Folklore Friday - The Legend of the Vanishing Wedding Feast

Old Castle Lachlan, Strathlachlan, Scotland

Old Castle Lachlan might look like a ruin today, but step with me through a mist of fantasy and visit a bustling castle where an angry brùnaidh resides.

The MacLachlan, seeing his territories surrounded by Campbells, has decided to wed a Campbell lass. Ignoring the rants of the MacLachlan clan brownie, the chief of clan MacLaclan has gone to great expense and decorated his castle on Loch Fyne for the event.

Here is my version of the tale...

The Legend of the Vanishing Wedding Feast
by Dawn Marie Hamilton

"Ouch." Had someone pinched her?

The somber friar raised his gaze from his prayer book. "Is anything wrong, m'lady?"

Heat flashed across Mairi's chest and neck. She glanced at the man standing at her side, the one she met a mere few hours ago.

Iain glared at the shingle at her feet. He probably believed the stones poked through her thin bridal slippers and caused the outburst. Though the shingle made the proceedings uncomfortable, that wasn't what made her screech. Something sharp jabbed her hip, but no one stood near enough to inflict such abuse.

"All is well." She smiled at Father Ambrose. "Please, continue."

Mairi's gaze drifted over the faces of those who'd gathered to witness the uniting of two clans in peace. Bah. Her marriage to the Chief of Clan MacLachlan would change nothing. Her grandfather's quest for more land proved insatiable.

Where was Caitrina? Mairi couldn't find her amidst the crowd. Had the faerie forsaken her? Never. Caitrina must have hidden within a glamour of invisibility.

The friar's voice droned on. Mairi fixed her stare on the water, the ceremony taking place on the shore of Loch Fyne. The MacLachlan chapel within the castle tower was unable to accommodate the throngs of Campbells who'd come to witness the spectacle of her ruin.

She risked a sideways glance at Iain. His features remained inscrutable.

He'd dressed for the occasion in a crisp saffron leine and colorful plaide of red and blue. Two warrior braids hung to one side of his strong jaw and his chestnut hair glistened in the sunlight. When he leveled his stare on her, his sapphire eyes sparkled.

A shiver shimmied along her spine, and she couldn't suppress the prick of fear tangled with excitement for the bedding to come. How would she survive? A large man, he'd rip her asunder.

She moistened her lips. His eyes flared before he looked away.

"Join hands." Father Ambrose grasped her right hand and presented it to Iain who clasped her fingers with his left.

She gasped. A tingle spread gooseflesh up her arm. Iain's lips quirked into the first smile she'd seen from him since she'd arrived at Castle Lachlan.

The friar cleared his throat. "Is there any among the gathered with reason this couple should not wed?"

Mairi flinched when something pricked her arse. She looked over her shoulder, but no one was there. She raised her gaze to Iain.

His eyes sobered with concern and he fingered the ornamental dagger handle protruding from a sheath at his waist with his free hand.

"I pronounce thee man and wife."

Grumbling rose from the crowd, and Iain's expression turned fierce. No one dared step forward to denounce the union on fear of retribution.


With his palm cradling her back, Iain guided his new wife through the gathering of clansmen loitering within his council chamber toward the dais and head table. Silky strands of strawberry blond hair caressed his fingers. The scent of lavender teased his senses. She seemed a wee, fragile lass, but after gazing into her silver eyes, he sensed her backbone. She'd need it to endure the challenging times ahead.

"He is a fool to wed a Campbell." The whisper came from amidst the crowd.

He felt Mairi flinch through the fabric of her silver gown, and he clamped his jaw tight. They could say what they wanted. He'd set his course. Marriage was the only way to ensure peace and prosperity.

Iain seated his wife to his right. He supposed he should say something to soothe her, but he wasn't adept with sweet words.

"Ignore the barbs. I am pleased with you, wife."

"And I with you, husband." Her eyes spoke volumes to the contrary, though her notion of duty would change when he convinced her to…

He couldn't hope for love, but would settle for trust.

"Quiet," he bellowed at the noisy crowd and inclined his head to the friar.

As Father Ambrose rose to say grace, the feast vanished from the tables in a fine, gray mist. Surprised and angry voices echoed through the chamber.

Iain slammed a fist on the table. Munn. The damn brùnaidh caused this havoc.

"Ach, my apologies. I shall ensure the situation remedied," Iain stammered as he clasped Mairi's hand and stood. "Please, come with me, my dear. We will see to the feast for our guests."

Wide eyes searched his face, but she rose without question and followed him to the vaults along with several servants. All was quiet. They found no trace of Munn or the stolen victuals.

