Rhiannon

The earliest known account of the Dwarfie Stone is in a Latin description of Orkney in 1529 by Jo. Ben, an unknown author, variously identified as John the Benedictine, or John Bellenden. Ben relates that the chambers had been originally made by a giant (i.e., in point of strength) and his wife, and that the latter was enceinte at the time, as was shown by her bed, which had the shape of her body. He was unable to account for the use of the door stone farther than that it was related that another giant, who was at enmity with the occupant of the stone and grieved at his prosperity, made the door stone to fit the size of the entrance so that the occupant might be shut in and perish from hunger, and that thereafter when he himself ruled the island he might have the stone for his own use. With this end in view the other giant took the stone, thus made, to the top of the mountain, and with his arms threw it down into the entrance. The giant inside awakened, and found himself in a quandary, being unable to get out, whereupon he made a hole in the roof with his mallets, and so escaped.

From A W Johnston’s article on the Dwarfie Stone in ‘The Reliquary’ April 1896. He also writes:
“Dr. Clouston, in his Guide to Orkney [1862], states that offerings used to be left in the stone by visitors.”

also that
In Bleau’s Atlas (1662) the stone is called the Dwarves’ Stone, pumilionum lapis, or commonly “Dwarfie Steene.” It is also related that it was a common belief that the cells conduced to the begetting of children by those couples who might live in them.
and
It may be noted that Ben, in 1529, described the doorstone as stopping the entrance, ostium habet obtrusum lapide; later writers, including Ployen, in 1839, describe it as standing before the entrance.
Perhaps that shouldn’t be given any more credence than the folklore though? as early accounts often get the measurements of the stone completely wrong, and we can be pretty sure those haven’t changed at least.

Now I’m not 100% certain this is the right stone. But it could well be. The article mentions Cowdenknowes and Smailholme, and Gordon, all of which are near. Also the cottage – which although isn’t there now, is mentioned on the RCAHMs record as having been demolished .

On a knoll by the side of [the] road there was an old thatched cottage, with an immense upright block of stone at the end of it. The place was called ‘Standing Stone,’ and there was a popular rhyme attached, which used regularly to afford us matter for the most serious inquiry, whether superstitious, mythological, or historical; shedding also a mysterious interest on the house itself and its inhabitants.

The doggerel couplet involved a favourite quirk with the vulgar of most rural districts, though somehow or other it always seemed to have in this case an unusually imposing effect--

‘When Stannin’-Stane hears the cock craw,
It wheels about, and faces Gordon Law.‘

He then goes on (at great length) to describe a boyhood incident when there was a ‘the most awful thunder-storm I ever witnessed’ and he and his friend were terrified by the stone’s ‘black shape as silent as death’ waiting to act as their gravestone. ‘Drenched we were to the skin, yet couldn’t think of going up to ask shelter.‘

From Chamber’s Edinburgh Journal of Nov. 11th, 1848.

A bit of a silly story:

As late as a few years prior to the demolition of the Stone of Odin, a woman was known to have travelled about 12 miles to lay her pain-racked head within the healing embraces of Odin’s Monolith. One can picture her disappointment on finding that her low stature precluded her from this privelege. After a little thought she gathered some small stones, and by standing upon them got her head into the desired hole. Whilst thus dedicating herself to the healer, the stones slipped away from beneath her and she was left with her head in the chill, relentless grasp of Odin. After several painful and frantic efforts she managed to extricate her head, and found that her neuralgia was cured, and that her only pains were where her head and Odin had come into too close grips.

From ‘Standing Stones and Maeshowe of Stenness.’ by Magnus Spence, in the Scottish Review of 1893 (v22, p401).

Various have been the conjectures as to the origin of the erection of the [stones]; they are commonly known by the name of the Standing Stanes of Lundy, a seat belonging to a very old family of the name of Lundin, now to Sir William Erskine, near Largo in Fife.

Tradition tells us, they were placed there in memory of that victory gained by Constantine II. over Hubba, one of the generals of the Danish invaders, about the year 874. It is certain that battle was fought near this spot; but whether these were in memory of the action or not, I cannot determine: It is more than probable they were of a much older date.

I have been found fault with for looking farther back than I should upon a former occasion, and by a person who never examined the subject which I endeavoured to give an account of. I shall not here controvert his arguments; I do not sit down for that purpose: My aim is to amuse myself at a leisure hour, and add my mite to an useful and entertaining publication.

From a clearly irritated correspondent in the Edinburgh Magazine of November 1785 (p324).

The next day we repaired to the place, and shortly after we were met by Miss Pickford [..] who most obligingly gave us the history of the mound in question. She narrated as follows:-

‘The place was called from time immemorial ‘The Gospel Hillock;’ the mound was held in considerable estimation and reverence, as its name imports, for here, in perilous times, people repaired for religious purposes, and holy persons preached and read the scriptures, whence it had obtained the name by which it was known.‘

We of course assented with her on its sacred character, and we thanked her for the valuable information we had obtained, and after her departure we commenced our operations with spade and pick, not doubting that ere long by these means the exact nature of ‘Gospel Hillock’ would tell a different tale as to its origin and purpose.

You can see a diagram of the three disturbed occupants of the barrow here in the article ‘Archaeological notes made by Captain Francis Dubois Lukis, H. M. ‘s 64th Regiment, during a visit to Buxton, Derbyshire, in 1865’ in ‘Reliquary and Illustrated Archaeologist.‘

This camp is situated upon the brow of a hill, next the Severn, so as to command an extensive view of that river, and every thing passing upon it. ‘Tis supposed to be Saxon, but no mention is made of it in the Chronicle, nor by any of the antient writers.

Tradition will have it to be the work of Offa, king of the Mercians, whose coffin the common people think was dug out of a tumulus, at Over, in this parish, in the year 1650, but Florilegius affirms, that he was buried at Bedford, whose authority, in this matter, ought to be preferred to vulgar opinion...

From ‘A New History of Gloucestershire’ by Samuel Rudder, 1779 (p222).

