The King of Lochlin's Three Daughters
a story from Argyll
Friday, June 12, 2009 9:30 pm
Dear Journal,
Yesterday morning I left Dumfries and headed north, into the majestic Highlands. It is glorious. I've never seen a place more ruggedly beautiful. I'm staying in Inverary, a charming lakeside town with whitewashed buildings — the home of my grandmother on my mother's side, Iseabail MacMillan. Grandma Iseabail (pronounced "Ishabel" in Gaelic) died several years ago, but I knew her well. After Grandpa Willie passed away when I was six, she came to America to live near us. I have many fond memories of tea and "bannocks" (scones) with Grandma Belle, as I called her. It was Grandma Belle, also, who instilled in me my love for the outdoors. I've often wondered what kind of country inspired her, and now I know. This place begs to be explored.
Yesterday I took a long walk through the countryside, wandering over craggy hills swept with wildflowers and stopping to gaze across deep, silvery lochs. I picnicked by a waterfall, meandered through pristine forests, and even came across a few ancient standing stones. It was breathtaking.
Today, however, there were a few particular places that I made sure to schedule in. After an hour or two getting better acquainted with historic little Inverary, I toured a few castles — there are several around here! Later, I visited the beautiful coastal region of Knapdale, southwest of Inverary. Knapdale has long been the homeland of my grandmother's clan, MacMillan. And yes, it too has a castle!
Everything seems so ancient here, so full of memory. As I wandered through the castles, a strange feeling arose in me. It was as if the air was thick with all the years those places have seen. I breathed slowly, trying to memorize the feeling, to capture that sense of solemn grandeur forever.
I think it was in Kilchurn Castle that I remembered a story Grandma Belle use to tell me; a fairytale, really, that she translated for me from Gaelic. I've never heard any other tale quite like it, but this whole place reminds me of it. Perhaps it was born here. It went something like this:
There were once three beautiful princesses who were carried off by giants. The only way to reach the underground realm where they were taken was by boat on dry land. Their father the king proclaimed that any man who brought the princesses back would receive the eldest's hand in marriage. Well, there were three brothers who each determined to do this very thing. The oldest son set out first, with a bannock from his mother for nourishment along the way. After a while, he came to a forest with a river running through it, and was sitting down to eat his bannock when an ùruisg, a kindly goblinish creature, came out of the water and asked for a bite. "Certainly not," said the oldest son. "I have a long way to go to save the princesses." The ùruisg shrugged and left. When the oldest son began cutting down trees to make the land-boat, the trees hopped right back up onto their trunks! Frustrated, he went home in defeat.
The middle son set out next, and the same thing happened. The youngest son, however, was wiser, and nobler of heart. When the ùruisg appeared, the son gave him the entire bannock. In return, the grateful ùruisg made him a boat that could sail on dry land, and the youngest son set off with a few of his companions to the land of the giants. The first two giants he defeated, but the third was too strong. "I'll make you a deal," the third giant said. "If you will be my slave for a year, I will let the princesses go." The youngest son agreed. What else could such a noble-hearted man do? The three princesses returned to the castle with his companions, but the son stayed in their place to be a slave for a year.
Now the giant, of course, didn't mean what he said — he planned to keep the youngest son as his slave forever. However, the son made friends with the giant's eagle, and after the year of his service was up, the eagle flew him to the surface. "If you ever need anything," said the eagle, "just call for me, and I'll come."
The youngest son made his way to the king's town, only to find that his friends had been false, and had told the king that they themselves had saved the princesses. The marriages were a week away! Not knowing what to do, the youngest son went to the house of a blacksmith. The blacksmith, in despair, told him that the princesses had demanded that he make replicas of the crowns they had worn in the giants' realm. Of course the blacksmith didn't know what they looked like, or how to make such a thing. "Don't worry," said the youngest son, "I'll do it for you." He called for the eagle, and the eagle brought him the original crowns of gold, silver and copper from the giants' realm.
When the princesses saw the crowns, they praised the blacksmith for his work. The blacksmith, a good and honest man, revealed that they were in fact the work of a friend. Consequently, the youngest son was invited to the castle, where he told the king the whole story — of the help of the ùruisg, of defeating the giants, and of being a slave in exchange for the princesses' freedom. The king was struck by the bravery and sacrifice of the young man. The false companions were hanged, and the youngest son married the eldest princess. And, as my grandmother used to say at the end, "they reign happily as king and queen to this day."
Personally? Well, I think she may be right... perhaps they live on still at Kilchurn Castle.