Dropping Mairi's hand, Iain raised a tight fist. "Where are you wee man? Where is my wedding feast? Show yourself or I will banish you to the darkest, coldest, cruelest corner of the Highlands."

Silence. Then a faint jingle of silver spoons tingled in the damp air.

Iain sighed. His ranting got them nowhere.

"Munn, return the feast. Dinnae disgrace the MacLachlan name or your own by forcing me to serve our Campbell guests naught but scraps."

"Ach, aye. The Campbells will enjoy the fine catch from our braw rivers and the bounty of our woods. 'Twill naught be long until the Campbells steal our fair lands as well," Munn muttered.

"Please." Mairi stepped forward and sweetly implored.

Part of the feast was thrust into the hands of startled servants, the rest landed upon tables that appeared along with the food.

With a nod from Iain, the servants rushed to serve the dishes to the guests.

When he caught Mari's gaze, he expected to glimpse horror. Instead, she laughed. "I see we both have wielders of magic. And I think your Munn may have pinched me during the ceremony."

"What?"

"I have forgiven him. And I will explain about Caitrina after the feast."

Iain didn't care who Caitrina was. He wanted to kiss his persuasive wife. And that was what he did. When she melted into him, his heart leapt with joy.

~

The End

This story ends happily for Mairi and Iain, though Munn held hatred for the Campbells deep within his soul for generations. The Legend of the Vanishing Wedding Feast will be the basis for a prequel to the Highland Gardens series.

To learn more about the brùnaidh—the Scottish brownie click here.

~Dawn Marie

 

Folklore Friday: Brùnaidh (Scottish Brownie)

Contradictory information regarding the diminutive creatures known to the Lowland Scots as brownie and to those who speak the Scottish Gaelic as brùnaidh abounds. I've seen where the brùnaidh is mistakenly lumped together with the ùruisg and the gruagach but each is a separate species of otherworldly creature, the brùnaidh being of the household, whereas the others are creatures of nature.

My first exposure to brownies was as a young Girl Scout. Scouting Brownies take their name from the folklore brownies, as the wee men are a model for the young girls due to the brownie's penchant to assist in household chores, asking for only a bowl of cream or a honey cake for payment.

I became reacquainted with the brùnaidh while doing research for my first romance novel. Thus was born my Highland Gardens series, which revolves around the MacLachlan clan, who resided at Old Castle Lachlan on the shore of Loch Fyne. The clan has several legends regarding their clan brownie. The History and Legends of Clan MacLachlan, written and edited by James A. Finegan, states, "The MacLachlan's brounie, known as both Harry and Munn, has been associated with the clan for so many generations that no one really knows when the brounie first appeared." The legends are from 1746 and before.

In the classic work, Faeries, from Brian Froud and Alan Lee—I have the twenty-fifth anniversary edition—brownies are introduced as a species of faerie. The brownie is described as a shaggy male of short stature, no more than twenty-five inches tall, wearing either tattered garments or nothing at all. It is also suggested that brownies living in the Highlands have no fingers or toes, whereas those living in the Lowlands have no noses.

Other references tell a different tale. "In appearance, they (brownies) have been variously described, from squat, shaggy, naked creatures to tall, handsome and well proportioned. They usually kept to themselves, being mostly solitaries, unlike the fairies who were notably gregarious." –Scottish Fairy Belief by Lizanne Henderson and Edward J. Cowan

Although few brownie names are known, there are some who've achieved notoriety: Billie Blin, Aiken Drum, Wag-at-the-wa', and Puddlefoot. With Meg Mullach, also known as Hairy Meg, being one of the few females.

Superstitions of the Highlands and Islands of Scotland, by John Gregorson Campbell is available on the internet for download and provides additional references to the wee men.

As historical figures might be included in a story, why not take the folklore and, using creative license, tweak the nature of these otherworldly beings to include them in romance novels? In my Highland Gardens series, I borrowed the incredibly mischievous brùnaidh of MacLachlan legend. Since brownies are known to have a keen sense of responsibility, Munn is duty bound to the Chiefs of Clan MacLachlan. Part of the twist since many accounts state brownies in general prefer mistresses to masters. In the series, Munn creates all kinds of havoc for my heroes and heroines.

Some say brownies evolved from the lore of the elf, and in my mind, they have similar physical characteristics. The included drawing is of an ancient elf, but his image is similar to the one I imagine for a brownie.

