O all you ladies young and gay,
    Who are so sweet and fair,
    Do not go into Chaster’s wood,
    For Tomlin will be there.

    From some he takes their golden rings,
    Some left without a thread!
    Those lucky girls run naked home:
    he left their maidenhead!

The late Autumn breeze stirs the trees around me as I urge my palfrey into a canter. I love to ride: the familiar warmth of the leather saddle on my smooth bare thighs, my long blonde hair streaming behind me, the wind flirtatiously lifting the skirts of my green dress.

My horse slows as she mounts the low rise before Chaster's wood and I bring her around to skirt the edge of the dark forest. I can see across the town from here to where my father's keep stands, tall and noble atop a rocky outcrop where the river bends.

I slow my horse to a walk and turn her down a bridle-path into the forest. The air is still beneath the trees, and smells of deep earth. Slowly I ride further into the forest, drawing the air deep into my lungs, savouring the stillness of the air, the peace beneath the trees, broken only by the sound of twigs cracking under the hooves of my palfrey.

A flash of colour catches my eye. It's a rose, way out of season, with petals as blue as the deep sky at midsummer. It's growing in the crook between two intertwined trees. I bring my palfrey to a halt and dismount, knotting the reins around a sapling.

As my boots sink into the soft loam of the forest floor, a weird thought strikes me and I am suddenly overcome with a desire to strip off all my clothes and run naked through the forest, the soft soil embracing my bare feet.

I pause and enjoy the reverie: imagine tugging gently on the ties at the back of my dress, slipping the fabric over my shoulders, my arms from the sleeves. It would fall to the ground under it's own weight. I imagine easing my feet from the snug embrace of my leather riding-boots. In my mind's eye, I stand naked in the woods, the cool forest breeze caressing my bare breasts, between my legs...

I feel a shudder of arousal which brings me back to the present and I remember the rose.

It's quite difficult to get to from the ground. I have to lean on a branch and bend right over between the trees. I can't help but catch my dress on other branches and they tug at my clothes as I lean over, as if trying to undress me.

My hand is just closing around the stem of the flower when: *CRACK*! The branch I'm leaning on snaps suddenly and I am pitched forward between the two trees! I jerk my hand away from the flower to avoid crushing it but my hips wedge painfully, my skirted arse in the air. My hair has fallen forward, all about my face, the tips of my long golden locks caressing the soft dirt. I plant my hands to ease myself out when a sudden and surprising strong breeze fills my skirts, lifting the hem of my dress, up over my arse and onto my back, fully exposing my milk-pale rump and glistening red lips. I am suddenly very thankful I came out here alone!

Waggling my arse I wriggle backwards out of my predicament, pausing only to pluck the beautiful rose. About halfway out my skirts slip back over my arse with a swish of fabric and then my feet are back on the ground. I spin with a flourish, flower in hand, and see him.

He's leaning against a tree, a milk-white war destrier nuzzling with my palfrey. He's taller than most men, at least six feet. His skin is pale as his horse. Though his hair is like spun silver, his face is unlined and unscarred like a boy's. His body though, is no boy's body: hard and heavily muscled like the mounted knights my father commands. I feel the power in that body, both human strength and something else, and subconsciously take a step backwards, my eyes demurely downcast.

I spread my skirts and cross my ankles, dropping into a curtsy as I have been taught.

"Sir Knight, I am Lady Margret of Roxbury--"

He's striding towards me, muscles tense with anger. My skirts fall from my hands as I back up until I feel a tree-branch press into my back. My chin is in his rough and callused hand and he lifts my eyes to meet his.

They are grey, like a mist on the moor, or an overcast sky rumbling with thunder.

"How dare you pluck my flower, madam?
    How dare you break my tree?
How dare you come to Chaster's wood,
    without the leave of me?"

How dare he speak to me like that! I straighten my back, drawing myself up as tall as I can, until the top of my head is about level with his nose. I put as much steel as I can muster into my voice, like my mother chastising a promiscuous scullery-maid.

"Sir I may do as I please here, for this wood lies entirely within the bounds of my father's estate, and mine, as his heir."