Six late-4th century bronze coins were found around one of the chambers of this barrow. Now it’s always possible that this was the result of a visitor with holes in his or her pockets. And there’s also a traditional idea of a ‘hoard’ of coins, where people stashed them intending to come back. But according to this article*coins of this era have been found at various prehistoric sites... as though they were left as some kind of nod to the local ancestors – perhaps a gift, or a payment for something, or you know, just your vague ‘votive / ritual activity’ type thing. I suppose one question would be how much were the coins worth? Another thing could be what the coins symbolised to their owners – was having money a flashy thing? and leaving money (rather than leaving a different sort of thing) a way of showing your status to the dead/living, – or was cash just the way their society worked by that time, and the obvious thing to leave? Questions questions.

*’Roman Wealth, Native Ritual: Coin Hoards within and beyond Roman Britain’ by N. B. Aitchison, in World Archaeology, Vol. 20, No. 2 (1988), pp. 270-284.

This sensibly named hill is right between Battlesbury Camp and Scratchbury, and is crowned by a be-treed round barrow.

Under it’s alternative name, Starr Hill, it was the location for many a ufo sighting during the famous Warminster ufo flap in the 1960s.
ufo-warminster.co.uk/index.html

Of course its proximity to Salisbury Plain has nothing to do with strange aerial lights. Really.

If you want to walk to the top of Garn Bentyrch, the footpath will take you straight past Ffynnon Gybi, a holy well, which emerges on the south east side of the hill.

Ffynnon Gybi, or St. Cybi’s Well, in the parish of Llangybi [..] there the girls who wished to know their lover’s intentions would spread their pocket-handkerchiefs on the water of the well, and, if the water pushed the handkerchiefs to the south – in Welsh i’r de – they knew that everything was right – in Welsh o dde – and that their lovers were honest and honourable in their intentions; but, if the water shifted the handkerchiefs northwards, they concluded the contrary. A reference to this is made in severe terms by a modern Welsh poet, as follows:-

Ambell ddyn, gwaelddyn, a gyrch
I bant goris Moel Bentyrch,
Mewn gobaith mai hen Gybi
Glodfawr sydd yn llwyddaw’r lli.

Some folks, worthless folks, visit
A hollow below Moel Bentyrch,
In hopes that ancient Kybi
Of noble fame blesses the flood.

From ‘Sacred Wells in Wales’ by John Rhys and T. E. Morris, in
Folklore, Vol. 4, No. 1 (Mar., 1893), pp. 55-79.

T E Morris added: “I was [..] at Llangybi, in Carnarvonshire, about two years ago, and saw Ffynnon Gybi (St. Cybi’s Well), which lies in a small dale near the parish church, and had been walled in and flagged. It is a large square well, and was formerly very much resorted to by persons suffering from rheumatism and other complaints. To effect a cure it was necessary to bathe in the well; and the building adjoining, the ruins of which remain, was possibly used by the suffers.”

Perhaps no place in Ireland seems closer to the dark Celtic Otherworld than “Spink-ana-gaev"or Pinnacle Rock, a strange and eerie pile of boulders. “St Patrick’s Chair” is a massive block about 2 metres high, shaped like a chair and probably at least partly-artificial, sitting on a another large block amongst a dozen or more other blocks, one of which has a cup-mark and an unfinished cup-mark. Below the Chair is the well – in fact an open chamber above which is another massive boulder containing a fine bullaun 25 cms in diameter. It is said “never to run dry” – this is not surprising as the fern-covered site is like a miniature rain forest: every rock drips with water. A supporting boulder has a good cup-mark. Between the bullaun and the chair above are two Rag Trees, where some ‘offerings’ remain.

From Anthony Weir’s excellent ‘Irish Megaliths’ website.
irishmegaliths.org.uk/tyrone.htm

A little more detail from the NISMR:

“The chair faces S & is 1.7m high & 1.6m broad; the seat part is 0.75m high.

“The “well” consists of a large flat stone slab with a large bullaun & a possible smaller one on its upper face. There is a small cup mark carved on a supporting stone below. The large slab rests on several tumbled boulders. The bullaun is c.0.25m in diam. & 0.1m deep.”

According to the information in the NISMR, this is a portal tomb consisting of a cairn 27 x 10 x 2m, containing three cists. The one at the east end is large – 6ft by 4ft – and was accessed through two portal stones and a sill.

... this region is rich in places associated with the Patrician mission. A Neolithic chambered cairn on the south-west summit of Knockroe, to the south-east of Clogher, is called Carnfadrig [Carn Phadraig, ‘Patrick’s mound’], and due east of this, at Altadaven, is St Patrick’s Chair and Well, the latter comprising a large cupmark in a rock.

p129 in ‘Ireland: An Oxford Archaeological Guide to Sites from Earliest Times to AD 1600’, by Andrew Halpin, Conor Newman (2006).

According to tradition, the Passage tomb at the top of Knockmany Forest Park (reached by turning at the obelisk in Clogher), just north of Augher and overlooking the Clogher Valley, is the burial place of Baine, wife of Tuathal Teachtmhar. According to propagandist legends, Tuathal returned from exile and carved out Ireland’s fifth province of Mide (Meath).

p127 in ‘Ireland: An Oxford Archaeological Guide to Sites from Earliest Times to AD 1600’, by Andrew Halpin, Conor Newman (2006).

Regarding the Parish of Tongue:

A semicircular chain of mountains passes nearly through the middle of the parish, the principle of which are Knoc-Rheacadan, (The Watchman’s Hill), Ben Laoghal, and Ben Hope. Ben Laoghal is almost a perpendicular rock, deeply furrowed, and about half a mile high. As it declines towards the west, it is broken into several craggy points, on one of which are seen the remains of a building, called by the country people Caistal nan Druidhich, the Druid’s Castle.

...

Ben Laoghal is famed, in the songs of the bards, as the scene of the death of Dermid, a young man of such extraordinary beauty, that no female heart, of that age, could resist; and withal of such prowess, that even Fingal, whose wife he had seduced, would not himself attack him, but found means to get him slain by a boar. He and the lady, or the boar, (it is not yet determined which), lie buried at the foot of the mountain.

From v3 of the Statistical Account of Scotland of the 1790s.

