Elizabeth Andrews's Blog, page 20
July 21, 2014
The Rollright Stones.A Bronze Age site, the stones are wi...
The Rollright Stones.
A Bronze Age site, the stones are widely believed to be a King and his Army that were turned to stone by a local Witch.
The circle of stones is a 100 ft in diameter, to one side stands the King stone.
This was a conquering army that marched as far north as Little Rollright until the King came upon a local wise woman.
She told the King that if he could see Long Compton within seven strides he would be King of the whole country.
Taking the seven steps up the hill his view was obscured by a mound, jubilant, the Witch turned the King and all his men to stone.
And there they still stand waiting for somebody who has enough strong magic to break the spell.
The Witch then turned herself into an Elder tree close to the stones to stand guard against the spell being broken.
There was once a farmer who wished to use one of the Whispering Knights in the construction of a new barn, ignoring his neighbours warnings that nothing good would come of disturbing the stones, he yoked up his best oxen to his strongest wagon and set to work moving it. The stone was very heavy but they managed to get it onto the wagon and started for home. The beasts struggled all the way back to the farm and as soon as the three oxen reached the yard they all fell dead and the wagon crumbled to pieces. But the farmer carried on despite this and built the stone into the wall of the barn and from that day forward he never had a moments peace and misfortune after misfortune occurred to him and his family. He had to mortgage his farm and sell his stock until all he had left was one poor old shaky horse and a ricketty cart that he could not sell. He carried on struggling in this way until one day it dawned on him that it was, as everybody had warned him, the stone that had brought this misfortune. He dragged the stone from the wall and levered it onto the cart and then hitched the poor old horse to the front. It stepped out like a young horse and dragged the cart briskly back up the hill to the site of the Rollright Stone, The farmer dropped it back into it's original position and set off for home with a light heart. Within a few days his luck changed and he soon became as wealthy as he had been before, but he had learned his lesson, he never meddled with the Rollright Stones again.
This site is also a favourite spot of the Oxfordshire Faeries.
At certain times of the year ,at the full moon, the stones will come to life and perform strange dances with the Faeries . Then they will dance down to a nearby spring for a drink to quench their thirst.
July 20, 2014
The Faerie and the broken pitcher
Once upon a time there were two sisters, one called Orange and one called Lemon. Their mother loved Lemon much more than Orange, and made Orange do all the hard work in the house, and fetch water from the well every day. One day Orange went to the well as usual taking the big pitcher. While she was stooping to draw the water from the well the pitcher slipped from her hand and fell down into the deep water. Orange was very upset and dared not go home; so she sat down on the grass and cried and cried. Before long the ground was wet with tears and finding herself sat in a pool of tears she looked up and found a little faerie stood next to her wearing a pair of bright pink wellies. She asked Orange 'Why are you crying so much, I ask because you are making my home very wet.'Orange replied 'Because I have broken the pitcher and mother will be very angry with me and beat me.''Dry your tears,' replied the faerie. 'I will help you as you are such a good little girl and so ill used.'The faerie struck the ground with her wand and from the well Orange could hear a splashing noise. She drew back in alarm but was delighted when the pitcher climbed out off the well. It had no damage and was the same as before except it had arms and legs.'See,' said the faerie. 'Now this pitcher will be your friend and help to carry the water from the well. Now go home and tell nobody about it.' With that the faerie disappeared back to her home.Orange was delighted with her new friend, taking its hand she led the full pitcher back to her home but as soon as they reached the back door the pitchers arms and legs disappeared. So Orange picked up the pitcher and carried into the house, and remembering what the faerie said, she told no one.The next morning Orange awoke early as she always did and thought about all the hard work she would have to do but when she got down stairs to the kitchen, she found the pitcher hard at work, sweeping and washing, and doing all the hard work for her. So the faerie was right, the pitcher was for ever after Orange's faithful and helpful friend.
July 19, 2014
The Faeries Tea Party
Granny was good at telling stories, Chloe would cuddle up next to her on the big old squashy sofa and listen to wonderful bedtime tales about the faeries, goblins and monsters that lived in the big wood at the end of the garden.Granny had just finished a really good story about a giant who ate six faeries for breakfast every day when Chloe asked her 'Do you really believe in faeries granny?'
