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“Their quick feet pattered on the grass
As light as dewdrops fall.
I saw their shadows on the glass
And heard their voices call.”
—Thomas Kennedy, “Night Dancers”

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Hundreds of years after fairy encounters were routinely documented
across the globe, our instincts have been progressively dulled to the
presence of magic. In the interest of simplicity, or perhaps because we are
plagued by skepticism, we no longer trust the voice within that urges us to
peer beyond the veil.
Thanks in great part to the unearthed nineteenth-century findings of
John Gregorson Campbell, R. B. Anderson, Wirt Sikes, and Thomas
Keightley and their careful documentation of all things fantastic, A Field
Guide to Fairies and Magical Beings restores our ancient sense of wonder
and offers useful time-tested information and oral histories on the mystical
creatures that populate our homes, yards, forests, and towns. By lacing
together an ancient tapestry of wisdom from Scotland, Ireland, England,
Wales, and Scandinavia, with the added bonus of present-day tips and
advice, rare and elusive beasts are yours to discover. Prepare to see the
world with a heightened sense of awareness: Train your ears to the
mischievous cackle of a pilfering Elf and the gentle flutter of a Pennygown
Pixie’s wings. Learn to differentiate a black rock from a Fairy spade and a
pine needle from a Fairy arrow. With this valuable relic of antiquity to guide
you, you will always know, for example, when a Fairy migration passes by
on the eddy wind.

Not all magical beings, it should be mentioned, are to be loved and

trusted like gentle pets. As a naturalist and explorer, it is crucial to know the
danger that awaits in the wild. Heed the careful warnings of those who
came before us when interacting with Fairies, Elves, Sprites, Trolls,
Banshis, Changelings, Mermaids, Kelpies, and their enchanted brethren.
These are not beings to be trifled with or teased. While some are generally
faithful and friendly to curious and well-meaning humans, there are also
plenty of menacing and evil beasts to avoid at all costs. This field guide is a
valuable tool for pointing your attention and priming your senses to the
mysteries, dangers, and unknowns of the supernatural realm.

Never approach a mystical being without knowing exactly

what kind it is. In general, it is best to abide by the simple rule,
live and let live.

Set out with an open mind and heart and revel in the act of exploring and
discovering. Nature is resplendent with hidden miracles and curious beings
that make life infinitely more intriguing. Use the patchwork of knowledge
that follows, authentically preserved with the language and conventions of
another place and time, to identify and preserve those wonders for
generations to come.

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In any account of Gaelic superstition and popular belief, the first and most
prominent place is to be assigned to the Fairy or Elfin people, or, as they are
called both in Irish and Scottish Gaelic, the sìth people, that is, “the people
of peace,” the “still folk,” or “silently-moving” people. The antiquity of the
belief is shown by its being found among all branches of the Celtic and
Teutonic families, and in countries which have not, within historical times,
had any communication with each other. If it be not entirely of Celtic
origin, there can be no doubt that among the Celtic races it acquired an
importance and influence accorded to it nowhere else. Of all the beings,
with which fear or fancy peopled the supernatural, the Fairies were the most
intimately associated with men’s daily life. In the present day, when popular
poetical ideas are extinguished in the universal call for “facts” and by “cold
material laws,” it is hard to understand how firm a hold a belief like this had
upon men in a more primitive state of society, and how unwillingly it is
surrendered.
Throughout the greater part of the Highlands of Scotland the Fairies
have become things of the past. A common belief is that they existed once,
though they are not now seen. There are others to whom the Elves1 have
still a real existence, and who are careful to take precautions against them.
The changes, which the Highlands are undergoing, have made the traces of
the belief fainter in some districts than in others, and in some there remains
but a confused jumbling of all the superstitions. It would be difficult to find
a person who knows the whole Fairy creed, but the tales of one district are
never contradictory of those of another. They are rather to be taken as
supplemental of each other.

Fairy homes can be difficult to spot, especially since

many Fairies make their dwellings underground. The
most easy-to-spot Fairy home is the kind built into a hill
or a mound of green earth or rock.

The Fairies, according to the Scoto-Celtic belief, are a race of beings,

the counterparts of mankind in person, occupations, and pleasures, but
unsubstantial and unreal, ordinarily invisible, noiseless in their motions, and
having their dwellings underground, in hills and green mounds of rock or
earth. They are addicted to visiting the haunts of men, sometimes to give
assistance, but more frequently to take away the benefit of their goods and
labours, and sometimes even their persons. They may be present in any
company, though mortals do not see them. Their interference is never
productive of good in the end, and may prove destructive. Men cannot
therefore be sufficiently on their guard against them.

NAMES GIVEN TO FAIRIES

The names by which these dwellers underground are known are mostly
derivative from the word sìth (pronounced shee). As a substantive (in which
sense it is ordinarily used) sìth means “peace,” and, as an adjective, is
applied solely to objects of the supernatural world, particularly to the
Fairies and whatever belongs to them. Sound is a natural adjunct of the
motions of men, and its entire absence is unearthly, unnatural, not human.
The name sìth without doubt refers to the “peace” or silence of Fairy
motion, as contrasted with the stir and noise accompanying the movements
and actions of men. The German “still folk” is a name of corresponding
import. The Fairies come and go with noiseless steps, and their thefts or
abductions are done silently and unawares to men. The wayfarer resting
beside a stream, on raising his eyes, sees the Fairy woman, unheard in her
approach, standing on the opposite bank.
Fairies are stealthy creatures. It can be easier to see them than to hear them coming, since they seem
to glide or walk on air.

Men know the Fairies have visited their houses only by the mysterious
disappearance of the substance of their goods, or the sudden and
unaccountable death of any of the inmates or of the cattle. Sometimes the
Elves are seen entering the house, gliding silently round the room, and
going out again as noiselessly as they entered. When driven away they do
not go off with tramp and noise, and sounds of walking such as men make,
or melt into thin air, as spirits do, but fly away noiselessly like birds or
hunted deer. They seem to glide or float along rather than to walk. Hence
the name síth and its synonyms are often applied contemptuously to a
person who sneaks about or makes his approach without warning.
Sometimes indeed the Elves make a rustling noise like that of a gust of
wind, or a silk gown, or a sword drawn sharply through the air, and their
coming and going has been even indicated by frightful and unearthly
shrieks, a pattering as of a flock of sheep, or the louder trampling of a troop
of horses. Generally, however, their presence is indicated at most by the
cloud of dust raised by the eddy wind, or by some other curious natural
phenomenon, by the illumination of their dwellings, the sound of their
musical instruments, songs, or speech.

Fairy woman playing the flute.

When scouting for Fairies in nature, listen for any of the

following:
Rustling wind
Unearthly shriek
Galloping sound of feet or hooves
Instrumental music

For the same reason sìth is applied not merely to what is Fairy, but to
whatever is Fairy-like, unearthly, not of this world. Of this laxer use of the
term the following may be given as illustrations:
Breac shìth, “Elfin pox,” hives, are spots that appear on the skin in
certain diseases and indicate a highly malignant stage of the malady. They
are not ascribed to the Fairies, but are called sìth, because they appear and
again disappear as it were “silently,” without obvious cause, and more
mysteriously than other symptoms. Cows, said to have been found on the
shores of Loscantire in Harris, Scorrybrec in Skye, and on the Island of
Bernera, were called cro sìth, “Fairy cows,” simply because they were of no
mortal breed, but of a kind believed to live under the sea on meillich,
seaweed. Animals in the shape of cats, but in reality witches or demons,
were called cait shìth, “Elfin cats,” and the Water-horse, which has no
connection whatever with the Elves, is sometimes called each sìth,
unearthly horse. The cuckoo is an eun sìth, a “Fairy bird,” because, as is
said, its winter dwelling is underground.
A banner in the possession of the family of Macleod, of Macleod of
Skye, is called “Macleod’s Fairy Banner” (Bratach shìth MhicLèoid), on
account of the supernatural powers ascribed to it. When unfurled, victory in
war (buaidh chogaidh) attends it, and it relieves its followers from
imminent danger. Every pregnant woman who sees it is taken in premature
labour (a misfortune which happened, it is said, to the English wife of a
former chief in consequence of her irrepressible curiosity to see the banner),
and every cow casts her calf (cha bhi bean no bo nach tilg a laogh). Others,
however, say the name is owing to the magic banner having been got from
an Elfin sweetheart.
A light, seen among the Hebrides, a sort of St. Elmo’s light or Will-of-
the-wisp, is called teine sìth, “Fairy light,” though no one ever blamed the
Fairies as the cause of it. In a semi-satirical song, of much merit for its spirit
and ease of diction, composed in Tiree to the owner of a crazy skiff that had
gone to the Ross of Mull for peats and stayed too long, the bard, in a
spirited description of the owner’s adventures and seamanship, says:

“Onward past Greenock,

Like the deer of the cold high hills,
Breasting the rugged ground
With the hunter in pursuit;
She sailed with Fairy motion,
Bounding smoothly in her pride,
 Cleaving the green waves,
And passing to windward of the rest.”
This latitude in the use of the word has led some writers on the subject
to confound with the Fairy beings having as little connection with them as
with mankind. A similar laxness occurs in the use of the English word Fairy.
It is made to include Kelpies, Mermaids, and other supernatural beings,
having no connection with the true Fairy, or Elfin race.

Indications that a Fairy is near:

A swirling cloud of dust
An illuminated mound of rock or earth
Items mysteriously disappearing

The following are the names by which the “folk” are known in Gaelic. It
is observable that every one of the names, when applied to mortals, is
contemptuous and disparaging.
Sithche (pronounced sheeche) is the generic and commonest term. It is a
noun of common gender, and its plural is síthchean (sheechun). In
Graham’s Highlands of Perthshire, a work more than once quoted by Sir
Walter Scott, but unreliable as an authority, this word is written shi’ich.
Sireach, plur. sirich, also sibhrich, is a provincial term; an siriche du,
“the black Elf,” i.e., the veriest Elf.
Sithbheire (pronounced sheevere), a masculine noun, is mostly applied
to Changelings, or the Elf substituted for children and animals taken by the
Fairies. Applied to men it is very contemptuous.
Siochaire is still more so. Few expressions of scorn are more commonly
applied to men than siochaire grannda, “ugly slink.”
Duine sìth (plur. daoine sìth), “a man of peace, a noiselessly moving
person, a Fairy, an Elf”; fem. Bean shìth, “a woman of peace, an Elle
woman,” are names that include the whole Fairy race. Bean shìth has
become naturalized in English under the form Banshi. The term was
introduced from Ireland, but there appears no reason to suppose the Irish
belief different from that of the Scottish Highlands. Any seeming difference
has arisen since the introduction of the Banshi to the literary world, and
from the too-free exercise of imagination by book-writers on an imperfectly
understood tradition.
The leannan sìth, “Fairy sweetheart, familiar spirit,” might be of either
sex. The use of this word by the translators of the Bible into Gaelic is made
a great handle of by the common people, to prove from Scripture that
Fairies actually exist. The Hebrew word so translated is rendered “pythons”
by the Vulgate, and “consulters of the spirits of the dead” by modern
scholars. Those said to have familiar spirits were probably a class of
magicians, who pretended to be media of communication with the spirit
world, their “familiar” making himself known by sounds muttered from the
ground through the instrumentality, as the Hebrew name denotes, of a skin
bottle.
Brughadair, “a person from a brugh, or Fairy dwelling,” applied to men,
means one who does a stupid or senseless action.
Other names are sluagh, “folk, a multitude”; sluagh eutrom, “light folk”;
and daoine beaga, “little men,” from the number and small size ascribed to
the Elves.
Daoine Còire, “honest folk,” had its origin in a desire to give no
unnecessary offence. The “folk” might be listening, and were pleased when
people spoke well of them, and angry when spoken of slightingly. In this
respect they are very jealous. A wise man will not unnecessarily expose
himself to their attacks, for, “Better is a hen’s amity than its enmity”
(S’fhearr sìth ciree na h-aimhreit). The same feeling made the Irish Celt
call them daoine matha, “good people,” and the lowland Scot “gude
neighbours.”

THE SIZE OF FAIRIES

The difference in size ascribed to the race, though one of the most
remarkable features in the superstition, and lying on its surface, has been
taken little notice of by writers. At one time the Elves are small enough to
creep through keyholes, and a single potato is as much as one of them can
carry; at another they resemble mankind, with whom they form alliances,
and to whom they hire themselves as servants; while some are even said to
be above the size of mortals, gigantic hags, in whose lap mortal women are
mere infants.
In the Highlands the names síthche and daoine sìth are given to all these
different sizes alike, little men, Elfin youth, Elfin dame, and Elfin hag, all of
whom are not mythical beings of different classes or kinds, but one and the
same race, having the same characteristics and dress, living on the same
food, staying in the same dwellings, associated in the same actions, and
kept away by the same means. The easiest solution of the anomaly is that
the Fairies had the power of making themselves large or small at pleasure.
There is no popular tale, however, which represents them as exercising such
a power, nor is it conformable to the rest of their characteristics that it
should be ascribed to them. The true belief is that the Fairies are a small
race, the men “about four feet or so” in height, and the women in many
cases not taller than a little girl (cnapach caileig). Being called “little,” the
exaggeration, which popular imagination loves, has diminished them till
they appear as Elves of different kinds. There is hardly a limit to the
popular exaggeration of personal peculiarities. Og, King of Bashan, was a
big man, and the Rabbis made his head tower to the regions of perpetual
snow, while his feet were parched in the deserts of Arabia. Finn MacCool
was reputed strong, at least he thrashed the devil, and made him howl. A
weaver in Perthshire, known as “the weaver with the nose” (figheadair na
eròine), had a big nose, at least he carried his loom in it. Similarly the “little
men” came down to the “size of half an ell,” and even the height of a quart
bottle.
The same peculiarity exists in the Teutonic belief. At times the Elf is a
dwarfish being that enters through keyholes and window-slits; at other
times a great tall man. In different localities the Fairies are known as Alfs,
Huldra-Folk, Duergar, Trolls, Hill Folk, Little Folk, Still Folk, Pixies, etc. A
difference of size, as well as of name, has led to these being described as
separate beings, but they have all so much in common with the Celtic
Fairies that we must conclude they were originally the same.
Legend has it that Elves and Fairies come in all sizes, though it’s possible that they can change their
size at will.

FAIRY DWELLINGS
The Gaelic, as might be expected, abounds in words denoting the
diversified features of the scenery in a mountainous country. To this the
English language itself bears witness, having adopted so many Gaelic
words of the kind, as strath, glen, corrie, ben, knock, dun, etc. From this
copiousness it arises that the round green eminences, which were said to be
the residences of the Fairies, are known in Gaelic by several names which
have no synonym in English.
Sìthein (pronounced shï-en) is the name of any place in which the
Fairies take up their residence. It is known from the surrounding scenery by
the peculiarly green appearance and rounded form. Sometimes in these
respects it is very striking, being of so nearly conical a form, and covered
with such rich verdure, that a second look is required to satisfy the
observers it is not artificial. Its external appearance has led to its being also
known by various other names.
Tolman is a small green knoll, or hummock, of earth; bac, a bank of
sand or earth; cnoc, knock, Scot. “a knowe,” and its diminutive cnocan, a
little knowe; dùn, a rocky mound or heap, such, for instance, as the Castle
Rock of Edinburgh or Dumbarton, though often neither so steep nor so
large; òthan, a green elevation in wet ground; and ùigh, a provincial term of
much the same import as tolman. Even lofty hills have been represented as
tenanted by Fairies, and the highest point of a hill, having the rounded form,
characteristic of Fairy dwellings is called its shï-en (sìthein na beinne).
Rocks may be tenanted by the Elves, but not caves. The dwellings of the
race are below the outside or superficies of the earth, and tales representing
the contrary may be looked upon with suspicion as modern.
 There is one genuine popular story in which the Fairy dwelling is in the
middle of a green plain, without any elevation to mark its site beyond a
horse skull, the eye sockets of which were used as the Fairy chimney.
These dwellings were tenanted sometimes by a single family only, more
frequently by a whole community. The Elves were said to change their
residences as men do, and, when they saw proper themselves, to remove to
distant parts of the country and more desirable haunts. To them, on their
arrival in their new home, are ascribed the words:

“Though good the haven we have left,

Better be the haven we have found.”

The Fairy hillock might be passed by the strangers without suspicion of

its being tenanted, and cattle were pastured on it unmolested by the “good
people.” There is, however, a common story in the Western Isles that a
person was tethering his horse or cow for the night on a green tolman when
a head appeared out of the ground, and told him to tether the beast
somewhere else, as he let rain into “their” house, and had nearly driven the
tether-pin into the ear of one of the inmates. Another, who was in the habit
of pouring out dirty water at the door, was told by the Fairies to pour it
elsewhere, as he was spoiling their furniture.
A Fairy with water leaking into its underground abode.
 When building a Fairy house, consider posting a
traditional Fairy rhyme at or near the entrance as a way
to build trust and make the abode look more inviting to
magical visitors. A road-weary Elf, for example, may find
this motto irresistible: “Though good the haven we have
left, Better be the haven we have found.”

He shifted the door to the back of the house, and prospered ever after.
The Fairies were very grateful to anyone who kept the sìthein clean, and
swept away cow or horse droppings falling on it. Finding a farmer careful
of the roof of their dwelling, keeping it clean, and not breaking the sward
with tether-pin or spade, they showed their thankfulness by driving his
horses and cattle to the sheltered side of the mound when the night proved
stormy. Many believe the Fairies themselves swept the hillock every night,
so that in the morning its surface was spotless.
Brugh (brŭ) denotes the Fairy dwelling viewed as it were from the
inside—the interiors—but is often used interchangeably with sìthein. It is
probably the same word as burgh, borough, or bro’, and its reference is to
the number of inmates in the Fairy dwelling.

FAIRY DRESSES
The Fairies, both Celtic and Teutonic, are dressed in green. In Skye,
however, though Fairy women, as elsewhere, are always dressed in that
colour, the men wear clothes of any colour like their human neighbours.
They are frequently called daoine beaga ruadh, “little red men,” from their
clothes having the appearance of being dyed with the lichen called crotal, a
common colour of men’s clothes in the North Hebrides. The coats of Fairy
women are shaggy, or ruffled (caiteineach), and their caps curiously fitted
or wrinkled. The men are said, but not commonly, to have blue bonnets, and
in the song to the murdered Elfin lover, the Elf is said to have a hat bearing
“a smell of honied apples.” This is perhaps the only Highland instance of a
hat, which is a prominent object in the Teutonic superstition, being ascribed
to the Fairies.

Fairies in their coats and wrinkled hats.

