Orkney Folk Tales Page 3

  The rainbow was believed to be the home of a group of beautiful female spirits called the ‘keeries’, who watched over the fate of those down below. If the end of a rainbow touched the chimney of a house it was said to be a bridge for a baby boy, and a keerie would bring one to be born in that house very soon. Baby girls, sadly, arrived unannounced. If both ends of a rainbow were seen to lie inside the hill dyke of a township, then it meant a death would occur there soon. Rainbows are beautiful, but you have to be able to read their hidden meanings.

  THE MERRY DANCERS

  The Northern Lights, called the Merry Dancers in Orkney, flicker in the winter skies. In Shetland they maintain the original form of the name, the Mirry Dancers; to ‘mir’ means to vibrate or tremble; this word is used in that sense in Orkney too.

  Usually they are seen as curtains of green light, but once, when I was a young man of 20, I saw the whole northern skies lit up with curtains of coloured lights; red, blue, yellow and green. I was at Valdigar, where I was born, and had gone out on a frosty November night for a cigarette when I saw this most amazing spectacle. The curtains of light flickered and swayed, rising and falling like they were fanned by a gentle breeze. I have seen many beautiful things in the world, and have travelled far, but I have never seen anything quite as beautiful as that either before or since.

  In Orkney it was believed that the Merry Dancers were just that, people dancing in the spirit world. They thought that in them they could see the souls of the dead joined together in a dance of joy. Some people swear that they have heard them as they swish by. One man in Sandwick thought that he could see his former laird from Stronsay amongst the dancers and he shouted to him to ask when he was going to be paid for the kelp that he had worked for him. With that the crowd of dancers disappeared, and he never did get his pay.

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  GIANTS AND DWARVES

  As you can imagine, there are not that many stories about giants in Orkney as the gently undulating islands are too flat for them to hide in. That doesn’t mean to say that there weren’t any though. There are still places associated with them throughout the islands. On the small island of Wyre lived the most notorious of them all; Cubbie Roo. It has been said that he was based on an actual person who appears in the Orkneyinga Saga, a Norwegian chieftain called Kolbein Hruga who lived there in the mid-twelfth century. His nickname, ‘Hruga’, means ‘heap’ as he was said to be huge in stature. Large stones are pointed out in Evie, Rousay and Westray that were said to be missiles thrown by Cubbie Roo at other giants.

  One man in North Walls (the eastern part of the island of Hoy) was out poaching rabbits one night when he saw a huge giant coming striding along. He got such a fright that he ran home and wouldn’t go out for three weeks. He never went poaching again either.

  STANDING STONES

  Giants are associated with Neolithic standing stones and there are many stories attached to them. The solitary standing stone at Holland in North Ronaldsay, known locally as the Stan Stane, is 13ft high and has a small hole through it about 6ft from the ground. I once pondered if I could get my hand through the hole and came to the conclusion that I probably could, but getting it back again might prove more difficult. I didn’t make the attempt. An old legend says that this stone once lay down by the shore, but an old giant woman saw it, stuck her finger right through it and carried it up onto the land and stuck it into the ground. It was once the focal point for revellers at New Year and young folk would meet there to play music and dance.

  Other stones are also associated with giants and New Year, or more precisely, Hogmanay.2 The Yetnasteen in Rousay leaves its usual place at the stroke of midnight on Hogmanay and in two jumps is down at the Loch of Scockness where it takes a drink before returning to the same spot for another year. The name Yetnasteen comes from the Old Norse Jotunna-steinn, meaning ‘Giant’s Stone’. The Watch Stone that stands by the bridge that crosses the narrow strait where the Stenness and Harray Lochs meet, also takes a drink at the stroke of midnight on Hogmanay. It is said that should anyone attempt to witness this stone taking its annual drink they will be prevented from doing so. Nothing bad will happen to them, but something will stop them from arriving on time. The Stone o’ Quoybune in Birsay is a different kettle of fish though and has a distinctly darker side, as we will see later.

  THE SETTER STONE

  The massive Setter Stone in Eday is the largest standing stone in Orkney, standing 15ft high and measuring 7ft across at the base (which is much narrower than its upper part). Although it looks like a giant’s hand, as weathering along fault lines in the stone has given it the impression of fingers, the story attached to it isn’t about a giant but a laird. This laird wanted to erect this huge stone and so he had a deep pit dug. Earth was piled up and the stone was somehow balanced on top, but it wouldn’t slide down into the hole. The laird called to his wife, who had a reputation for being very sharp tongued, and told her to stand on the end of the stone over the hole while they rocked it in order to get it to slide in. The laird’s wife may have been a bit of a nag, but she wasn’t stupid, and protested that it wasn’t safe. The laird assured her that there was no danger and so she toddled off along the stone and started to jump up and down at the end. The laird and his men pushed the stone until it suddenly slid into the hole, with the laird’s wife underneath it. The laird had always hated his wife and ordered his men to pull the stone upright and fill in the hole, and there she remains to this day.