"Extent extends more ways than just
    those cardinal points four
Your father's claim's a fishing-pond
    But mine's the ocean floor"

"What nons-"

He steps in close. He's wearing a grey tunic and loose black trousers, but I can feel his masculine power bound inside him like a coiled spring. He holds my chin tightly and I can feel his breath on my face. His irises seem to swirl as if they were in truth filled with mist.

"Now what to do with mortal who,
    dared break my sacred tree?
This prize I'll claim, her flower pluck,
    as she just did to me."

And he takes in his my milk-white hand, he takes my grass-green sleeve. I find I'm laid upon the ground, and flowers surround me. My skirts he lifts above my waist; I am exposed in sin. I know the prize he plans to take, I shall not yield to him!

Between my thighs he kneels down, my hands one-handed pins. No use the strugglings that I make, whatever I do, he wins. In his hand he takes himself, my lips he does caress, with his sword but just the tip; what's next I need not guess.

"These lips say 'nay' yet those betray,
    Your lust for my longsword
You've bare concealed your will to yield,
    to me your sweet reward."

And as he says those clever words, I know them to be true: This handsome man will pluck my bloom, and yes! I want him to! Those other lips shall part for him; how red and moist are they! And twixt my thighs he'll plunge himself; no more a maid this day.

And then I am impaled upon his long and girthy lance. The pain I feel is sweeter still; I slip into a trance. My body's his for him to use as roughly as he needs, and once his pleasure's satisfied to fill me with his seed.

O To-and-fro his hammer-blows, my flesh rings like a bell! My pain thus fades in pleasure-waves, which grow and rise and swell. And at that heady cusp I feel his gush of sweet release; and there go I, let loose a cry, for this to never cease. And still his gushing torrent flows so deep within my loins, from me it slips, and down it drips, and with the ground it joins.

Slowly it fades, the warmth within. My cheeks burn red with shame.

"Sir, if you were a gentleman, you would tell me your name."

My hand in his, he draws me up, my two feet on the ground. Grey eyes on me, he starts to smile and spins me right around.

"My sire he called me Barnabas,
    and quickly won I fame.
Now I abide in realms of fae,
    and Tam Lin is my name."

I turn around but Tam Lin and his horse are nowhere to be seen, nor is the carpet of flowers on which I laid. Indeed I am no longer deep in the forest, but right at the edge, and the slowly setting sun blazes through the trees. The only signs he was ever here are the warmth in my loins, and his seed as it slowly trickles down my leg. Plucked bloom in hand and a smile on my face, I mount my palfrey and make for home.

It was two months later that I realised I was pregnant.

My father was surprisingly sympathetic, concerned mainly that one of his sworn-men had forced themselves upon me, intending to blackmail me into marriage and secure for themselves a slice of father's land and my inheritance.

When I told him who the father really was he smiled sadly:

"He's not the first child of this town to call Tam Lin his father, and I don't suppose he'll be the last."

My mother was less understanding.

"A halfbreed for a grandchild! The shame of it! You know you cannot wed the father, for elfs cannot tread hallowed ground nor stand to hear church-bells. And what will you do when the elfs come to take him for their tithe, what then? Tis better it never lives."

So here I am back in Chaster's Wood, picking tansy, my cheeks wet with tears as I mourn the beautiful babe with blue-grey eyes and golden hair who I'll never get to meet.

I look up and there he is, his mist-grey eyes filled with sadness and anger commingled. He walks quickly to me, and seizes the wrist holding the tansy sheaf in one strong hand.

"Why gathers thou this herb, my love
    in Chaster's autumn gloom?
This will destroy the little child,
    that quickens in your womb."

I cannot meet his eyes. I feel a bone-deep shame and humiliation. My shoulders slump and I let the tansy fall to the forest floor. I lean against his broad chest, his musculature hard against my cheek.

"Tam Lin," say I, "please tell me true, have you a chapel graced? Some priest perhaps once marked your brow; a holy cross he traced?"

"Tis true I was a mortal once,
    firstborn of lordly sire.
Nothing I knew of Queen of Fae,
    and her wicked desire.