Here at the mouth of Munlochy Bay there are the traces of more than half a dozen cairns. And at the end beyond them, on the tip of the land, a cave, about which the RCAHMS record says:

Craigiehowe Cave is traditionally inhabited by the Fingalians.
At the mouth is a dripping well which is resorted to as a cure for deafness.
W J Watson 1904. (Place Names of Ross and Cromarty).

The Statistical Account of the 1790s mentions that:

There is one large cove in this parish, at a place called Craig-a-chow (a name given it for its famous echo) at the entrance of the bay of Munlochy, it is very large and reaches far into the rock, so far indeed that the farmers in the neighbourhood were obliged to shut it up toward the hill with rubbish; for, when their sheep and goats strayed into it, they were never again seen nor heard of. The mouth of the cave was made up with stone and lime several years ago, by traders who secured and secreted smuggled goods in it; but since that contraband trade has been abolished on this coast, the mason work is fallen to decay. The cave could easily contain, I am told, a whole ship’s cargo.

In this cave, there is a spring of water to which the superstitious part of the people attribute a medicinal effect, and still repair to it on the first Sunday of every quarter, for a cure to any malady or disease under which they happen to labour. The water is said to be particularly famous for restoring the sense of hearing, by pouring a few drops of it into the affected ear; but this, in my opinion, must be owing to the cold and piercing quality of the water forcing its way through the obstructions of the ear. The coldness of this water is greater than any I ever tasted, and no wonder, for the sun never shines upon it, and it oozes through a considerable body of rock.

There is a hill called Dick, or Dickmount-law, which is said, in one of the statistical accounts, to signify a rampart of protection or peace. It is about a mile E. of the church, and seems to have been very much adapted to both the abovementioned purposes. On the top of this hill there is a large cairn, now covered with grass, and hollow in the middle, where the baron held his courts. From it there is oneof the most extensive prospects in this country. There is a view of the Grampian hills, for more than 30 miles, the coast of Fife for about 18 miles, the Isle of May, the Lowmonds of Fife, Largo-law, and the German Ocean for above 50 miles.

From the Statistical Account of Scotland by Sir John Sinclair, 1791-99, volume 12, p181.

We sat out after dinner for Breacacha, the family seat of the Laird of Col, accompanied by the young laird [...]. It is called Breacacha, or the Spotted Field, because in the summer it is enamelled with clover and daisies, as young Col told me. We passed by a place where there is a very large stone, I may call it a rock: -- ‘a vast weight for Ajax’. The tradition is, that a giant threw such another stone at his mistress, up to the top of a hill, at a small distance; and that she in return, threw this mass down to him. It was all in sport.

From ‘The Life of Samuel Johnson’ by James Boswell, 1791.

There is to be seen at Pendeen, a cave, known by the name of Pendeen Vau, and concerning which there are many ridiculous stories.*

It appears to have been one of those hiding places in which the Britons secreted themselves, and their property, from the attacks of the Saxons and Danes.

The cave is still almost entire, a circumstance which is principally owing to the superstitious fears of the inhabitants, many of whom, at this very day, entertain a dread of entering it.

*Oh the irony. This is in ‘A guide to the Mount’s bay and the Land’s end’ by John Ayrton Paris, published 1828. You can read it on Google Books.

I’m sure this has to be this stone – it’s in the right area and is the right size. But Ms S gives names for it that I can’t find elsewhere.

That [stone] of Succamires is a ... massive and lumpish one, being 12 feet high and about 24 feet in girth at the widest part, and may weigh from twenty to thirty tons. The stone is known, I believe, as the Berg of the Venastric, but I have heard it spoken of locally as “Mam” -- this endearing term being due to the fact that it can shelter the tender young sheep from every wind that may blow. Its situation is in a low-lying, rather marshy piece of ground near Lund in the Westing district.

It’s quite concerning that the fieldnote from FlopsyPete mentions dead sheep – is Mam not doing her job??

From Elizabeth Stout’s article “Some Shetland Brochs and Standing Stones” which is in PSAS volume 46 (1911-12).

I visited two standing stones in the island of Unst -- the stone of Clivocast and the stone of Succamires. The stone of Clivocast has the more graceful outline, and stands, a landmark for miles around, in a commanding position on a height to the east of Uyeasound and on the roadway to Muness.

En passant, an interesting traditionary derivation of the name Clivocast (which is more properly Klivincast) is preserved in the island. Two old witches lived, one in Fetlar, the other in Unst. One pair of tongs, anciently known as klivin, did duty for both their fires, and when Truylla in Fetla had made use of the klivin, she “cast” them across the sound to Truylla in Unst, and they landed in this spot, which is conveniently near to Fetlar.

The stone is composed of a soft grey slate, and seems to have been quarried near by, as there is an abundance of that particular stone all around. It is about 10 feet high and 3 1/2 feet wide at the base, tapering towards the top, and leans slightly to the northward. This stone is one of those which is not a distinct slab.

From Elizabeth Stout’s article “Some Shetland Brochs and Standing Stones” which is in PSAS volume 46 (1911-12).

There seems no end to the folklore this weird place has inspired:

This extraordinary work has probably been the pastime of some frolicsome shepherd, or secluded devotee; and the history of the stone having been lost, it was natural for the people of a superstitious age and country to apply a fabulous origin both to the stone and its inhabitants, in so retired and lonely place as the vale of Rockwich. The story, therefore, goes, that the Dwarfie-Stone fell from the moon, and that it was once the habitation of a fairy and his wife, a water-kelpie.

‘Memoranda from the Note-book of a Traveller’ in the Edinburgh Magazine and Literary Miscellany, Jan-June 1822.

Still, it’s clear that the stone was a popular tourist spot for travellers, so maybe the guides just told them whatever popped into their heads at the time. I think I would have done the same.

Another strange tale concerns the mountain to the north west, Ward Hill. It’s an isolated hill and the highest point on the island.

At the west of this stone stands an exceeding high mountain of a steep ascent, called the Ward-hill of Hoy, near the top of which, in the months of May, June, and July, about midnight, is seen something that shines and sparkles admirably, and which is often seen a great way off. It hath shined more brightly than it does now, and though many have climbed up the hill, and attempted to search for it, yet they could find nothing. The vulgar talk of it as some enchanted carbuncle, but I take it rather to be some water sliding down the face of a smooth rock, which, when the sun, at such a time, shines upon, the reflection causeth that admirable splendour.“-- Dr Wallace’s Description of the Islands of Orkney, 1700, p52.