  THE STONE O’ QUOYBUNE

  One stormy night a ship was cast ashore in Birsay and its wreckage was scattered along the coastline. There was only one survivor; a young man who had managed to scramble ashore away from the sharp, jagged teeth of the rocks. He was more dead than alive when they found him, but the local folk carried him to a house where an old couple looked after him. Once he was warm again and had something hot in his belly he slept like a baby. He soon regained his strength and worked hard to help the old folk who had taken him in and given him shelter in his hour of need. But the year was wearing on, and Hogmanay was approaching. Nearby the house stood the Stone o’ Quoybune and the old man warned the sailor that at the stroke of midnight, as the year changed, the stone would walk down to the Loch of Boardhouse to take a drink. He was warned that on no account must he try to see this happen as his life would be forfeited should he try. No one who had dared to watch the stone walk had lived to tell the tale. Well, the young man was bold and headstrong and he declared that he wasn’t going to be frightened by a stone. He would watch it and let them know if the story was true or not. No matter how hard they tried to dissuade him he was determined that he would sit out all night to watch it.

  When Hogmanay came the young sailor got ready for his night’s vigil. Everyone else in the area shuttered their windows and barred their doors, but not the young sailor man. He strode over the field to the stone and, just to make absolutely sure, he climbed up to the top of it and sat there, waiting. What happened that night no one can say for sure, but the following morning they found his cold, dead body lying crushed at the foot of the stone.

  THE DANCING GIANTS

  Long, long ago, there were giants in Orkney. They were big, loud, brash creatures, quarrelsome and slow witted, but they did love to dance. During the day they had to hide away, for the sun would see them and turn them into stone. They lived in fear of the yellow face, only coming out at night when the moon shone softly down on them.

  One night they gathered at the place between the lochs to dance. A fiddler struck up a tune and the giants shouted with joy, linking hands and dancing around in a great big circle. Around and around they went as the fiddler played faster and faster. The sound of their feet as they danced must have sounded like thunder and felt like an earthquake as they sped around and around. They were having fun, in fact they were having so much fun that they completely forgot about the time. Suddenly, the sun rose above the horizon and caught them with its fiery eye. The music and the dancing stopped as each and every giant
turned into stone. They are still there to this day, only now we call them the Ring of Brodgar. The Comet Stone that stands in the field next to them was the fiddler; now silent in stone.

  There is only one place in Orkney that is associated with the dwarves, and which bears their name. The Dwarfie Stane is a unique monument, a 28ft-long piece of rock, probably dumped there by the glacier that cut the valley. It was hollowed out in the Neolithic period to form a tomb and is thought to be the only rock-cut tomb in the UK. Inside are two chambers, resembling stone beds with a sill in front of them. One has a rounded area carved into the wall. Outside lies a stone that was once used to seal the doorway. A hole in the roof, now filled in, shows where it was broken into, probably in prehistory. In the 1560s, when it is first mentioned, the doorway was still sealed and the hole in the roof was in existence, although no one knew anything about it. The inland cliff next to it is called the Dwarfie Hammars, from the Old Norse Hamarr, meaning a crag jutting out of a hillside. The nearby valley is called Trowieglen, after the trows, or fairy folk. It is said that if you go into Trowieglen then you will lose something, for the trows will steal it. The story relating to the Dwarfie Stane is one of the earliest Orkney folk tales ever written down, being recorded by Jo Ben in the 1560s. He claims that the stone was the abode of giants, although they must have been very small giants to have fitted inside. Much more likely that it was in fact the home of a dwarf, as the name implies.

  THE DWARFIE STANE

  There was once a dwarf who lived in Hoy with his wife. His wife was pregnant and so he set about making a fine new home for them both. He found a fine big stone and set about hollowing it out to form a comfortable home for a dwarf and his wife. He cut their beds into the wall, complete with stone pillows and a curving wall in his wife’s bed to accommodate her swollen belly. Soon his fine new home was ready and the two of them went inside to admire his handiwork. Dwarves love to be inside rocks, so they felt very comfortable indeed.

  Happy as these two dwarves were, trouble was not far from their door, for there was another dwarf who lived in Hoy and he grew jealous of the pair and their new home. He plotted and schemed about what he could do to get rid of them and steal their house. Eventually he waited until they had gone to bed one night and he stood on the Ward Hill with a sling. He had made a stone that exactly fitted the doorway and he put it into his sling, whirling it around and around his head before flinging it at the dwarves’ new home. The stone hit the doorway, right on target, and sealed it tightly shut. All he had to do now was to wait a while until he knew that they were dead and then cut out the stone and take the house for himself. But dwarves are very strong and when the dwarf inside found that the stone in the doorway wouldn’t budge he took his hammer and started to strike the ceiling with it until he had knocked a hole through the roof. He crawled outside and saw his rival standing on the hillside, sling in hand, and his blood boiled. He set off after him and chased him all over Hoy. In fact, he might be chasing him yet!

