In the days gone by there was a fisherman at Plévenon, in the Côtes d'Armor, who was known ten leagues around to be the best and handsomest boy in the country. The fairies who lived in one of the caves of Cap Frehel heard of him, and one of them, the youngest and prettiest, had a desire to see the man whose address and figure were everybody praising.
She dressed as one of the girls on the coast and came to church on a Sunday, on purpose to see him. As soon as she saw him, she became so much in love with him that she resolved to marry him. She cast a spell that forced her to join her one evening on the Falconer, a nickname that was then given to one of the biggest rocks of the cape.
When he arrived there, he was much surprised to see a beautiful lady who, after having said the sweetest things to her, introduced her to him by drinking a cup filled with a liquid which was neither cider nor wine.
It was indeed a beverage of love which, had he drunk it, would have forced him to love the one who poured it to him. The fisherman had carried the cup to his lips, and was preparing to drink when he drew back, suddenly frightened. Her fiancee, worried not to see him come at the time of their appointment, had thrown herself on her knees and prayed for her to be restored to her whom she loved. And as she finished her prayer, the fisherman, remembering his fiancee, threw the cup into the sea.
The fairy, with a cry of pain, rushed after her. As she was immortal, she did not drown. But at the spot where it disappeared, a whirlwind formed, which still terrified the sailors. As it spread in the water, the drink of love made it bitter and as we know it today, for it was not salted before.
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