Due to the prevalence of underground Fairy and Elfen homes

in nature, be mindful when walking pets or dumping water
near hillocks and verdant mounds. It only takes a little bit of
extra care to protect endangered Fairy biomes.
FAIRY RINGS
The circles in the grass of green fields, which are commonly called Fairy
rings, are numerous in Wales, and it is deemed just as well to keep out of
them, even in our day. People no longer believe that the Fairies can be seen
dancing there, nor that the cap of invisibility will fall on the head of one
who enters the circle. They do believe that the Fairies, in a time not long
gone, made these circles with the tread of their tripping feet, and that some
misfortune will probably befall any person intruding upon this forbidden
ground. An elderly man at Peterstone-super-Ely told me he well
remembered in his childhood being warned by his mother to keep away
from the Fairy rings.
Signs of a Fairy ring under a canopy of oak trees.
 If you would like to see a real Fairy ring, your best bet is
to search under giant oak trees for circular patterns in
the grass. Be wary, however, of stepping into the ring,
because doing so is said to bring misfortune to humans.

With regard to the Fairy rings, Jones held that the Bible alludes to them,
Matt. xii. 43. “The Fairies dance in circles in dry places; and the Scripture
saith that the walk of evil spirits is in dry places.” They favour the oak tree,
and the female oak especially, partly because of its more wide-spreading
branches and deeper shade and partly because of the “superstitious use
made of it beyond other trees” in the days of the Druids. Formerly, it was
dangerous to cut down a female oak in a fair, dry place. “Some were said to
lose their lives by it, by a strange aching pain which admitted of no remedy,
as one of my ancestors did, but now that men have more knowledge and
faith, this effect follows not.”
 Planting an oak tree is one thing you can do to encourage
Fairy activity near your home. It’s a tree beloved by
Fairies, who enjoy dancing and lounging in its vast shade.

William Jenkins was for a long time the schoolmaster at Trefethin

Church in Monmouthshire, and, coming home late in the evening, as he
usually did, he often saw the Fairies under an oak within two or three fields
from the church. He saw them more often on Friday evenings than any
other. At one time, he went to examine the ground about this oak, and there
he found the reddish circle wherein the Fairies danced, “such as have often
been seen under the female oak, called Brenhin-bren.” They appeared more
often to an uneven number of persons, as one, three, five, etc., and more
often to men than to women.
Thomas William Edmund, of Hafodafel, “an honest pious man, who
often saw them,” declared that they appeared, with one bigger than the rest
going before them in the company. They were also heard talking together in
a noisy, jabbering way, but no one could distinguish the words. They
seemed, however, to be a very disputatious race, insomuch, indeed, that
there was a proverb in some parts of Wales to this effect: “Ni chytunant hwy
mwy na Bendith eu Mamau” (They will no more agree than the Fairies).

FAIRY OCCUPATIONS
The Fairies, as has been already said, are counterparts of humankind. There
are children and old people among them; they practice all kinds of trades
and handicrafts; they possess cattle, dogs, arms; they require food, clothing,
sleep; they are liable to disease, and can be killed. So entire is the
resemblance that they have even been betrayed into intoxication. People
entering their brughs have found the inmates engaged in similar
occupations to humans: spinning, weaving, grinding meal, baking, cooking,
churning, sleeping, dancing, making merry, or sitting around a fire in the
middle of the floor (as a Perthshire informant described it) “like tinkers.”
Sometimes they were absent on foraging expeditions or pleasure
excursions. The women sing at their work, a common practice in former
times with Highland women, and use the distaff, spindle, handmill, and
other primitive implements. The men have smithies, in which they make the
Fairy arrows and other weapons. Some Fairy families or communities are
poorer than others, and they borrow meal and other articles of domestic use
from each other and from their neighbours of mankind.

FAIRY FESTIVITIES
There are stated seasons of festivity that are observed with much splendour
in the larger dwellings. The brugh is illumined, the tables glitter with gold
and silver vessels, and the door is thrown open to all comers. Any of the
human race entering on these occasions are hospitably and heartily
welcomed; food and drink are offered them, and their health is pledged.
Everything in the dwelling seems magnificent beyond description, and
mortals are so enraptured that they forget everything but the enjoyment of
the moment. Joining in the festivities, they lose all thought as to the passage
of time. The food is the most sumptuous; the clothing the most gorgeous
ever seen; the music the sweetest ever heard; the dance the sprightliest ever
trod; the whole dwelling is lustrous with magic splendour.

Those who claim to have entered a Fairy brugh report warm hospitality from the Fae, including
tables glistening with serving ware and alluring displays of endless food and drink.

All this magnificence and enjoyment, however, are nothing but a

semblance and illusion of the senses. Humankind, with all their cares, toils,
and sorrows, easily succumb to this more desirable state, and a person is
greatly to be pitied whom the Elves get power over so that the person
exchanges his or her human lot and labour for the Elves’ society or
pleasures. Wise people recommend that, in these circumstances, a person
should not utter a word until he comes out again, nor, on any account,
should the person taste Fairy food or drink. If the person abstains from food
and drink, he or she is very likely before long dismissed, but, if the person
indulges, he or she straightaway loses the will and the power ever to return
to human society. The person becomes insensible to the passage of time,
and may stay, without knowing it, for years—even ages—in the brugh.
Many who thus forgot themselves are still among the Fairies to this day.
Should they ever again return to the open air, and their enchantment be
broken, the Fairy grandeur and pleasure will prove an empty show,
worthless, and fraught with danger. The food becomes disgusting refuse,
and the pleasures a shocking waste of time.

If you are ever lucky enough to be invited into a brugh

during a Fairy celebration, politely refuse any food and
drink. Stay too long, and you might lose your sense of
time and all desire to leave.

The sound of a bagpipe could be a signal that an Elf or Fairy is nearby.

 The Fae are greatly adept at music and dancing, and a great part of their
time seems to be spent in the practice of these accomplishments. The
Changeling has often been detected by their fondness for these arts. Though
in appearance an ill-conditioned and helpless brat, they have been known,
when thinking they were unobserved, to play the pipes with surpassing skill
and dance with superhuman activity. Elfin music is more melodious than
that which human skill and instruments can produce, and there are many
songs and tunes that are said to have been originally learned from the
Fairies. The only musical instrument of the Elves is the bagpipes, and some
of the most celebrated pipers in Scotland are said to have learned their
music from them.

FAIRY RAIDS
The Gaelic belief recognises no Fairyland or realm different from the
earth’s surface on which people live and move. The dwellings are
underground, but it is on the natural face of the earth where the Fairies find
their sustenance, pasture their cattle, and forage and roam.
Their festivities are held on the last night of every quarter (h-uile latha
ceann ràidhe), particularly the nights before Beltane (the first day of
summer) and Hallowmas (the first of winter). On these nights, on Fridays,
and on the last night of the year, they are given to leaving home and taking
away whomsoever of the human race they find helpless, unguarded, or
unwary. Fairies may be encountered any time, but on these stated occasions,
humans are to be particularly on their guard against them.
On Fridays, they obtrusively enter houses and even have the impudence,
it is said, to lift the lid off the pot to see what the family is cooking for
dinner. Any Fairy story told on this day should be prefaced by saying, “A
blessing attend their departing and travelling! This day is Friday, and they
will not hear us” (Beannachd nan siubhal ’s nan isneachd! ’se ’n diugh Di-
haoine ’s cha chluinn iad sinn). This prevents Fairy ill-will coming upon the
storyteller for anything he or she may chance to say. No one should call the
day by its proper name of Friday (Di-haoine) but should instead call it “the
day of yonder town” (latha bhatl’ ud thall). The Fairies do not like to hear
the day mentioned, and if anyone is so unlucky as to use the proper name,
the person can direct the Fairies’ wrath elsewhere by adding “on the cattle
of yonder town” (air cro a bhail’ ud thall) or “on the farm of so-and-so,”
mentioning anyone he or she dislikes. The fear of Fairy wrath also prevents
the sharpening of knives on Fridays.

Fridays are adventurous days for Fairies, when they may

be curious enough to venture into a home, so be on the
lookout. If you notice that the lid has been removed from
a pot you were cooking in or the oven door has been
opened, there may be a hungry Fairy in your midst.

Fairies are said to come always from the west. They are admitted into
houses, however well-guarded otherwise, in the following ways: by the
little hand-made cake, the last of the baking (bonnach beag boise), called
the Fallaid bannock, unless there has been a hole put through it with
someone’s finger, a piece broken off it, or a live coal put on the top of it; by
the water in which people’s feet have been washed, unless it is thrown out
or has a burning peat put in it; by the fire, unless it is properly “raked”
(smàladh), i.e., covered up to keep it alive for the night; or by the band of
the spinning wheel, if left stretched on the wheel. Unless the band was
taken off the spinning wheel, particularly on Saturday evenings, the Fairies
came after the residents of the house had retired to rest and used the wheel.
Sounds of busy work were heard, but in the morning no work was found
done, and possibly the wheel was disarranged.
A Fairy collecting water from a container generously left out by a human.

On the last night of the year, Fairies are kept out of the house by
decorating the house with holly and dressing up the last handful of corn
reaped as a Harvest Maiden (Maighdean Bhuan), then hanging it up in the
farmer’s house to aid in keeping them out until the next harvest.

CIRCUMSTANCES UNDER WHICH FAIRIES

ARE SEEN
There seems to be no definite rule as to the circumstances under which the
Fairies are to be seen. A person whose eye has been touched with Fairy
water can see them whenever they are present; the seer, possessed of second
sight, often sees them when others do not; and on nights on which the shï-
en is open, the chance passerby sees them rejoicing in their underground
dwellings. A favourite time for their encounters with people seems to be the
dusk and wild stormy nights of mist and driving rain, when the streams are
swollen and “the roar of the torrent is heard on the hill.” They are also apt
to appear when spoken of, when a desire is expressed for their assistance,
when proper precautions are not taken and those whose weakness and
helplessness call for watchfulness and care are neglected; when their power
is scorned; and when a sordid and churlish spirit is entertained. Often,
without fault or effort, in places the most unexpected, mortals have been
startled by their appearance, cries, or music.

A call for help, when it’s genuine, can sometimes lead to

the sighting of a well-meaning Fairy ready to offer his or
her assistance.

FAIRY FOOD
Fairy food consists principally of things intended for human food, of which
the Elves take the toradh, i.e., the substance, fruit, or benefit, leaving the
semblance or appearance to humans. In this manner, they take cows, sheep,
goats, meal, sowens (fermented oats), the produce of the land, etc. Cattle
falling over rocks are particularly liable to being taken by them, and milk
spilt in coming from the dairy is theirs by right. They have, of food peculiar
to themselves and not acquired from humans, the root of silver weed
(brisgein), the stalks of heather (cuiseagan an fhraoich), the milk of the red
deer hinds and of goats, weeds gathered in the fields, and barleymeal. The
brisgein is a root plentifully turned up by the plough in spring and ranked in
olden times as the “seventh bread.” Its inferior quality and its being found
underground are probably the causes of its being assigned to the Fairies. As
for the heather, it is a question whether the stalks are the tops or the stems
of the plant; neither contain much sap or nourishment. The Banshi Fairy, or
Elle woman, has been seen by hunters milking the hinds, just as people milk
cows.
 Preserving Fairies means protecting their natural resources.
Whether that means opposing development in areas where
red deer thrive or growing Fairy foods like heather, barley,
and silverweed in your backyard, there are many ways to
ensure that Fairies thrive in your area.

Those who partake of Fae food are as hungry after their repast as before
it. In appearance, it is most sumptuous and inviting, but on grace being said
turns out to be horse-dung. Some, in their haste to partake of the gorgeous
viands, were only disenchanted when “returning thanks.”

GIFTS BESTOWED BY FAIRIES

The Fairies can bestow almost any gift upon their favourites; they can give
them great skill in music and in work of all kinds, give them cows and even
children stolen for the purpose from others, leave them good fortune, keep
cattle from wandering into their crops at night, assist them in spring and
harvest work, etc. Sometimes their marvelous skill is communicated to
mortals; sometimes they come in person to assist. If a smith, wright, or
other tradesperson catches them working with the tools of his or her trade (a
thing they are addicted to doing), Fairies can compel them to bestow on
them the Ceaird Chomuinn, or association-craft, that is to come to their
assistance whenever they want them. Work left near their hillocks overnight
has been found finished in the morning, and they have been forced by
people, entering their dwellings for this purpose, to reveal the cures for
diseases defying human skill.

LOANS
“The giving and taking of loans,” according to the proverb, “always
prevailed in the world,” and the custom is one to which the “good
neighbours” are no strangers.
Fairies are universally represented as borrowing meal from each other
and from humans. In the latter case, when they returned a loan, as they
always honestly did, the return was in barleymeal, two measures for one of
oatmeal; this, on being kept in a place by itself, proved inexhaustible,
provided the bottom of the vessel in which it was stored was never made to
appear, no question was asked, and no blessing was pronounced over it. It
would then neither vanish nor become horse-dung!
When a loan is returned to them, they accept only the fair equivalent of
what they have lent, neither less nor more. If more is offered, they take
offence and never give an opportunity for the same insult again. We hear
also of their borrowing a kettle or cauldron and, under the power of a rhyme
uttered by the lender at the time of giving it, sending it back before
morning.

EDDY WIND
When “the folk” leave home in companies, they travel in eddies of wind. In
this climate, these eddies are among the most curious of natural phenomena.
On calm summer days, they go past, whirling about straws and dust, and as
not another breath of air is moving at the time, their cause is sufficiently
puzzling. In Gaelic, the eddy is known as “the people’s puff of wind”
(oiteag sluaigh), and its motion “travelling on tall grass stems” (falbh air
chuiseagan treòrach). By throwing one’s left (or toisgeul) shoe at it, the
Fairies are made to drop whatever they may be taking away—men, women,
children, or animals. The same result is attained by throwing one’s bonnet,
saying, “this is yours; that’s mine” (Is leatsa so, is leamsa sin); a naked
knife; or earth from a mole-hill.
A whirl of straw and dust passing by on a calm day could be a community of Fairies.

In these strange Fairy eddies of wind, people going on a journey at night

have been “lifted” and have spent the night careening through the skies. On
returning to the earth, though they came to the same house they left, they
were too stupefied to recognise either the house or its residents. Others,
through Fairy spite, have wandered about all night on foot, failing to reach
their intended destination though quite near it, and perhaps in the morning
finding themselves on the top of a distant hill or in some inaccessible place
to which they could never have made their way alone. Even in daylight,
some were carried in the Elfin eddy from one island to another in great
terror, lest they should fall into the sea.
Legend has it that people can be magically lifted in an eddy of Fairy wind.

When there is rain with sunshine, the “little people,”

according to a popular rhyme, are “at their meat.”

A calm day is perfect weather for Fairy tracking because

it’s easier to spot the out-of-place sight of an eddy wind.
Look for a whirl of straw and dust if you want to see a
group of Fairies in transit. Out of respect for their
species, do not yield to the temptation of throwing your
shoe at the eddy wind to watch the Fairies drop to the
ground (as was once the custom).
FAIRY TOOLS
Natural objects of a curious appearance, or bearing a fanciful resemblance
to articles used by humans, are also associated with the Fae. The reedmace
plant is called the “distaff of the Fairy women” (a tool used for spinning
yarn) and the foxglove the “thimble of the Fairy old women” (though more
commonly the “thimble of dead old women”). A substance found on the
shores of the Hebrides, like a stone, red (ruadh), half dark (lith dhorcha),
and holed, is called “Elf’s blood” (fuil siochaire). (In Northumberland, a
fungous excrescence, growing about the roots of old trees, is called “Fairy
butter.”)

Reedmace (bulrush) and foxglove make handy tools for Fairies.

Depiction of a Fairy arrow (Figure 1, left) and a Fairy spade (Figure 1, right). Variations of
triangular flints (Figure 2) and healing spades (Figure 3).

The Fairy arrow (Saighead shìth) owes its name to a similar fancy. It is
known also as “Fairy flint” (spor shìth) and consists of a triangular piece of
flint, bearing the appearance of an arrowhead. It probably originally formed
part of the rude armoury of the savages of the stone period. Popular
imagination, struck by its curious form and ignorant of its origin, ascribed it
to the Fairies. The Fairy arrow was said to be frequently shot at hunters, to
whom the Elves have a special aversion because they kill the hinds, on the
milk of which they live. They could not throw it themselves, but they
compelled some mortal who was being carried about in their company to
throw it for them. If the person aimed at was a friend, the thrower managed
to miss the target, and the Fairy arrow proved innocuous. It was found lying
beside the object of Fairy wrath and was kept as a valuable preservation
against similar dangers in the future and for rubbing onto wounds. The
person or beast struck by a Fairy arrow became paralyzed and, to all
appearance, died shortly after. In reality, the afflicted was taken away by the
Elves, and only their appearance remained. The arrow’s point being blunt
was an indication that it had done harm.
The Fairy spade is a smooth, slippery black stone, in shape “like the sole
of a shoe.” It was put in water and given to sick people and cattle.

CATTLE AND DEER

Everywhere in the Highlands, the red deer are associated with the Fairies
and, in some districts, such as Lochaber and Mull, are said to be their only
cattle. This association is sufficiently accounted for by the Fairy-like
appearance and habits of the deer. In its native haunts, in remote and misty
corries, where solitude has its most undisturbed abode, the deer’s beauty
and grace of form, combined with its dislike of the presence of people and
even of the animals people have tamed, amply entitle it to the name of sìth.
Timid and easily startled by every appearance and noise, a deer is said to be
unmoved by the presence of the Fairies. Popular belief also says that no
deer is found dead with age and that its horns, which it sheds every year, are
not found, because they are hidden by the Fairies. In their transformations,
it was peculiar for the Fairy women to assume the shape of the red deer; in
that guise, they were often encountered by the hunters. The Elves have a
particular dislike of those who kill the hinds and, on finding them in lonely
places, delight in throwing elf-bolts at them. When a dead deer is carried
home at night, the Fairies lay their weight on the bearer’s back until the
person feels as if he or she had a house for a burden. However, when a
penknife is stuck in the deer, it becomes very light.
There are occasional allusions to the Fairy women having herds of deer.
The Carlin Wife of the Spotted Hill (Cailleach Beinne Bhric horò), who,
according to a popular rhyme, was “large and broad and tall,” had a herd
that she would not allow to descend to the beach and that “loved the water-
cresses by the fountain high in the hills better than the black weeds of the
shore.” The old women of Ben-y-Ghloe, in Perthshire, and of Clibrich, in
Sutherlandshire, seem to have been sìth women of the same sort. “I never,”
said an old man (he was upward of eighty years of age) in the Island of
Mull, questioned some years ago on the subject, “heard of the Fairies
having cows, but I always heard that deer were their cattle.”
A deer sleeps peacefully as Fairies decorate its antlers.

