The Three Green Men of Glen Nevis - A Scottish Fairy Tale

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But the crutch was too sharp for him, and wriggled under the door, and, gliding off, was soon lost among the heather and fern that surrounded the summit of Ben e Bhreac. Now, there had been no sound or disturbance from the well for some time, so they concluded that the old hag was safely settled once and for all this time, and Duncan gave it as his opinion that they might now.

So Donald searched about the summit to the north, Dougald to the south, and Duncan to the east. There was no use at all in going towards the west, for a precipice went straight down on that side, and it would have been waste of time to have done so. To the north, where Donald went, was what one might call the garden, if such a collection of weeds might be given that name.

There Donald went up and down, up and down, yet nothing of the slightest value to himself or any one else did he see, and he felt disgusted at taking all this trouble for nothing. Well, he was just going to give up the search in despair, when he espied a very handsome flower growing beside a rock at the further end, and thought he would go and have a look at it before telling his brothers of his unprofitable search. And the plant was a really pretty one. It had a splendid yellow flower like a great gowan growing on the top of a stout stalk which sprang from a bunch of large green leaves below.

He certainly never had seen the like before, and he stood there admiring it very much. Well, Donald was curious to know what sort of plant a Thunder-flower could be, so he leaned down and gave a truly good sniff in the very centre of the petals. There was a startling report, and the echoes of it rolled and rolled round the mountains, and Donald fell flat on his back with astonishment and alarm. I may be of some use to you on the way. So Donald dug the Thunder-plant up carefully with his knife and put it in his wallet. A plant is better than nothing," quoth he; "though of what use a Thunder-plant may be to me I assuredly do not know at present.

In the meantime Dougald, the second brother, had gone to seek for treasure on the south side of the bothy. Here at first he sought most carefully, but could discover nothing of even the smallest value, and, like Donald, getting tired of seeking, he was almost giving up the hunt in despair, when he heard, or thought he heard, a strange, weird chuckle, like laughter, proceed from behind a heap of rank grass in the shade of the wall.

Examining more closely, he discovered the cause of the noise in a queer-looking gray hen, seated amongst the rubbish. She had a bright red comb and a yellow beak, and from her eyes came such a strange look, unusual in an ordinary fowl, as she fixed them upon the stranger, that Dougald at once understood the bird was something decidedly out of the common. Then take it off suddenly, and you will soon find out all about it," said she. Well, Dougald did not like to refuse so civil-spoken a request, especially as it was owing to his curiosity the bird suggested the proceeding.

To say that he was astonished at the terrific crow the fowl emitted is not an adequate expression: No thunder could produce so mighty a report, or echoes more loud among the mountains, than the sound which came up under his nose when once more the light shone upon the red hackles of the Thunder-fowl, and Dougald fell flat on his back with astonishment and alarm. Still, you would not be a bad companion at a pinch, if you could trumpet like that whenever you were asked. So Dougald put the Thunder-fowl in his wallet, and her head looked out through a hole in the top, and, quite pleased with his discovery, he went to seek his brothers.

Now, as for Duncan, the youngest brother, he went as was arranged to the east side of the mountain, to see what he could find in the way of a treasure, and, like the others, it was not long before he got dead tired of searching. There was nothing to be seen but an enclosure of stones in which were a few.

He kicked up some of the nettles, to see if anything was hidden among them, and stamped on the ground in all directions, to hear if it sounded hollow underneath, but nothing did he gain by either performance, and, getting cross, for he did not care to be defeated in anything he undertook, as a last resource before giving it up as a bad job, he poked a long stake into the heap of sticks and rattled it up and down in a very vicious manner. Certes, but he was astonished, when from under the fagots arose a pink, fresh-coloured pig, with beady eyes and a snout as black as ebony.

Now, Duncan was not accustomed to kiss swine between the eyes, or anywhere else, for the matter of that, but he thought he had better not decline, as it was his fault that the pig had been disturbed, and one never knows what may be got by being civil to anything, man or beast, and the pig looked clean as pigs go. The next moment Duncan felt himself flat on the ground, for such a grunt came from the porker that he fell over backwards from alarm and astonishment at the terrific explosion. And the mountain-tops so long resounded with the report, that you would think the echoes were never going to cease talking about it to one another.

So the three brothers met and told their discoveries, and introduced each to the other his new companion; then having nothing more to do at the summit, they descended to the glen below. Even to this day there is more thunder round Ben e Bhreac than any of the mountains in the neighbourhood, and when storms are at their loudest round its crags, "Hark," say the good wives of Rannoch; "'Tis the witch of Ben e Bhreac working with her thunder servants. So, towards the west these three brothers, with their new friends, travelled all that afternoon; and just as they arrived at the head of Glen Nevis, the sun set.

