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Customs and Traditions, Myths and Legends

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Stirling Thompson:
"Selkies", or "Seal People".

The folk of the Shetland and the Orkney Islands have many tales of these beings who are seals in the sea, but who can sometimes shed their seal-skins and become as other men and women. There are tales of the Selkies in the Western Isles as well, and even on the Scottish mainland. There were three brothers in the clan country of the Macraes who lived at Carr on Loch Duich, and they were said to have married selkie women. Two of the brothers hid their wives’ sealskins when they discovered that their wives were selkies, having found skins which the wives had tucked away. But the wives found the hiding places and disappeared into the sea waves , never to be seen again. The third brother found a wet seal-skin which his wife had failed to hide after one of her afternoon disappearances, and picking it up, he folded it and left it on a chest, saying to his wife that "someone" might have need of that skin from time to time. She stayed with him through the years and finally, in old age ,disappeared into the sea. She had given him a son, who would often swim out to the rocks and stay there through the night, and many of the fishermen would speak of the beautiful young male seal on the rocks on a moon-lit night. As the man came to his old age and could fish no more, his son always kept him in fish, and finally when the man died, the son was seen stripping down and plunging into the waves.

Michael Thompson:
The Wounded Selkie

Like many stories of the seal-people, this one is about a fisherman. A dour fisherman, who lived alone and did not greatly care for anything. He was particularly un-fond of seals. The way he saw it, seals were the competition. They eat fish, the same fish he spent his days trying to catch The way he would fish was this; he had a number of bouys moored a long the coast, and he would row from bouy to bouy, pulling up the net tied under it, checking the catch, then putting the net back into the sea. When he got to the end of the line of bouys he would go back to the beginning and start again.

Some days the catch was good, and he would eat (and drink) well; some days, not so good - but that was the fishing. One time he began to notice that the catch was dwindling away from one net - day by day it grew smaller, until all that he was pulling up was a few shells, the odd fish bone and a lot of sea-weed. He had a good look at the net, and noticed that there were several big tears in it, and that the ends of the twine showed signs of something gnawing it. 'It's those bloody seals, I'll be bound', he said to himself. The seals were stealing his fish. Well, he decided he wasn't having this, and that the time had come to do something about it. So, the next morning, rather than checking the nets one by one, he just dropped anchor in sight of that one buoy, loosened his knife it it's sheath and settled down to watch. The morning wore into afternoon, and the rocking of his boat on the gentle swell had almost lulled him to sleep, when he heard a splash and a gurgle. The buoy was swaying rapidly from side to side, then it disappeared beneath the waves altogether.

Taking a deep breath, he stood up and dived over the side of the boat, naked knife in hand...and saw a big seal worrying at the net. He swam down to the seal, and plunged his knife into it, pulling it through the seal's flesh with all his might. Blood billowed out of the wound, making a red fog in the water, and , even wounded, the seal proved stronger than the man. It wriggled and twisted, and wrenched the knife handle out of his hand, then disappeared in the now murky water.

Spluttering and gasping, the fisherman hauled himself back into his boat. 'Well', he thought, 'I might not have killed it, but that's one seal that'll trouble me no more. Problem solved'. But the next day, all of his nets were empty...and the next, and the next. By the end of the week, he was running out of money, and hungry as well, and could hardly be bothered to put out to sea anymore. So, when a stranger came up to him in the harbour and said, 'I hear you're a man as can lay their hands on some seal skins', the fisherman was only too ready to help. 'I certainly can,' he said, ' I don't owe them nothing. I'll be wanting a good price, mind'

'Well,' said the stranger, 'as to price, I can't speak to that, you'll have to come with me and meet my master'. This the fisherman was glad to do, and the pair of them walked out of the harbour, and along the coast path. As they reached the top of the cliffs, the stranger stopped, made a funnel of his hands around his mouth, and sang
'Hey an dah
Hey an dah
Hey an dah
Ho dah dah
Hyun dan dah
Hyun dan dah
Hyun dan dah
Ho dah dah'
.even before the stranger had finished the call, the sea below the cliffs was boiling with more sleek, black seals than the fisherman had ever seen in his life. The stranger grasped him tightly by the shoulders, and jumped clean off the cliff, pulling the fisherman with him. The instant the stranegr touched the water, he changed into a big, powerful bull seal, and the fingers on the fishermans shoudler became teeth. Try as he might, and he tried mightily hard, the fisherman Could not break that grip, and his chest beagn to ache with the effort of holding his breath, as he was dragged deeper and deeper. Now his chest brued as though it was on fire, and a blackness nibbled at the edges of his vision. Then, he knew, he was beaten, and with a gasp he opened his mouth, and the sea filled his lungs.

But that is not the end of the story. After some time, the fisherman awoke. His chest ached, and his head too. He felt around him, and felt damp rock. As he grew used to the dim light, he saw the stranger standing over him. The seal man helped the fisherman to his feet, then said, “'There is someone I would like you to meet,” and led him towards the back of the cave. There, on a rough bed of kelp, lay a young man. His chest was cut open in a wound that ran from shoulder to hip.