In other parts of the Highlands, as in Skye, though the Fairies are said to
keep company with the deer, they have cows like people have cows. When
one of them appears among a herd of cattle, the whole fold of them grows
frantic and starts lowing wildly. The strange animal disappears by entering a
rock or knoll, and the others, unless intercepted, follow and are never more
seen. The Fairy cow is dun (odhar) and “hummel,” or hornless. In Skye,
however, Fairy cattle are said to be speckled and red (crodh breac ruadh)
and to be able to cross the sea. It is not on every place that they graze. There
were not more than ten such spots in all of Skye. The field of Annat
(achadh na h-annaid), in the Braes of Portree, is one. When the cattle came
home at night from pasture, the following were the words used by the Fairy
woman, standing on Dun Gerra-sheddar (Dùn Ghearra-seadar), near
Portree, as she counted her charge:

“Crooked one, dùn one,

Little wing grizzled,
Black cow, white cow,
Little bull black-head,
My milch kine have come home,
O dear! that the herdsman would come!”

HORSES
In the Highland creed, the Fairies but rarely have horses. In Perthshire, they
have been seen on a market day, riding about on white horses; in Tiree, two
Fairy ladies were met riding on what seemed to be horses but in reality
were ragweeds; and in Skye, the Elves have galloped the farm horses at full
speed and in dangerous places, sitting with their faces to the tails.
When horses neigh at night, it is because they are ridden by the Fairies
and pressed too hard. The neigh is one of distress, and if the hearer exclaims
aloud, “Your saddle and pillion be upon you” (Do shrathair ’s do phillein
ort), the Fairies tumble to the ground.
An adventurous Fairy dares to ride a horse.

When tracking at night, it’s wise to heed the superior

instincts and heightened senses of nearby animals, who can
perceive the presence of these magical creatures better than
humans. A dog barking at an object unseen or a horse
neighing insistently could indicate a mystical presence
nearby.

DOGS
The Fairy dog (cu sìth) is as large as a two-year-old bull, dark green in
colour, with ears of deep green. It is of a lighter colour toward the feet. In
some cases, it has a long tail rolled up in a coil on its back, but others have
the tail flat and plaited like the straw rug of a pack-saddle. Bran, the famous
dog of Irish hero Finn MacCool, was of Elfin breed and, from the
description given of it by popular tradition, decidedly parti-coloured:
 “Bran had yellow feet,
Its two sides black and belly white;
Green was the back of the hunting hound,
Its two pointed ears blood-red.”

Legend has it that there are mystical Fairy hounds who act as Fairy watchdogs.
While a Fairy dog acts as a protector, regular dogs with no mystical origins tend to bark at and
chase Fairies.
 Bran had a venomous shoe (Bròg nimhe), with which it killed whatever
living creature it struck. When at full speed and “like its father” (dol ri
athair), it was seen as three dogs, intercepting the deer at three passes.
The Fairy hound was kept tied as a watchdog in the brugh but at times
accompanied the Fairy women on their expeditions or roamed about alone,
making its lairs in clefts of the rocks. Its motion was silent and gliding, and
its bark a rude clamour (blaodh). It went in a straight line, and its bay was
last heard, by those who listened for it, far out at sea. Its immense
footprints, as large as the spread of the human hand, were found the next
day, traced in the mud, in the snow, or on the sands. Others say it makes a
noise like a horse galloping, and its bay is like that of another dog, only
louder. There is a considerable interval between each bark, and at the third
(it only barks thrice), the terror-struck hearer is overtaken and destroyed,
unless he has by that time reached a place of safety.
Ordinary dogs have a mortal aversion to the Fairies and give chase
whenever the Elves are sighted.

ELFIN CATS
Elfin cats (cait shìth) are explained to be of a wild, not a domesticated,
breed. They are as large as dogs, of a black colour, and with a white spot on
the breast, arched backs, and erect bristles (crotach agus mùrlach). Many
maintain that these wild cats have no connection with the Fairies but are
witches in disguise.

FAIRY THEFT
The Fae have earned a worse reputation for stealing than they deserve. So
far as taking things without the knowledge or consent of the owners is
concerned, the accusation is well-founded; they neither ask nor obtain
leave, but there are important respects in which their depredations differ
from the pilferings committed by criminals and other dishonest people.
The Fairies do not take their booty away bodily; they only take what is
called in Gaelic its toradh, i.e., its substance, virtue, fruit, or benefit. The
outward appearance is left, but the reality is gone. Thus, when a cow is Elf-
taken, it appears to its owner only as suddenly smitten by some strange
disease. In reality, the cow is gone, and only its semblance remains,
animated it may be by an Elf, who receives all the attentions paid to the sick
cow but gives nothing in return. The seeming cow lies on its side and
cannot be made to rise. It consumes the provender laid before it, but it does
not yield milk or grow fat. In some cases, it gives plenty of milk, but milk
that yields no butter. If taken up a hill and rolled down the incline, it
disappears altogether. If it dies, its flesh ought not to be eaten—it is not beef
but a stock of alder wood, an aged Elf, or some other substitute. Similarly,
when the toradh of land is taken, there remains the appearance of a crop,
but it is a crop without benefit to man or beast—the ears are unfilled, the
grain is without weight, the fodder without nourishment.
A still more important point of difference is that the Fairies only take
away what people deserve to lose. When mortals make a secret of, or
grumble over, what they have, the Fairies get the benefit, and the owner is a
poor person in the midst of abundance. When (to use an illustration the
writer has more than once heard) a farmer speaks disparagingly of his crop
and, though it be heavy, tries to conceal his good fortune, the Fairies take
away the benefit of his increase. The advantage goes away mysteriously “in
pins and needles,” “in alum and madder,” as the saying is, and the farmer
gains nothing from the crop. Particularly articles of food, the possession of
which people denied with oaths, became Fairy property.
A looting Fairy admires the articles she’s hidden beneath a shrub.

The Elves are also blamed for taking with them articles mislaid. These
are generally restored as mysteriously and unaccountably as they were
taken away. A woman once blamed the Elves for taking her thimble. It was
placed beside her but could not be found when she looked for it. Later, she
was sitting alone on the hillside and found the thimble in her lap. This
confirmed her belief in it being the Fairies that took it away. In a like
mysterious manner, a person’s bonnet might be whipped off his or her head
or the pot for supper be lifted off the fire and left by invisible hands in the
middle of the floor.
 Small objects that go missing and reappear may indicate that
you should keep a close eye out for Fae. If an object goes
missing, and you think the Fairy has taken a liking to it,
consider leaving out similar objects and watching the area in
the hopes of catching a Fairy red-handed.

The accusation of taking milk is unjust. It is brought against the Elves

only in books, and never in the popular creed. The Fairies take cows, sheep,
goats, and horses, which may give the substance or benefit (toradh) of
butter and cheese, but not milk.
Many devices were employed to thwart Fairy inroads. A burning ember
was put into sowens, one of the weakest and most unsubstantial articles of
human food and very liable to Fairy attack. It was left there until the dish
was ready for boiling, about three days after.
A sieve should not be allowed out of the house after dark, and no meal
unless it be sprinkled with salt. Otherwise, the Fairies may, by means of
them, take the substance out of all the farm’s produce. For the same reason,
a hole should be made with the finger in the little cake made with the
remnant of the meal after a baking; when given to children, as it usually is,
a piece should be broken off it. A nail driven into a cow, killed by falling
over a precipice, was supposed by the more superstitious to keep the Elves
away.
One of the most curious thefts ascribed to them was that of querns, or
handmills. To keep them away, these handy and useful implements should
be turned deiseal, i.e., with a right-hand turn, as sunwise. What is curious in
the belief is that it is said that people originally got the handmill from the
Fairies themselves. Its sounds have often been heard by people as it was
being worked inside some grassy knoll, and songs, sung by the Fairies
employed at it, have been learned.
Some of the objects most frequently stolen (and replaced)
by Fairies include:
Thimbles
Coins
Writing utensils
Buttons
Hats
Small kitchen items
Shoelaces
Cakes and sweets
Watches
CHANGELINGS
It is said that Fairies have the capacity to steal human children, though the
reason is unclear, and few accounts of this exist in modern times. When
they succeeded in their felonious attempts, legend states, the Elves left
instead of the mother, and bearing her semblance, a stock of wood, and in
place of the infant an old one of their own race. The Changeling child grew
up a peevish misshapen brat, ever crying and complaining. It was known,
however, to be a Changeling by the skillful in such matters, from the large
quantities of water it drank—a tubful before morning, if left beside it—its
large teeth, its inordinate appetite, its fondness for music and its powers of
dancing, its unnatural precocity, or from some unguarded remark as to its
own age. It is to the aged Elf, left in the place of child or beast, that the
name sithbheire (pronounced “sheevere”) is properly given. As may well be
supposed, to call someone who has an ancient manner or look a sithbheire,
or to say the person “is only one who came from a brugh,” is an expression
of considerable contempt. When a person does a senseless action, it is said
that the person has been “taken out of himself” (air a thoirt as), that is,
taken away by the Fairies.
A peevish and bratty Changeling (at left) appears similar to a human child (at right) to the untrained
eye.

According to old legends, if you want to be sure to keep a

mother and child safe from devious magical beings who
might steal or hurt them, you can do the following:
Burn a shoe in a fire.
Write keep out in thread near the bed where mom and
baby sleep.
Place something made of iron nearby.
Use quick wit!

The Changeling was converted into the stock of a tree by saying a

powerful rhyme over him or by sticking him with a knife. He could be
driven away by running at him with a red-hot ploughshare; by getting
between him and the bed and threatening him with a drawn sword; by
leaving him out on the hillside and paying no attention to his shrieking and
screaming; by sitting him on a gridiron, or in a creel, with a fire below; by
sprinkling him well out of the maistir tub; or by dropping him into the river.
There can be no doubt these modes of treatment would rid a house of any
disagreeable visitor, at least of the human race.

A Changeling in the nursery is a cause for alarm.

The story of the Changeling, who was detected by means of eggshells,

seems in some form or other to be as widespread as the superstition itself.
Empty eggshells are arranged around the hearth, and the Changeling,
finding the house quiet and thinking to be alone, gets up from bed and
examines them. Finding them empty, the Changeling is heard to remark
sententiously, as he peers into each, “This is but a wind-bag; I am so many
hundred years old, and I never saw the like of this.”

NURSES
Fairies sometimes took care of children whom they found forgotten, and
even of grown-up people sleeping incautiously in dangerous places.
The Elves also have children of their own, and they require the services
of midwives like humans do. “Howdies,” as they are called, taken in the
way of their profession to the Fairy dwelling, found on coming out that the
time they had stayed was incredibly longer or shorter than they imagined,
and none of them was ever the better ultimately of her adventure.

THE MAN AND WOMAN OF PEACE

The Gaelic sìthche, like the English Elf, has two ideas, almost amounting to
two meanings, attached to it. In the plural, sìthchean, it conveys the idea of
a diminutive race, travelling in eddy winds, lifting people from the ground,
stealing, and entering houses in companies; while in the singular, sìthche,
the idea conveyed is that of one who approaches humankind in dimensions.
The “man and woman of peace” hire themselves to the human race for a
day’s work or a term of service, and contract marriages with it. The Elfin
youth has enormous strength, that of a dozen people, it is said, and the Elfin
women (or Banshis) are remarkably handsome. The aged of the race were
generally the reverse, in point of beauty.

MARRYING FAIRIES
Those who have taken Elfin women for wives have found a sad termination
to their mésalliance. The defect or peculiarity of the fair enchantress, which
her lover at first had treated as of no consequence, proves his ruin. Her
voracity thins his herds, he gets tired of her or angry with her, and in an
unguarded moment reproaches her with her origin. She disappears, taking
with her the children and the fortune she brought him. The gorgeous palace,
fit for the entertainment of kings, vanishes, and he finds himself again in his
old black dilapidated hut, with a pool of rain-drippings from the roof in the
middle of the floor.

The washing woman is a Fairy you would rather not see.

Catching her is a sign that death could strike the person
whose clothes or linens she’s washing or hanging out to dry.
If she says the shirt she is washing belongs to an enemy of
her captor, the person allows her to keep washing, and
the enemy’s death follows. If the shirt belongs to her
captor or any of her captor’s friends, she is put a stop to.
THE BEAN-NIGHE, OR WASHING WOMAN
At times, the Fairy woman (Bean shìth) is seen in lonely places, beside a
pool or stream, washing the linens of those soon to die, folding and beating
them with her hands on a stone in the middle of the water. She is then
known as the Bean-nighe, or washing woman, and her being seen is a sure
sign that death is near.
In Skye, the Bean-nighe is said to be squat in figure, or not unlike a
“small pitiful child”. If a person caught her, she would tell that person all
that would befall him or her in the afterlife. She would answer all of the
person’s questions, but the person must answer her questions, too. People
did not like to reveal what she said to them.
If the person hearing the Bean-nighe at work, beating the clothes, caught
her before being observed, then the washing woman could not hear the
person. However, if the washing woman saw the person first, the person
would lose the power of his or her limbs.

A Fairy washing woman hanging linens by moonlight.

In the highlands of Perthshire, the washing woman is represented as

small and round and dressed in pretty green. She spreads the linens by
moonlight, winding the sheets of those soon to die. She can be caught by
the person getting between her and the stream.
 She can also be caught and made to communicate her information at the
point of the sword.

THE SONG OF THE FAIRY WOMAN

The song of the Fairy woman forebodes great calamity, and people do not
like to hear it. Some describe it as “the fatal Banshi’s boding scream,” but it
is not a scream, only a wailing murmur (torman mulaid) of unearthly
sweetness and melancholy.

ELFIN QUEEN
The Banshi is, without doubt, the original Queen of Elfland, mentioned in
ballads of the south of Scotland. The Elfin Queen met Thomas of
Ercildoune by the Eildon tree and took him to her enchanted realm, where
he was kept for seven years. In Gaelic, seven years is a common period of
detention among the Fairies. She gave him the power of foretelling the
future: “the tongue that never lied.” At first, she was the most beautiful
woman he had ever seen, but when he next looked, this is what he saw:

“The hair that hung upon her head,

The half was black, the half was grey,
And all the rich clothing was away
That he before saw in that stead;
Her eyes seemed out that were so grey,
And all her body like the lead.”
The Fairy Queen.

The leannan sìth, “the Fairy who takes a human lover”, communicates
to her lover the knowledge of future events, and in the end she is looked
upon by him with aversion. There is no mention, however, of Fairyland, or
of an Elfin King or Queen, and but rarely of Fairies riding. True Thomas,
who is as well known in Highland lore as he is in the Lowlands, is said to
be still among the Fairies and to attend every market on the lookout for
suitable horses. When he has made up his complement, he will appear again
among men, and a great battle will be fought on the Clyde.

PROTECTION AGAINST FAIRIES

The great protection against the Elfin race (and this is perhaps the most
noted point in the whole superstition) is iron, or preferably steel (Cruaidh).
The metal, in any form—a sword, a knife, a pair of scissors, a needle, a nail,
a ring, a bar, a piece of reaping-hook, a gun-barrel, a fish-hook (and tales
abound that illustrate of all these)—is all-powerful.
On entering a Fairy dwelling, sticking a piece of steel, a knife, a needle,
or a fish-hook in the door takes from the Elves the power of closing the
door until the intruder comes out again. A knife stuck in a deer carried home
at night keeps the Fairies from laying their weight on the animal. A knife or
nail in one’s pocket prevents the person from being “lifted” at night. Nails
in the front bench of the bed keep Elves from women who have just given
birth and their babes. As additional safeguards, the smoothing-iron should
be put below the bed, and the reaping-hook in the window. A nail in the
carcass of a bull that fell over a rock was believed to preserve its flesh from
the Elves. Playing the mouth harp (tromb) kept the Elfin women at a
distance from the hunter, because the tongue of the instrument is of steel.
So also a shoemaker’s awl in the doorpost of his bothy (cottage) kept a
Glaistig from entering.

Entering a Fairy dwelling is always a gamble, because time

can pass more quickly in their world than ours. To make for
an easier exit, it’s wise to keep the door slightly ajar
(preferably with a metal object to dull Fairy powers).

Fairies visiting a woman as she sleeps.

Fire thrown into water in which people’s feet have been washed takes
away the power of the water to admit the Fairies into the house at night; a
burning peat put in sowens to hasten their fermenting kept the substance in
them until ready to boil. Fire was carried around lying-in women and
around children before they were christened, to keep mother and infant
from the power of evil spirits. When the Fairies were seen coming in at the
door, burning embers thrown toward them drove them away.
Another safeguard is oatmeal. When it is sprinkled on one’s clothes or
carried in the pocket, no Fairy will venture near, and it was usual for people
going on journeys after nightfall to adopt the precaution of taking some
with them. In Mull and Tiree, the pockets of boys going any distance after
nightfall were filled with oatmeal by their anxious mothers, and old men are
reminded to sprinkle themselves with it when going on a night journey.
In Skye, oatmeal was not looked upon as proper Fairy food, and it was
said if people wanted to see the Fairies, they should not take oatmeal with
them. If they did, they would not be able to see the Fairies.
Oatmeal, taken out of the house after dark, was sprinkled with salt;
otherwise, the Fairies might, through its instrumentality, take the substance
out of the farmer’s whole grain. To keep them from getting the benefit of
meal itself, people, when baking oatmeal bannocks, made a little thick cake
with the last of the meal, between their palms (not kneading it like the rest
of the bannocks), for the youngsters to put a hole through it with the
forefinger. This palm bannock (bonnach boise) is not to be toasted on the
gridiron but placed to the fire, leaning against a stone (leac nam bonnach),
well known where a griddle is not available. The Fairies would be
overtaken carrying with them the benefit (toradh) of the farm in a large
thick cake, with the handle of the quern (sgonnan na brà) stuck through it
and forming a pole on which it was carried. This cannot occur when the last
bannock baked (Bonnach fallaid) is a little cake with a hole in it (Bonnach
beag’s toll ann).

Maistir, or stale urine, kept for the scouring of blankets

and other cloth, when sprinkled on the cattle and on the
doorposts and walls of the house, kept the Fairies, and
indeed every mischief, at a distance. This sprinkling was
done regularly on the last evening of every quarter of the
year (h-uile latha ceann ràidhe).
Plants of great power were the Mòthan (Sagina
procumbens, trailing pearlwort) and Achlasan Challum-
chille (Hypericum pulcrum, St. John’s wort). The former
protected its possessor from fire and the attacks of the
 Fae. The latter warded off fevers and kept the Fairies
from taking people away in their sleep. There are rhymes
that must be said when these plants are pulled.

Stories representing the Bible as a protection must be of a recent date. It

is not so long since a copy of the Bible was not available in the Highlands
for that or any other purpose. When the book did become accessible, it is
not surprising that, as in other places, reverence should accumulate around
it.