The Faeries Tea PartyAvailable from www.magic-myth-legend.co.uk or Amazon Special price for July and August!Lavender folklore
Lavender has been used for hundreds of years in many ways, medicinally as well as in love spells and rituals. By carrying lavender flowers you can attract spirits as well as bringing peace, love and good health, but it will also give protection against the evil eye. It was traditional to pin lavender to the clothes of young children for this reason.Where there is lavender there will be faeries, so if you wish the fae to visit your garden, plant lavender in your borders; the faeries will bring healing and protection to your house. Lavender mixed with mugwort, rose petals and chamomile at midsummer will attract the inhabitants of faerieland.It is also prized by witches as it increases their power of clairvoyance.
Faerie Flora 2013
July 18, 2014
Strawberries in Winter &nbs...
Strawberries in Winter
This is a traditional Slovakian folktale, very similar to our Cinderella faerie tale.
Ella lived with her stepmother and stepsister in a large house at the edge of the forest. Her father had died the previous winter from a fever leaving her alone. Although Ella was not as pretty as her stepsister she was kind and good and was a great favourite with all the visitors to the house. Her father had been quite wealthy and Ella was due to inherit the estate on her sixteenth birthday. But her stepmother was not happy that her own daughter would be left with nothing so she and her daughter hatched a plan to be rid of Ella for good.
So the stepsister took to her bed feigning illness.
‘Primroses,’ she declared. ‘Were all she needed, the beautiful scent would raise her spirits and make her well again.’
The stepmother hurried down the worn stone steps to the kitchen ‘Ella get your coat, you must go out and find some primroses for your poor sister, I think she will die if she does not have them.’
Ella was dismayed, it was the middle of the winter with deep snow on the ground.
‘I wish to help my sister, but it is too early for primroses,’ she said.
But the stepmother would not listen and pushed her out of the door into the cold. They were hoping that Ella would get lost and die in the snow.
Wrapping her jacket about her, Ella pushed her hands deep into her pockets and headed towards the forest.
In the spring the floor of the forest was thick with primroses but there was only thick snow beneath the trees now.
Dusk began to fall but in the forest it was very dark and Ella became so cold that she lost all feeling in her fingers and toes. She desperately wanted to go home but dare not without the flowers. Just as she was giving up hope she saw a glow off in the trees. Gathered around the flames was the Council of the Faerie Seasons, too cold to feel afraid Ella stumbled forward and asked if she could warm herself by their fire.
‘Come forward child and warm yourself,’ Faerie Spring beckoned her forward. ‘Why do you disturb our council? ‘
Ella explained her search for the flowers for her sick sister.
‘I will help you,’ said the Spring Faerie. ‘As you have such a pure soul.’ She lent over and breathed gently on the snow covered ground and from under the mantle of ice six beautiful primrose blooms appeared.
‘Thank you so much,’ Ella said gathering them carefully; and hurried back through the dark forest to her home.
The stepmother’s face when she answered the door to Ella! She snatched the flowers from Ella’s hand and sent her back down to the kitchen.
That night the stepsister took to her bed again declaring that she was ill. ‘What I really need are strawberries, something to tempt my appetite and make me well again.’
The stepmother hurried down the worn stone steps to the kitchen. ‘Ella get your coat, you must go out and find some strawberries for your poor sister, I’m sure she will die if she does not have them.’
‘I wish to help my poor sister, but it is much too early for strawberries,’ she said.
The front door shut with a bang behind Ella leaving her alone in the cold once again.
Ella hurried back into the forest to find the Council of Faeries, hoping that they would help her again.
Far off she could see their fire burning brightly.
‘Please may I warm myself by your fire again?’
The Summer Faerie beckoned her forward. ‘Come child and what do you seek now?’
‘Strawberries for my sick sister otherwise she is sure to die.’
‘I will help you,’ said the Summer Faerie. ‘As you have such a kind heart.’
The faerie opened her hand and inside nestled in a basket of leaves were four large strawberries.