  I have heard a different version of this story, but I can’t vouch for it. It said that a dwarf lived in the stone and one day a giant saw him working inside the stone and he took a rock and shoved it into the doorway to trap him inside. The giant chuckled to himself when he heard the dwarf muttering inside and he bent over the stone to hear him better. The dwarf, who was very strong, took his thumb and stuck it right through the top of the stone, creating a hole and sending a sharp piece of rock flying upwards into the air. This piece of rock hit the giant in the head, fatally wounding him. The giant staggered away some distance before falling down dead, where his petrified body can still be seen to this day. This large piece of rock is now called the Patrick Stone, but I don’t know how it came by that name.

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  TROWS, FAIRIES

  AND HOGBOONS

  In Orkney there is a great deal of confusion about the types of supernatural mound-dwelling creatures that occupy the islands. The term ‘trow’ is usually applied to them; the name has been explained as being from the same source as the Norwegian troll. But the term ‘fairy’ is also used to describe similar creatures. It seems to be a mixture of Old Norse and Celtic beliefs, with a pinch of something uniquely Orcadian to give it zest. Both the trows and fairies live in mounds, often conspicuous artificial ones that cover Neolithic tombs or Iron Age brochs, but also mounds that were formed naturally as rocks and clay was deposited by glaciers at the end of the Ice Age. These mounds were treated with fear and were not disturbed by our ancestors, which resulted in the excellent preservation of many ancient monuments. To dig into them or remove them was a dangerous thing to do and could result in the sudden death of a farmer’s livestock or even family members. Trows and fairies would carry off newborn babies, leaving changelings in their place, as well as stealing cattle, horses or whatever took their fancy.

  Just to confuse things further, many people associated the trows and fairies with the Picts, the late Iron Age occupants of Orkney whose culture was destroyed or swamped by that of the Vikings. Ancient structures from any period were given the name ‘Picts Hooses’3 and it seems that the name was applied to the supernatural dwellers inside these mounds. My great-grandmother, who lived at the croft of North Tuan in Westray in the late nineteenth century, used to make very fine, strong home-brewed ale, which my great-grandfather used to kindly drink for her. When he had one of his old pals by one night (a retired sea captain, I believe) they did great service to the ale so that when the old boy staggered homewards he claimed that he could see the Picts dancing on top of a nearby mound.

  THE ROUSAY CHANGELING

  A Rousay couple had a baby boy, their first child, and he was the apple of their eye. They loved that baby so much, fussing over him and cuddling him while he would gurgle and coo with delight. All was happiness and joy; until the day he changed. Who knows what happened, maybe they got careless and left the boy unattended while they went to fetch something from outside, which was a dangerous thing to do. Babies had to be watched for the first while and never left alone, especially before they were christened, or the fairies could steal them. A knife and a Bible were usually left in the cradle as protection, as the fairy folk cannot stand either of those things and have no power to cause harm if the baby is protected in that way. But their baby boy started to cry and wail and he grew thinner and thinner, wasting away in front of their very eyes. He ate well, but was never contented and he never put on weight. Quite the opposite, in fact.

  Things got so bad that the mother sent word to an old woman who lived in the district to come and see her. She was regarded as a wise woman; a person who could see the things that were usually hidden from others. When the wise woman arrived the mother took her to the cradle to see her baby. There he lay, a poor wizened creature with wild staring eyes whose cries sent a shiver down your spine. The woman looked at him and then went away, followed by the mother.

  ‘That is not your son,’ said the wise woman, ‘that is a fairy changeling. They have come and taken your baby and replaced it with one of their own.’

  ‘What can I do to get my boy back?’ asked the mother.

  ‘You have to be brave, if you mean to win back your son. You must take a steel wedge and a bible and go up the hill to Muckle Water, beyond that you will see a rock face that has a crack running right down it. Take the steel wedge and drive it into that crack and the wall will open. Inside you will see a fairy woman; you must strike her three times in the face with the Bible. On no account must you utter a sound while you are in there, or all will be lost. Once you’ve hit her three times turn around and walk out, without looking back. If you do not follow these instructions faithfully, then you will never see your son again. Do you understand?’

  ‘Yes, I understand.’

  The mother took a Bible and a steel wedge that was used for splitting rocks in the quarry and began to walk up the steep hill towards Muckle Water. The wind rippled the surface of the water as she walked on towards the rocky outcrops. There she saw the roc
k face with a crack running down it and she forced the steel wedge into it. Slowly, the rock face opened to reveal a fine hall inside the hill. Sitting on a chair inside the hall was a fairy woman with the stolen baby on her knee. The fairy shouted at the woman and tried everything that she could to trick her into talking, but the mother remained silent. Her heart burned for her baby boy and she had to force herself not to grab him and hold him tight to her breast, as this would ruin all hope of saving him. Instead, she looked into the eyes of the fairy who had stolen her child and saw the cold fire that burned within them. She raised the Bible and struck it against the fairy woman’s face, who screamed so loud that it seemed that the walls would crumble. Again the mother struck her in the face with the Bible, and then a third time, before silently turning and walking out the door without looking back. The woman ran down the slope, past the loch and headed home. Her heart was beating so wildly and loudly that it was all that she could hear. Onward she ran until she reached her house and burst through the door, gasping for breath and with tears streaming down her face. And there he was, lying soundly asleep in the cradle, her own baby boy, returned to her.