I wonder what this can mean, whether it was an ongoing local tale or just an observation. Whichever, I don’t like his tone, talking of The Vulgar, and although a carbuncle is a gemstone, you can’t shake the feeling he’s well aware of its alternative meaning. And he blames it on the sun, and I know it can be quite light at midnight in the north of Scotland, but surely there’s not the angle for reflecting to be going on? dunno. It sounds nice though.

Robert the Bruce killed his rival, John ‘the Red’ Comyn, and is said to have hidden out here:

The steep hill, called the Dune of Tynron, of a considerable height, upon the top of which there hath been some habitation or fort. There have been in ancient times, on all hands of it, very thick woods, and great about that place, which made it the more inaccessible, into which K. Ro. Bruce is said to have been conducted by Roger Kirkpatrick of Closeburn, after they had killed the Cumin at Dumfries [...]

and it is reported, that during his abode there, he did often divert to a poor man’s cottage, named Brownrig, situate in a small parcel of stoney ground, incompassed with thick woods, where he was content sometimes with such mean accommodation as the place could afford.
The poor man’s wife being advised to petition the king for somewhat, was so modest in her desires, that she sought no more but security for the croft in her husband’s possession, and a liberty of pasturage for a very few cattle of different kinds on the hill, and the rest of the bounds.

MS. History of the Presbytery of Penpont, in the Advocates’ Library of Edinburgh.

From The Poetical Works of Sir Walter Scott, vol. VII (1822), which is readable on Google Books.

The Shropshire Walking website supports the idea that the naturally well protected corner of the fort, Oliver’s Point, is named after Cromwell – and apparently the round holes are brought into the story too: they’re said to be holes made by his soldiers to secure their cannons. Hmmm... you never know, but it sounds like a tall story to me....

Wikipedia. You’re never quite sure if it’s genuine or misinformation. But anyway, that never stops me normally, and it says:

Saint Peter was visiting Wales in order to watch over the Faithful. Taking offence at the sudden appearance of the Devil, he picked up a large number of boulders and placed them in his apron so as to carry them more easily. He then gave chase to the Devil, both chaser and chased (having the stature of giants) leaping from mountain-top to mountain-top. As the Devil alighted on Mynydd Machen he paused to catch his breath, whereupon Saint Peter began hurling the rocks at him, leaving a considerable amount of debris around his adversary in the process. The area of rocks is known to this day as “The Devil’s Apron Strings”.

The name of the cairn on top of the mountain, Twyn y Certhi could imply ‘Cerddi’? and thus mean the mound of singing/poetry. But perhaps someone knows better.

Naturally the fairies make this their home.

“In the early 10th [sic. a sure typo for 19th?] century, two men were ploughing in Mr. Le Cheminant’s field when their plough stopped, and could not be moved. Looking around for a cause, they found a holed kettle lying in the previous furrow. A voice asked them to get it mended immediately and to return it. They had the kettle repaired at the forge at Les Sablons and returned it to the furrow. Ploughing was resumed, but after a few turns around the field, the plough again stopped. The men then saw a bundle containing a freshly baked cake and a bottle of cider where the kettle had been placed. The same voice thanked them for their help and hoped that they would find the food and drink acceptable.”

also:

Some men were working in Mr. Le Cheminant’s field when they heard a voice cry, ‘La paile, la paile! Le four est caoud!’ (The peel, the peel! The oven is hot!). One man called out jokingly, ‘Baon, j’eraons d’la gache tantaot!’ (Right, we will shortly have some cake!). A cake, steaming from the oven, appeared nearby, and the man ran to pick it up, saying that he would take it to his wife. On stooping to retrieve it, however, he received a buffet across the head which felled him.

From ‘A Cake in the Furrow’ by S. P. Menefee, in Folklore, Vol. 91, No. 2 (1980).

This barrow is close to the village of Chopwell, and there’s also Chopwell Wood (the well chopped timber from which has been used in illustrious projects like Dunstanburgh Castle, the Tyne Bridge, and various warships. It’s now managed by the Forestry Commission). Tony Henderson’s article here explains that the name could come from ‘Ceoppa Well’ meaning a cattle watering place, or a local Saxon chief called Ceoppa.

He goes on to suggest that “legend has it he was buried in 685 at what is now Heavy Gate Farm, the site of a burial mound and well”.

What a very specific date... sounds suspiciously like one of those Victorian Gentleman Speculations rather than local lore. But it makes a good story, and you get the well thrown into the local name for free.

Es Fus de sa Geganta (the giantess’s spindle), Torralba d’en Salort, district of Alayor: a conspicuous standing stone in the midst of the talayotic settlement of Torralba d’en Salort.
The tradition is that at midnight the Ginatess from the talayotic well of Na Patarra nearby carries on her head a trough of water for sacrifice at the Taula (table shaped stone monument) among this group of monuments. After making the sacrifice she returns to the depths of the well. The giantess is the guardian of the monuments here, and after the sacrifice she makes rope with her spindle.

The well, dating almost certainly from the talayotic period, is among the most spectacular ancient structures in Menorca. The mouth is 7.50m by 5.00m; the depth 45.80m; and there are 199 rock-hewn steps in eight flights, with banisters 0.5m broad. It is not surprising that it has attracted folklore. Its construction was attributed to giants as early as the late 16th century.

The traditions connected with it are the subject of the poem ‘Na Patarra: Tradicio Menorquina,’ by Angel Ruiz y Pablo ([extract of] translation by Dr. Antoni Turull):

It is said there was an immense cave
Hewn from the living rock
By the hand of the heathen
Inhabitants of these islands ...

Hallowed by time the cave
As was the falling water;
Hands of priests hewed
The cavern in the living rock;
And the tradition tells
That a giantess
At midnight would carry out
The basin on her head
And in the light of the white moon
The friend of our ancestors
Would wash the living blood
From the sacrificial altar.