The Brunaidh, whose duty it was to watch over Clan MacLachlan, sat on a stool near the fire, reciting rhymes for Elspeth. He waved his arms as he spoke. Dressed for foolery, the brownie wore baggy brown leather trews and a knee length leine of fine woolen cloth secured at the waist by a thick leather belt adorned with bronze. Around his shoulders, he wore a green brat held in place by a bronze brooch with a large clear crystal in the center. He tapped his feet in rhythm to the cadence of his voice. On those wee feet, he wore green boots with toes that pointed upward.

"Munn," Patrick bellowed.

The little man twisted around, his whisker-covered face scrunched up more than usual. Panic flashed in blue-green eyes, and he jumped to his full three-foot height. His bent nose twitched and he grabbed hold of the funny-looking pointed green cap he always wore.

Just Beyond the Garden Gate by Dawn Marie Hamilton

 
Have you read a story including such creatures? What do you think of fae creatures in romance novels?

~Dawn Marie

Folklore Friday - Ghillie Dhu—Scottish Forest Faeries

TGIF. I'm at Voices From the Heart today, talking about recharging the muse and sharing a couple of waterfall photos from Shenandoah National Forest. And Paranormal Unbound is featuring the 2013 Golden Heart Finalists in Paranormal Romance, including me. Very excited! Stop by if you have a moment.

The following article was previously posted at Celtic Hearts and Castles & Guns.

The Ghillie Dhu

 

The Ghillie Dhu or Ghillie Dubh are solitary faeries believed to reside within Scottish forests, especially near Gairloch in Ross-shire, though one account claims many emigrated to forests in Northern America after following Scottish fur trappers to French Canada in the late 1700's.

Imagine a wee man of about three feet tall, dressed in garments made from leaves and moss, with hair black as a moonless night and eyes the deepest brown of a hazel nut. 'Tis said his skin color changes from green to brown to green with the seasons. He lives in the trees, preferring birch, and protects the woodland. He seems to be kind to children, with a nature both wild and shy. In Wonder Tales fromScottish Myth and Legend, Donald Alexander Mackenzie tells the tale of young Jessie Macrae who upon getting lost in the forest is directed home by a Ghillie Dhu.

Some accounts claim him to be a harmless sprite, while others recount a darker side. His name means dark servant to match his dark hair and dark eyes and darker temperament. Be wary of venturing into the forest at night when the Ghillie Dhu are known to be most active, for if offended by an adult human the wee man will reach out with thin, long arms and crush him in his angry embrace, leaving the human to rot into earthy compost. Instead, Ghillie Dhu might kidnap the human and drag him into faerieland to be enslaved.

An excellent depiction of a Ghille Dhu illustrated by Brian Froud can be found in the wonderful book, Faeries.

Are you afraid to walk in the forest alone at night?


The virtual tour for Just Beyond the Garden Gate continues...

 

Next week's tour stops:

 

06/11/13 Romance Junkies - Guest Post

06/12/13 Nancy Lee Badger’s Blog - Guest Post

06/13/13 Books ‘a la Mode - Interview
06/14/13 Star Crossed Romance - Guest Post



~Dawn Marie

Folklore Friday - The Scottish Shellycoat and Other Bogymen

Previously posted at Castles & Guns.

Bogie, or bogyman, is an overall term used for a host of goblins who can be dangerous or mischievous, and others with shape-shifting ability.

When I was a wee child, I thought a bogyman lived under my bed. Part of the belief came from tales my siblings terrified me with of the purple people eater. The novelty song, The Purple People Eater, inspired their stories. Check out Kidsongs for lyrics.

Of course, my brother and sister expanded on the alien's dietary preference and convinced me the creature came to earth to eat children and was more than likely living under my bed.

While doing research recently, delving into my faerie reference books, hunting for a fae creature to incorporate into one of my Highland Gardens novels, I came across a Scottish bogie known to live within sluggish, fresh water streams. The shellycoat matched my search criteria—a homely yet cute creature that causes mischief by leading travelers astray.

At least that's how I felt about the depiction of the creature found in Faeries by Brian Froud and Alan Lee. I imagine my heroine taking the shellycoat's advice and getting twisted and turned around and completely lost, needing rescue.

The name shellycoat comes from the way he covers his body with shells that rattle when he moves. I picture snails and muscles, and other such crustaceans covering a clammy body. Just imagine the smell—dank, stagnant, pond scum.

His facial skin—usually all a person can see—is pale green in color. His nose flat and broad. His eyes bulging. Reminds me of a frog. A few strands of thin, black hair hangs around his face, but the shells cover most of his head like a hood.

Although considered relatively harmless as far as fae creatures go, and less deadly than the purple people eater of my childhood, the shellycoat takes pleasure in bewildering travelers by misleading them and getting them lost.