NOTABLE FAIRY CHARACTERISTICS

Such are the main features of the superstition of the sìthchean, the still-folk,
the noiseless people, as it existed, and in some degree still exists, in the
Highlands and particularly in the islands of Scotland. There is a clear line of
demarcation between it and every other Highland superstition, though the
distinction has not always been observed by writers on the subject. The
following Fairy characteristics deserve to be particularly noticed.
It was peculiar to the Fairy women to assume the shape of deer, while
witches became mice, hares, cats, gulls, or black sheep, and the devil a he-
goat or gentleman with a horse’s or pig’s foot.
A running stream could not be crossed by evil spirits, ghosts, and
apparitions, but made no difference to the Fairies. If all tales be true, they
could give a dip in the passing to those they were carrying away, and the
stone, on which the washing woman folded the linens of the doomed, was
in the middle of water.
Witches took the milk from cows, but the Fairies had cattle of their own.
When Fairies attacked the farmer’s dairy, it was to take away the cows
themselves, after which the cow in appearance remained, but its benefit (the
real cow) was gone. The Elves have even the impertinence at times to drive
back the cow at night to pasture on the corn of the person from whom they
have stolen it.
The frenzy with which Fairy women afflicted human men was a
wandering madness, which made them roam about restlessly, without
knowing what they were doing, or leave home at night to hold appointments
with the Elfin women themselves. By Druidism, men were driven from
their kindred and made to imagine themselves undergoing marvelous
adventures and changing shape.
Dogs crouched or leapt at their master’s throat in the presence of evil
spirits, but they gave chase to the Fae.
Night alone was frequented by the powers of darkness, and they fled at
the cock-crowing; however, the Fairies were encountered in the daytime as
well.

Clear your pockets of coins and keys and remove jewelry

and belt buckles to increase the chances of a successful
Fairy-finding mission. Legend has it that metals, especially
iron and steel, in any form limit the Fairies’ powers and keep
them away.

OceanofPDF.com
 At eve, the primrose path along,
The milkmaid shortens with a song
Her solitary way;
She sees the Fairies with their queen
Trip hand-in-hand the circled green,
And hears them raise, at times unseen,
The ear-enchanting lay.

—Rev. John Logan, Ode to Spring, 1780

There be few among us who have not felt evanescent regrets for the
displacement by the old faith in Fairies. There was something so peculiarly
fascinating in that old belief that, “once upon a time,” the world was less
practical in its facts than now, less commonplace and humdrum, less subject
to the inexorable laws of gravity, optics, and the like. What dramas it has
yielded! What poems, what dreams, what delights!
But since the knowledge of our maturer years threatens to destroy all
that, it is a comfort to lovers of Fairy legends to find that they need not
sweep them into the grate as so much rubbish; on the contrary, they become
even more enchanting in the crucible of science than they were in their old
character.

The diverse legends to follow offer modern-day Fairy

trackers and conservationists a deeper sense of the
winged and wondrous Fae who have captured our
curiosity and inspired us to seek them out. Whether they
are positive encounters or cautionary tales of sightings
gone awry, the details of these legends offer clues to guide
us as we venture boldly into the wild. In reading these
 captivating tales, we also join hearts and minds with
previous generations of believers. If we are lucky enough
to witness magical beings in our homes or our backyards
or our forest groves, let us put pen to paper and add to
this rich archive of Fairy legends.

TALES OF THOSE WHO HAVE ENTERED FAIRY

DWELLINGS
The few brave humans who venture boldly, or accidentally, into a Fairy
brugh should be ready for anything to happen. If they play their hand well,
they may be healed or gifted with abilities. But if they rub their mystical
hosts the wrong way, or meet a more sinister breed of Fairy, serious
consequences may befall them.

The Welsh Tale of Tudur of Llangollen

It will help you to know, dear reader, that the Welsh Fairies seek to entice
mortals to dance with them, and when anyone is drawn to do so, it is more
than probable that the person will not return for a long time. The scene of
this tale is a hollow near Llangollen, on the mountainside halfway up to the
ruins of Dinas Bran Castle, which to this day is called Nant yr Ellyllon. It
obtained its name, according to tradition, in this way:
A young man, called Tudur ap Einion Gloff, used to, in old times,
pasture his master’s sheep in that hollow. One summer’s night, when Tudur
was preparing to return to the lowlands with his woolly charge, there
suddenly appeared, perched upon a stone near him, “a little man in moss
breeches with a fiddle under his arm.” He was the tiniest wee specimen of
humanity imaginable. His coat was made of birch leaves, and he wore upon
his head a helmet consisting of a gorse flower, while his feet were encased
in pumps made of beetle’s wings. He ran his fingers over his instrument,
and the music made Tudur’s hair stand on end.
“Nos da’ch’, nos da’ch’,” said the little man, which means “Goodnight,
goodnight to you,” in English.
“Ac i chwithau,” replied Tudur; which, in English, means “The same to
you.” Then continued the little man, “You are fond of dancing, Tudur, and if
you but tarry awhile, you shall behold some of the best dancers in Wales,
and I am the musician.”
Quoth Tudur, “Then where is your harp? A Welshman even cannot
dance without a harp.”
“Oh,” said the little man, “I can discourse better dance music upon my
fiddle.”
“Is it a fiddle you call that stringed wooden spoon in your hand?” asked
Tudur, for he had never seen such an instrument before. And now Tudur
beheld through the dusk hundreds of pretty little Sprites converging toward
the spot where they stood, from all parts of the mountain. Some were
dressed in white, and some in blue, and some in pink, and some carried
glow-worms in their hands for torches. And so lightly did they tread that not
a blade nor a flower was crushed beneath their weight. Everyone made a
curtsy or a bow to Tudur as they passed, and Tudur doffed his cap and
moved to them in return. Presently, the little minstrel drew his bow across
the strings of his instrument, and the music produced was so enchanting that
Tudur stood transfixed to the spot. At the sound of the sweet melody, the
Tylwyth Teg arranged themselves in groups and began to dance.
Fairies with an eye for fashion have been said to craft beautiful hats from tulips, gorse flowers, and
bellflowers.

Now of all the dancing Tudur had ever seen, none was to be compared
to that he saw going on at that moment. He could not help keeping time
with his hands and feet to the merry music, but he dared not join in the
dance, “for he thought within himself that to dance on a mountain at night
in strange company, to perhaps the devil’s fiddle, might not be the most
direct route to heaven.” But at last he found there was no resisting this
bewitching strain, joined to the sight of the capering Ellyllon.
“Now for it, then,” screamed Tudur, as he pitched his cap into the air
under the excitement of delight. “Play away, old devil; brimstone and water,
if you like!”
No sooner were the words uttered than everything underwent a change.
The gorse-blossom cap vanished from the minstrel’s head, and a pair of
goat’s horns branched out instead. His face turned as black as soot and a
long tail grew out of his leafy coat, while cloven feet replaced the beetle-
wing pumps.
Tudur’s heart was heavy, but his heels were light. Horror was in his
bosom, but the impetus of motion was in his feet. The Fairies changed into
a variety of forms. Some became goats, and some became dogs; some
assumed the shape of foxes, and others that of cats. It was the strangest
crew that ever surrounded a human being. The dance became at last so
furious that Tudur could not distinctly make out the forms of the dancers.
They reeled around him with such rapidity that they almost resembled a
wheel of fire. Still, Tudur danced on. He could not stop; the devil’s fiddle
was too much for him, as the figure with the goat’s horns kept pouring it out
with unceasing vigour, and Tudur kept reeling around in spite of himself.
The next day, Tudur’s master ascended the mountain in search of the
lost shepherd and his sheep. He found the sheep all right at the foot of the
Fron, but fancy his astonishment when, ascending higher, he saw Tudur
spinning like mad in the middle of the basin now known as Nant yr
Ellyllon. Some pious words of the master broke the charm and restored
Tudur to his home in Llangollen, where he told his adventures with great
gusto for many years afterward.
Fairies dancing in a circle.

Luran and the Missing Cattle

This is a tale, diffused in different forms, over the whole West Highlands.
Versions of it have been heard from Skye, Ardnamurchan, Lochaber,
Craignish, Mull, and Tiree, differing only slightly from each other.
The Charmed Hill (Beinn Shianta), from its height, greenness, or
pointed summit, forms a conspicuous object on the Ardnamurchan coast, at
the north entrance of the Sound of Mull. On the “shoulder” of this hill, were
two hamlets, Sgìnid and Corryvulin, the lands attached to which, now
forming part of a large sheep farm, were at one time occupied in common
by three tenants, one of whom was named Luran Black (Luran Mac-ille-
dhui).
One particular season, a cow of Luran’s was found unaccountably dead
each morning. Suspicion fell on the tenants of the culver (an cuilibheir), a
green knoll in Corryvulin, having the reputation of being tenanted by the
Fairies. Luran resolved to watch his cattle for a night and ascertain the
cause of his mysterious losses. Before long, he saw the culver opening and
a host of little people pouring out. They surrounded a grey cow (mart glas)
belonging to him and drove it into the knoll. Not one busied himself in
doing this more than Luran himself; he was, according to the Gaelic
expression, “as one and as two” (mar a h-aon ’s mar a dhà) in his exertions.
The cow was killed and skinned. An old Elf, a tailor sitting in the upper
part of the brugh, with a needle in the right lapel of his coat, was forcibly
caught hold of, stuffed into the cow’s hide, and sewn up. He was then taken
to the door and rolled down the slope. Festivities commenced, and whoever
might be on the floor dancing, Luran was sure to be. He was “as one and as
two” at the dance, as he had been at driving the cow. A number of gorgeous
cups and dishes were put on the table, and Luran, resolving to make up for
the loss of the grey cow, watched his opportunity and made off with one of
the cups (còrn). The Fairies observed him and started in pursuit. He heard
one of them remark, “Not swift would be Luran, if it were not the hardness
of his bread.”

Luran’s Fairy encounter began with a stolen cow.

His pursuers were likely to overtake him when a friendly voice called
out, “Luran, Luran Black, betake thee to the black stones of the shore.”
Below the high-water mark, no Fairy, ghost, or demon can come, and,
acting on the friendly advice, Luran reached the shore and, keeping below
the tide mark, made his way home in safety. He heard the outcries of the
person who had called out to him (probably a former acquaintance who had
been taken by “the people”), who was now being belaboured by the Fairies
for his ill-timed officiousness.
The next morning, the grey cow was found lying dead, with its feet in
the air, at the foot of the Culver, and Luran said that a needle would be
found in its right shoulder. On this proving to be the case, he allowed none
of the flesh to be eaten and threw it out of the house.
One of the fields, tilled in common by Luran and two neighbours, was
every year, when ripe, reaped by the Fae in one night, and the benefit of the
crop disappeared. An old man was consulted, and he undertook to watch the
crop. He saw the shï-en of Corryvulin open and a troop of people coming
out. There was an old man at their head, who put the company in order:
some to shear, some to bind the sheaves, and some to make stooks. On his
word, the field was reaped in a wonderfully short time. The watcher, calling
aloud, counted the reapers. The Fairies never troubled the field again.
Their persecution of Luran did not, however, cease. While on his way to
Inveraray Castle, with his Fairy cup, he was lifted mysteriously with his
treasure out of the boat in which he was taking his passage and was never
seen or heard of after.
According to another Ardnamurchan version, Luran was a butler boy in
Mingarry Castle. One night, he entered a Fairy dwelling and found the
company within feasting and making merry. A shining cup, called an cupa
cearrarach, was produced, and whatever liquor the person holding the cup
wished for would appear in the cup. Whenever a dainty appeared on the
table, Luran was asked, “Did you ever see the like of that in Mingarry
Castle?”
At last, the butler boy wished the cup to be full of water, and, throwing
its contents on the lights and extinguishing them, he ran away with the cup
in his hand. The Fairies gave chase. Someone among them called out to
Luran to make for the shore. He reached the friendly shelter and made his
way below the high-water mark to the castle, which he entered by a stair
leading to the sea. The cup remained long in Mingarry Castle, but it was at
last lost in a boat that sank at Mail Point (Rutha Mhàil).
The magical cups of Fairies are said to be replenished with any item you wish.

The Cup of the Macleods of Raasa

In Raasa, a man, named Hugh, entered a Fairy dwelling where there was
feasting going on. The Fairies welcomed him heartily and pledged his
health. “Here’s to you, Hugh,” and “I drink to you, Hugh” (cleoch ort,
Eoghain), was to be heard on every side. He was offered drink in a fine
glittering cup. When he got the cup in his hands, he ran off with it. The
Fairies let loose one of their dogs after him. He made his escape and heard
the Fairies calling back the dog by its name, Farvann (Farbhann!
Farbhann!). The cup long remained in the possession of the Macleods of
Raasa.

The Fairies on Finlay’s Sandbank

The sandbank of this name (Bac Fhionnlaidh) on the farm of Ballevulin, in
Tiree, was at one time a noted Fairy residence, but it has since been blown
level with the ground. It caused surprise to many that no traces of the Fae
were found in it. Its Fairy tenants were at one time in the habit of sending
every evening to the house of a smith in the neighbourhood for the loan of a
kettle (iasad coire). The smith, when giving it, always said:

“A smith’s due is coals,

And to send cold iron out;
A cauldron’s due is a bone,
And to come safe back.”

Under the power of this rhyme, the cauldron was restored safely before
morning. One evening, the smith was away from home, and his wife, when
the Fairies came for the usual loan, never thought of saying the rhyme. In
consequence, the cauldron was not returned. On finding this out, the smith
scolded his wife. She, irritated by his reproaches, rushed away for the
kettle. She found the brugh open, went in, and (as is recommended in such
cases), without saying a word, snatched up the cauldron and made off with
it. When going out at the door, she heard one of the Fairies calling out:
Making deals with Fairies, or loaning them items, always comes with some risk.

“Thou dumb sharp one, thou dumb sharp,

That came from the land of the dead,
And drove the cauldron from the brugh—
Undo the Knot, and loose the Rough.”

She succeeded in getting home before Rough, the Fairy dog, overtook
her, and the Fairies never again came for the loan of the kettle.
Fairies are said to be experts in the healing powers of nature.

Callum Clark and His Sore Leg

Some six generations ago, there lived at Port Vista (Port Bhissta) in Tiree a
dark, fierce man, known as Big Malcolm Clark (Callum mòr mac-a-
Chleirich). He was a very strong man and, in his brutal violence, produced
the death of several people. Tradition also says of him that he killed a
Water-horse and fought a Banshi with a horse-rib at the long hollow,
covered in winter with water, called the Léig. In this encounter, his own
little finger was broken.
When sharpening knives, old women in Tiree said, “Friday in Clark’s
town” (Di-haoine am baile mhic-a-Chleirich), with the intent of making
him the object of Fairy wrath. One evening, as he was driving a tether-pin
into a hillock, a head popped up out of the ground and told him to find some
other place for securing his beast, as he was letting the rain into their
dwelling.
Sometime after this, he had a painfully sore leg (bha i gu dòruinneach
doirbh). He went to the shï-en, where the head had appeared, and, finding it
open, entered in search of a cure for his leg. The Fairies told him to put
“earth on the earth” (Cuir an talamh air an talamh). He applied every kind
of earth he could think of to the leg, but without effect. At the end of three
months, he went again to the hillock and, when entering, put steel (cruaidh)
in the door. He was told to go out, but he would not, nor would he withdraw
the steel until he was told the proper remedy. At last, he was told to apply
the red clay of a small loch in the neighbourhood (criadh ruadh Lochan
ni’h fhonhairle). He did so, and the leg was cured.
The Young Man in the Fairy Knoll
Two young men, coming home after nightfall on Halloween, each with a jar
of whisky on his back, heard music by the roadside and, seeing a dwelling
open and illuminated, and dancing and merriment going on within, entered.
One of them joined the dancers, without as much as waiting to lay down the
burden he was carrying. The other, suspecting the place and company, stuck
a needle in the door as he entered, and got away when he liked. On that day,
one year later, he came back for his companion and found him still dancing
with the jar of whisky on his back. Though more than half-dead with
fatigue, the enchanted dancer begged to be allowed to finish the reel. When
brought to the open air, he was only skin and bone.
This tale is localised in the Ferintosh district and at the Slope of Big
Stones (Leathad nan Clacha mòra) in Harris. In Argyllshire, people say it
happened in the north. In the Ferintosh story, only one of the young men
entered the brugh, and the door immediately closed. The other lay under
suspicion of having murdered his companion, but, by advice of an old man,
he went to the same place on the same night the following year and, by
putting steel in the door of the Fairy dwelling, which he found open,
recovered his companion.
When entering a Fairy dwelling, it is safest to put a needle or fish-hook in the doorjamb in case a
quick exit is needed.

It is well known that Highland Fairies, who speak English, are the most
dangerous of any. A young man was sent for the loan of a sieve and,
mistaking his way, entered a brugh, which was open that evening. He found
there two women grinding at a handmill, two women baking, and a mixed
party dancing on the floor. He was invited to sit down: “Farquhar MacNeill,
be seated” (Fhearchair ’ie Neill, bi ’d shuidhe). He thought he would first
have a reel with the dancers. He forgot all about the sieve and lost all desire
to leave the company he was in.
One night, he accompanied the band among whom he had fallen on one
of its expeditions and, after careening through the skies, got stuck in the
roof of a house. Looking down the chimney (fàr-leus), he saw a woman
bouncing a child on her knee and, struck with the sight, exclaimed, “God
bless you” (Dia gu d’bheannachadh). When he pronounced the Holy Name,
he was disenchanted and tumbled down the chimney! On coming to
himself, he went in search of his relatives. No one could tell him anything
about them.
At last, he saw, thatching a house, an old man so grey and thin that he
took him for a patch of mist resting on the housetop. He went and made
inquiries of him. The old man knew nothing of the parties asked for, but
said perhaps his father did. Amazed, the young man asked him if his father
was alive, and on being told he was and where to find him, he entered the
house. He there found a very venerable man sitting in a chair by the fire,
twisting a straw-rope for the thatching of the house (snìomh sìomain). This
man also, on being questioned, said he knew nothing of the people, but
perhaps his father did. The father he referred to was lying in bed, a little
shrunken man, and he in like manner referred to his father. This remote
ancestor, being too weak to stand, was found in a purse (sporran)
suspended at the end of the bed. On being taken out and questioned, the
wizened creature said, “I did not know the people myself, but I often heard
my father speaking of them.” On hearing this, the young man crumbled in
pieces and fell down a bundle of bones (cual chnàmh).

ASKING TOO MUCH OF FAIRIES

There are many stories of well-meaning Fairies who, when presented with
materials and a clear task, will gift humans with their handiwork and craft
items to completion. However, if humans seem thankless or press their
goodwill too far, their requests go unheeded.

Pennygown Fairies
A green mound, near the village of Pennygown (Peigh’nn-a-ghobhann), in
the parish of Salen, Mull, was at one time occupied by a benevolent
company of Fairies. People had only to leave at night on the hillock the
materials for any work they wanted done, such as wool to be spun, thread
for weaving, etc., and tell what was wanted, and before morning the work
was finished. One night, someone left the wood of a fishing-net buoy and a
short, thick piece of wood, with a request to have it made into a ship’s mast.
The Fairies were heard toiling all night and singing, “Short life and ill luck
attend the man who asked us to make a long ship’s big mast from the wood
of a fishing-net buoy.” In the morning, the work was not done, and these
Fairies never after did anything for anyone.
Ben Lomond Fairies
A company of Fairies lived near the Green Loch (Lochan Uaine) on Ben
Lomond. Whatever was left overnight near the loch—cloth, wool, or thread
—was dyed by them in any desired colour before morning. A specimen of
the desired colour had to be left at the same time. A person left a quantity of
undyed thread and a piece of black and white twisted thread along with it,
to show that he wanted part of the hank black and part white. The Fairies
thought the pattern was to be followed, and the work done at the same time
as the dyeing. Not being able to do this, they never dyed any more.