The sacred dolmen watched over
The virgin priestess
And at daybreak
She would return the basin to the cave
And in the sacred solitude
Of that heathen cavern,
The purified water
Issued forth night and day.

The Popular Names and Folklore of Prehistoric Sites in Menorca
L. V. Grinsell
Folklore, Vol. 95, No. 1 (1984), pp. 90-99.

The tradition of the Naveta dels Tudons and the Pou de sa Barrina (the well of the driller) is the most interesting of all the Menorcan traditions associated with prehistoric sites. Two young friends courting the same girl, who was undecided whom to marry, agreed on a wager to settle the matter for her. One would build a structure in the shape of an upturned boat (naveta) on the plain at Es Tudons, and the other would drill a well nearby until he struck water. The first to complete his task would marry the girl.

When the young man building the boat structure was on his way with the last stone he leaned over the top of the well and asked his friend how he was getting on. His friend replied that he had just struck water. In a fit of savage jealousy the builder of the navetathrew his last stone into the well and it killed his rival. The naveta builder was never seen again.

The earliest printed version of this tradition known to the writer is d’Albranca, the pseudonym for Francesc Camps y Mercadal (1910).

An attempt to date this tradition can take account of a good deal of circumstantial evidence. It is certainly not ‘tourist folklore’ or fakelore, as there was very little tourism in Menorca until the late 1950s, and the printed versions are nearly all in Spanish or Catalan and in publications of extremely limited circulation [...]

A glance at the Naveta dels Tudons, combined with a study of all known illustrations of it in elevation, dating from c. 1890, shows that since the late 19th century it has been in its present condition as far as its uppermost remaining course is concerned: only one slab of the top remaining course is in place. Unless the tradition originated when the top surviving course was more complete (in the writer’s opinion unlikely), the conclusion must be that popular tradition sees no significant difference between one stone missing from the top course and only one stone remaining of the top course.

Indeed, during a visit to Menorca in July 1981 the writer noted that at least one tourist guide told her party that the monument was completed all but for one stone; and the ‘average’ tourist seemed to accept this without question. This may become one of the first examples of fakelore to be produced for the Menorcan tourist trade.

From the esteemed L. V. Grinsell, in ‘The Popular Names and Folklore of Prehistoric Sites in Menorca’ – Folklore, Vol. 95, No. 1 (1984), pp. 90-99.

Knockma Hill is topped with prehistoric cairns. But also it’s the home of the fairies.

The soft breezes that pass one in an evening in West Galway are called fairy paths. They are said to be due to the the flight of a band of the good people on their way to Cnockmaa (Hill of the Plain), near Castle Hackett, on the east of Lough Corrib, which is their great resort in Connaught. [...] A soft hot blast indicates the presence of a good fairy; while a sudden shiver shows that a bad one is near.

Notes on Irish Folk-Lore by G. H. Kinahan in The Folk-Lore Record, Vol. 4, (1881), pp. 96-125.

In Evans-Wentz’s classic ‘The Fairy-Faith in Celtic Countries’, his informant Mr John Glynn, the town clerk of Tuam, mentions that:

“The whole of Knock Ma (Cnoc Meadha) which probably means Hill of the Plain, is said to be the palace of Finvara, king of the Connaught fairies. There are a good many legends about Finvara, but very few about Queen Maeve in this region.”

“During 1846-7 the potato crop in Ireland was a failure, and very much suffering resulted. At the times, the country people in these parts attributed the famine to disturbed conditions in the fairy world. Old Thady Steed once told me about the conditions then prevailing, “Sure, we couldn’t be any other way; and I saw the good people and hundreds besides me saw them fighting in the sky over Knock Ma and on towards Galway.” And I heard others say they saw the fighting also.‘

Half a mile east of Kilquiggan, on the boundary of Aughowle and Mullinacuff, co. Wicklow, there is an old church alongside which is a bullan (stone basin), a baptismal or holy-water font. An English farmer named Tomkins took the bullan for a trough to feed his pigs, but had to bring it back again, as all his pigs died.

Notes on Irish Folk-Lore Notes on Irish Folk-Lore G. H. Kinahan The Folk-Lore Record, Vol. 4, (1881), pp. 96-125.

Turning to the south side of Dublin, in the grounds of “Mount Venus,” a domain on the top of the hills, seven or eight miles from the city, is a large stone, twenty feet long (in line about N.W. and S.E.), ten feet broad, and three thick, leaning against an upright stone, eight feet high, and from three to five feet broad and thick [...]
The old man who drove me to the spot intimated that the visit to it was likely to lead to a double increase of my family, and this, coupled with the name of the hill, seems to point towards a tradition of phallic rites in connection with it.

Notes on Some Irish Antiquities
A. L. Lewis
The Journal of the Anthropological Institute of Great Britain and Ireland, Vol. 9, (1880), pp. 137-145.

Nice to see that newspapers have always been a reliable source of information.

Whereas one of the Burroughs near the famous Stonehenge on Salisbury Plain, was lately levelled, and very deep within the said Burrough or Burying Place was found an entire Humane Skelleton of an unusual Size, the Length thereof measuring full Nine Foot Four Inches. Theseare therefore to Advertize any curious Person or Persons, who may be inclined to purchase the said Rarity, that it will very soon be brought to Town and lodg’d at the Duke of Marlborough’s Head in Fleetstreet, and shall remain there some time before it is exposed to publick View.

From the ‘Post Man and the Historical Account’ of August 29th, 1719.

by C. I. Paton mentions in “Manx Calendar Customs (Continued)” that there is a well at The Braaid. It gets a little asterisk, which puts it in the category ‘Known to be “sacred” wells.‘

The visiting of wells for the cure of diseases was very general in the Isle of Man within living memory. The special days on which they were visited were Ascension Day and the first Sunday in August, especially the latter day, but the sick, or their friends, came also on other days for the water, particularly on Sundays “when the books were open,” i.e. during the time of Morning Service in the Parish Church. [...] Though the custome is even nowadays probably not quite extinct, yet in the greatly changed state of the Island the presence of a coin or a few pins in one of these wells would more probably be due to a feeling for an old custom than to any real belief in the efficacy of the well* – as likely as not it would be due to some holiday visitor who had come picnicking to the spot.

