Smorgasbord Guest Writer – Part 4: The Problem with Erlkings by Horatio Grin

Welcome to today’s post by Horatio Grin. However much we might like to belief in fairies or their various visitations, it is very difficult to prove their existence when history has been repeatedly scrubbed of any tangible evidence. This is true of the fairy overlords.. The Erklings who science has found lacking. However, Horatio takes us on a journey to potentially restore them to glory.

Part 4: The Problem with Erlkings by Horatio Grin

The first fairies were the offspring of early modern humans and Neanderthals, whose developed frontal lobes indicate telepathic and telekinetic abilities. Fairies are telepaths and cast glamour – an illusionary spell to make an object look different. But glamour does not satisfactorily account for all instances of fairy magic. Sometimes not only the appearance, but also the substance, of an object changes and telekinesis seems the most likely explanation.

Telekinesis is the ability to move objects by the power of the mind. In doing so it holds the key to the manipulation of the universe. There is only a difference of degree between moving a plastic ball across a table and sub-atomic particle.

What we perceive as a solid object is nothing more than a myriad of energy bursts vibrating at the sub-atomic level. If the rate of an object’s atomic vibration was changed, it would cause one solid object to pass through another. If the energy potential from one part of an atom is transferred to another part, elements transmute, quite literally from lead to gold – the aim of generations of alchemists.

When we consider that telekinetic ability is present in no more than a few thousand people out of a world population of almost seven billion, we realise how rare it is. During the last 50 years, laboratory condition experiments in America, Europe and Russia have only yielded a dozen or so subjects. But it may well be that many more people are simply not aware they possess the ability.

Poltergeist activity in teenagers is often the result of spontaneous psychokinetic outbursts, suppressed in later life. Others may discount the talent. I once witnessed a young man make a pencil swing back and forth like a compass needle. He considered it nothing more than a party trick and of no practical use.

His attitude probably reflects a general feeling. People studied under laboratory conditions can do no more than roll a ball across a table, spin small paper cones or control electronic random number generators.

Perhaps people with the gift do not see telekinesis an asset because it is not easy to master. Such is the complexity of nature that turning lead into gold is child’s play when compared to making a living thing like a flower. This may explain why a fairy’s sumptuous feast tastes no better than muck.

The question remains, how would a telekinetic person learn to use the ability?

Acrobats and jugglers have the same bodies as us, but do things we would never attempt. This is because a teacher sculpts their natural skills from an early age. So where are the teachers for gifts such as telekinesis?

Through the ages there have been many schools teaching mastery of the universe, the Orphics, Pythagoreans, Kabbalists, Gnostics and Hermetics to name but a few. Some like the Tibetan Vajrayanas believe enlightenment cannot be attained without a higher guide or master.

Today a teacher may be a yogi, a lama, a high Rosicrucian or even one of the ascended masters of the Theosophists. In ancient times they were probably thought of as gods. I say this because ancient civilisations were most particular to draw a distinction between semi-divine beings such as nymphs, who seem to fit our idea of the fairies, and the gods themselves, who were seen to be entirely different.

To the ancients the Gods were not the same as we would think of God today – an omnipotent, omnipresent and eternal creator, responsible for the whole universe. The gods were more like what we call superheroes, but without the moral fibre. The universe had existed long before they came along. It was created in the time of their forefathers; sometimes by unknown gods. Some gods even prayed to older gods. Others slyly claimed to be related to them; although even mortals were known to take such snobbish conceits with a pinch of salt.

Ancient people knew only too well the gods were flawed; that they could be injured or even die. Two gods died in historical times. The first was Asclepius the Greek God of Medicine. Zeus killed him with a thunderbolt for bringing the dead back to life. The great God Pan died during the reign of the Roman Emperor Tiberius, sometime around 30 AD. No one knows how he died, but the story goes his death was announced to a sailor passing the Isle of Paxos.

There is evidence Fairy Queens can detect the telepathic talents in others, and this is why they steal children to perpetuate their race. They train their protégés telepathically, amplifying the natural talent to resist the bombardment of incoming thoughts and project their own thoughts outwards. An empathic side-effect is the seepage of the fairy queen’s personality, beliefs and even personal memories into the young apprentice.

Perhaps the gods once detected and trained those with telekinesis in much the same way. The theory would certainly account for tales of gods stealing youngsters such as Ganymede and taking them up to the heavens. It would also account for the immortality of gods, especially when we know gods did succumb to injury, disease, and death.