Thanking the faeries Ella hurried home.
Her stepmother was amazed that she had come back but the stepsister was delighted with the fruit and ate them all quickly.
‘They are so delicious, why didn’t you bring more?’ she asked greedily.
All the next day her stepsister lay on her bed complaining how ill she was.
‘Apples! I need apples,’ she exclaimed. ‘And tell her to bring more this time.’
The stepmother hurried down the worn stone steps to the kitchen.
‘Ella get your coat, you must go out and find some apples for your poor sister, I know she will die if she does not have them.’
‘I wish to help my poor sister, but it is really too early for apples,’ she said.
So Ella set off to the forest again struggling through the snow until she could see the faerie’s fire in the distance.
‘Oh please help me kind faeries for now my stepsister wants apples.’
The faeries smiled and beckoned her forward into
the warmth of the fire.
‘I will help you,’ said the Autumn Faerie. ‘As you are so patient.’
The faerie walked to a nearby tree and caressed the bark, whispering words of enchantment to the spirit of the tree within. And on a branch over Ella’s head two small apples appeared which grew and grew until they were big and ripe.
She carefully picked them and put them into her apron pocket. ‘Thank you so much,’ she said politely and hurried home.
The stepmother was most disappointed to see Ella back but her stepsister was delighted with the apples and snatched them quickly, exclaiming at the delicious flavour.
The step mother took a bite of the second apple ‘Why didn’t you get more of these wonderful apples?’ she scolded Ella, but Ella was not listening. She was so tired that she had fallen asleep in a chair by the fire.
‘Come daughter, let us go and find some more apples ourselves.’
They wrapped themselves up against the cold and set off for the forest. The snow was deep and they became increasingly cold and weary until at last like Ella they saw the fire in the distance. The four faeries were gathered around the fire watching as the two figures stumbled into the clearing.
‘Out of the way and let us near the fire, for we are freezing.’
The stepmother pushed her way past the Winter Faerie to warm her hands over the flames but as she
and her daughter stood there the fire died and dwindled down to ash.
‘You didn’t say please,’ whispered the Winter Faerie, and as she spoke the wind whipped up a blizzard of freezing snow and ice and engulfed the two mortals.
The snow piled up high around them and they froze into two solid lumps of ice, still holding out their hands to the fire.
As for Ella, needless to say, she lived happily ever after!
This is a traditional Slovakian folktale, very similar to our Cinderella faerie tale.
Ella lived with her stepmother and stepsister in a large house at the edge of the forest. Her father had died the previous winter from a fever leaving her alone. Although Ella was not as pretty as her stepsister she was kind and good and was a great favourite with all the visitors to the house. Her father had been quite wealthy and Ella was due to inherit the estate on her sixteenth birthday. But her stepmother was not happy that her own daughter would be left with nothing so she and her daughter hatched a plan to be rid of Ella for good.
So the stepsister took to her bed feigning illness.
‘Primroses,’ she declared. ‘Were all she needed, the beautiful scent would raise her spirits and make her well again.’
The stepmother hurried down the worn stone steps to the kitchen ‘Ella get your coat, you must go out and find some primroses for your poor sister, I think she will die if she does not have them.’
Ella was dismayed, it was the middle of the winter with deep snow on the ground.
‘I wish to help my sister, but it is too early for primroses,’ she said.
But the stepmother would not listen and pushed her out of the door into the cold. They were hoping that Ella would get lost and die in the snow.
Wrapping her jacket about her, Ella pushed her hands deep into her pockets and headed towards the forest.
In the spring the floor of the forest was thick with primroses but there was only thick snow beneath the trees now.
Dusk began to fall but in the forest it was very dark and Ella became so cold that she lost all feeling in her fingers and toes. She desperately wanted to go home but dare not without the flowers. Just as she was giving up hope she saw a glow off in the trees. Gathered around the flames was the Council of the Faerie Seasons, too cold to feel afraid Ella stumbled forward and asked if she could warm herself by their fire.
‘Come forward child and warm yourself,’ Faerie Spring beckoned her forward. ‘Why do you disturb our council? ‘
Ella explained her search for the flowers for her sick sister.
