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The Red-Haired Man

In the fairy realm lives a red-haired man who, for no clear reason, has a liking for the mortal race. He warns a young woman to refuse the fairy wine or leads the spell-drugged young man out of the fairy fort. Whenever someone sneezes at a party, he says the necessary 'God bless you' to prevent abduction. More mortals would have been taken to, and fewer returned from, fairyland without the intervention of this kind, red-haired fairy man.

The Dark Man

The Dark Man or Far Dorocha is the chief agent in mortal abduction. He exclusively serves the fairy queen. At her command he brings in the tea tray or rides on his black horse to our realm to escort back mortals she desires. A perfect servant, he never betrays emotion nor wastes a movement. Direct from fairyland, back straight, face set and with never a glance about him, he rides until he finds the desired mortal. Although, he never speaks, all understand his request and, unable to disobey, surrender their wills to his and mount up behind him. Many have ridden with the dark man to fairyland; fewer have joined him on a homeward journey.

Mortals who return and, despite warnings, disclose fairy secrets or boast of newly acquired powers will again encounter the dark. silent man. A fairy queen requires discretion from her former guests who, if they violate the terms of her hospitality, must suffer a reminder by her faithful servant. Quite efficiently he will remove the offender's eye (and thus his fairy sight) or with a touch withers the muscles of an arm or leg. The job completed, the dark man silently removes himself from his victim's presence.

The Grey Man

The Grey Man or Far Liath appears as a fog and covers land and sea with his mantle. He obscures the rocks so that ships crash upon them and darkens the road so that travelers unwittingly stumble over steep cliffs to their deaths. Because of him many a galleon was wrecked and many a mortal never returned home for dinner.

The Man of Hunger

In times of famine, the Man of Hunger or Far Gorta travels the roads, begging alms. Hardly a layer of flesh clings to his cheeks; and his arms, thin as striped sticks, barely have strength to hold the alms cup. Even in winter, his rags scarcely cover his modesty. Some turn from him in disgust; some, in their selfishness, avoid him; but all those who, despite the desperate times, freely give alms will be blessed forever with prosperous good luck.

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