Perhaps when a god died, the apprentice filled the vacancy. Trained telepathically like the pupils of a fairy queen, the apprentice would have empathically absorbed much of their master’s personality, identity and memories, and so was able to seamlessly take the god or goddess’ place. In fact, they may have considered it a sacred duty.

As already discussed, the ancient world met with a series of devastating pandemics that decimated gods and fairies along with the mortals. Compared to mortals both gods and fairies were rare breeds, but the gods were especially so. There were often no more than a few dozen of them at any one time in any one place.

After centuries of plague undermining confidence in their own immortality, and with growing indifference from the population as they failed to stem disaster after disaster, the gods may well have come to see themselves in a different light. In the same way as the fairies did, they would have left behind their claims to divinity becoming magicians or even saints.

It is in the far north of the world, the last stronghold of the old religion, where in early Christian times that we first hear of Erlkings. The name Erlking is a corruption of alder king and identification with the alder tree allows us to trace Erlkings all the way back to Gilgamesh and the Annunaki Star Gods of ancient Sumeria. Despite the name, Erlkings are not exclusively men. Rather the word is used to denote a status or rank more powerful than a fairy queen.

Today the glory days of Fairyland are long gone, and all that remain are isolated fairy nests. With the passing of the splendour much history was lost and all we know of the Erlkings are fragments of half remembered tales. Originally whispered among the fairies themselves, they were recorded by monks desperate to preserve their own dying world from the predation of Viking raiders.

Fairy stories speak of Erlkings as malevolent creatures – enchanters and shape shifters, who turn men to beasts, bring stones to life, conjure castles from thin air, or even kill with a thought. The fact they are shrouded in legend indicates many centuries had passed since one was seen. So why should we believe they ever existed at all?

There is a wealth of evidence of monsters and miracles in a variety of ancient documents stretching across the ages. These days science doubts everything and explains away what it can.

The one-eyed Cyclops is dismissed as the skull of an extinct elephant found in ancient Greece, because the opening for the trunk looks like a giant single eye socket. It is the same with the bones of giants; now viewed as extinct animals that roamed the land a few million years earlier. Dragons are dinosaur bones or perhaps even crocodile skulls, such as those decorating medieval castles in Central Europe. While unicorn horns are merely Narwhale tusks.

From Procopius’ stories of the Byzantine Emperor Justinian, whose head he claimed would fly about the palace at night, to equally miraculous Dark Age tales of Celtic saints found in medieval manuscripts, there is a thousand years of miracles and wonders where men turn to stone; settlements vanish; animals talk; fantastic creatures, strange lights or aerial boats appear; where phantom armies arise and entire kingdoms drown.

But no matter how reputable the chronicler, or how large the number of witnesses, because we know better today, science dismisses all of them as no more than allegory, fancy, hysteria or even group hallucinations cause by eating rye bread infected with the ergot fungi – a naturally source of the hallucinogenic drug LSD.

Although we continually complain about factual liberties taken by journalists in our own age, we would be outraged at the thought of future historians treating our newspapers in the same way.

I believe evidence does exist of unusual magical events from the Golden Age of Fairies in 5th century Britain. For example there are three distinct legends of catastrophically drowned lands, from a period when there is no evidence at all of rising sea levels.

The remains of the drowned land of Cantre’r Gwaelod can still be seen in Cardigan Bay at low tide. Its king, Gwyddno Garanhir, was the owner of one of the 13 Sacred Treasures of Britain – a magical hamper that produced whatever food was desired. Gwyddno was under the protection of the Fairy High King Gwyn ap Nudd.

Gwyn ap Nudd was a powerful magician and the lord of the underworld. Gwyn appears in Arthurian legend and is associated with Glastonbury. A poem records a dialogue between the two kings where an exhausted Gwyn ap Nudd talks of gathering the slain of Britain from the battlefield.

It is known Gwyn kept the Cauldron of Inspiration in his fortress on Glastonbury Tor. This may well be the same miraculous vessel the raven god Bran once possessed; a cooking pot that brought the dead back to life when they were boiled inside it. It is likely Bran inherited the cauldron from his predecessor, Cernunnos: the Celtic stag-horned god of the Wild. Cernunnos is sometimes shown dipping warriors headfirst into his bubbling cauldron.