‘I will help you,’ said the Spring Faerie. ‘As you have such a pure soul.’ She lent over and breathed gently on the snow covered ground and from under the mantle of ice six beautiful primrose blooms appeared.
‘Thank you so much,’ Ella said gathering them carefully; and hurried back through the dark forest to her home.
The stepmother’s face when she answered the door to Ella! She snatched the flowers from Ella’s hand and sent her back down to the kitchen.
That night the stepsister took to her bed again declaring that she was ill. ‘What I really need are strawberries, something to tempt my appetite and make me well again.’
The stepmother hurried down the worn stone steps to the kitchen. ‘Ella get your coat, you must go out and find some strawberries for your poor sister, I’m sure she will die if she does not have them.’
‘I wish to help my poor sister, but it is much too early for strawberries,’ she said.
The front door shut with a bang behind Ella leaving her alone in the cold once again.
Ella hurried back into the forest to find the Council of Faeries, hoping that they would help her again.
Far off she could see their fire burning brightly.
‘Please may I warm myself by your fire again?’
The Summer Faerie beckoned her forward. ‘Come child and what do you seek now?’
‘Strawberries for my sick sister otherwise she is sure to die.’
‘I will help you,’ said the Summer Faerie. ‘As you have such a kind heart.’
The faerie opened her hand and inside nestled in a basket of leaves were four large strawberries.
Thanking the faeries Ella hurried home.
Her stepmother was amazed that she had come back but the stepsister was delighted with the fruit and ate them all quickly.
‘They are so delicious, why didn’t you bring more?’ she asked greedily.
All the next day her stepsister lay on her bed complaining how ill she was.
‘Apples! I need apples,’ she exclaimed. ‘And tell her to bring more this time.’
The stepmother hurried down the worn stone steps to the kitchen.
‘Ella get your coat, you must go out and find some apples for your poor sister, I know she will die if she does not have them.’
‘I wish to help my poor sister, but it is really too early for apples,’ she said.
So Ella set off to the forest again struggling through the snow until she could see the faerie’s fire in the distance.
‘Oh please help me kind faeries for now my stepsister wants apples.’
The faeries smiled and beckoned her forward into
the warmth of the fire.
‘I will help you,’ said the Autumn Faerie. ‘As you are so patient.’
The faerie walked to a nearby tree and caressed the bark, whispering words of enchantment to the spirit of the tree within. And on a branch over Ella’s head two small apples appeared which grew and grew until they were big and ripe.
She carefully picked them and put them into her apron pocket. ‘Thank you so much,’ she said politely and hurried home.
The stepmother was most disappointed to see Ella back but her stepsister was delighted with the apples and snatched them quickly, exclaiming at the delicious flavour.
The step mother took a bite of the second apple ‘Why didn’t you get more of these wonderful apples?’ she scolded Ella, but Ella was not listening. She was so tired that she had fallen asleep in a chair by the fire.
‘Come daughter, let us go and find some more apples ourselves.’
They wrapped themselves up against the cold and set off for the forest. The snow was deep and they became increasingly cold and weary until at last like Ella they saw the fire in the distance. The four faeries were gathered around the fire watching as the two figures stumbled into the clearing.
‘Out of the way and let us near the fire, for we are freezing.’
The stepmother pushed her way past the Winter Faerie to warm her hands over the flames but as she
and her daughter stood there the fire died and dwindled down to ash.
‘You didn’t say please,’ whispered the Winter Faerie, and as she spoke the wind whipped up a blizzard of freezing snow and ice and engulfed the two mortals.
The snow piled up high around them and they froze into two solid lumps of ice, still holding out their hands to the fire.
As for Ella, needless to say, she lived happily ever after!
July 17, 2014
The Ugliest Witch in the North Country
Alison Gross, 'the ugliest witch i' the north country,' lured a young man into her cottage and with many fair speeches tried to persuade him to become her lover. He withstood all her bribes and honeyed words even though she offered him a scarlet embroidered cloak, then a cap embroidered all over with pearls, then a cup of red gold. But he would not bend and would not given her even one small kiss. Becoming angry the witch blew three blast on a grass green horn and taking a silver wand in her hand, turned round three times, muttering words that chilled his blood until he fell down senseless at her feet and slowly turned into a dragon. She gloated over the fallen youth and spitefully chanted,
'And gard me toddle about the tree.'