FAIRIES COMING TO HOUSES

Ewen, son of Allister Og, was a shepherd in the Dell of Banks (Coira
Bhaeaidh), at the south end of Loch Ericht (Loch Eireachd), and stayed
alone in a bothy (shelter) far away from other houses. In the evenings, he
put the porridge for his supper out to cool on top of the double wall
(anainn) of the hut. On successive evenings, he found it pitted and pecked
all around the edges, as if by little birds or heavy raindrops. He watched,
and he saw little people coming and pecking at his porridge. He made little
dishes and spoons of wood and left them beside his own dish. The Fairies,
understanding his meaning, took to using these and let the big dish alone. At
last, they became quite familiar with Ewen, entered the hut, and stayed
whole evenings with him. One evening, a woman came with them. There
was no dish for her, and she sat on the other side of the house, saying never
a word, but grinning and making faces at the shepherd whenever he looked
her way. Ewen at last asked her, “Are you always like that, my lively
maid?” Owing to the absurdity of the question, or Ewen’s failure to
understand that the grinning was a hint for food, the Fairies never came
again.
The Elves came to a house at night and, finding it closed, called upon
“Feet-water,” i.e., water in which people’s feet had been washed, to come
and open the door. The water answered from somewhere nearby that it
could not, as it had been poured out. They called on the Band of the
Spinning Wheel to open the door, but it answered that it could not, as it had
been thrown off the wheel. They called upon Little Cake, but it could not
move, as there was a hole through it and a live coal on the top of it. They
called upon the “raking” coal, but the fire had been secured in a proper
manner to keep it alive all night. This is a tale not localised anywhere, but
universally known.

Fairies are said to enter homes through an open keyhole.

Fairies eating porridge and fruit.

A man observed a band of people dressed in green coming toward the

house, and, recognising them to be Fairies, ran in great terror, shut and
barred the door, and hid himself below the bed. The Fairies, however, came
through the keyhole and danced on the floor, singing. The song extended to
several verses, to the effect that no kind of house could keep out the Fairies,
not a turf house nor a stone house.
The Fairies staying in Dunruilg came to assist a farmer in the vicinity in
weaving and preparing cloth and, after finishing the work in a wonderfully
short space of time, called for more work. To get rid of his officious
assistants, the farmer called outside the door that Dunruilg was on fire. The
Fairies immediately rushed out in great haste and never came back.
In Mull, the Fairy residence is said to have been the bold headland in the
southwest of the island known as Tòn Bhuirg. Some say the Elves were
brought to the house by two old women, who were tired of spinning and
incautiously said they wished all the people in Tòn Bhuirg were there to
assist. According to others, the Elves were in the habit of coming to Tàpull
House in the Ross of Mull, and their excessive zeal made them very
unwelcome. In Skye the event is said to have occurred at Dùn Bhuirbh.
There are two places of the name, one in Lyndale and one in Beinn-an-ùine,
near Druimuighe, above Portree. The rhyme they had when they came to
Tapull is known as “The Rhyme of the Goodman of Tapull’s Servants”
(Rann gillean fir Thàbuill).

“Let me comb, card, tease, spin,

Get a weaving loom quick,
Water for fulling on the fire,
Work, work, work.”

The cry they raised when going away, in the Skye version, is:

“Dunsuirv on fire,
Without dog or man,
My balls of thread
And my bags of meal.”

A man on the farm of Kennovay in Tiree saw the Fairies, at about twelve
o’clock at night, enter the house, glide round the room, and go out again.
They said and did nothing.
The Lowland Fairies
“The people” had several dwellings near the village of Largs (Na Leargun
Gallta, the slopes-near-the-sea of the strangers), on the coast of Ayrshire.
Knock Hill was full of Elves, and the site of the old Tron Tree, now the
centre of the village, was a favourite haunt. A sow, belonging to the man
who cut down the Tron Tree, was found dead in the byre next morning. A
hawker, with a basket of crockery, was met near the Noddle Burn by a Fairy
woman. She asked him for a bowl she pointed out in his basket, but he
refused to give it to her. On coming to the top of a brae near the village, his
basket tumbled, and all his dishes ran on edge to the foot of the incline.
None were broken except the one he had refused to the Fairy. It was found
in fragments. The same day, however, the hawker found a treasure that
made up for his loss. That, said the person from whom the story was heard,
was the custom of the Fairies: they never took anything without making up
for it some other way.
On market days, they went about, stealing here and there a little of the
wool or yarn set out for sale. A present of shoes and stockings made them
give great assistance at outdoor work. A man was taken by them to a pump
near the Haylee Toll, where he danced all night with them. A headless man
was one of the company.
They often came to people’s houses at night and were heard washing
their children. If they found no water in the house, they washed them in kit,
or sowen water. They were fond of spinning and weaving, and, if chided or
thwarted, cut the weaver’s webs at night. They one night dropped a child’s
cap, a very pretty article, in a weaver’s house to which they had come to
wash their children. They, however, took the cap away the following night.
In another instance, a band of four was heard crossing over the
bedclothes. Two women went first, laughing, and two men followed,
wondering if the women were far ahead of them.
A man cut a slip from an ash tree growing near a Fairy dwelling. On his
way home in the evening, he stumbled and fell. He heard the Fairies give a
laugh at his mishap. During the night he was hoisted away and could tell
nothing of what had happened until, in the morning, he found himself in the
byre, astride on a cow and holding on by its horns.
KINDNESS TO A NEGLECTED CHILD
The Elves sometimes took care of neglected children. The herder who
tended the Baile-phuill cattle on Heynist Hill sat down one day on a green
eminence (cnoc) in the hill, which had the reputation of being tenanted by
the Fae. His son, a young child, was along with him. He fell asleep and,
when he awoke, the child was not there. He roused himself and vowed
aloud that unless his boy was restored, he would not leave a stone or clod of
the hillock together. A voice from underground answered that the child was
safe at home with his mother and that they (the “people”) had taken him lest
he should come to harm with the cold.

Fairies comfort a sleeping child who is lost and asleep in the forest.

FAIRY GIFTS
A smith, the poorest workman in his trade, who only got coarse work to do
because of his inferior skill, was known as the “Smith of Ploughshares.” He
was also the ugliest man and the rudest speaker. One day, he fell asleep on a
hillock, and three Fairy women, coming that way, each left him a parting
gift. After that, he became the best workman, the best-looking man, and the
best speaker in the place, and he became known as the “Smith of Tales.”
A man, out hunting, fell asleep in a dangerous place, near the brink of a
precipice. When he awoke, a Fairy woman was sitting at his head, singing
gently.

Fairies may impart magical powers and gifts to humans in their sleep.

Sleeping beside a Fairy hillock is the best way to gain

Fairy magic. Fairies are known to bestow powers and
gifts on people they encounter, especially if they take pity
upon them or sense their struggle.

LIFTED, OR TAKEN, BY THE FAIRIES

Black Donald of the Multitude, as he was ever afterward known, was
ploughing on the farm of Baile-pheutrais, on the island of Tiree, when a
heavy shower came on from the west. In those days, it required at least two
people to work a plough: one to hold it and one to lead the horses. Donald’s
companion took shelter to the lee of the team. When the shower passed,
Donald himself was nowhere to be found, nor was he seen again till
evening. He then came from an easterly direction, with his coat on his arm.
He said the Fairies had taken him in an eddy wind to the islands to the north
—Coll, Skye, etc. In proof of this, he said that a person (naming him) was
dead in Coll, and people would be across the next day to Kennovay, a
village on the other side of Baile-pheutrais where smuggling was carried on
at the time, to get whisky for the funeral. This turned out to be the case.
Donald said he had done no harm while away, except that the Fairies had
made him throw an arrow at, and kill, a speckled cow in Skye. When
crossing the sea, he was in great terror lest he should fall.
About twenty years ago, a cooper, employed on board a ship, landed at
Martin’s Isle near Coigeach, in Ross-shire, to cut brooms. He traversed the
islet and then somehow fell asleep. He felt as if something were pushing
him, and, on awakening, he found himself on the island of Rona, ten miles
off. He cut the brooms, and with a shower of rain coming on, he again fell
asleep. On waking, he found himself back on Martin’s Isle. He could only,
it is argued, have been transported back and forth by the Fairies.
A seer gifted with the second sight (taibhseis), a resident at Bousd, in
the east end of Coll, was frequently lifted by Fairies that lived in a hillock
in his neighbourhood. He told how, on one occasion, they took him to the
sea-girt rock, called Eileirig, and after diverting themselves with him for an
hour or two, took him home again. So he said himself.
A man who went to fish on Saturday afternoon at a rock in Kinnavara
Hill (Beinn Chinn-a-Bharra), the extreme west point of Tiree, did not make
his appearance at home until six o’clock the following morning. He said
that after leaving the rock the evening before, he remembered nothing but
passing a number of beaches. The white beaches of Tiree, from the
surrounding land being a dead level, are at night the most noticeable
features in the scenery. On coming to his senses, he found himself on the
top of the dùn at Caolis in the extreme east end of the island, twelve miles
from his starting point.
A few years ago, a man in Lismore, travelling at night with a web of
cloth on his shoulder, lost his way, walked on all night without knowing
where he was going, and in the morning was found among rocks, where he
could never have made his way alone. He could give no account of himself,
and his wanderings were universally ascribed to the Fairies.
 Red Donald of the Fairies, as he was called (and the name stuck to him
all his life), used to see the Fairies when he was a boy. He was the herder at
the Spital above Dalnacardoch in Perthshire, and he was taken by them to
his father’s house at Ardlàraich in Rannoch, a distance of a dozen miles,
through the night. In the morning, he was found sitting at the fireside, and,
as the door was barred, he must have been let in by the chimney.
An old man in Achabeg, Morvern, went one night on a gossiping visit to
a neighbour’s house. It was wintertime, and a river near the place was
flooded, which, in the case of a mountain torrent, means that it was
impassable. The old man did not return home that night, and next morning
was found near the shï-en of Luran na Leaghadh in Sasory, some distance
across the river. He could give no account of how he got there, only that
when on his way home, a storm came about him, and on coming to himself,
he was where they had found him.
When Dr. M‘Laurin was tenant of Invererragan, near Connal Ferry in
Benderloch, “Calum Clever,” who derived his name from his skills in
singing tunes and in travelling (gifts given him by the Fairies), stayed with
him whole nights. The doctor sent him to Fort William with a letter, telling
him to procure the assistance of “his own people” and be back with an
immediate answer. Calum asked as much time as one game at shinty would
take and was back in the evening, before the game was finished. He never
could have travelled the distance without Fairy aid.

It is believed that humans can be taken, or lifted, by

Fairies to remote places where they could not have
arrived on their own. They would wake in confusion,
with no memory as to how they managed to arrive there.

TAKING AWAY COWS AND SHEEP

A farmer had two good cows that were seized one spring with some
unaccountable malady. They ate any amount of food given them, but neither
grew fat nor yielded milk. They lay on their sides and could not be made to
rise. An old man in the neighbourhood advised that they should be hauled
up the hill and rolled down its steepest and longest incline. The brutes, he
said, were not the farmer’s cows at all, but two old men the Fairies had
substituted for them. The farmer acted on this advice and, at the bottom of
the descent, down which the cows were sent rolling, nothing was found,
neither cow nor man, either dead or alive.

An animal stolen by Fairies was believed to be tainted by their magic.

There are old people still living in Iona who remember a man driving a
nail into a bull that had fallen over a rock, to keep away the Fairies. A man
in Ruaig, Tiree, possessed of the second sight, saw one of his wether sheep
whirling through the sky, and he was so sure that the Fairies had taken it in
their eddy wind that he did not, when the animal was killed, eat any of its
mutton.

DISTURBING OR DISCOVERING FAIRY

DWELLINGS
An old man kept a green hillock near his house, on which he frequently
reclined in summer, very clean, sweeping away any filth or cow or horse
droppings he might find on it. One evening, as he sat on the hillock, a little
man, a stranger to him, came and thanked him for his care of the hillock and
added that if at any time the village cattle should leave their enclosure
during the night, he and his friends would show their gratitude by keeping
them from the old man’s crops. The Fairy promise, being tested, was found
good.
Hills such as Schiehallion in Perthshire, and Ben-y-ghloe in Argyllshire,
the “Fairy dwelling of tempestuous weather” in Morvern and Dunniquoich
(the bowl-shaped hill), and Dùn-deacainn and Shien-sloy (the multitude’s
residence), near Inverary, have the reputation of being tenanted by Fairies.
The three latter hills are in sight of each other.
A native of the Island of Coll went to pull some wild briar plants. He
tried to pull one growing in the face of a rock. When he made the first tug,
he heard someone calling to him from the inside of the rock, and he ran
away without ever looking back. To this day, he says no one need try to
persuade him there are no Fairies, for he heard them himself.

Be cautious when weeding of disturbing Fairy homes.

Wild briar plants, in particular, should not be pulled
from rocky surfaces as they are often used to conceal the
entrance to a Fairy home.

A shepherd at Lochaweside, coming home with a wether sheep on his

back, saw an open cave in the face of a rock where he had never noticed a
cave before. He laid down his burden and, stepping over to the entrance of
the cave, stuck his knife into a fissure of the rock that formed a side of the
entrance. He then leisurely looked in and saw the cave full of guns and arms
and chests studded with brass nails, but no appearance of tenants.
Happening to turn his head for a moment to look at the sheep, and seeing it
about to move off, he allowed the knife to move from its place. On looking
again at the rock, he only saw water trickling from the fissure from which
the knife had been withdrawn.
A person who had a green knoll in front of his house and was in the
habit of throwing out dirty water at the door was told by the Fairies to move
the door to the other side of the house, as the water was spoiling their
furniture and utensils. He did this, and he and the Fairies lived on good
terms ever after.
In the evening (and this is a story worth telling twice), a man was
tethering his horse on a grassy mound. A head appeared out of the ground,
and told him to drive his tether pin somewhere else, as he was letting the
rain into their house, and had nearly killed one of the inmates by driving the
peg into his ear.

A Fairy carving new tools from her nook in a stone wall.

Beinn Feall is one of the most prominent hills on the Island of Coll. It is
highly esteemed for the excellence of its pasture, and it was of old much
frequented by the Fairies. A fisherman going to his occupation at night saw
it covered with green silk, spread out to dry, and heard all night the sound of
a quern (handmill) at work inside. On another occasion, similar sounds
were heard in the same hill, and voices singing:
 “Though good the haven we left,
Seven times better the haven we found.”

A man who avoided tethering horse or cow on a Fairy hillock near his
house, or in any way breaking the green sward that covered it, was
rewarded by the Fairies’ driving his horse and cow to the lee of the hillock
on stormy nights.

FAIRY ASSISTANCE AND BEHAVIOR

While many Fairies are eager to offer gifts, there are plenty of stories
relating encounters where Fairies displayed erratic or dangerous behavior.
A man in Flodigarry, an islet near Skye, expressed a wish for his corn to
be reaped, though it should be by Fairy assistance. The Fairies came and
reaped the field in two nights. They were seen at work, seven score and
fifteen of them. After reaping the field, they called for more work, and the
man set them to empty the sea.
One of the chiefs of Dowart was hurried with his harvest, likely to lose
his crop for want of shearers. He sent word through all of Mull for
assistance. A little old man came and offered himself. He asked as wages
only the full of a straw-rope he had with him of corn when the work was
over. M‘Lean formed no high opinion of the little man, but as the work was
urgent and the remuneration trifling, he engaged his services. He placed
him along with another old man and an old woman on a ridge by
themselves, and he told them never to worry if they fell behind the rest;
they should take it easy and not fatigue themselves. The little man,
however, soon made his assistants leave the way, and he set them to making
sheaf-bands. He finished shearing that ridge before the rest of the shearers
were halfway done with theirs, and no fault could be found with the manner
in which the work was done. M‘Lean would not part with the little reaper
till the end of harvest. Fuller payment was offered for his excellent services,
but he refused to take more than had been bargained for. He began putting
the corn in the rope, and put in all that was in the field, then all that was in
the stackyard, and finally all that was in the barn. He said this would do just
now, tightened the rope, and lifted the burden on his back. He was setting
off with it, when M‘Lean, in despair, cried out, “Tuesday I ploughed,
Tuesday I sowed, Tuesday I reaped; thou who did’st ordain the three
Tuesdays, suffer not all that is in the rope to leave me.” “The hand of your
father and grandfather be upon you!” said the little man. “It is well that you
spoke.”
Fairies are believed to love planting and harvesting fruit and other crops.

Another version of the tale was told in Morvern. A servant, engaged in

spring by a man who lived at Aodienn Mòr (“Big Face”) in Liddesdale,
when told to begin ploughing, merely thrust a walking-stick into the ground
and, holding it to his nose, said the earth was not yet ready (cha robh an
talamh air dàir fathast). This went on until the neighbours were more than
half-finished with their spring work. His master then peremptorily ordered
the work to be done. By the next morning, all of Big Face was ploughed,
sown, and harrowed. The shearing of the crop was done in the same
mysterious and expeditious manner. The servant had the association-craft,
which secured the assistance of the Fairies. When getting his wages, the
Fairy was like to take away the whole crop, and the farmer got rid of him as
in the previous version.

Keeping a garden in your yard increases your chance of

spotting a Fairy at work. Consider leaving a bag of seeds
out by your garden and waiting to see if a magical
creature might be tempted to sow them for you.

An old man in Còrnaig, Tiree, went to sow his croft, or piece of land. He
was scarce of seed oats, but putting the little he had in a circular dish made
of plaited straw, called plàdar, suspended from his shoulder by a strap
(iris), commenced operations. His son followed, harrowing the seed. The
old man went on sowing long after the son expected the seed corn was
exhausted. He made some remark expressive of his wonder, and the old
man said, “Evil befall you, why did you speak? I might have finished the
field if you had held your tongue, but now I cannot go further,” and he
stopped. The piece sown would properly take four times as much seed as
had been used.
A man in the Ross of Mull, about to sow his land, filled a sheet with
seed oats and commenced. He went on sowing, but the sheet remained full.
At last, a neighbour took notice of the strange phenomenon and said, “The
face of your evil and iniquity be upon you; is the sheet never to be empty?”
When this was said, a little brown bird leapt out of the sheet, and the supply
of corn ceased. The bird was called Torc Sona (“Happy Hog”), and when
any of the man’s descendants fall in with any luck, they are asked if the
Torc Sona still follows the family.
A man in the Braes of Portree, in Skye, with a large but weak family,
had his spring and harvest work done by the Fairies. No one could tell how
it was done, but somehow it was finished as soon as that of any of his
neighbours. All his family, however, grew up “peculiar in their minds.”

