The Legend of the Lovers: The Tale of Polydor and Eloisa
Collected and Introduced by Alys Thierry, Scholar of Breton Folklore
The tale of Polydor and Eloisa is thought to have originated in High Rock, where the largest number of variants have been collected. Outside High Rock, it was probably first popularized via the florid literary work of the Reman-era court writer, Ignius of Bravil. His lengthy verse retelling of the story is set within a long dialogue between Mara and Dibella on the nature of love and beauty. By the end of the First Era, the tale had become so popular its performance is even speculated to have lead to the Daedric destruction of Gilverdale. (See Vol. II of 2920, the Last Year of the First Era.)
There are countless versions of the story, but they all agree on the following details: Polydor is an elf, Eloisa is a human, they fall in love, and then they die tragically. Most stories include the detail of an inn from which one or both are turned away. This is said to be the impetus for the tradition of free lodging in inns on Heart's Day.
Scholars have traced and analyzed every variation of this tale in High Rock, but unfortunately, less attention has been given to potential non-Breton models for the story. It is well known that many Breton folk tales are rooted in Aldmeri literature, and it is likely the tale of Polydor and Eloisa is no exception.
Specifically, the tale bears a strong resemblance to a genre of cautionary children's tales, still popular in Summerset, that reinforce strictures against mes-alliances. In many tales of this type, the unsuitable lover is not a human, but a mer of low birth. (For one such tale, see The Peasant Princess, A Play in One Act.) No doubt it was un-imaginable to the early Altmer that any mer should fall in love with a human. While the Direnni in High Rock soon threw these inhibitions to the winds, the tale of Polydor and Eloisa preserves the memory of this taboo.
The version of the tale printed here is taken word for word from an old woman in Bangkorai who told this tale to her town's inhabitants who'd gathered together on Heart's Day eve to hear the tale.
Gather around, all of you, and let me tell you a story. It's the same story I've told every Heart's Day, so it's likely all of you, except the little ones still in the cradle, have heard it more than a few times already, but like all the good old stories, the tale of Polydor and Eloisa grows better with every retelling.
Polydor was an elf prince. And not just any prince but the son of the richest and most terrible king of the elves who once ruled over these lands. This old king owned a hundred gold mines and another hundred silver mines, and he bathed every night in gold dust (Don't ask me why he'd do that, it's what I always heard from my own grandmother so it must be true.) And this king was so terrible that after she gave birth to their son, his own wife moved all the way to the icy wastes of Skyrim to avoid him. The king's serfs, though, could not run from him the way she did. They worked in the fields and in the castle, and if they displeased the king, they were sent to those dangerous mines, digging up ore for their king's hoard.
Polydor must have taken after his mother, for he was unlike his father as day is unto night. The golden-haired boy was sweet-tempered and generous to all the servants who loved him back as though he was their own child. He was a particular favourite of the castle's cook, a widow with a small girl of her own named Eloisa.
Of all the pretty girl children in this kingdom, Eloisa was the prettiest. Her skin was pearly white, her hair black as the midnight sky, and her eyes were the blue of violets. I should also mention (or the Chapel will tell me off) that she was a very good girl, an obedient daughter who never neglected her chores. (There's your moral and you may do with it as you will.)
Eloisa and Polydor were playmates through childhood, and as they grew into adulthood, love blossomed between the two. You probably aren't surprised by this, my darlings, for you're Bretons, and you know what that means, but this tale happened long, long ago when elves and humans never, ever fell in love and had children together. So, these two lovers were in quite a predicament. There was no way Polydor's father would ever accept Eloisa as a fitting partner for his son. And Eloisa's mother warned her that if she gave her heart to the young prince, it would end in grief. But she was so deeply in love that she ignored her mother's advice. She would have Polydor or no one else. And so too, he would have only Eloisa.
Now, Polydor's father, being in a mind to expand his treasure hoard, had arranged for him to marry an elf princess with thirty ruby mines and twenty emerald mines. This rich young lady was beautiful but cruel, and Polydor was resolved not to marry her. He and Eloisa planned to run far away from this kingdom, to find a place where they could marry and live happily ever after, no matter how poor they would be.
The two lovers couldn't be seen leaving the castle together, so they decided Eloisa would leave first and journey down the road to an inn where she'd wait for Polydor to join her. To pay for her stay at the inn, her lover gave her a small gold nugget he'd purloined from his father's hoard. She would leave that morning, and he promised he would join her by midnight.
Eloisa packed her very few belongings in a small bag and set out upon the road. It was the 16th of Sun's Dawn, yes this very day, and spring was in the air. She walked and walked, and as the day wore on, the weather turned ugly. It began to rain, then the rain turned to sleet, and the sleet to snow. When she came to the inn, it was a full blizzard and Eloisa was nearly frozen to the bone.