*Folklore is never authentic enough, you will notice. But who needs real belief – look how popular Christmas is amongst non-believers.

From Folklore, Vol. 52, No. 3 (Sep., 1941), pp. 184-197.

Apart from crowds of holiday-makers, with whom the author is in the main sympathetic, the Isle of Man is a splendid place for the quiet tourist in search of health, scenery, and antiquities. The people invest their beauty spots with legends – few are without them – which make heavy demands on the faith that can remove mountains: thus “it is said that when the Cloven Stone hears the bell of Kirk Lonen ring, the two sides clap together.”

The pleasant places which cater whole-heartedly for amusements and “attractions” are not in total effect much spoilt, though it is perhaps time to protest when the names Weeping Rocks, Wishing Stone, etc., are painted up on their respective rocks. Here is sophistication in Arcady, but it is generally done “with such an ingenuous air that it disarms criticism.” Most of the island however is innocent of “attractions.” Beautiful and neglected glens and highways are many...

From S.E.W.’s cutting review of ‘In Praise of Manxland’ by M. Fraser, in The Geographical Journal, July 1935.

‘Stob’ perhaps refers to the stones’ stumpy appearance (those with a more violent imagination could create a story around the alternative meaning of ‘stab’).

Tradition has it that the Kings of the local Yetholm gypsies were always crowned here. This page of ‘The Scottish Journal of Topography, Antiquities, Traditions, &c.’ describes the death of the former king, Will Faa, in 1847, and his successor’s riotous coronation.
books.google.co.uk/books?id=jQsIAAAAQAAJ&pg=RA1-PA64

A good amount of whisky was being drunk, and at one point the attendants accompanying the king on his white horse up to the stones thought it’d be funny to ‘tickle the horse behind’ and poor Charles the First ‘embraced his mother earth’, not ideal for a man over 70. But after a glass of whisky he was ok. Also on the way,

A hare was started, which being pursued by the Royal retinue, was quickly ran down. On arriving at the Stob Stone, the procession halted for a few minutes, when his Majesty dismounted from his palfrey, and mounted the huge block of stone, when he was decorated with the said hare, which was tied across his shoulders (his Majesty being a keen sportsman), as a trophy of game killed upon his own land, and which he continued to carry during the remainder of the procession.

Here, also, while seated upon the stone, his Majesty’s head was anointed with whisky, instead of oil, and his health drunk in deep potations of the same, amidst immense cheering. The procession then returned to the village, where his Majesty was loudly cheered.

Author Herbie Brennan has a video on YouTube in which he describes his strange experience at Longstone Rath. I hope he wouldn’t mind me typing out an excerpt here.

It’s presented as the truth.. though of course it’ll be up to you whether you Believe.

uk.youtube.com/watch?v=EclmR01xSds

... I was living on a country estate in County Kildare in Ireland, and on the property was a Bronze Age monument.. an earthen ring, I suppose about 15 feet high, which surrounded a megalith which I suppose was 18 feet high. The whole place was known as Longstone Rath.

Along came Halloween of 1971. An old friend of mine asked if he could see this rath. It was well after 11 o’clock at night but we decided to go anyway. We were looking up at the standing stone and Jim suddenly said “I don’t think this place likes me.” The two of us turned, and we were walking together out of the ring fort, when suddenly, on top of the earthen ring, I saw a herd of tiny white horses. They were about 20, 25 in all, and none of them was any larger than a cocker spaniel. And they galloped along the top of the earthwork, and moved down out of sight down the other side. And the two of us ran out of the earthwork to see what had happened to these horses, and – they were gone.

Years later I was talking to [another] old friend.. who was a writer like myself, and very interested in mythology. I told him the story of the white horses, exactly as I’ve told it to you now, and he said “Oh, dear boy, don’t you know what those were?” And I said, “No, I’ve absolutely no idea, I just know that I saw them.” And he said, “They were fairy horses. They’re associated with the megaliths of Ireland, and you also find reports of them in Japan.”

There are two more Strange stories on his video too.

In a valley to the east of Philpots Promontory Camp wanders the ghost of a Black Dog. A poacher in the area has said : “There’s one thing I dare not do; I’d be afear’d to walk through that girt valley below Big-On-Little after dark. It’s a terrible ellynge place and a gurt black ghost hound walks there o’nights”. Ellynge is a local Sussex word for eerie and the hound is called “Gytrack” which is very similar to the “Guytrash” found in the north of England. Ian Hannah notes that the valley “seems to have no name (except that it is locally known as the Grattack, after a dog)“.

This is taken from the Sussex Archaeology and Folklore website – Ian Hannah’s article on the camp is in SAC Vol. 73 (156-167) 1932.
sussexarch.org.uk/

We first visited the Manne-er-Hroek, the Montagne de la Fee, or de la
Femme, which bears in the marine charts the name of “Butte de Cesar,” for it was the fashion with antiquaries to attribute to Caesar and the Romans every Celtic monument, although bearing no resemblance whatever to any
work of these conquerors.

....

The guide who furnished the light and showed us the grotto is the widow of a Polish officer. She had a Scotch terrier, which she wanted us to accept. The legend of the mound is this:--A widow had the misfortune of losing her only solace, her son, compelled by law to embark for foreign lands. Years rolled by; he did not return. All said he was lost; but the heart of a mother hopes for ever, and the sad Armorican went every day to the point of Kerpenhir, whence she
surveyed the ocean, and searched the depths of the horizon with tearful eyes for the purple sail which was to bring joy and peace to her dwelling.

One day, when she was returning sad as usual to her desolate home, she was accosted by an old woman, who enquired the cause of her
troubles; and, on hearing them, advised her to heap a pile of stones, so that, mounting on the summit, she might see to a greater distance, and perhaps discern the long looked-for vessel. During the whole night the two women worked, and carried in their aprons the stones they gathered on the heath. In the morning their task was finished, and the Bretonne was scared to see the enormous heap that had been piled together; but the other quieted her fears, and helped her to climb to the top, whence soon the happy mother beheld the vessel of her son. The fairy, her assistant, had disappeared.