Every Saturday his sister Maisry came with a silver basin and silver comb and took the dragon's head upon her knee to tend it. There seemed no way to break the enchantment until at last on Hallowe'en the fairy court rode by. The Queen spied the dragon coiled around the apple tree and dismounting from her horse, took it's head and stroked it three times over her knee, and the dragon was restored to it's proper human form.
July 16, 2014
Excerpt from The Lavender Witch
The Lavender Witch is a chilling ghost story based on the strange but true events surrounding the death of Hannah Beamish, accused of being a witch by a wealthy farmer in the small remote village where she lived in the early 1800's.
One hundred and seventy years later these strange events, only now remembered by a few, come to light when Kitty and Gordon move back to the Devon village where they were born. They buy an old orchard from a neighbouring farm and build a small house, all is fine until they move in.
Over the course of their first week in the house chilling apparitions appear and events spiral out of control bringing the past and present together until the shocking truth emerges as to what really happened to Hannah.
They walked slowly along the drive to the lane; time had passed since they had driven up to Orchard Cottage and it was now dark, the night sky was filled with winking stars and high up on Castle Hill a fox barked.‘Right, down to Sybil’s Gordon,’ Queenie said firmly.‘No,’ he replied sharply. ‘That’s it! We’re out of here; we’re not getting involved in any more of this.’‘Now let’s calm down a minute, I want to know what’s going on and what my grandfather has to do with this.’ The old man had stopped and stood in front of them determined to get an answer.‘This is a story that shouldn’t be told in a dark lane William,’ said Sybil taking hold of his arm and pulling him towards the village.‘Well let’s go into the farmhouse then,’ he said impatiently. ‘It’s closer.’‘No,’ Kitty put in weakly. ‘Not in there, sorry,’ she apologised to the old man. ‘But you see it’s his house.’‘Kitty is right we shouldn’t set foot in there.’ Queenie warned. ‘Sybil’s cottage will do. Come along.’ She led the way along the darkened lane until they came close to the entrance of the farmyard. She slowed to a halt, from across the paved yard came the sound of approaching footsteps, footsteps that Kitty immediately recognised.‘Who’s that?’ bristled William. ‘Hi,’ he shouted striding forward, pushing past Queenie who put out a restraining hand, but he brushed impatiently it aside. ‘Who’s there? You’re trespassing.’ His voice echoed around the buildings but the footsteps did not slow, they drew closer and closer to the group huddled in the lane.‘It’s him,’ whispered Kitty trying to pull away from Gordon’s tightening grip. ‘It’s him Queenie,’ she hissed again. Queenie nodded in recognition. ‘Yes Kitty it is,’ she said quietly. She raised her voice ‘Well Robert? What are you going to do now eh?’William glanced at her quickly before returning his gaze to the entrance of the yard.A dark shape slid into the shadows of the wall, and as they watched it gathered itself together pulling in the darkness of the night and becoming more solid. A figure walked slowly out from the shelter of the wall and stood in the middle of the lane and raised his head. Dark sunken eyes stared across the intervening space between him and his grandson.‘Oh my God!’ whispered William in horror. ‘It is him.’ The old man staggered back and would have fallen if Gordon hadn’t grabbed his arm to steady him.‘William, are you alright?’ Sybil whispered to him urgently gripping his other arm to support him.‘What in God’s name is this? He’s dead!’ William’s voice echoed around the lane making the apparitions face wince. Queenie took a few paces forward and peered at the shade of Robert Beamish.‘So that’s it! William is the key,’ she said triumphantly. She turned back quickly to the others. ‘Back to the house, all of you.’‘Are you mad woman? We’re not going back in there,’ Gordon shouted at her. He stared at the figure in the lane and watched in horror as it approached slowly towards them.Queenie pulled Kitty back towards the house. ‘You have no choice now, he’s not going to stop. He’ll come after Kitty where ever she is.’‘You don’t know that,’ he shot at her. ‘Look at him!’ Queenie shouted at him. ‘He is on the road! This road doesn’t belong to the Beamish family, it never has done. He’s not on his own soil!’ They backed slowly away down the lane to the entrance of the drive, William last of all. He stood frozen to the spot staring at his grandfather’s form approaching along the road.Sybil pulled at his arm. ‘Come on William,’ she shouted at him.‘I thought I had forgotten him,’ he whispered. ‘But one look at his face and it has all come back.’Clouds drifted across the night sky casting even darker shadows onto the road but the shadow of Robert Beamish was darker still as he paced slowly forward; the regular thump of the stick hitting the tarmac echoing off the buildings.