So they rested for the night under the shadow of Bennein Beg, since not for all the world would they have ventured to pass through that glen after nightfall fox fear of the three green men who inhabited it, and who were reported savage and fierce to all travellers.

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IT was very early the next morning that the three brothers arose, for Dougald had put the Thunder-fowl under his plaid when they went to sleep, quite forgetting what would happen if he took it off suddenly. This very thing really occurred quite unexpectedly at sunrise, for the wind blowing up the valley flung a corner of the plaid aside, and a beam of light glancing on the red comb of the bird made that creature crow as only it of feathered creatures could crow.

The mountains rattled with the report, and the three brothers awoke with a jump.

by Donald Alexander Mackenzie

The folk dwelling in the neighbourhood put their heads out of their. But our heroes knew better by this time what it was; and so they arose, and slung their wallets over their backs, and, with the Thunder-pig trotting beside Duncan, they proceeded on their way. But not far had they travelled before the bothy of the first green man met their view rising beside the pathway. A queer building it looked-circular, flat-topped, and without windows; for Trolls and such like can bear but little light.

Nothing, in fact, broke the plain appearance of the building but a small, low door, formed of three slabs of stone, one at each side, and one for the lintel, and that not even high enough for the evil creature to creep through without stooping.

When you give us a call, or require assistance, we shall be at hand. Donald did not dispute the matter with Duncan, for, though the youngest, he was the cleverest. But I told you that before. So, taking up his wallet, which contained the Thunder-plant, he went to the bothy of the green man and gave a good rap at the door.

THE THREE GREEN MEN OF GLEN NEVIS.

There he saw an ugly Troll, squatting by a turf fire, and that Troll had green eyes and a green plaid mantle cast over his shoulders, and green hair twisted in plaits hung down behind. Click to enlarge "I am come about a situation," said Donald; "perhaps you may want a servant,"--Page It is desperate untidy, and I am sure it wants tidying badly.

He also considered that, as soon as Donald was the other side of the door, he would be able to bolt it within, and if Donald got in again after that, well then, the Troll would be much surprised indeed. As soon as Donald got outside the door, he looked round carefully and quickly, and, when he was sure the Troll was not looking, he swiftly planted the Thunder-plant in the centre of the kale-patch between the bothy and the road.

In an instant the Thunder-plant raised its stalk and spread its leaves around, while the blossom at the top unfurled itself like a gigantic gowan. But Donald continuing to call out the same thing, the Troll thought he might just as well have a look and see what really was going on. So he peeped through a crack in the side of the door. And astonished he was at the size and beauty of the plant.

He could not make out for the life of him how the plant got there; he had not seen it before. Then he thought this must be inquired into, for Trolls, of all creatures, are the most curious, and, knowing nothing, want to understand everything. So the Troll forgot all about the thunderstorm, and opened the door, putting his ugly head through the aperture. Now to think anything of his was being carried off made the Troll very angry; also he was seized with a desire to smell the plant, so he persuaded himself there was no danger in going out just this little.

Throwing open the door, he crawled out, waddled up to the Thunder-plant, and took a good long sniff with his ugly snout. But the Troll, thinking that the thunder was bursting under his very nose, as in truth it was, fled helter-skelter back to his bothy so swiftly, that, forgetting to bob his head on entering the low doorway, he dashed his brains out on the lintel and fell dead on the threshold, and that was the end of him. Then Donald cried out to his brothers, and they came running up, and these three together ransacked the bothy, finding, as they expected, gems and jewels, silver and gold, hidden in the four corners, besides a lump of fiery-coloured crystal above price, stowed away below the hearthstone.

So Donald stopped behind and waved a farewell to his two brothers as they went down the valley under the shade of Ben Nevis. And it was not long before they saw a round tower like the first, built in the middle of the glen close to the roadside. I will wait for you here with the Thunder-pig till I hear you call out. Now the Troll considered for a moment.

He had not had a good meal for a day or two, owing to the thundery weather, especially to the violent reports heard both yesterday and that very morning, and being unable to go out and procure food, and feeling really very hungry, the thought of broth made his chops water. If he fails in his cooking me the broth, it won't take long to destroy him and stew him into broth instead.

So he said aloud, "Broth, indeed! Well, cook it and serve it; but if you fail, and it proves not savoury to my taste, cook or no cook, off goes your head in a trice," and he scraped and scrubbed a long dirk. But when he was below the bank, out of sight of the Troll, he deftly put the Thunder-fowl into it instead, and shut down the lid.