If you see a brown bird while tilling the land, planting

grass, or gardening, it might be a sign that a Fairy has
blessed you and bestowed on you good luck and the
promise of an abundant harvest.
A kind Fairy feeding a bird its dinner.

Bean Shith, Elle Woman, or Woman of Peace

While supper was being prepared in a farmer’s house in Morvern, a very
little woman, a stranger to the residents, entered. She was invited to share
supper with the family but would take none of the food of which the meal
consisted or of any other they had to offer. She said her people lived on the
tops of heather, in the loch called Lochan Fasta Litheag. There does not
seem to be any loch of that name in Morvern. The name is difficult to
translate but indicates a lakelet covered with weeds or green scum. The
little woman left the house as she came, and fear kept everyone from
following her or questioning her further.
A Fairy at home on the top of a heather plant.

A woman at Kinloch Teagus, in the same parish, was sitting on a

summer day in front of the house, preparing green dye by boiling heather
tops and alum together. This preparation is called ailmeid. A young woman,
whom she had never seen before, came to her and asked for something to
eat. The stranger was dressed in green and wore a cap bearing the
appearance of the king’s hood of a sheep. The housewife said the family
were at the pasture with the cattle, and there was no food in the house; there
was not even a drink of milk. The visitor then asked to be allowed to make
brose of the dye, and she received permission to do what she liked with it.
She was asked where she stayed, and she said, “In this same
neighbourhood.” She drank off the compost and rushed away, throwing
three somersaults, and disappeared.
 A young man named Callum, when crossing the rugged hills of Ard-
meadhonach (“Middle Height”) in Mull, fell in with some St. John’s wort
(Achlusan Challum-chille), a plant of magic powers if found when neither
sought nor wanted. He took some of it with him. He had dùcun (small
swellings below the toes) on his feet, and on coming to a stream sat down
and bathed them in the water. Looking up, he saw an ugly little woman,
having no nostrils, on the other side of the stream, with her feet resting
against his own. She asked him for the plant he had in his hand, but he
refused to give it. She asked him to make snuff of it and then give her some.
He thought, What could she want with snuff, when she had no nostril to put
it in? He left her and went further on. As he did not come home that night,
his friends and neighbours went in search of him through the hills the next
day. He was found by his father, asleep on the side of a cnoc, a small
hillock, and when awakened, he thought, from the position of the sun, he
had only slept a few minutes. He had, in fact, slept for twenty-four hours.
His dog lay sleeping in the hollow between his two shoulders and had
“neither hair nor fur” on. It is supposed it had lost its hair in chasing away
the Fairies and protecting its master.

According to Fairy lore, one way to identify a Fairy is to

check for nostrils. The absence of any, or the presence of
just one, is an indicator of Fairy lineage.

A herdsman at Baile-phuill, in the west end of Tiree, fell asleep on Cnoc

Ghrianal, at the eastern base of Heynish Hill, on a fine summer afternoon.
He was awakened by a violent slap on the ear. On rubbing his eyes and
looking up, he saw a woman, the most beautiful he had ever seen, in a green
dress, with a brooch fastening it at the neck, walking away from him. She
went westward, and he followed her for some distance, but she vanished—
he could not tell how.
Iona Banshi
A man in Iona, thinking daylight had come, rose and went to a rock to fish.
After catching some fish, he observed he had been misled by the clearness
of the moonlight, and he set off home. On the way, as the night was so fine,
he sat down to rest himself on a hillock. He fell asleep and was awakened
by the pulling of the fishing rod, which he had in his hand. He found the rod
was being pulled in one direction and the fish in another. He secured both,
and was making off, when he heard sounds behind him as of a woman
weeping. On his turning around to her, she said, “Ask news, and you will
get news.” He answered, “I put God between us.” When he said this, she
caught him and thrashed him soundly. Every night after, he was compelled
to meet her, and on her repeating the same words and his giving the same
answer, was similarly drubbed. To escape from her persecutions, he went to
the Lowlands. When engaged there cutting drains, he saw a raven on the
bank above him. This proved to be his tormentor, and he was compelled to
meet her again at night, and, as usual, she thrashed him. He resolved to go
to America. On the eve of his departure, his Fairy mistress met him and
said, “You are going away to escape from me. If you see a hooded crow
when you land, I am that crow.” On landing in America, he saw a crow
sitting in a tree and knew it to be his old enemy.
A Fairy summoning mist.
The Wife of Ben-y-Ghloe
Donald and Big John (Dòmhnull’s Iain mòr) were out deer hunting on the
lofty mountain of Ben-y-ghloe, in Athol in Perthshire, when a heavy
snowstorm came on, and they lost their way. They came to a hut in a hollow
and entered. The only one there was an old woman, the like of whom they
said they had never seen. Her two arms were bare, of great length, and
grizzled and sallow to look at. She neither asked them to come in nor go
out, and being much in need of shelter, they went in and sat at the fire.
There was a look in her eye that might “terrify a coward,” and she hummed
a surly song, the words of which were unintelligible to them. They asked
for meat, and she set before them a fresh salmon trout, saying, “Little you
thought I would give you your dinner today.” She also said she could do
more, and that it was she who had clothed the hill with mist to make them
come to her house. They stayed with her all night. She was very kind and
hospitable. She told her name to them when they were leaving, that she was
the “wife of Ben-y-Ghloe.” They could not say whether she was sìth or
saoghalta (Fae or human), but they never visited her again.

If you’re on a Fairy walk, and you see a hooded crow, it could actually be a spying Fairy in disguise,
surveying whether or not you are dangerous before approaching.

FAIRIES AND ANIMALS

It has been said that Fairies have the ability to communicate with animals,
to shapeshift into the forms of animals, and to drink their milk.

Fairies and Goats

In Breadalbane and the Highlands of Perthshire, it is said the Fairies live on
goats’ milk. A goat was taken home by a man in Strathfillan, in Perthshire,
to be killed. In the evening, a stranger, dressed in green, came to the door.
The man asked the stranger to come in and rest himself. The stranger said
he could not, as he was in a hurry and on his way to Dunbuck (a celebrated
Fairy haunt near Dunbarton), an urgent message having come for him. He
said that many a day that goat had kept him in milk. He then disappeared.
He could be nothing but a Fairy.
Fairies and Cows
A strong-minded, headstrong woman in Kianish, Tiree, had a cow, the milk
of which strangely failed. Suspecting that the cow was being milked by
someone during the night, she sat up and watched. She saw a woman
dressed in green coming noiselessly and milking the cow. She came behind
and caught her. In explanation, the Fairy woman said she had a child sick
with smallpox, and, as a favour, she asked to be allowed to milk the cow for
one month, until the child got better. This was allowed, and when the month
was out, the cow’s milk became as plentiful as ever.

A Fairy woman milking a cow.

That the Fairies took away cows at night to milk them and then sent
them back in the morning was a belief in Craignish, Morvern, Tiree,
Lochaber, and probably in the whole Highlands. When milk lost its virtue,
and yielded neither cream, nor butter, nor cheese, the work was that of
witches and other such diabolical agencies. When the mischief was done by
the Fairies, the whole milk disappeared.
There was a Fairy hillock near Dowart, in Mull, close to the road that
led from the cattle fold to the village. If any milk was spilt by the dairy-
maids on their way home with the milk pails, it was a common saying that
the Fairies would get its benefit.
Fairy Cows
A strong man named Dugald Campbell was one night watching the cattle on
the farm of Baile-phuill, in the west of Tiree. A little red cow came among
the herd and was attacked by the other cows. It fled, and they followed.
Dugald also set off in pursuit. Sometimes the little red cow seemed near;
sometimes far away. At last, it entered the face of a rock, and one of the
other cows followed and was never again seen. The whole herd would have
followed had Dugald not intercepted them.
A poor person’s cow, in Skye, was by some act of oppression taken from
him. That night, the Fairies brought him another cow, remarkable only in
having green water weeds upon it. This cow thrived.
Some generations ago, cows came ashore on Nisibost beach, on the farm
of Loscantire (Losg-an-tìr), in Harris. The people got between them and the
shore, with whatever weapons they could get, and kept them from returning
to the sea again. Even handfuls of sand thrown between the cows and the
shore kept them back. These sea-cows were in all respects like ordinary
Highland cattle, but they were supposed to live under the sea on the
seaweed called meillich. They were called Fairy cows (Cro sìth), and the
superiority of the Loscantire cattle was said to have originated from them. It
is more probable that the superiority of the stock was the origin of the Fairy
cattle.
Fairies and Dogs
A woman, near Portree, in Skye, was coming home in the evening with her
milk pails from the cattle fold, accompanied by a dog, which went trotting
along before her. Suddenly, the dog was observed to run to a green hillock,
fall down on its knees, and hold its ear to the ground. The woman went up
to see what the matter was and, on listening, heard a woman inside the
hillock churning milk and singing at her work. At the end of every verse,
there was a chorus or exclamation of hŭ. The song was learnt by the listener
and became known as the “Song of the Hillock.”
 Although Fairies seem to be startled by and afraid of
dogs, this does not always mean that you should leave
your dog at home when you go on a Fairy-tracking
mission. There are dogs who are uniquely skilled at
sniffing out Fairy dwellings, finding hillocks, and hearing
the sounds of Fairy activity underground.
A young Fairy tracker being spied on by hidden Fairies.
FAIRY MUSIC
Two children, a brother and sister, went on a moonlight winter’s night to
Kennavarra Hill to look after a snare they had set for little birds in a hollow
near a stream. The ground was covered with snow, and when the two
descended into the hollow, they heard the most beautiful music coming
from underground, close to where they were standing. In the extremity of
terror, both fled. The boy went fastest and never looked behind him. The
girl was at first encumbered by her father’s big shoes, which she had put on
for the occasion, but, throwing them off, she reached home with a panting
heart, not long after her brother. She told this story when she was an old
woman. She had never forgotten the fright the Fairy music gave her in
childhood.
In the Braes of Portree, there is a hillock called “The Fairy Dwelling of
the Pretty Hill.” A man passing near it in the evening heard from
underground the most delightful music ever heard. He could not, however,
tell the exact spot from which the sound emanated.
Sounds of exquisite music, as if played by a piper marching at the head
of a procession, used to be heard going underground from the Harp Hillock
to the top of the dùn of Caolis, in the east end of Tiree. Many tunes,
whatever be their musical merit, said to have been learned from the Fairies,
can be heard. One of these, which the writer heard, seemed to consist
entirely of variations upon the word “do-leedl’em.”

OceanofPDF.com
 “The Neck here his harp in the glass-castle plays,
And Mermaidens comb out their green hair always,
And bleach here their shining white clothes.”

LONG-AGO TALES FROM SCOTLAND, ENGLAND,

IRELAND, SCANDINAVIA, AND BEYOND ADD FODDER
TO OUR IMAGINATION WITH THEIR ADDITION OF
UNIQUELY MAGICAL BEASTS THAT GUARD, HARVEST,
AND INHABIT THE LAND ALONG WITH US. THESE
ANCIENT FIGURES REMIND US TO STAY CURIOUS
ABOUT THE NATURAL WORLD AND TO BELIEVE
BEYOND WHAT OUR EYES CAN DISCERN. THE
REWARD OF OUR CURIOSITY AND RESEARCH IS TO
UNCOVER MYSTERIES AND MYSTICAL CREATURES
BEYOND OUR IMAGINING.

THE GLAISTIG
The Glaistig was a tutelary (guardian) in the shape of a thin, grey little
woman, with long yellow hair reaching to her heels, dressed in green,
haunting certain sites or farms, and watching over the house or the cattle.
She is called the “Green Glaistig” from her wan looks and dress of green,
the characteristic Fairy colour. She is said to have been at first a woman of
honourable position, a former mistress of the house, who had been put
under enchantments and now had a Fairy nature given her. She disliked
dogs and took fools and people of weak intellect under her particular
charge. She was solitary in her habits, not more than one, unless when
accompanied by her own young one, being found in the same haunt. Her
strength was very great, much greater than that of any Fairy, and one yell of
hers was sufficient to waken the echoes of distant hills. Some would deny
being afraid of her, but ordinarily people were afraid of meeting her. She
might do them a mischief and leave them a token, by which they would
have cause to remember the encounter. She made herself generally useful,
but, in many cases, she was only mischievous and troublesome.
She seems in all cases to have had a special interest in the cows and the
dairy, and to have resented any want of recognition of her services. A
portion of milk was set apart for her every evening, in a hole for the
purpose in some convenient stone; and unless this was done, something was
found amiss in the dairy the next morning. Others left milk for her only
when leaving the summer pastures for the season.
She was seldom seen, although when anything was to happen to the
house, she followed. She might then be seen making her way in the evening
up the slope to the castle, herding the cattle on the pastures, sunning herself
on the top of a distant rock, or coming to the fold at dusk for her allowance
of milk. Her cries and the noises she made while arranging the furniture,
shouting after the cattle, or at the approach of joy or sorrow, were
frequently heard.
A Glaistig (Banshi) standing guard over a castle.

In the south Highlands, the Glaistig was represented as a little wan

woman, stout and not tall, but very strong. In Skye, where most of her
duties were assigned to a deity, the Gruagach, she was said to be very tall,
“a lath of a body,” like a white reflection or shade.
Her name is derived from glas, which means grey, wan, or pale-green,
and stìg, which is a sneaking or crouching object, probably in allusion to
her invisibility, noiseless motions, or small size. In the Highland Society’s
Dictionary, she is called “a she-devil, or hag, in the shape of a goat,” and
the definition was accepted by M‘Leod and Dewar. This, however, is a
mistake. The shape of a goat, in the Highlands as elsewhere, has been
assigned to the devil only, and there was nothing diabolical, or of the nature
of an evil spirit, seeking the perdition of mankind, ascribed to the poor
Glaistig. She occupied a middle position between the Fairies and mankind;
she was not a Fairy woman, but one of human race who had a Fairy nature
given to her. The Fairies themselves are much nearer in character to the race
of man than to that of devils. Of course, all unearthly beings are to be
treated with caution, but of all the beings with which fear or fancy has
peopled the unseen world, the Glaistig and her near relation, the Brownie,
are among the most harmless.

A Highlands castle fit for a Glaistig.

The house- or castle-haunting Glaistig was also known by the names

Maighdean sheòmbair (“chamber-maid”) or Gruagach (young woman or
long-haired one), and her attachment was not to the family but to the site or
stance (làrach). It was always the abodes of the affluent in which she
resided, and she continued her occupancy after a change of tenants, and
even after the building was deserted and had become a nesting place for
wild birds. In olden times, there was a perpetuity of tenure enjoyed by large
tenants, and it is not surprising that writers have fallen into the mistake of
supposing the tutelary guardian of the house to be that of its tenants.
The Glaistig had sympathy with the tenant so far that she broke out into
loud expressions of joy or sorrow, or made appearances more frequently
when happiness or misfortune were to come upon the family, but her real
attachment was to the building or site. Indeed, none of these beings of
superstition were tutelary to the human race or had anything about them of
the character of the genius or evil spirit. When the house was to be levelled,
even though the family remained on the land and a new house (on another
site) was built, the Glaistig made a lamentable outcry, left, and was never
afterward seen or heard. Her usual occupation consisted in “putting things
in order” at night, sweeping the floor, moving chairs and tables about, and
arranging the furniture. After the household had retired to rest, she was
heard at work in locked apartments in which no human being could be. It
was then known there would shortly be an arrival of strangers.
In the morning, in most cases, the furniture was found untouched or out
of place. In other cases, the house was found tidied up, and work that had
been left for the Glaistig, such as washing, was found finished. She was
fond of working with the spinning wheel, and, according to some, it was to
prevent her coming to the house, and working with it on Sundays that old
women were careful to take off the band every Saturday night. She had a
similar fondness for working with tradesmen’s tools, and artisans were
often very annoyed at hearing her working at night, then finding their tools
spoiled or mislaid in the morning. When the servants neglected their work
or spoke disrespectfully of her, or did anything to her favourites, she played
pranks to punish them. She knocked down the water basins, misarranged
the bedclothes, put dust in the meat, led the objects of her resentment in a
fool’s chase about the house, or in the dark gave them a slap to be
remembered on the side of the head. When happiness or misfortune, a
marriage or a death, was to occur in the household, she was heard rejoicing
or wailing long before the event occurred.
It was, however, to the being of this class that haunted the folds of the
cattle that the name Glaistig is most commonly given. Her occupation
consisted in a general oversight of the sheep, cows, and horses of the farm.
When the family was at dinner, or the herdsman had fallen asleep and
neglected his charge, she kept the cattle out of mischief; though not seen,
she was heard shouting after them and driving them to their proper pastures.
In this respect, she behaved like an old and careful herdsman. If the cows
were not milked clean, she punished the dairy-maid by some unchancy
prank. At night, she kept the calves from the cows (a useful and necessary
occupation before the days of enclosures and plentiful farm
accommodation) and its substance in the milk. In summer, she accompanied
the cattle to the hill pastures and there had her portion of milk duly poured
out for her in the evening in a stone near the fold. Unless this was done, the
calves would be found the next morning with the cows, the cream would
not rise from the milk, a cow would be found dead, or some other mishap
would occur.
She was not supposed ever to enter a house but to stay in a ravine (eas)
near a Fairy residence. She disliked dogs very much, and if a present of
shoes or clothes was made to her, she was offended and left. She is not
generally spoken of as appearing in any shape but her own, but in some
localities and tales, she is said to assume the shape of a horse (an “old grey
mare”) or even of a dog.

A Glaistig may appear in the form of an old grey mare.

The Glaistig resembled the Fae in being invisible and in having a

noiseless gliding motion; in her dislike of dogs; in affecting green in her
dress; in being addicted to meddling at night with the spinning wheel and
tradesmen’s tools; in her outcries being a premonition of coming events; in
being kept away by steel; and in her ability to give skills in handicrafts to
her favourites. The Fairies bestowed this skill on those who had the Ceaird-
Chomuinn, or association-craft, i.e., the assistance of “the folk.” The
Glaistig gave the choice of “ingenuity without advantage” (ealdhain gun
rath) or “advantage without ingenuity” (rath gun ealdhain). Those who
chose the former proved clever workmen but never prospered; those who
chose the latter turned out to be stupid fellows who made fortunes.
She differed in being more akin to human women than the true Fairy
wife (Bean shìth); she was stronger and, as it were, more substantial.
Though her “bed” was near a Fairy dwelling, and she could command the
services of the Elves, she did not engage in Fairy employments or
recreations. The Fairies punished people of a discontented, grumbling
disposition by taking away the substance of their goods. The Glaistig was
also offended at littleness and meanness of mind, but meanness of a
different kind. Those who looked down on fools and people of weak
intellect, or ill treated them, she paid off by putting dust or soot in their
meat. Akin to this was her punishment of neglect toward servants.