The Lavender Witch is available on Amazon, Kindle and Paperback, also on www.magic-myth-legend.co.uk
The Captured Faeries
In the village of Houghton all able bodied men worked as weavers except for two idle young youths who spent their days playing dominoes and their nights poaching. Each owned a very clever lurcher which they used in their nightly escapades, but the dogs grew so smart that they would go hunting by themselves. This led to their downfall as they were shot by a Keeper who was determined to rid the area of these pesky poachers.So the men had to go alone without their trusty four legged helpers. One night they headed for a local warren armed with sacks. One of the men put a ferret down the rabbit hole and fixed the sacks over the entrance to the warren. Within minutes there was a terrific hullabaloo coming from deep in the ground, the noise and scrabbling got louder and louder until something exploded into the sacks, closely followed by the ferret. Frantic struggling came from both sacks as the men quickly shouldered them and started for home. Half way home they heard in horror a voice coming from one of the sacks,'Dick, where art thou?'
A voice from the other sack replied,
'In a sack,On a back,Riding up Hoghton Brow.'
The two young men dropped their load and fled, leaving the sack with the two faeries inside.The next morning gathering their courage and armed with stout cudgels they ventured back to find the sacks. Both of them were neatly folded, next to the path where they had been dropped. Of the faeries there was no sign.From that day forward the two men gave up poaching but their changed characters aroused suspicion in the village so at last they had to confess what had happened on Hoghton Brow.The tale made them the butt of the village youngsters, who would in mischief call out after them, 'Dick where art thou?'
July 15, 2014
St Swithin's Day
St Swithin's Day, if thou dost rainFull forty days it will remainSt Swithins Day, if thou be fairFor forty days, twill rain no mair
The 15th of July is the Feast of St Swithin, the most famous of English weather saints, a humble and much beloved Saxon Bishop of Winchester. On his deathbed, he ordered that he should be buried among the poor in the common church yard, 'beneath the feet of passerbys and rain from the eaves.' So many miracles occured at his graveside that the monks moved his remains to a splendid shrine in Winchester Cathedral: whereupon the saint wept in protest, causing a continuous down pour which lasted forty days.
Rain on St Swithin's Day 'blesses and christens the apples' which should not be picked or eaten before his feast; all apples growing at this time will ripen and come to maturity.
July 14, 2014
The folklore of Trows
Trows are often confused with the Orkney Hogboon or Hogboy, although they are not so nasty. Trows appear similar to humans although the Peerie Trows are small enough to shelter under leaves.
The larger Trows have a nasty habit of carrying off young girls and midwives.The Trows of Shetland are very keen dancers, their lack of grace is made up for by their great enthusiasm.There is a story of a Trow woman who gatecrashed a couple's wedding, unable to watch the festivities any longer without joining in she burst into the hall and began dancing in the usual henking fashion of the Trows.Squatting down and holding her hands tightly between her thighs and calves, she hopped up and down the hall impatiently waiting for one of the mortal men to join her. When no one volunteered she became rather peeved and began whirling around and around chanting:'Hey, Co Cuttie; and ho co CuttieAn wha' thee dance wi' me co CuttieI luke aboot an sae naeboodySae I'll henk on mesain, co Cuttie'Until breathless she gave up on the mortal men as a bad job and vanished.
