The Elfin Laird of Black Wood

By C.L. Monaghan

Short story retelling of the ancient Scottish Folk Tale: Fairy Knight. Written in Scots and English. 

 

"Lang, lang ago i' a braw auld land, wie bonnie braes burstin wie purple heather an golden gorse.
        Where the rit kites cry their sorrows tae the wind, an yon babblin burn carries its secrets awa' through forests an glen, an intae the black wood where whispers dee, an nawt an naebody are e're seen again.
        Here, i' the deepest, darkest part o' the wood lies the biggest secret o' thaim all—the Elfin Prince an his eternal hall.
        Tarry no near the trees, for aw is no at first it seems. A curse lies upon this beguilin land as auld as the auldest bones i' the ground."
        - C.L. Monaghan

• Language: English
• Publisher: C.L. Monaghan
• Release date: Mar 5, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224546572

Book preview

PROLOGUE

The Elfin Laird of Black Wood

---

'T he Fairy Knight'

Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 296.

1 THE Elfin knight stands on yon hill,

Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw

Blawing his horn loud and shrill.

And the wind has blawin my plaid awa

2 'If I had yon horn in my kist,

Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw

And the bonny laddie here that I luve best!

And the wind has blawin my plaid awa

3 'Ye maun make me a fine Holland sark,

Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw

Without ony stitching or needle wark.

And the wind has blawin my plaid awa

---

4 'And ye maun wash it in yonder well,

Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw

Where the dew never wat, nor the rain ever fell.

And the wind has blawin my plaid awa

5 'Now sin ye've askd some things o me,

Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw

It 's right I ask as mony o thee.

And the wind has blawin my plaid awa

---

6 'My father he askd me an acre o land,

Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw

Between the saut sea and the strand.

And the wind has blawin my plaid awa

---

7 'And ye maun plow 't wi your blawing horn,

Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw

And ye maun saw 't wi pepper corn.

And the wind has blawin my plaid awa

---

8 'When ye've dune, and finishd your wark,

Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw

Ye'll come to me, luve, and get your sark.'

And the wind has blawin my plaid awa

1

Dearest reader, before you embark on this cautionary tale, heed my warning that the words in this book contain secrets of the Wee Folk—the Fae as some call them—and to read of them, to talk of them even a little, is to invite them to take notice. 

"Lang, lang ago i’ a braw auld land, wie bonnie braes burstin wie purple heather an golden gorse.

Where the rit kites cry their sorrows tae the wind, an yon babblin burn carries its secrets awa’ through forests an glen, an intae the black wood where whispers dee, an nawt an naebody are e’re seen again.

Here, i’ the deepest, darkest part o’ the wood lies the biggest secret o’ thaim all—the Elfin Prince an his eternal hall.

Tarry no near the trees, for aw is no at first it seems. A curse lies upon this beguilin land as auld as the auldest bones i’ the ground."

- C.L. Monaghan

Mairi McKinley lifted her skirts and poked the withered stem with the toe of her shoe. The ground was waterlogged after weeks of continuous rain and not nearly enough sunshine. Their meagre crop had failed for the second time in three years. They were going to lose the croft. They were going to lose everything. 

Since Da’s passing, Mairi, her sister Coira, and their ailing mother Euna had struggled along as