This story evidently bears a vague tradition of this tumulus having been raised by a woman, and of some maritime expedition made by him for whom it was probably destined. The name of fairy is attached in Brittany to everything--mountains, springs, grottoes, rocks; every accident in nature is explained by a fairy origin.

From ‘Brittany & Its Byways’ by Fanny Bury Palliser (1869), which you can read on Project Gutenberg.

A slightly different version:

Between Honiton and Sidmouth is an inn called The Hunter’s Lodge (more recently The Hare and Hounds), and opposite the house is a block of stone, over which hovers a gruesome mystery. It is said that in the dead of night the stone used to stir in its place, and roll heavily down into the valley, to drink at the source of the Sid, and, some say, to try to wash away its stain. Human blood has given it this power--the blood that gushed upon it when the witches slew their victims, for it was once a witches’ stone of sacrifice.

From ‘Devon, Its Moorlands, Streams and Coasts’ by Rosalind Northcote (1898).

gutenberg.org/files/22485/22485-8.txt

Robin Hood was believed to possess supernatural powers. In the parish of Halifax is an immense stone or rock, supposed to be a Druidical monument, there called Robin Hood’s penny-stone, which he is said to have used to pitch with at a mark, for his amusement. There was likewise another of these stones of several tons weight, which the country people would say he threw off an adjoining hill with a spade, as he was digging.

From an 1832 Reader’s Digest-esque miscellany called ‘The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction’ by Reuben Percy and others – p205 (it’s on Google Books).

The river flowing from the Upper Lake divides St. Kevin’s Kitchen from the Rhefeart church: near the bank of the rivulet, a stone is shown, called the deer-stone. The origin of this denomination is derived from the following circumstance:
-- The wife of a peasant having expired in the pains of child-birth, the surviving infant was left destitute of its natural mode of nurture, nor could any equivalent substitute be procured. The disconsolate father applied to the revered spirit of St Kevin for relief, and was directed to attend at a certain hour every morning, near the Rhefeart church, at a stone having a little circular indenture in the top, into which a deer would regularly shed her milk, and leave it for the infant’s use: the little destitute is said to have been nourished by the milk procured at this stone, which is hence called the deer stone.

And there’s a little more stoney folklore nearby:

On the way to the Rhefeart church, another of the miracles wrought by the sainted Kevin is exhibited: – A number of large stones, extremely like loaves of bread, and possessing marks analogous to those made by the adhesion of loaves to each other in the oven, are scattered on the ground.

It is related that St. Kevin, having met a female bearing five loaves in a sack, and inquiring the contents of the sack, she answered that they were stones; for it being a time of scarcity, she feared to tell the truth; upon which the saint replied, “If they be not so already, I pray that for your perfidy they may become so;” when instantly five stones rolled out of the sack. These clumsy relics were preserved for many years in the Rhefeart church, but now lie at some distance from it down the valley.

From p127 of ‘A guide to the county of Wicklow’, by George Newenham Wright (1827) – you can read it at Google Books.

Numbers of Druidical stones (or, as some people say, in honour of Danish heroes) are scattered about Shap; they are different from the mother stone* (*Granite) of the neighbourhood, yet they seem too large to have been brought by art, and too careless on the surface to have formed there.

It is said that many of them were broken up to build Shap Abbey in 1158, which is, in its turn, dismantled to build paltry houses. Part of the steeple, with trees upon it that have withered with age, and cells under the once body of the abbey, are the only remains of this ruin: it has been shamefully dismantled. A fine stream runs near it, and the ground produces sweet grass, and hay that is all fragrance!

[..]

In our evening walk we passed a man who was driving his cart towards Bampton, and we asked him what names they called these stones* by, and how they came there? -- He stared, and asked “What dun yaw want t’kno for?” -- I dare say this answer was occasioned by evening fears, especially as he was to go by a barn that has always been the reputed haunt of ghosts, and which I believe is never passed in the day without a thought of them.

*“The Devil’s Stepping Stones” by the country people.

In Joseph Palmer’s “A fortnight’s ramble to the lakes in Westmoreland, Lancashire, and Cumberland” of 1792.

Bob Pyle’s Studdie might well be a ‘natural rock feature’ – it’s a large sandstone boulder – but it’s deemed worthy of Scheduled Monument status. A ‘studdie’ was a local word for an anvil, and Bob Pyle allegedly a blacksmith who lived in Rothbury in the 19th century*. It’s on the western slope of Simonside.

This is all mentioned on the Northumberland National Park website, which also suggests that the boulder could have had significance for those bringing animals up the holloway onto the hilltop. There are a number of Bronze Age cairns around here too.

But an anvil on a hill.. oh how I would like this to belong to someone a bit more legendary and supernatural, with lightning bouncing off it when they thump it. Maybe Mr Pyle was quite a legend. Or maybe he was just the latest person for the anvil to be associated with? (ever hopeful) And might not a duergar have a use for an anvil?

I wonder if it looks convincingly like an anvil?

(*certainly the Pyles were the blacksmithing family at one time, as you can see from this locally memorable mishap here. But it’s not Bob.
books.google.co.uk/books?id=dEEJAAAAIAAJ&pg=PA155)

Further to Paulus’s fairy folklore:

Many years ago I took note of another example of these ‘footmarks,’ which was found in the parish of Carmyllie, also in Forfarshire. This was discovered in the course of making agricultural improvements some thirty-five years ago, on which occasion stone coffins or cists were got, and in one of these was a bronze (?) ring, of about three inches in diameter, now said to be lost.
Apart from the cists there was a rude boulder of about two tons weight; and upon the lower side of it, as my informant told me, was scooped the representation of a human foot. This too was associated with the elves; for the hillock upon which these discoveries were made was called the ‘fairies’ knowe;’ and tradition says that, but for a spirit that warned the workmen to suspend operations when they began to prepare for the foundations of the parish church, the church would have been built upon that spot!

books.google.co.uk/books?id=Gx0vAAAAMAAJ&pg=PA451
Mr Andrew Jervise’s observations, from the Journal of the Kilkenny and South East of Ireland Archaeological Society
p451 in ser. 2, v. 5 (1864-66).