'This is my son,' said the seal man, 'and, if he is not healed soon, he will die. Oh, and I believe that this is yours' and he reached down beside the bed, and pulled from beneath the kelp the fisherman’s knife. The fisherman was now deeply afraid, and begining to feel ashamed. 'Have you brought me here for vengeance ?', he asked the seal-man. 'What can I do to you, other than kill you ?', replied the selkie 'And if I did that, would that help my son ? No, I have brought you here to help, if you will. Only the hand that casued the wound can heal the wound' The fisherman looked at the youth, at his pale flesh and the cruel gash across his chest. He thought of how he had resented and hated the seals. But still he said 'What must I do ?' 'Simply touch his hurt' said the seal-man.

And so, the fisherman bent forward and touched a trembling hand to the start of the wound, on the youth's shoulder. The flesh was deadly cold, and, as he drew his hand slowly along the gash, the fisherman felt an icy, burning pain crawl across his own chest. But, as his hand passed allong, the wound closed, as easily as you would close a jacket, and the flesh grew warm and the colour seeped back into it.

By the time he was halfway along the wound, the fisherman could hardly breathe for the pain in his own chest, and, as he reached the hip, and the wound was finally closed, he fell to his knees, gasping and panting. It seemed as though hsi own life had flowed out of his hand and into the young seal-man. He fell forward, and slept, exhausted. When he awoke, he was lying on the shore, at the foot of the cliffs. A little brusied and battered, but alive. He told those who asked that he had slipped, and fallen over the cliffs. Some believed him , some did not. But he never told another soul that, when he awoke, lying next to him on the shingle was a neat pile of his nets. Not only mended, but better than ever - and they always gave him a good catch. And on top of the nets was a creel. Inside were two of the biggest lobsters he had ever seen

From that day on, he was one fishreman that never hurt hair or hide of seal, and, if he was a few fish short from one net or another from time to time, he woudl shrug, and smile, and say 'Why not ? They have to live as well'

Stirling Thompson:
The Kelpie of Loch Garve

The story of the Kelpie of Loch Garve (so it's technically an Each Uisge, but we'll keep it as Kelpie for this story) tells of a Kelpie that lived at the depths of the loch with his wife.

Now the Kelpie obviously loved his cold wet lair at the bottom of the loch, and was well settled in his element. Although he would make trips on land (most likely hunting mortals) he was always glad to get home. His wife, however, was less impressed. She always felt the terrible cold, and shivered endlessly in that miserable lair at the bottom of the murky loch. At first the Kelpie put this down to her making a fuss over nothing, but as time went by she became more and more unhappy. Fearing that she might leave him, and worried about her welfare, the Kelpie racked his brains wondering what to do.

The very next day he made a decision. He went to shore and transformed himself into a handsome jet-black stallion (as kelpies mostly do) and made for the cottage of a local famous builder. The Kelpie tramped at the hearthstone until the man came out. Seeing this handsome black stallion standing before him, the man, either against his better judgement or oblivious to the warnings of waterhorses, was enticed to climb upon the horse's back. Immediately he became stuck fast, and the Kelpie galloped at high speed towards the loch with the terrified builder on his back. The Kelpie plunged into the icy waters, his tail pounding the surface like a thunder crash. As the two made their descent the reluctant passenger uttered a prayer. In what seemed like an age the builder was carried down into the black waters, but for some reason did not drown.

When they reached the bottom the Kelpie let the builder dismount, explained his predicament, and promised no hurt upon the builder or his family. He made a bargain that if the builder would do a small favour, then he and his family would have a plentiful supply of fish until the day he died: they would never want for food from the loch.

 So the builder - in accordance with the Kelpies wishes - set about building a huge magnificent fireplace and lum the like of which no mortal eyes had ever seen. The great chimney twisted upwards through the dark waters to almost the surface, to carry the smoke far away from the lair. Then the fireplace was lit and a great fire sprang up and began warming the submerged home. When the Kelpie saw the sheer delight upon his dear wife's face, he knew that the builder had fulfilled his bargain and more!

He took the builder back up through the dark, icy waters, and to his house, as if nothing had gone amiss that night - for time in the lands of the faeries does not have the same meaning here. True to his word the Kelpie never forgot the work of the tradesman. The builder and his family were never unable to put fish on the table, and lived like royalty.

But what of the Kelpie and his wife? Well, when the loch freezes over in the midst of the coldest winters, some say there is still to this day a patch of water that never freezes; a small patch of water that never cools like the rest of the loch. Perhaps where a tall lum nearly reaches the surface. This is because a fire still burns merrily in the lair of the Kelpie and his happy wife.

Donna:
Stu,
I enjoy the poems, and the jokes really brighten my day, but I LOVE these stories!

Donna

Barbara:
That was a great story Stu.  Shows what wonderful imaginations our ancestors had.  :)

Barbara

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