On Yule Eve when Trows are very active, it is the custom to unlock every door in the house as they hate locked doors and will break them open. They are frequent visitors to crofts and like to sit by the hearth.'Faeries and FolkLore of the British Isles'
They also like to have the hearth to themselves and that every Saturday night it should be swept clean with a pail of fresh water left there for them.One young boy was asleep on the hearth one Saturday as guests had arrived and he had given up his bed for one of them. In the confusion of their arrival all of this had been forgotten.The Trow arrived and were very angry to find they needs had been neglected and worse to find a small boy asleep on the hearth.They made so much noise that it woke him. When he opened his eyes he saw two Trow wives sat opposite him. One carried a baby, it was the loveliest baby that the boy had ever seen, except that it had three eyes, the extra in the middle of it's forehead.The other Trow finding no fresh water went in search of something else and found a large beer barrel.They washed themselves and the baby and then all of their dirty clothes in the beer, when done they poured all of the dirty beer back into the barrel, saying; 'Tak ye dat for no haeing clean water ae da hoose.'They then cuddled down near the warm fire and spread their clothes out near the flames to dry.Now the boy knew that if he kept his eyes on them without blinking then the Trows could not leave, so he watched and watched, listening to their conversation in the hope of hearing something about buried treasure.Before long the Trow wives began to fidget as dawn was approaching but they could not leave as the boy kept his eyes fixed upon them. At last one of them thrust the tongs in the fire, as soon as they became red hot she advanced on the young boy and pointed the smouldering ends at his eyes. The boy of course screamed and blinked and the Trows took advantage of this moment when his eyes were shut to disappear.Of course the next morning when all the guests wanted beer with their breakfast all they found in the barrel was very dirty smelly water.
The larger Trows have a nasty habit of carrying off young girls and midwives.The Trows of Shetland are very keen dancers, their lack of grace is made up for by their great enthusiasm.There is a story of a Trow woman who gatecrashed a couple's wedding, unable to watch the festivities any longer without joining in she burst into the hall and began dancing in the usual henking fashion of the Trows.Squatting down and holding her hands tightly between her thighs and calves, she hopped up and down the hall impatiently waiting for one of the mortal men to join her. When no one volunteered she became rather peeved and began whirling around and around chanting:'Hey, Co Cuttie; and ho co CuttieAn wha' thee dance wi' me co CuttieI luke aboot an sae naeboodySae I'll henk on mesain, co Cuttie'Until breathless she gave up on the mortal men as a bad job and vanished.
On Yule Eve when Trows are very active, it is the custom to unlock every door in the house as they hate locked doors and will break them open. They are frequent visitors to crofts and like to sit by the hearth.'Faeries and FolkLore of the British Isles'They also like to have the hearth to themselves and that every Saturday night it should be swept clean with a pail of fresh water left there for them.One young boy was asleep on the hearth one Saturday as guests had arrived and he had given up his bed for one of them. In the confusion of their arrival all of this had been forgotten.The Trow arrived and were very angry to find they needs had been neglected and worse to find a small boy asleep on the hearth.They made so much noise that it woke him. When he opened his eyes he saw two Trow wives sat opposite him. One carried a baby, it was the loveliest baby that the boy had ever seen, except that it had three eyes, the extra in the middle of it's forehead.The other Trow finding no fresh water went in search of something else and found a large beer barrel.They washed themselves and the baby and then all of their dirty clothes in the beer, when done they poured all of the dirty beer back into the barrel, saying; 'Tak ye dat for no haeing clean water ae da hoose.'They then cuddled down near the warm fire and spread their clothes out near the flames to dry.Now the boy knew that if he kept his eyes on them without blinking then the Trows could not leave, so he watched and watched, listening to their conversation in the hope of hearing something about buried treasure.Before long the Trow wives began to fidget as dawn was approaching but they could not leave as the boy kept his eyes fixed upon them. At last one of them thrust the tongs in the fire, as soon as they became red hot she advanced on the young boy and pointed the smouldering ends at his eyes. The boy of course screamed and blinked and the Trows took advantage of this moment when his eyes were shut to disappear.Of course the next morning when all the guests wanted beer with their breakfast all they found in the barrel was very dirty smelly water.
