Thomas the Rhymer

Long ago, in the Scottish Borders, there lived a young man called Thomas. He loved to play his harp and make up songs, so people called him Thomas the Rhymer.

One sunny morning, Thomas was lying on a grassy bank under a big tree near the Eildon Hills. Suddenly he heard a sound like tiny bells. Jingle, jingle, jingle! A lady came riding toward him on a snow-white horse. Her dress was as green as the grass, and silver bells hung from her horse’s mane. Thomas jumped up and bowed low. “You must be a queen,” he said. “I am the Queen of Elfland,” said the lady with a smile. “Come with me, Thomas, and play your harp in my land for seven years.”

Thomas climbed up behind the Queen, and the white horse flew away faster than the wind. They rode on and on, until they came to a place where three roads began. One road was narrow and full of thorns. One road was wide and very flat. And the third road curled up a green hill, with ferns along the way. “That pretty road is the road to Elfland,” said the Queen. “When we get there, you must not say a single word to anyone but me.”

In Elfland, everything was beautiful. There were gardens full of flowers and trees full of shining fruit. Thomas played his harp at the Queen’s parties, and the elves danced and danced. He did not say a word to anyone, just as the Queen had told him. The days flew by so quickly that seven years felt like only three days.

At last, the Queen said, “It is time for you to go home, Thomas.” She picked an apple from a tree and gave it to him. “Eat this,” she said. “It will give you a tongue that can never tell a lie.” Thomas ate the apple, and it was the sweetest apple he had ever tasted.

Then the white horse carried him back to the grassy bank under the big tree. From that day on, every word Thomas spoke was true. People came from far and wide to listen to him and to ask him what was coming. They called him True Thomas. And on quiet mornings, he sometimes heard tiny bells, and he smiled, remembering Elfland.