THE BROWNIE
The term Brùnaidh, signifying a supernatural being haunting the abodes of
the affluent and doing work for the servants, seems to have made its way
into the Highlands more recently and along with south country ideas. This
name is generally applied only to a big, corpulent, clumsy man, and in
many districts it has no other meaning. Its derivation is Teutonic, not Celtic,
and Brownies are mostly heard of in places where southern ideas have
penetrated (such as the south of Argyllshire) or where, as in the Orkneys
and Shetland, a Teutonic race is settled.
In the islet of Càra, on the west of Cantyre, the old house, once
belonging to the Macdonalds, was haunted by a Brownie that drank milk,
made a terrific outcry when hurt, and disliked the Campbell race. In the old
castle of Largie, on the opposite coast of Cantyre, which belonged to the
same Macdonalds, there was also a Brownie that was supposed to be the
same as the Càra one. Since the modern house was built, the Brownie has
not been seen or heard. In Càra, he is still occasionally heard. It is not
known exactly what he is like, as no one has ever seen more than a glimpse
of him.
Before the arrival of strangers, he would put the house in order. He
disliked anything dirty being left in the house for the night. Dirty bedclothes
were put out by him before morning.
He was much addicted to giving slaps in the dark to those who soiled
the house; and there are some who can testify to receiving slaps that left
their faces bruised. He tumbled on the water basins left full overnight. A
man was lifted out of bed by him and found himself “bare naked,” on
awakening at the fireside. A woman, going late in the evening for her cows,
found that the Brownie had been there before her and had tied them
securely in the barn.
In one of the castles in the centre of Argyllshire, a Brownie came to the
bedside of a servant woman who had retired for the night, arranged the
blankets, and, pulling them above her, said, “Take your sleep, poor
creature.” He then went away.
In character, the Brownie was harmless, but he made mischief unless
every place was left open at night. He was fed with warm milk by the dairy-
maid.
A native of the Shetland Isles writes me that the Brownie was well
known in that locality. He worked about the barn, and at night ground grain
with the handmill for those to whom he was attached. He could grind a bag
or two of grain in a night. He was once rewarded for his labours by a cloak
and hood left for him at the mill. The articles were gone in the morning, and
the Brownie never came back, hence the following saying:

“When he got his cloak and hood,

He did no more good.”

The same story is told of Brownies in the Scottish Lowlands, and of one in
Strathspey, who said, when he went away:

“Brownie has got a coat and cap,

Brownie will do no more work.”
A Brownie delights in putting the house in order.

The Brownie, according to Thomas Keightley in his 1892 book, The

Fairy Mythology, is a personage of small stature and wrinkled visage;
covered with short, curly brown hair; and wearing a brown mantle and
hood. Another name by which the domestic spirit was known in some parts
of Scotland was Shellycoat, of which the origin is uncertain. His residence
is the hollow of an old tree, a ruined castle, or the abode of humans. He is
attached to particular families with whom he has been known to reside,
even for centuries, threshing the corn, cleaning the house, and doing
everything done by his northern and English brethren. He is, to a certain
degree, disinterested; like many great personages, he is shocked at anything
approaching a bribe or douceur, yet, like them, he allows his scruples to be
overcome if the thing be done in a genteel, delicate, and secret way. Thus,
offer the Brownie a piece of bread, a cup of drink, or a new coat and hood,
and he would perhaps disappear in a huff, leaving the place forever, but
leave a nice bowl of cream and some fresh honeycomb in a snug, private
corner, and the provisions would soon disappear, though the Brownie, it
was to be supposed, never knew anything of them.
A good woman had just made a web of linsey-woolsey and, prompted
by her good nature, had manufactured from it a snug mantle and hood for
her little Brownie. Not content with laying the gift in one of his favourite
spots, she indiscreetly called to tell him it was there. This was too direct,
and Brownie quitted the place, crying, “A new mantle and a new hood!
Poor Brownie! Ye’ll ne’er do mair gude!”

A gift of fresh honeycomb will not be refused by a Brownie, though the creature will deny ever having
accepted it.

The Brownie was not without some roguery in his composition. Two
lasses, having made a fine bowlful of buttered brose, had taken it into the
byre to sup in the dark. In their haste, they had brought but one spoon, so,
placing the bowl between them, they supped by turns.

“I hae got but three sups,” cried the one, “and it’s a’ dune.”

“It’s a’ dune, indeed,” cried the other.

“Ha, ha, ha!” cried a third voice, “Brownie has got the maist
o’ it.”
 And the Brownie it was who had placed himself between them and
gotten two sups for their one.

THE NIS
The Nis is the same being that is called the Kobold in Germany, the
Brownie in Scotland, and whom we shall meet in various other places under
different appellations. He is in Denmark and Norway also called Nisse god-
dreng (“Nissè good lad”), and in Sweden Tomtgubbe (“Old Man of the
House”) or, briefly, Tomte.
He is evidently of the Dwarf family, as he resembles them in appearance
and, like them, has the command of money and the same dislike of noise
and tumult. He is the size of a year-old child but has the face of an old man.
His usual dress is grey, with a pointed red cap, but on Michaelmas Day, he
wears a round hat like those of the peasants.
No farmhouse goes on well unless there is a Nis in it, and well is it for
the men and the women when they are in his good favour. They may go to
their beds and give themselves no trouble about their work, and yet, in the
morning, they will find the kitchen swept up, water brought in, and the
horses cleaned and curried in the stable—and perhaps a supply of corn
cribbed for them from the neighbours’ barns. But he punishes them for any
irregularity that takes place.
The Nisses of Norway, we are told, are fond of the moonlight, and in the
wintertime they may be seen jumping over the yard or driving in sledges.
They are also skilled in music and dancing and will, it is said, give
instructions on the fiddle for a grey sheep, like the Swedish Strömkarl.
Every church, too, has its Nis, who looks to order and chastises those
who misbehave themselves. He is called the Kirkegrim.

THE GUNNA
In olden times, the tillage in Tiree was in common, the crop was raised here
and there throughout the farm, and the herding was in consequence very
difficult to do. In Baugh, or on some farm in the west of the island (tradition
is not uniform as to the locality), the cows were left in the pastures at night
and were kept from the crops by some invisible herdsman. No one ever saw
this hob-like being of the Highlands called a Gunna, and no one knew
whence he came nor when he went away or whither he went. A taibhseir, or
seer (one who had the second sight or sight of seeing ghosts), remained
awake to see how the cattle were kept. He saw a man without clothes after
them and, taking pity upon the man, made him a pair of trews (trousers) and
a pair of shoes. When the ghostly herdsman put the trews on, he said (and
his name became known for the first time):

“Trews upon Gunna,

Because Gunna does the herding,
But may Gunna never enjoy his trews,
If he tends cattle any more.”

When he said this, he went away and was never again heard of. As
previously mentioned, beings of this class seem to have had a great
objection to presents of clothes.
A pair of shoes made the Glaistig at Unimore leave; a cap, coat, and
breeches the Phynnodderee in the Isle of Man; in the Black Forest of
Germany, a new coat drove away a Nix, one of the little water-people, with
green teeth, that came and worked with the people all day; and Brownies, as
already mentioned, in several places.

THE URISK
The Urisk was a large lubberly supernatural, of solitary habits and harmless
character, that haunted lonely and mountainous places. Some identify him
with the Brownie, but he differs from the fraternity of tutelary beings in
having his dwelling not in the houses or haunts of humans but in solitudes
and remote localities. There were male and female Urisks, and the race was
said to be the offspring of unions between mortals and Fairies, that is, of the
leannan sìth.
The Urisk was usually seen in the evening, big and grey (mòr glas),
sitting on top of a rock and peering at the intruders on its solitude. The
wayfarer whose path led along the mountainside, whose shattered rocks are
loosely sprinkled, or along some desert moor, and who hurried for the fast-
approaching nightfall, saw the Urisk sitting motionless on top of a rock,
gazing at him or her or slowly moving out of the way. It spoke to some
people and is even said to have thrashed them, but usually it did not meddle
with the passersby. On the contrary, it at times gave a safe convoy to those
who were belated.

A Urisk sitting upon a rock.

In the Highlands of Breadalbane, the Urisk was said, in summertime, to

stay in remote corries and on the highest parts of certain hills. In
wintertime, it came down to the strath and entered certain houses at night to
warm itself and then do some work for the farmer, such as grinding,
thrashing, etc. Its presence was a sign of prosperity; it was said to leave
comfort behind. Like the Brownie, it liked milk and good food, and a
present of clothes drove it away.
An Urisk, haunting Beinn Doohrain (a hill beloved of the Celtic muse)
on the confines of Argyllshire and Perthshire, stayed in summertime near
the top of the hill, and in winter came down to the straths. A waterfall near
the village of Clifton at Tyndrum, where it stayed on these occasions, is still
called Eas na h-ùruisg, the Urisk’s cascade. It was encountered by St.
Fillan, who had his abode in a neighbouring strath and banished the Urisk
to Rome.
The Urisk of Ben Loy (Beinn Laoigh, the “Calf’s Hill”), also on the
confines of these counties, came down in winter from his lofty haunts to the
farm of Sococh, in Glen Orchy, which lies at the base of the mountain. It
entered the house at night by the chimney, and it is said that on one
occasion, the bar from which the chimney chain was suspended and on
which the Urisk laid its weight in descending, had been taken away, causing
the poor supernatural to have a bad fall.
It was fond of staying in a cleft at Moraig waterfall, and its labours in
keeping the waters from falling too fast over the rock might be seen by
anyone. A stone, on which it sat with its feet dangling over the fall, is called
“Urisk stone” (Clach na h-ùruisg). The Urisk sometimes watched the herds
of Sococh farm.
A man passing through Strath Duuisg, near Loch Sloy, at the head of
Loch Lomond, on a keen frosty night, heard a Urisk on one side of the glen
calling out, “Frost, frost, frost” (“reoth, reoth, reoth”). This was answered
by another Urisk calling from the other side of the glen, “Kick-frost, kick-
frost, kick-frost” (“ceige-reoth, ceige-reoth, ceige-reoth”). The man, on
hearing this, said, “Whether I wait or not for frost, I will never while I live
wait for kick-frost,” and he ran at his utmost speed until he was out of the
glen.
The Urisk of the “Yellow Waterfall” in Glen Màili, in the south of
Inverness-shire, used to come late every evening to a woman by the name
of Mary and would sit and watch her plying her distaff without saying a
word. A man, hoping to get a glimpse of the Urisk, put on Mary’s clothes
and sat in her place, twirling the distaff as best he could. The Urisk came to
the door but would not enter. It said:
 “I see your eye, I see your nose,
I see your great broad beard,
And though you will work the distaff,
I know you are a man.”

The Urisk, like the Brownie of England, had great simplicity of

character, and many tricks were played upon it in consequence. A farmer in
Strathglass got it to undergo a painful operation that it might become fat
and sleek like the farmer’s own geldings. The weather at the time being
frosty, it made a considerable outcry for some time after.
From its haunting lonely places, other appearances must often have been
confounded with it. In Strathfillan, in the Highlands of Perthshire, a number
of boys saw what was popularly said to be an Urisk. On the hill, when the
sun was setting, something like a human being was seen sitting on the top
of a large boulder, growing bigger and bigger until they fled. There is no
difficulty in connecting this appearance with the circumstance that some
sheep disappeared that year unaccountably from the hill, as well as a
quantity of grain from the barn of the farm.
In the Hebrides, there is very little mention of the Urisk at all. In Tiree,
the only trace of it is in the name of a hollow, Slochd an Aoirisg, through
which the public road passes near the south shore. The belief that the Urisk
assisted the farmer was not common anywhere, and all over the Highlands,
the word ordinarily conveys no other idea than that which has been well
defined as “a being supposed to haunt lonely and sequestered places, as
mountain rivers and waterfalls.”

THE BLUE MEN

The fallen angels were driven out of Paradise in three divisions: one
became the Fairies on the land; one the Blue Men in the sea; and one the
Nimble Men (Fir Chlis), i.e., the Northern Streamers (Northern Lights) or
Merry Dancers, in the sky. This explanation belongs to the North Hebrides
and was heard by the writer in Skye. In Argyllshire, the Blue Men are
unknown, and there is no mention of the Merry Dancers being congeners of
the Fairies. The person who revealed this information was very positive he
had himself seen one of the Blue Men. A blue-coloured man with a long
grey face, floating from the waist out of the water, followed the boat in
which he was for a long time and was occasionally so near that the observer
might have put his hand upon him.
A Blue Man asleep on the waters.

The channel between Lewis and the Shant Isles (Na h-Eileinean siant,
the “Charmed Islands”) is called the “Stream of the Blue Men” (Sruth nam
Fear Gorm). A ship, passing through it, came upon a blue-coloured man
sleeping on the waters. He was taken on board, and, being thought of mortal
race, strong twine was coiled around and around him from his feet to his
shoulders until it seemed impossible for him to struggle or to move foot or
arm. The ship had not gone far when two men were observed coming after
it on the waters. One of them was heard to say, “Duncan will be one man,”
to which the other replied, “Farquhar will be two.” On hearing this, the
man, who had been so securely tied, sprang to his feet, broke his bonds like
spider threads, jumped overboard, and made off with the two friends, who
had been coming to his rescue.

In old Scotland, the Northern Lights were thought of as

fallen angels fighting everlasting battles. The red cloud
that appears below the lights is a pool of their blood.
When the blood falls to Earth, it congeals into rocks
called “blood stones.” These stones are known in the
Hebrides (western isles of Scotland) as Elf’s blood.

THE MERMAID AND MERMAN

The Mermaid of the Scottish Highlands was the same as in the rest of the
kingdom: a sea creature, half fish and half woman, with long, dishevelled
hair, which she combs at night while sitting on the rocks by the shore. She
has been known to cast off the fishy covering of her lower limbs. Anyone
who finds it can, by hiding it, detain her from ever returning to the sea
again. There is a common story in the Highlands, and also in Ireland, that a
person so detained her for years, married her, and had a family by her. One
of the family fell in with the covering, and telling his mother of the pretty
thing he had found, she recovered possession of it and escaped to the sea.
She pursues ships and is dangerous. Sailors throw empty barrels overboard,
and while she spends her time examining the barrels, the sailors make their
escape.
 A man in Skye caught a Mermaid and kept her for a year. She gave him
much curious information. When parting, he asked her what virtue or evil
there was in egg water (water in which eggs had been boiled). She said, “If
I tell you that, you will have a tale to tell,” and disappeared.
A native of Eilein Anabuich (the “Unripe Island”), a village in North
Harris, caught a Mermaid on a rock, and to procure her release, she granted
him three wishes. He became a skillful herb doctor, who could cure the
king’s evil and other diseases ordinarily incurable; he became a prophet,
who could foretell, particularly to women, whatever was to befall people;
and he obtained a remarkably fine voice. This latter gift he had only had
before in his own estimation; when he sang, others did not think his voice
fine or even tolerable.
The Havfrue, or Mermaid, is represented in the popular tradition
sometimes as good and at other times evil and treacherous. She is beautiful
in her appearance. Fishermen sometimes see her in the bright summer’s
sun, when a thin mist hangs over the sea, sitting on the surface of the water,
combing her long, golden hair with a golden comb or driving up her snow-
white cattle to feed on the strands and small islands.
A Mermaid looking upon the shore for her snow-white cattle.
 Lighting a fire near the ocean can sometimes draw a cold
Mermaid out of the water for warmth.

At other times, she comes as a beautiful maiden, chilled and shivering

with the cold of the night, to the fires the fishers have kindled, hoping by
this means to entice them to her love. Her appearance prognosticates both
storm and ill success in their fishing. People who are drowned and whose
bodies are not found are believed to be taken into the dwellings of the
Mermaids.
Mermaids are also supposed to have the power of foretelling future
events. In all countries, fortune-telling has been a gift of the sea people.
The Merman is described as of a handsome form, with green or black
hair and beard. He dwells either in the bottom of the sea or in the cliffs and
hills near the seashore, and is regarded as rather a good and beneficent kind
of being.

THE WATER-HORSE
The belief in the existence of the Water-horse is now generally a thing of
the past in the Highlands, but in olden times almost every lonely freshwater
lake was tenanted by one, sometimes by several, of these animals. In shape
and colour, it resembled an ordinary horse and was often mistaken for one.
It was seen passing from one lake to another, mixing with the farmers’
horses in the adjoining pastures, and it waylaid belated travellers who
passed near its haunts. It was highly dangerous to touch or mount a Water-
horse. Those whom it decoyed into doing so were taken away to the loch in
which it had its haunt and were there devoured. It was said to make its
approaches also in other guises—as a young man, a boy, a ring, and even a
tuft of wool; any woman upon whom it set its mark was certain to become
its victim. A cow-shackle around its neck or a cap on its head completely
subdued it, and as long as either of these was kept on it, it could be as safely
employed in farm labour as any other horse.

A Water-horse portrayed in both its horse and human form.

In Skye, it was said to have a sharp bill (gob biorach) or, as others
describe it, a narrow, slippery, brown snout. Accounts agree that it had a
long, flowing tail and mane. In colour, it was sometimes grey, sometimes
black, and sometimes black with a white spot on its forehead. This variation
arose, some say, from the Water-horse being of any colour, like other
horses, and others say it comes from its having the power of changing its
colour as well as its shape. When it came in the shape of a human, it was
detected by its horse-hoofs and by the green water weeds or sand in its hair.
It was then very amorous, but it was the end of those who were unfortunate
enough to encounter it, to then be taken to the loch and devoured. Whatever
benefit the farmer might at first derive from securing one with the cap or
cow-shackle, the farmer would soon be met with ruinous loss.
The following tales will illustrate the character of the superstition better
than a lengthened dissertation.
Cru-loch is a lonely little lake above Ardachyle (the height of the sound)
in the north-east of Mull. A person passing it late at night, on his way home,
saw a horse with a saddle on, quietly feeding at the loch side. He went
toward it with the intention of riding it home, but in time he observed
green-water herbs about its feet and refrained from touching it. He walked
on and, before long, was overtaken by a stranger, who said that unless he
(the Water-horse, who was also the speaker) had been friendly and a well-
wisher, he would have taken the man to the loch. Among other supernatural
information, it told the man the day of his death.
Another tale takes place on the Isle of Coll. At noontide, while the cattle
were standing in the loch, the herdsman near Loch Annla was visited by a
person in whose head he observed rathum, that is, water weeds. When
going away, the stranger jumped into the loch and disappeared without
doing any harm. People used to hear strange noises about that loch, no
doubt caused by the Water-horse, which was the herdsman’s visitor.

THE KELPIE
The Kelpie that swells torrents and devours women and children has no
representative in Gaelic superstition. Some writers speak as if the Water-
horse were to be identified with it, but the two animals are distinctly
separate. The Water-horse haunts lochs, the Kelpie streams and torrents.
The former is never accused of swelling torrents any more than of causing
any other natural phenomenon, nor of taking away children, unless perhaps
when wanting to silence a refractory child.
A Shetland friend writes: “Kelpies, I cannot remember of ever hearing
what shape they were of. They generally did their mischief in a quiet way,
such as being seen splashing the water about the burns, and taking hold of
the water-wheel of mills and holding them still. I have heard a man declare
that his mill was stopped one night for half an hour and the full power of
water on the wheel, and he was frightened himself to go out and see what
was wrong. And he not only said but maintained that it was a Kelpie or
something of that kind that did it.”
The Kelpie is said to reside near streams and torrents.