Maybe Gwyn asked for the loan of Gwyddno’s magical hamper to feed his army of the undead. Perhaps angered by his vassal’s refusal to loan out his sacred treasure, Gwyn caused Gwynddno’s whole kingdom to drown.

Half a century later, Gwyn’s kinsman, Gwentholeu (owner of one of the 13 treasures – a miraculous chess set that played by itself) would seek the rest of the 13 sacred treasures in order to become High King of Britain. But his cousin Rytheric (owner of the sword White Hilt, whose blade burned with flame when touched by a brave man – another of the 13 sacred treasures) betrayed and killed him, sending Gwentholeu’s magician, Merlin, mad with grief.

All that remains of Lyonesse, off Land’s End, is the archipelago of five inhabited islands of the Scilly Isles, along with numerous other small rocky islets. Roman navigators said Scilly was a single island. Today the field walls of ancient farms can be seen at low tide. All evidence points to a catastrophic drowning in the Dark Ages. Unfortunately its fate is not recorded. It was the same with the city of Ys off the coast of Brittany, like Lyonesse another drown place. This time cursed for its wickedness by a Celtic saint.

These three events are now dismissed by science and I think this elegantly summarises the whole problem with Erlkings. If science dismisses every piece of evidence it cannot finds alternative explanations for, simply because it does not believe in psychic phenomena or magic, then how will it ever be possible to prove Erlkings once existed?

©HoratioGrin 2017

Previous posts

You can find out more about the author here:

Part one – Lost Beginnings of the Fairy Races

Part Two – Tales of the Old Gods

Part 3: Twilight of the Gods by Horatio Grin

Thank you for dropping and Horatio would love to receive your feedback. Thanks Sally

Horatio’s next post will be on Monday.

This entry was posted in It is a Wonderful Life. and tagged , by Smorgasbord - Variety is the Spice of Life.. Bookmark the permalink.

About Smorgasbord - Variety is the Spice of Life.

My name is Sally Cronin and I am doing what I love.. Writing. Books, short stories, Haiku and blog posts. My previous jobs are only relevant in as much as they have gifted me with a wonderful filing cabinet of memories and experiences which are very useful when putting pen to paper. I move between non-fiction health books and posts and fairy stories, romance and humour. I love variety which is why I called my blog Smorgasbord Invitation and you will find a wide range of subjects. You can find the whole story here. Find out more at

13 thoughts on “Smorgasbord Guest Writer – Part 4: The Problem with Erlkings by Horatio Grin

  1. Pingback: Smorgasbord Guest Writer – Part 4: The Problem with Erlkings by Horatio Grin | Smorgasbord – Variety is the spice of life

    • I too share your belief that both fairy folk and the old gods were not to be admired. Although I confess I am never too willing to judge others against my own rather prudish standards, I do believe there is a core of common decency within most of us that allows us to draw an absolute line in the sand. To say what lies on that side is morally indefensible, whereas this side is understandable within your terms of reference, if not acceptable within mine.

      Liked by 2 people

  2. Picking up on Robbie’s and Sally’s points above these are such dark stories from dark and brutal times it is quite shocking just how much of human history is soaked in blood and I think continues to be so.

    Liked by 4 people

  3. This is a fascinating series of articles which I have very much enjoyed reading. Thomas Hardy’s poem, “The Oxen” does, I think sum up my view as to whether fairies exist. In the poem Hardy describes how, as a child he believed the adults when they spoke of the oxen kneeling “of a christmas eve”. As an adult himself, where someone to ask him to go and see the oxen kneel, of a christmas eve he would go with him “hoping it might be so”.

    Liked by 2 people

    • Dear Kevin, I am gratified you found the articles fascinating, I have believed my areas of research to be of limited interest and it is cheering to be proved wrong by your good self and so many others. May I add that, in turn, I rather liked your Thomas Hardy example. Although I have enjoyed many of his novels I am ashamed to say I know little of the man. I think his attitude of continuing to ‘travel hopfully’, as Robert Louis Stevenson has it, was most admirable. Truly we can never be sure something is impossible. All we can be sure is that we have never observed it. Best regards Horatio,

      Liked by 2 people

  4. Pingback: Smorgasbord Guest Writer – Part 6: How we know what we know by Horatio Grin | Smorgasbord – Variety is the spice of life

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