Take my word for it, my friend, you will never want to taste any other after that. And the light from the chimney above smote suddenly on the red comb of the Thunder-fowl, and she gave such a crow that the walls of the bothy shook as if it were stricken with a thunderbolt.

Then up leaped the Troll, and fled shrieking with dismay towards the door, for he thought the fire had come through the roof; but so full of terror was he, that he quite forgot to bob his head, and so, dashing out his brains on the lintel, he lay dead and still on the threshold, and that was the end of him. Then Dougald called out to his brother Duncan, who was keeping watch as he had promised, a short way up the road, and Duncan and the Thunder-pig came up to his call as quick as they could. Indeed, it was not long before they had unearthed the Troll's treasure--gems and jewels, silver and gold, hidden in the four corners of the bothy, and a large slab of golden topaz, worth a king's ransom, stowed away under the hearthstone.

Wait for me here till I. Just as he had expected, on emerging from the glen, he saw, on the right-hand side of the road, a. There was no sign of life about it, and it looked so particularly forbidding, that Duncan determined to have a good look round, and inspect the place from every side, before he knocked at the door. Getting over the dyke he crept quietly round the back of the bothy, and there, on a level with his head, he saw a window, just big enough to crawl in or out of, filled with wattles twisted up and across like bars. Lang, who has translated and adapted them from the French, German, Portuguese, Italian, Spanish, Catalan, and other languages.

Eve worked, Adam superintended.

The Magic of Scottish Folk and Fairy Tales for Christmas…

I find out where the stories are, and advise, and, in short, superintend. The first edition consisted of copies, which sold for 6 shillings each. The Blue Fairy Book was the first volume in the series, and so it contains some of the best known tales, taken from a variety of sources. But where to begin? I had found a review of it on the Scottish Book Trust website. Slithering stoorworms, mischievious brownies, fierce kelpies and magical selkies — these are the creatures of Scottish folklore.

Retelling each in its own individual style, she presents funny tales, moving tales and enchanting fairy tales. Soar with the goshawk, dive with selkies and battle with the stoorworm, as each story is brought to life with exquisite illustrations by Scottish fine artist Kate Leiper, which brim with otherworldly beauty. A wonderful gift, this is a truly stunning book to be treasured for a lifetime and will be enjoyed by parents and grandparents as well as children. The Scottish Storytelling Centre is a vibrant arts venue with a seasonal programme of live storytelling, theatre, music, exhibitions, workshops, family events, and festivals.

We are the home of two festivals: TradFest , a traditional arts festival that takes place in the spring, and the Scottish International Storytelling Festival in October. Attached to the Scottish Storytelling Centre is John Knox House, creating a very unique venue that incorporates contemporary design with medieval architecture. Explore this museum to learn about one of the most turbulent times in Scottish History. The Scottish Storytelling Centre is also the Headquarters of the Scottish Storytelling Forum which offers its members exclusive access to development events; discounts on our Workshops and Courses; and support and advice on professional development.

The tales which impressed our imagination so strongly when we were young have left their marks on our imaginary forever but there is much more behind them than we may have thought first. The hidden meaning of these tales may explain why they have been written about so extensively. They afford us not only glimpses of ancient times and of old habits of thought and life, but also of the country itself at different times of the year. In the winter season the great mountain ranges are white with snow and many inland lochs are frozen over, but along the west coast, which is washed by the warm surface waters of the Atlantic and bathed in mild moist breezes from the south-west, there may be found sheltered and sunny spots where wild flowers continue to bloom.

The old people believed that somewhere in the west the spirit of Spring had its hiding-place, and they imagined this hiding-place to be a green floating island on which the sun always shone and flowers were always blooming. During the reign of Beira, Queen of Winter, the spirit of Spring, they thought, was always trying to visit Scotland, and they imagined that Beira raised the storms of January and February to prolong her reign by keeping the grass from growing.

Beira was regarded as a hard and cruel old woman, and the story of her exploits is the story of the weather conditions in winter and early spring. She rouses the dangerous whirlpool of Corryvreckan, she brings the snow, she unlooses the torrents that cause rivers to overflow. According to folk belief, it was she who formed the lochs and the mountains.

In the days when the people had no calendar, the various periods of good and bad weather were named after the battles of Beira and the victories of the spirits of sunshine and growth. In Scotland the story of the winter goddess, Beira, has a strictly local setting. She is, in consequence, a local deity. Bride, the lady of summer growth, is still remembered also, and there are beautiful Gaelic songs about her ….

A Vision of the Dead Chapter X. Exiles from Fairyland Chapter XV.

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