from the palace. He turned her into a spirit of the wind and condemned her to wander the skies for ever. And every day Lir himself came to the lakeshore to talk with his children and listen to their songs. People came from all over the land to hear the swans sing.

After three hundred years the swans had to fly to the cold Sea of Moyle. There storms raged, waves crashed against the rocks and the winters were harsh. One stormy night the swans lost each other. In the morning Fionnuala found her brothers on top of a rock. She sheltered them from the cold with her wings: one under her right wing, one under her left and the third close against her breast.

Another three hundred years passed, and the swans flew to the faraway ocean. There too they suffered many hardships. But every day Fionnuala sang to her brothers and gave them hope. "One day we will go home."

At last the nine hundred years came to an end. The swans flew back to their homeland. But their father's palace was gone. In its place were only grassy stones and walls covered with ivy. Lir had died long ago. The swans were filled with sorrow.

Just then, far away, a church bell rang for the first time. Ding-dong! A wise old man found the swans, put silver chains around their necks and cared for them tenderly. In that very church, a prince from the north was marrying a princess from the south. The spell was broken.

The swans' feathers fell away, and they became people again. But now they were not young; they were very old, nine hundred years old. Fionnuala hugged her brothers and said, "Bury us together, as we were when we were little: Aodh and Fiachra at my sides, and Conn in front of me." They remembered their father and fell peacefully asleep.

The old man did as they asked. They say that ever since, no one in Ireland has ever harmed a swan. And on quiet evenings by the shore of Lake Derravaragh, a beautiful song can still be heard, or so people say.