"One day I rode upon the moor,
    when from my horse I fell.
The Fairy Queen, she found me there,
    and now with her I dwell.

"The Fae they love in diverse ways,
    though you would find them strange.
Atimes they love with feather touch,
    sometimes with whips and chains.

"I've grown to love my elfland home,
    where I was forced to dwell.
But once in every seven years,
    elfs pay a tithe to hell.

"Tonight it is all hallows eve,
    spirits and elfs roam free.
At Miles Cross they'll pay the tithe,
    I think they will give me.

"Tonight it is all hallows eve,
    well wane the wards of fae.
If you would have me know my child,
    pray do just as I say."

My heart beats fast, my eyes on his, I quickly nod my head. "I will do this and 'morrow morn, you'll wake up in my bed."

"Near Miles Cross you'll hide yourself
    and wait for us to pass.
And bring with you holy water
    a lantern and compass.

"You've seen before my milk-white steed,
    my mantle's of bearskin.
With haste you'll haul that rider down,
    then elfish games begin.

"Once your true love is in your arms,
    Take him under your dress.
With his great lance in your right hand,
    Your cunt with it caress.

"To Christian girls elfs cannot do
    a true and lasting harm.
But tricks and mists of illusion,
    oft work just like a charm.

"What they will do I cannot say,
    But this I say for sure:
If you would save your true love's soul,
    his shaft in you secure.

"The elfs will try all knavish pranks,
    To make you turn and flee.
They'll make me look a hideous beast,
    and worser things you'll see.

"But keep your love under your dress
    his member deep inside.
And by the feast of Michaelmas
    he will make you his bride."

So I waited for him, crouching behind one of the standing stones at Miles Cross, the compass and holy water in my satchel, the lantern shuttered in my hand, just before midnight. I didn't have long to wait before I heard the rumble of hooves and the jangle of plate armour as the elfen court approached.

It was a magnificent sight: they rode in a column four-abreast down the middle of the road, riding the noblest purebred horses you ever laid eyes upon. Elf knights in silvery plate mail, their cold pale eyes concealed behind metal visors, elf squires in less ornate armour, riding with their masters. Banners streaming overhead bearing all manner of heraldry: roses entwined and lions rampant, bars and bells and quartered shields.

About thirty horses had ridden past before I caught sight of Tam Lin, his milk-white destrier unmistakable.

Then I saw the Queen. Tam Lin rode at her right hand, and as I watch she leans into him with some flirtatious aside. I've heard my father's men describe some women as 'breathtaking' -- their beauty having a physical effect on them, and I never understood it until today. At my first glance, my breath caught in my throat. It is as if an artist spent his entire life and a quarry full of marble attempting to capture the very pinnacle of female beauty.

It's more than that: if beauty is merely the earthly shadow of something in a purer, truer, higher realm, the Elf Queen would be the thing that casts the shadow.

Yet there was a sensuousness, a seductive quality to her beauty too. I've never looked at another girl the way I found myself looking at the Elf Queen-- her long fingered hands, her fine featured face, her perfect breasts under an armoured bodice which at once left everything and nothing to the imagination. I imagine her long fingered hands caressing me, touching my body all over. I imagine how those soft red lips would feel brushing across my skin, across my breasts as her fingers slip down between my legs...

I suddenly realise she's looking at me. Right at me, even though it's dark and there's no way she should be able to see me. It's now or never. I stand and grab Tam Lin in my hands and haul him from his horse. He lets himself fall, letting gravity help me, and I have to be careful he doesn't fall on top of me and crush me under his plate armour. Then he's on the ground and I'm slipping the skirts of my dress over him and taking him out, feeling him harden in my hand. I'm ready for him, my lips moist and parted like a maiden waiting to be kissed. I slip him inside me and slide down, impaling myself on his thick shaft, enjoying how he stretches me, fills me...

At once the elfs they gather round,
    The Queen lets fly a cuss.
"Who is this bold, and mortal lass
    Who'd steal Tam Lin from us?"

