At the highest point of this hill is a cairn, with traces of a kerb. It does look a little bit Odd, from this geograph photo by Ken Craig: http://www.geograph.org.uk/photo/534761
Or is that just because of the hint of mist?
The gudeman of Siggie Taft had been at Ori with his oil teind and when returning home in the humin riding on a grey mare and leading a red staig he had to pass Stakkaberg, a feat which in those days required both nerve and hardihood. But Siggie Taft possessed both in a remarkable degree for it was said of him that he neither feared man nor deil in light or mirk.
As he rode slowly along he heard a voice saying "Du 'at rides de grey and rins de red tell Tona Tivla 'at Fona Fivla is faan i' de Velyna Vatyna." On coming to his house, as he passed the byre door, he called out the strange words he had heard and was surprised to see an "uncan" woman jump up from the side of his cow and in her hurry she left a pan of curious workmanship standing in the bizzi (stall in a byre). As the woman disappeared through the byre lum she explained "O care an' dol, dat's my bairn 'ats faan i' de kirnin watter."
The milk pan thus secured was kept in the house of Taft for generations and always brought luck. But it had to be sained every night and left hanging in de ringalodi [crock and links for suspending a pot over the fire]. One night this duty was neglected and in the morning the pan had disappeared. After this the Trows seemed to have taken a spite at the people of Siggie Taft.
Noted down from the narration of William Laurenson, Aith, Fetlar, by E.S. Reid Tate.
From the Shetland Folk-book II, but I have copied it from Katherine Briggs's 'Dictionary of British Folk-Tales'.