She knocked on the door of the inn and the innkeeper opened the door up only a crack. "What do you want?" the innkeeper asked.
"A room for the night," Eloisa told the woman.
"Can you pay for it?" the innkeeper asked.
Eloisa pulled the gold nugget out from her pocket to show the woman. But when she held the nugget up to the light she saw that it was not gold, but a worthless grey rock. The innkeeper accused the poor girl of trying to swindle her and refused to let her stay another moment. No matter how much Eloisa cried and pleaded, it was no good. The innkeeper drove Eloisa out into the snow.
This was very pleasing to the lady already staying in the inn. The cruel elf princess was sitting inside by the fire when her handmaiden came to her with the news that Eloisa had been turned away. You see, this handmaiden had overheard Polydor and Eloisa's plans back at the castle, and had immediately gone to tell the princess and Polydor's father. These two had hatched a plan between them to separate the lovers. The king had enchanted an ordinary rock to look like gold, and had one of his men switch it for Eloisa's nugget. The princess had gone ahead to the inn to wait for Polydor to arrive.
Polydor rode up to the inn late that night, just as he had promised. He asked the innkeeper if his lover was waiting for him, and she said yes, the young lady was in the room at the end of the hall. The room was pitch dark so he was about to cast a light spell, but the false princess complained that she had a head-ache and could not abide any light. She entreated him to come to bed, and so he did, and at last he fell asleep beside her.
He awoke in the middle of the night. It was still pitch-dark, yet somehow he saw Eloisa standing by the bed, looking down at him. Snowflakes covered her hair, her cherry-red lips were blue, and frost laid heavy upon her clothes.
I am only gone a few hours and you are already with another, my love?
She sounded so sad and weary. He sat up to reach for her, but his hand touched only air. Eloisa was gone. Trembling, he cast a spell of starlight and looked upon the woman lying beside him. When he saw it was the elf princess, he cried out in rage and horror.
The princess laughed at him. She was sure that he would have to marry her now, for she had her witnesses standing outside the door. He paid her no heed but fled from the room and her false embrace. He rushed out into the snow to find Eloisa, and was never again seen alive upon the green grass of Nirn.
The serfs found the frozen bodies of the two lovers early the next morning. Eloisa lay in Polydor's arms. They were carried back to the castle on one shared bier. When the king saw his son's body, his anger was almost as great as his grief. How dare they carry his son's body through the town along with the servant girl's? He ordered his guards to remove Eloisa's body, but they discovered they could not move her from her lover's arms. Then the King in his rage tried to pull Eloisa away himself, and when he found he could not do it, he turned purple and fell down upon the ground and died. And much good did all his treasures of gold and silver do him then.
The castle's Priestess of Mara knew a divine sign when she saw one. She insisted that Polydor and Eloisa be buried together as husband and wife, and so in death, these lovers were united for eternity in Mara's blessed mercy.
And that is why, in honor of Polydor and Eloisa, all our inns offer free rooms for visitors tonight. It's said that if such kindness had been given the Lovers, it would always be springtime in the world.
The more prudish may object to this version of the story but it did not occur to these Breton peasants that there was anything wrong with telling this story to a mixed group of men, women, and children. I chose this variant because the element of the 'bed trick' most clearly resembles an Altmer tale in which the high-born heroine uses such a trick to bring her wandering betrothed back to her side. It's fascinating to imagine an early version of Polydor and Eloisa's story in which the elf princess was the heroine who rescued Polydor from disgrace.
End notes:
We don't actually know anything about Eloisa and Polydor other than this snippet from the Daggerfall Chronicles
Today is the 16th of Sun's Dawn, a holiday celebrated all over Tamriel as Heart's Day. It seems that in every house, the Legend of the Lovers is being sung for the younger generation. In honor of these Lovers, Polydor and Eloisa, the inns of all Tamriel offer a free room for visitors. If such kindness had been given the Lovers, it is said, it would always be springtime in the world.
It's also Sanguine's summoning day in Daggerfall . . . so there's probably a way more M-rated version.
As mentioned in the fictional scholar's introduction above, 2920 claims that this story doomed the town of Gilverdale in Valenwood, when the Anequina king got way too upset over the story being performed on Heart's Day, and took it out on the home of the bard.
That blasted bard's tale about Polydor and Eloisa put me in a rotten state," he growled. "Why did he have to be so depressing?"
But isn't that the truth of the tale, my dear? Weren't they doomed because of the cruel nature of the world?"
It doesn't matter what the truth is, he did a rotten job of telling a rotten tale, and I'm not going to let him do it anymore."
He went and summoned Molag Bal to destroy Gilverdale after this.
Out-of-lore, there's a lot of fairy-tale influence on this tale of mine and the bed trick shows up in a lot of tales, including Shakespeare's All's Well That Ends Well and Measure for Measure.