"As young Tam Lin once rode his steed,
    lo, now the mount is he!
A field's no place for such a show,
    some mortal eyes may see."

Around us swirls a heady mist
    a mighty work of yore,
apartments rich and gold appear
    with soft and cushioned floor.

"She's pretty for a mortal girl
    though none would think to guess
the buxom and seductive shape
    beneath that grass-green dress."

At once I feel my dress dissolve
    to mist and wispy threads
elf eyes caress my pert bare breasts
    I tingle twixt my legs.

"She rides him hard poor young Tam Lin,
    at this she does excel.
Her mount's a strong and fierce warhorse
    endowed like one as well."

At this my lovers shaft becomes
    so hard and thick and long
a spear thrust deep into my flesh
    full wracked by shudder strong.

"Why not a Son of Adam then,
    between her smooth pale thighs.
Perhaps she longs for elfish lance
    that always satisfies."

Incantation: the spell is cast
    my lover is transformed.
With pointed ears and narrow face
    my tormentor takes form.

"Oh did you see her face my friend:
    disgust you're in her bed!
A look you are acquainted with,
    or so your wife has said."

The spell dispelled I breathe a sigh
    my lover's form's returned
He meets my eye and nods to me,
    his freedom shall be earned!

"No feat to sate a single man
    this every girl will know.
To satisfy a dozen men?
    I'll watch her have a go-"

At once my lover's multiplied
    all sides, surrounding me.
They all look most exact alike
    which one, pray tell, is he?

"My friend this was a clever trick,
    just as she thought she'd won.
If she would steal Tam Lin from us,
    she has to sate each one."

I look around and swallow hard
    I take one in each hand.
Full eager I caress the shafts
    and think what else they've planned.

"Just three at once will take too long,
    we'll still be here come day!
With elfish ways five men at once
    can come and join the play."

A lover's hand upon my back
    to him I yield my trust
Kneeling behind he parts my cheeks
    and in my arse does thrust.

"Well met young lass, how full you'll feel!
    Yet you can take one more.
This thing's oft done by elven maids,
    and oft by human whores."

A lover stands before my face,
    his rock-hard lance in hand.
Slips it betwixt my parted lips,
    I yield to his command.

"You've my respect, gifted are you
    to handle five ploughmen.
Your field's well tilled, it's time for you
    to be sown with semen."

The first to go is in my cunt,
    and fills me with his seed.
The next to go spills on my chest;
    my breasts receive his deed.

"Well sown are you and yet you know,
    your sowing's bare begun.
My friends and I will here recline
    to best enjoy the fun."

The other hand receives a load,
    across my wrist does slop.
Then he within my mouth does spill,
    I swallow every drop.

"Roll up, roll up! Tam Lin, enjoy,
    this mortal's ample skill.
I do confess, my friends and I,
    may join in this fun still."

The last he spills inside my rump,
    and quick I'm passed around.
Impaled upon my seed-slick arse,
    my cunt Tam Lin doth pound.

"Encore encore lets have three more,
    come now and join the rut.
Well skilled she is with mouth and hand,
    employ this mortal slut."

Another shaft at my right breast,
    I take it twixt my lips.
Two more I find in either hand.
    Semen from my cunt drips.

"My friend when I praised you before,
    perhaps I spoke to soon.
Just one more man and she's half done,
    though she be semen-strewn."

The one between my legs steps back
    then spills across my thighs.
The one behind fondles my tits,
    and soon explodes inside.

"I will say this my elfish friend,
    you've put on quite a show.
What luck we found this mortal whore,
    I've mind to have a go."

The one that's in my mouth withdraws
    and spills across my face.
The two within my hands as one,
    my buxom breasts debase.

"And now she needs serve only two,
    well seeded head to toe.
Perhaps these two should be quite rough,
    perhaps some marks bestow."

No choice have I in what comes next,
    roughly compelled to kneel.
My hair he grips in his right hand,
    a blow my face doth feel.

"And thus I treat all mortal folk,
    lest they become too bold.
Like beasts they need across their backs,
    to feel the whip-hand's scold."