Nigel Callaghan has some folklore about the area on his Taliesin website . He says that the Christian and prehistoric remains here are associated largely with Columb Cille (St. Columba), who’s said to have preached here in the 6th century.

“The turas is a pilgrimage performed annually on 9th June. Starting at midnight pilgrims (ideally bare-footed) walk round the fifteen stations of the turas, saying various prayers as they go. Whilst some of the stations are directly associated with Columb Cille (like his chapel), many of them are pre-Christian standing stones and tombs, which were ‘adapted’. This example is a standing stone, which has had beautiful celtic crosses inscribed on it.”

He mentions the well of St Columba which is surrounded by a massive cairn, allegedly “built from stones carried up by the pilgrims on the turas, who take a drink from the well before continuing on their journey.

In the ruined chapel there is the saint’s bed (a stone slab) – the clay beneath it has healing properties. There’s a wishing stone nearby, and also St Columba’s chair.

The church with the souterrain is just north of the earlier chapel.

Miss J M Dunn is another reliable witness who claims, on a clear moonlit night, to have seen a number of small human-like figures abroad; figures that seemed to hurry from one spot to another and then back again as though preparing for some festival or special occasion; figures that were plainly there one moment and gone the next [..] There have also been stories of phantom horsemen being seen in the vicinity of Avebury Circle, riding wildly over the ground on small horses with flowing manes.

p10 in ‘Ghosts of Wiltshire’ by Peter Underwood (1989).

At 700 paces from the Pilgrims’ Way we (Mr. Payne and Mr. A. A. Arnold, F.S.A., August, 1889) came on the fine but little-known cromlech called by the local people “Coldrum Stones and Druid Temple.” [..]

About forty years ago, and when this property belonged to a Mr. Whitaker, and when the area within the dolmen was divided into two chambers by the medial stones, some unauthorized persons, simply to test the tradition of an underground passage, an evergreen idea, betwenn the dolmen and Trosly [ie Trottiscliffe] church, half a mile south-west of Coldrum, dug a cave, which my informant saw, at the entrance to the dolmen, now indicated by flint concrete. This falling in of the cave, too, has been the cause of most serious disturbances within the dolmen. The Vicar of Trosly here intervened and stopped this, fearing the stones might fall.

Coldrum Monument and Exploration 1910.
F. J. Bennett
The Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute of Great Britain and Ireland, Vol. 43, (Jan. – Jun., 1913), pp. 76-85

That part of the Upper Icknield Way which, on the Ordnance Map, is called Ickleton Way, leads, “they say,” to the world’s end.
A gentleman once travelled along this road till he came to the fiery mountains. He turned back long before he reached them, for the smoke and smell nearly suffocated him. he lived near Watlington, but the woman who told me this had forgotton his name, though she had heard many speak of him. He died before she came into this part.

The road is also called Akney Way and the Drove Road, on account of the number of sheep driven along it at fair time. It is said to go all round the world, so that if you keep along it and travel on you will come back to the place you started from. It is also said to go from sea to sea.

A drover who had been “everywhere,” Bucks., Oxfordshire, Herts., all over Wales, had always found the Akney Way wherever he had been. (Heard in 1891.)

In April, 1892, I walked along the Icknield Way from Crowmarsh, in Oxfordshire, to Dunstable, in Bedfordshire (a distance of 35 miles). I was unable to gain any further information about the legend previously mentioned, but, all along my route, heard that the road went all round the world, or that it went all through the island, that it went from sea to sea, that it went ” from sea-port to sea-port.”

Well regardless of the ‘Truth’ (see misc.), it was obviously a long distance route in the tales of the people living by it, so I don’t know what that means.

From
Scraps of Folklore Collected by John Philipps Emslie
C. S. Burne
Folklore, Vol. 26, No. 2 (Jun. 30, 1915), pp. 153-170

This seems to support Stubob’s story -

You mention, in your History of Leicestershire, a hill called Robin o’ Tiptoe, in the parish of Tilton. Upon the summit is a fortification, of an oblong square, which I take to be Danish, containing about an acre. There is one tree within the camp, in a state of great decay; probably not less than a thousand years old: from this, I apprehend, the hill took its name. I purchased the hill, with other contiguous lands, for 11,500l.

From a letter of 1813 by W. Hutton, reproduced in ‘Literary Anecdotes of the Eighteenth Century’ v9, 1815.
books.google.co.uk/books?id=_DwUAAAAYAAJ&pg=PA105

You can zoom right in with the Google satellite images.. but sadly there only seem to be cows and no tree. But you can see the enclosure very well.

I imagine the Corby of the name is really a ‘Corbie’? – that is, as the OED says, a raven (or maybe a carrion crow).

That’s a nice image – the Corbies’ Crags.

But they’re not always ‘nice’ of course, as in this traditional Scottish ballad, The Twa Corbies, in which they daydream about picking out and eating the eyes of a dead knight:
books.google.co.uk/books?id=_g4JAAAAQAAJ&pg=RA1-PA283&lpg=RA1-PA283

Careful on those crags then.

Almondsbury is said to have derived its name from being the burying-place of Alemond, a Saxon Prince, and father of King Egbert; but more probably from a burg, or fortification, constructed by him, and the remains of which are yet visible on an eminence to the eastward of the Church. The traces of a Camp are also discoverable round the brow of Knowle Hill, within the area of which is the Manor-House [..].

From ‘The Beauties of England and Wales’ v5 (1810).

Witt’s 1880s Handbook calls it ‘Knole Park Camp’ :

This stands on a steep hill in the parish of Almondsbuary, six miles north of Bristol. Though conforming to the shape of the ground, the camp was nearly oval. The defences consisted of a mound and two ditches, but these have been mostly destroyed by buildings, a large house having sprung up within the area of the ancient camp. There seems to have been an entrance at the north-east end, but nothing very definite can now be said on the subject. The views from this position are very fine, and embrace both shores of the Severn and the district of the Silures.

penelope.uchicago.edu/Thayer/E/Gazetteer/Places/Europe/Great_Britain/England/Gloucestershire/_Texts/WITGLO*/Camps.html#59

The fort doesn’t seem to be a scheduled monument? Maybe it’s just been ruined too far.