Mystical Mythology of the World

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IRISH LESIDHE

The lesidhe can be traced to both India and Ireland. They are the guardian of the forests and are always disguised in foliage. They appear to be androgynous and, even though they are usually found in groups, they seem to have little to do with one another. Therefore they can be classified as solitaires rather than trooping faeries. Unless one gets up and walks about it is hard to distinguish them from the green plants and trees they hide among.

They are active day and night, but seem to prefer being nocturnal. Lesidhes like to mimic mockingbirds to confuse hikers and travelers, and over time they have learned to make even more confusing human sounds. It is believed that they have come to dislike humans for their callous treatment of the environment. The recorded reports of contact with them have all been unfavorable. Though no lesidhe has ever actually harmed anyone, their pranks are nasty, usually involving trying to lose people in deep woods.

Caution is advised when attempting to approach a lesidhe, for little is known about how they will interact with humans. In the physical or in the astral go to a wild wood and wait until you sense their movements in the trees. If you look and seem to see foliage itself moving in an anthropomorphic way, you're probably seeing one.

In Slavic lands they are known as leshes and in Russia as zuibotschniks, whose cries are audible and who appear to travel in small whirlwind. A similar faery in Germany is called a leshiye and can assume the shape of an owl or a wolf. In Russia this faery is called a vodyaniye and loves to drink.
 

Variants: leshes (Slavic), vodyaniye, zuibotschnik (Russian), leshive (Germany).

Out of the mid-wood's twilight
Into the meadow's dawn,
Ivory limbed and brown-eyed,
Flashes my Faun!

He skips through the copses singing,
And his shadow dances along,
And I know not which I should follow,
Shadow or song!

O Hunter, snare me his shadow!
O Nightingale, catch me his strain!
Else moonstruck with music and madness
I track him in vain!


Oscar Wilde, In The Forest


 

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