Behind another grips my hips,
    and roughly fucks my arse.
His thick hard lance, my seed-slick cheeks;
    not sure how long he'll last.

"Well met, fair lass you may return
    back to your father's home
We'll let you go without a scratch
    but Tam Lin stays alone."

I don't reply for twixt my lips
    my lover's cock is thrust
a hog spit-roast, I am impaled:
    rough hands molest my bust.

"Yield now sweet lass for comes the Queen,
    she will not let you flee.
You may think us quite bad enough,
    but wait for her decree."

My hair held tight in Tam Lin's fist,
    I choke upon his lance.
He slaps my face; I shut my eyes,
    and yield to his commands.

"Is this the mortal slut who has
    my court in such a mess?"
"Oh Yes my Queen, yes this is she,
    who tries our final test."

Another hand is on my rump,
    he thrusts in me his limb.
Each cheek in turn he smartly strikes,
    then fills me to the brim.

"It seems this mortal whore will pass,
    this clever final test."
"My Queen we have no more ideas
    but you she shall not best."

And then the final load is spilled;
    I gag upon his lance.
I choke it down, then turn and frown,
    the elfs watch me entranced.

"You have performed so very well,
    we must give you your due.
You are adept at pleasing men,
    but pleasing women too?"

And as the Queen's power takes hold,
    my love becomes a maid.
With milk-white tits and red cunt lips,
    I feel my last hope fade.

"Young girl you bested all my knights,
    who sought to force their will.
Perhaps I'll take you home with me,
    teach you another skill."

Defiantly I shake my head,
    caress those red cunt lips.
My lover sighs, I dip my head,
    and kiss those milk-white tits.

"Boring! Boring! These tricks of yours,
    my stable-hand doth know.
If you would get the best of me,
    much further you must go."

My love's nipples are in my mouth,
    don't tell me it's a sin.
My fingers twixt the lips they slip,
    and start to thrust within.

"Come now come, it's simple stuff,
    all women do these things.
the young maidens in empty beds,
    the lithe lovers of Kings."

I trace a line of kisses down
    Between my lover's thighs
And with my tongue caress her lips
    then taste her deep inside.

"Oh for such tender sweet caress
    my own two lips do yearn
But can she grant that sweet release
    or will Tam Lin return?"

I take between my parted lips,
    that knot of pleasure flesh
upon it suck, while fingers fuck,
    and hear those ragged breaths.

"Behold the body of Tam Lin,
    is wracked by strong climax.
This human whore has stole from us
    our great infernal tax."

At Miles Cross I find myself,
    clothed in my dress so green.
And at my feet my lover lays,
    before us stands the Queen.

"The mortal slut has bested us,
    this talented young whore.
And takes from us our bravest knight,
    who'll love me nevermore."

So from that fated spot we flee,
    betwixt the standing stones.
Across the moonlit moor we run
    till we are safe back home.

    I was a lady young and gay,
    And also sweet and fair,
    Yet I did go to Chaster’s wood,
    And Tomlin he was there.

    He did not take my golden rings,
    Nor single fine-sewn thread.
    I needed not run naked home,
    He took my maidenhead!

    And yet I saved his mortal soul,
    That fateful hallowstide.
    And by the feast of Michaelmas,
    He had made me his bride.

    My husband is a mortal now,
    Yet still is touched by fae.
    Both beasts and men do like him well,
    And cards all turn his way.

---

Author's note:

"I'm going to write a pornographic fairy-tale," I told my husband.
"What," said he, "the actual fuck."
"And it's going to be a ballad."
"This," said he, "I have to see."

Fairies and elfs and the tales we told about them were much darker before Tolkein. You see a hint of it in A Midsummer Night's Dream: ordinary men and women ensnared, seduced and manipulated by creatures of amoral fey. Other tales are darker still: Erlkoenig who snatches a child's soul as his father carries him on horseback across a mist-streaked moor, and of course Tam Lin, the half-elf trickster, who doesn't let a single girl leave his forest with their maidenhead intact.

I could not have written this without the work of Francis James Child, who collected no less than 15 versions of this story for his book 'Child's Ballads,' from which I wove my own adult retelling.