THE WATER-BULL
This animal, unlike the Water-horse, was of harmless character and did no
mischief to those who came near its haunts. It stayed in little lonely
moorland lochs, whence it issued only at night. It was then heard lowing
near the loch, and it came among the farmers’ cattle but was seldom seen.
Calves having short ears, as if the upper part had been cut off with a knife
or, as it is termed in Gaelic, Carc-chluasach (“knife-eared”), were said to be
its offspring. It had no ears itself, and hence its calves had only half ears.
A Water-bull’s short ears are one way to distinguish it from bulls with no connection to the
supernatural realm.

In the district of Lorn, a dairy-maid and herder, before leaving the fold
in the evening in which the cows had been gathered to be milked, saw a
small, ugly, very black animal, bull-shaped, soft and slippery, coming
among the herd. It had an unnatural bellow, something like the crowing of a
cock. The man and woman fled in terror but, on coming back in the
morning, found the cattle lying in the fold as though nothing had occurred.

THE KING OTTER

The Water-dog (Dobhar-Chù), also called the King Otter (Righ nan
Dòbhran), is a formidable animal, seldom seen, having a skin of magic
power that is worth as many guineas as are required to cover it. It goes at
the head of every band of seven, some say nine, otters, and is never killed
without the death of a man, woman, or dog. It has a white spot below the
chin, on which alone it is vulnerable. A piece of its skin keeps misfortune
away from the house in which it is kept, renders the soldier invulnerable in
battle by arrow or sword or bullet, and, placed in the banner, makes the
enemy turn and fly. “An inch of it placed on the soldier’s eye,” as a
Lochaber informant said, “kept him from harm or hurt or wound though
bullets flew about him like hailstones and naked swords clashed at his
breast. When a direct aim was taken, the gun refused fire.”
A King Otter with a jewel-shaped marking on its head.

Others say the vulnerable white spot was under the King Otter’s arm
and no larger than a sixpence. When the hunter took aim, he needed to hit
this precise spot, or else he fell a prey to the animal’s dreadful jaws. In
Raasa and the opposite mainland, the magic power was said to be in a jewel
in its head, which made its possessor invulnerable and secured the person
good fortune; in other respects, the belief regarding the King Otter is the
same as elsewhere.
The word dobhar (pronounced “dooar” or “dour”), signifying water, is
obsolete in Gaelic except in the name of this animal.
The Biasd Na Srogaig is an awkward-looking long-legged unicorn that lives in or near a lake.

BIASD NA SROGAIG
This mythical animal, “the beast of the lowering horn,” seems to have been
peculiar to Skye. It had but one horn on its forehead and, like the Water-
bull, stayed in lochs. It was a large animal with long legs, of a clumsy and
inelegant make, not heavy and thick but tall and awkward. Its principal use
seems to have been to keep children quiet, and it would be no wonder if, in
the majority of cases, the terrors of childhood became a creed in later years.
Scrogag, from which it derives its name, is a ludicrous name given to a
snuff horn and refers to the solitary horn on its forehead.
THE BIG BEAST OF LOCHAWE
This animal (Beathach mòr Loch Odha) had twelve legs and was to be
heard in wintertime, breaking the ice. Some say it was like a horse; others,
like a large eel.

SCANDINAVIA INCLUDES THE KINGDOMS OF

SWEDEN, DENMARK, AND NORWAY, WHICH ONCE
HAD A COMMON RELIGION AND A COMMON
LANGUAGE. SCANDINAVIAN MYTHOLOGY WAS BUILT
ON A BELIEF THAT THE WHOLE WORLD WAS FILLED
WITH SPIRITS OF VARIOUS KINDS. THESE WERE
DIVIDED INTO THE CELESTIAL AND THE
TERRESTRIAL FROM THEIR PLACES OF ABODE. THE
FORMER WERE, ACCORDING TO THE IDEAS OF
THOSE TIMES, OF A GOOD AND ELEVATED NATURE,
AND OF A FRIENDLY DISPOSITION TOWARD MEN,
WHENCE THEY ALSO RECEIVED THE NAME OF
WHITE OR LIGHT ELVES OR SPIRITS. THE LATTER,
ON THE CONTRARY, WHO WERE CLASSIFIED AFTER
THEIR ABODES IN AIR, SEA, AND EARTH, WERE NOT
REGARDED IN SO FAVOURABLE A LIGHT.

ELVES
 Say, knowest thou the Elves’ gay and joyous race?
The banks of streams are their home;
They spin of the moonshine their holiday-dress,
With their lily-white hands frolicsome.

A good Elf curled inside a berry bush to sleep.

While the Elf of the British Isles was one and the same as a Fairy, the
Scandinavian Elf had its own unique identity.
The Alfar, as their Elf is called, still lives in the memory and traditions
of Scandinavians. They also, to a certain extent, retain their distinction as
White or Black. The former, or the Good Elves, dwell in the air, dance on
the grass, or sit in the leaves of trees; the latter, or the Evil Elves, are
regarded as an underground people who frequently inflict sickness or injury
on mankind; for which there is a particular kind of doctor, called Kloka
män, to be met with in all parts of Scandinavia.

If you’re looking for a good and benevolent Elf, look up.

Elves tend to live above ground and high in trees. If you
see an Elf coming up out of the ground or out from under
someone’s home, steer clear. It is likely to be an evil Elf or
at least a terribly mischievous one.

The Elves are believed to have their kings and to celebrate their
weddings and banquets, just the same as the dwellers above ground. There
is an interesting intermediate class of Elves in popular tradition called the
Hill-people (Högfolk), who are believed to dwell in caves and small hills;
when they show themselves, they have an attractive human form. The
common people seem to connect with them a deep feeling of melancholy, as
if bewailing a half-quenched hope of redemption.
People cannot tell much more about them besides their sweet singing,
which may occasionally, on summer nights, be heard out of their hills. One
may stand still and listen, or, as it is expressed in the ballads, “lays their ear
to the Elve-hill,” but no one must be so cruel as, by the slightest word, to
destroy their hopes of salvation, for then the spritely music will be turned
into weeping and lamentation.
The Norwegians call the Elves Huldrafolk, and their music Huldraslaat;
it is in the minor key and of a dull and mournful sound. The mountaineers
sometimes play it and pretend they have learned it by listening to the
underground people among the hills and rocks. There is also a tune called
the Elf-king’s tune, which several of the good fiddlers know right well but
never venture to play, for as soon as it begins, both old and young, and even
inanimate objects, are impelled to dance, and the player cannot stop unless
he can play the air backward or someone comes behind him and cuts the
strings of his fiddle.
A bad Elf emerging from its underground abode is best avoided.

At one time, it is said, a servant girl was greatly beloved by the Elves for
her clean, tidy habits, particularly because she was careful to carry away all
dirt and foul water to a distance from the house. The Elves invited her to a
wedding. Everything was conducted in the greatest order, and they made
her a present of some chips, which she took good-humouredly and put into
her pocket. But when the bride-pair was coming, there was a straw
unluckily lying in the way. The bridegroom got cleverly over it, but the
poor bride fell on her face. At the sight of this, the girl could not restrain
herself and burst out a-laughing, and at that instant, the whole vanished
from her sight. The next day, to her utter amazement, she found that what
she had taken to be nothing but chips were so many pieces of pure gold.
The Elves are extremely fond of dancing in the meadows, where they
form circles of a livelier green that are called Elf-dance (Elfdans). When the
country people see stripes along the dewy grass in the woods and meadows
in the morning, they say the Elves have been dancing there. If anyone
should, at midnight, get within their circle, they become visible to that
person but then may elude the person. Not everyone can see the Elves; one
person may see them dancing while another perceives nothing. The Elves,
however, have the power to bestow this gift on whomsoever they please.
People also used to speak of Elf-books, which Elves gave to those whom
they loved and which enabled them to foretell future events.
 The Elves often sit in little stones that are of a circular form and are
called Elf-mills (Elf-quärnor); the sound of their voices is said to be sweet
and soft like the air.
In the popular creed, there is some strange connection between the Elves
and the trees. They not only frequent them, but they make an interchange of
form with them. In the churchyard of Store Heddinge, in Zealand, there are
the remains of an oak tree. These, say the common people, are the Elle-
king’s soldiers: by day, they are trees; by night, valiant warriors. In the
wood of Rugaard, on the same island, is a tree that by night becomes a
whole Elle-people and goes about all alive. It has no leaves upon it, yet it
would be very unsafe to go to break or fell it, for the underground people
frequently hold their meetings under its branches.

A map featuring the various terrains where magical creatures reside.

 Sunday children, as they are called (those born on a
Sunday), are remarkable for possessing the property of
seeing Elves and similar beings.

DWARFS
The Dwarfs, or Hill (Berg) Trolls, were appointed the hills; the Elves, the
groves and leafy trees; the Hill-people (Högfolk), the caves and caverns; the
Mermen, Mermaids, and Necks, the sea, lakes, and rivers; the River-man
(Strömkarl) the small waterfalls. Both the Catholic and Protestant clergy
have endeavoured to excite an aversion to these beings, but in vain. They
are regarded as possessing considerable power over man and nature, and it
is believed that though now unhappy, they will be eventually saved, or faa
förlossning (“get salvation”), as it is expressed.

A band of merry Dwarfs.

We now return to the Baltic, to the Isle of Rügen. The inhabitants of

Rügen believe in three kinds of Dwarfs, or underground people: the White,
the Brown, and the Black, so named from the colour of their garments and
apparatus.
The White are the most delicate of all and are of an innocent and gentle
disposition. During the winter, when the face of nature is cold, raw, and
cheerless, they remain still and quiet in their hills, solely engaged in the
fashioning of the finest works in silver and gold, of too delicate a texture for
mortal eyes to discern. Thus they pass the winter, but no sooner does the
spring return than they abandon their recesses and live through all the
summer above ground, in sunshine and starlight, in uninterrupted revelry
and enjoyment. The moment the trees and flowers begin to sprout and bud
in the early days of spring, they emerge from their hills and get among the
stalks and branches, and thence to the blossoms and flowers, where they sit
and gaze around them. In the night, when mortals sleep, the White Dwarfs
come forth and dance their joyous rounds in the green grass, about the hills,
brooks, and springs, making the sweetest and most delicate music, which
bewilders travellers, who hear and wonder at the strains of the invisible
musicians. They may, if they will, go out by day, but never in company;
these daylight rambles are allowed them only when alone and under some
assumed form. They therefore frequently fly about in the shape of parti-
coloured little birds or butterflies, or snow-white doves, showing kindness
and benevolence to the good who merit their favour.
There are notable differences between the temperaments of a White (Figure 5), Brown (Figure 6),
and Black Dwarf (Figure 7).

Birds, butterflies, and white doves, when seen in the

daytime, may be the chosen form of a White Dwarf who
has decided to come out during the day.

The Brown Dwarfs are less than eighteen inches high. They wear little
brown coats and jackets and brown caps with little silver bells on them.
Some of them wear black shoes with red strings in them. In general,
however, they wear fine glass shoes; at their dances, none of them wear any
other. They are very handsome, with clear, light-coloured eyes and small,
most beautiful hands and feet. They on the whole have cheerful, good-
natured dispositions, mingled with some roguish traits. Like the White
Dwarfs, they are great artists in gold and silver, working so curiously as to
astonish those who happen to see their performances. At night, they come
out of their hills and dance by the light of the moon and stars. They also
glide invisibly into people’s houses, their caps rendering them
imperceptible by all who do not have similar caps. They possess an
unlimited power of transformation and can pass through the smallest
keyholes. Frequently, they bring with them presents for children, or they lay
gold rings, ducats, and the like in their way, and often are invisibly present
to save children from the perils of fire and water. They plague and annoy
lazy servants and untidy maids with frightful dreams; oppress them with
nightmares; bite them like fleas; and scratch and tear them like cats and
dogs. Often, in the night, Brown Dwarfs take the shape of owls, thieves,
and lovers to frighten these people, or, like will-o’-the-wisps, lead them
astray into bogs and marshes or perhaps to those who are in pursuit of them.
The Black Dwarfs wear black jackets and caps and are not handsome
like the others. On the contrary, they are ugly, with weeping eyes, like those
of blacksmiths and colliers. They are the most expert workers, especially in
steel, to which they can give a degree at once of hardness and flexibility
that no human smith can imitate; the swords they make will bend like
rushes and are as hard as diamonds. In old times, arms and armour made by
Black Dwarfs were in great demand; shirts of mail manufactured by them
were as fine as cobwebs, yet no bullet would penetrate them, and no helm
or corslet could resist the swords they fashioned, but all these things have
now gone out of use.
These Dwarfs are of malicious, ill dispositions, and they delight in doing
mischief to humankind. They are unsocial, and there are seldom more than
two or three of them seen together; they keep mostly in their hills and
seldom come out in the daytime, nor do they ever go far from home. People
say that in the summer, they are fond of sitting under the elder-trees, the
smell of which is very pleasing to them, and that anyone who wants
anything of them must go there and call them.
Some say they have no music and dancing, only howling and
whimpering. When a screaming is heard in the woods and marshes, like that
of crying children, or a mewing and screeching, like that of a multitude of
cats or owls, the sounds just might be made by the vociferous Dwarfs.
THE NECK
The Neck (in Danish, Nökke) is the river-spirit. The ideas surrounding him
are various. Sometimes, he is represented as sitting on the surface of the
water on summer nights, resembling a little boy with golden hair hanging in
ringlets and a red cap on his head. Sometimes he appears above the water
like a handsome young man, but beneath the water like a horse; at other
times, as an old man with a long beard out of which he wrings the water as
he sits on the cliffs. In this last form, Odin, according to the Icelandic sagas,
has sometimes revealed himself.

A Neck (river-spirit) playing his harp while sitting by the river at sunset.
 The Neck is very severe against any haughty maiden who makes an ill
return to the love of her wooer, but should he himself fall in love with a
maid of human kind, he is the most polite and attentive suitor in the world.
He sits on the water and plays on his gold harp, the harmony of which
operates on all nature. To hear his music, a person must present him with a
black lamb and also promise him resurrection and redemption.

WITH THE KNOWLEDGE OF FAIRIES AND OTHER

MAGICAL BEINGS THAT YOU NOW POSSESS, HAVING
UNCOVERED A TREASURY OF MYSTICAL FOLKLORE
OF THE FANTASTIC CREATURES THAT WERE ONCE
UNDERSTOOD TO LIVE AMONG US, IT IS UP TO YOU,
DEAR MODERN READER, TO VENTURE OUT AT YOUR
OWN RISK INTO NATURE AND DETERMINE YOUR
OWN BELIEFS. MAY YOU BE BLESSED WITH MANY
INCREDIBLE ENCOUNTERS, MAY YOUR EYES AND
EARS BE TUNED TO WHAT LIES BEYOND THE
FRAMEWORK OF SCIENCE, AND MAY YOU SUCCEED
IN RESTORING THAT CHILD-LIKE SENSE OF WONDER
THAT REVELS IN MYTH AND MYSTERY.

OceanofPDF.com
 Note

1. While Gaelic superstition groups Elves and Fairies together,

Scandinavian legends offer further insight into the unique
identity and personality of the Elf (see Chapter 3).

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 ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Kayleigh Efird is a multidisciplinary artist who lives and works in

Baltimore, where she enjoys knitting, roller skating, and watching ghost-
hunting shows with her English Sheepdog, Neville. You can sign up for
email updates here.

OceanofPDF.com
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A Field Guide to Fairies and Magical Beings. Copyright © 2025 by St. Martin’s Press. All rights
reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Publishing Group, 120 Broadway, New York, NY
10271.

Compiled and edited from the following public domain texts:

Anderson, R. B. Norse Mythology. S. C. Griggs and Company, Chicago, 1876.

Campbell, John Gregorson. Superstitions of the Highlands & Islands of Scotland. James MacLehose
and Sons, Glasgow, Scotland, 1900.

Sikes, Wirt. British Goblins: Welsh Folk-lore, Fairy Mythology, Legends and Traditions. George Bell
& Sons, London, England, 1892.

Keightley, Thomas. The Fairy Mythology: Illustrative of the Romance and Superstition of Various
Countries. Sampson Low, Marston, Searle, & Rivington, London, 1880.

www.castlepointbooks.com

Original fairy and magical creature art by Kayleigh Efird

Interior design by Melissa Gerber
Vintage and stock art used by permission from iStock.com and Shutterstock.com

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The publisher of this book does not authorize the use or reproduction of any part of this book in any
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First Edition: 2025

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 CONTENTS

TITLE PAGE

COPYRIGHT NOTICE
EPIGRAPH

INTRODUCTION

CHAPTER 1:
FAIRIES AND THEIR WAYS
Names Given to Fairies
The Size of Fairies
Fairy Dwellings
Fairy Dresses
Fairy Rings
Fairy Occupations
Fairy Festivities
Fairy Raids
Circumstances under Which Fairies Are Seen
Fairy Food
Gifts Bestowed by Fairies
Loans
Eddy Wind
Fairy Tools
Cattle and Deer
Horses
Dogs
Elfin Cats
Fairy Theft
Changelings
Nurses
The Man and Woman of Peace
Marrying Fairies
The Bean Nighe, or Washing Woman
The Song of the Fairy Woman
Elfin Queen
Protection Against Fairies
Notable Fairy Characteristics

CHAPTER 2:
A HISTORY OF FAIRY ENCOUNTERS
Tales of Those Who Have Entered Fairy Dwellings
 The Welsh Tale of Tudur of Llangollen
Luran and the Missing Cattle
The Cup of the Macleods of Raasa
The Fairies on Finlay’s Sandbank
Callum Clark and His Sore Leg
The Young Man in the Fairy Knoll
Asking Too Much of Fairies
Pennygown Fairies
Ben Lomond Fairies
Fairies Coming to Houses
The Lowland Fairies
Kindness to a Neglected Child
Fairy Gifts
Lifted, or Taken, by the Fairies
Taking Away Cows and Sheep
Disturbing or Discovering Fairy Dwellings
Fairy Assistance and Behavior
Bean Shith, Elle Woman, or Woman of Peace
Iona Banshi
The Wife of Ben-y-Ghloe
Fairies and Animals
Fairies and Goats
 Fairies and Cows
Fairy Cows
Fairies and Dogs
Fairy Music

CHAPTER 3:
OTHER MAGICAL BEINGS
The Glaistig
The Brownie
The Nis
The Gunna
The Urisk
The Blue Men
The Mermaid and Merman
The Water-horse
The Kelpie
The Water-bull
The King Otter
Biasd na Srogaig
The Big Beast of Lochawe
Elves
Dwarfs
The Neck
NOTE

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