THE BARON AND THE PRICKLE-THORN POOKA
as told by Kentitrix
Long ago, when the Faerie Folk, Bogles, Pookas and so forth were more often seen by humans, a young Baron was walking though his lands on a warm autumn afternoon, when he saw a Pooka in a bramble bush, his face smeared with blackberry juice and his hands full of sticky berries. Now, he didn't begrudge the Pooka the berries, but before he could even wish the Pooka a good day, the sprite quite misunderstood his intentions, and thinking that the Baron was about to chase him off and keep the fruit for himself, he (well, pardon my language) he peed on the remaining blackberries before, as he thought, the Baron could pick them.
"Them there prickle-thorn berries ain't no good to you now," he cried and disappeared into the hedgerow.
The Baron laughed, because he knew that Pookas, Bogles and the like were ticklish little people, who could take offense easily (even if it wasn't meant) and determined that he would set the record straight. He certainly didn't want his harvest to fail because the Faerie Folk felt sleighted!
He went back to his castle and called his children. "Take a basket," he said "and fill it with cherries and sloes, with apples and pears and tell your mother that I said to add a bottle of best beer!"
That night, the Baron took the basket back to the very bush where he met the Pooka. On the top he put a spray of beautiful golden elm leaves, for although he was a Baron, he was rather hard up and didn't have any gold to spare!
The next morning he went back. The basket was full of blackberries. And to his amazement there was not a prickle left on the bush - but still just a few berries.
And to this day "elmtree" brambles bear no prickles!