What type of bogeymen kept you awake at night?

~Dawn Marie

Urisk—Scottish Solitary Faerie

This article was previously posted at Castles & Guns and Celtic Hearts...

Many a man or woman has sought release from their woes by visiting wild places within the woodland. Seeking ease, they're attracted to secluded pools. Places supportive of contemplation. If you are of the Celtic bent, you probably know that in the dark forests of Scotland, more likely than not, an individual chances meeting a creature so peculiar they'll scurry back to civilization, heart in throat.

'Tis sad. The urisk, a humble creature by nature, is lonely and wants to make friends. Most humans shun the poor fellow because of his uncomely appearance, found by many to be horrifying and frightening.

Still, he holds hope someday someone will come along and befriend him.

"What does he look like?" you ask.

The gangling urisk appears an aging bald creature with pointed ears. His face is long and drawn. He peers at you through soulful rounded eyes. He sports a wiry goatee on his chin. His emaciated, hairless torso is somewhat human-like—his lower half goat-like with shaggy fur. His limbs are long and thin and he walks on cloven feet.

Many confuse the urisk (ùruisg) with the brownie (brùnaidh), though I believe they are each a distinct variety of Scottish solitary faerie. And look nothing alike.

A wonderfully dark depiction of the urisk can be found in the illustrated book, Faeries, by Brian Froud and Alan Lee.


Would you be frightened if you met an urisk in the woods? Or would you make friends with him?

 

~Dawn Marie

The Fachan from the West Highlands of Scotland

This article was previously posted at Castles & Guns and Celtic Hearts...

One of my favorite coffee table books is Faeries, illustrated by Brian Froud and Alan Lee. I love to browse through the pages and enjoy the wonderful art.

I flip to a new page, and a fachan stares at me through his single eyeball positioned in the center of his forehead like that of the Cyclops, the primordial race of giants from Greek mythology. The reddish-purple iris surrounded by blood-shot white seems to watch me as I pace about the room. My spine tingles with shivers.

Good thing I have a strong heart since reports claim his grotesque appearance can cause a heart attack.

He stands erect on his only muscular leg at about three feet of height. He covers his egg-shaped body with a loose shirt made from blue-green feathers. Although I can't smell him, others allege his stench is worse than that of an ordinary ogre.

I imagine rotten eggs or a science project gone wrong. My nose twitches at the thought.

A single short arm with a big hand protrudes from under his chin. I certainly don't want to get close to his claw-like fingernails or the sharp teeth visible when he opens his wide mouth.

Most of his skin is a dirty tan—except for the mottled green of his lips, his bulbous nose and the tips of his large pointed ears. A few strands of wiry black hair top his head, matching the hair at the tips of his ears.

Rumors abound that the unusual creature is extremely agile with its flat-footed hop.

I cautiously approach the table and snap the book closed. My neighbors probably hear my sigh of relief.

Many believe fachans live in the depths of caves in the West Highlands of Scotland. Since known to dislike humans, wise men and women are prudent to stay away.

Are there other Scottish creatures of legend you try to avoid? Please share.

~Dawn Marie Hamilton

The Ceasg and the Baobhan Sith

I post at the Celtic Hearts blog once a month and will include those posts here in addition. This is the post from yesterday...

Do Mermaids Have Fangs?

 

Did you see the movie Pirates of the Caribbean, On Stranger Tides? I wonder if there exists a basis for mermaids with fangs. Do any of the mermaid legends mention fangs? What about Scottish folklore? Could a mermaid with fangs be drawn from the merging of two mythical Scottish fae creatures?

Perhaps the first is the ceasg or maighdean na tuinne (maiden of the wave), a Scottish mermaid of the Highlands. Appearing as a half-human woman and half-grilse (salmon), the ceasg were said to lure young men into the sea's depths. Other accounts describe love affairs between the mermaids and human males with the offspring of these relationships becoming great sailors and sea captains. Some tales attribute the mermaids with the ability to grant three wishes if captured. Of course, to force such action, the mermaid's soul must be destroyed.

The second, the baobhan sith, is a vampiric faerie known to be dangerous and evil. Although sometimes taking the form of a crow or raven, the baohan sith more often appears as a beautiful young woman, wearing a long green gown to hide her hoofed-feet. On a single evening each year, she rises from her grave to seduce a young man into dancing with her until he is tired and weak from the drinking of his blood.

At first, I believed the combining of these two creatures would produce a mermaid with fangs. Then I read an account stating the baobhan sith use long fingernails to draw the blood of their victims.

So what do you think? Do mermaids have fangs?

 

~Dawn Marie