Maggie
"The King of Lochlin's Three Daughters" is unlike any other tale in this storybook, perhaps because of the people who tell it. Among the rolling hills and the mist-covered lochs of the Western Highlands and Islands, the last remnant of the Gaelic-speakers hold on. Once dominating Scotland, the Celtic culture of the Scottish Gaels has since been confined to the west and north. This story, told to J.F. Campbell by a Gaelic-speaking fisherman, is typical of stories among the Gaelic speakers of the Highlands. Although they are similar to other Scottish tales in that they often involve fairies and other mythical creatures, they diverge when it comes to their scale. The Gaelic stories are often long, complex and grandiose, with a legendary quality that echos other fairytales around the world.
Unfortunately, it is due to this Celtic knot-like complexity that I had to pare down this story so much. I left out a whole passage near the end of the original story where the youngest son gets his revenge on some servants who treat him disrespectfully. Also, there were three men who helped the youngest son in finding and defeating the giants with their powers of hearing, drinking and eating. Overall, the motif of "three" is an element that was much stronger in the original story. There are three princesses, three giants, three brothers, three men with strange powers. The ùruisg's test is passed only on the third try with the third bannock, the youngest brother is enslaved by the third giant, he finally escapes on the back of the eagle on his third try, he calls for the eagle three times to bring the three crowns, and is later treated poorly by the king's servants until the third time they try to bring him to the castle.
Bibliography: "The King of Lochlin's Three Daughters" by J.F. Campbell, from Popular Tales of the West Highlands (1890). Web Source: Sacred Texts Archive
Image 1: Highland Road. Photo by albireo2006. Web Source: albireo2006's Flickr Photostream
Image 2: Kilchurn Castle and Loch Awe, Argyll. Web Source: Walking Scotland
Image 3: By Ardtaraig, Loch Long, Cowal, Argyll, Scotland. Photo by Philippa Elliott. Web Source: ARBU
Yesterday morning I left Dumfries and headed north, into the majestic Highlands. It is glorious. I've never seen a place more ruggedly beautiful. I'm staying in Inverary, a charming lakeside town with whitewashed buildings — the home of my grandmother on my mother's side, Iseabail MacMillan. Grandma Iseabail (pronounced "Ishabel" in Gaelic) died several years ago, but I knew her well. After Grandpa Willie passed away when I was six, she came to America to live near us. I have many fond memories of tea and "bannocks" (scones) with Grandma Belle, as I called her. It was Grandma Belle, also, who instilled in me my love for the outdoors. I've often wondered what kind of country inspired her, and now I know. This place begs to be explored.
Yesterday I took a long walk through the countryside, wandering over craggy hills swept with wildflowers and stopping to gaze across deep, silvery lochs. I picnicked by a waterfall, meandered through pristine forests, and even came across a few ancient standing stones. It was breathtaking.
Today, however, there were a few particular places that I made sure to schedule in. After an hour or two getting better acquainted with historic little Inverary, I toured a few castles — there are several around here! Later, I visited the beautiful coastal region of Knapdale, southwest of Inverary. Knapdale has long been the homeland of my grandmother's clan, MacMillan. And yes, it too has a castle!
Everything seems so ancient here, so full of memory. As I wandered through the castles, a strange feeling arose in me. It was as if the air was thick with all the years those places have seen. I breathed slowly, trying to memorize the feeling, to capture that sense of solemn grandeur forever.
I think it was in Kilchurn Castle that I remembered a story Grandma Belle use to tell me; a fairytale, really, that she translated for me from Gaelic. I've never heard any other tale quite like it, but this whole place reminds me of it. Perhaps it was born here. It went something like this:
There were once three beautiful princesses who were carried off by giants. The only way to reach the underground realm where they were taken was by boat on dry land. Their father the king proclaimed that any man who brought the princesses back would receive the eldest's hand in marriage. Well, there were three brothers who each determined to do this very thing. The oldest son set out first, with a bannock from his mother for nourishment along the way. After a while, he came to a forest with a river running through it, and was sitting down to eat his bannock when an ùruisg, a kindly goblinish creature, came out of the water and asked for a bite. "Certainly not," said the oldest son. "I have a long way to go to save the princesses." The ùruisg shrugged and left. When the oldest son began cutting down trees to make the land-boat, the trees hopped right back up onto their trunks! Frustrated, he went home in defeat.
The middle son set out next, and the same thing happened. The youngest son, however, was wiser, and nobler of heart. When the ùruisg appeared, the son gave him the entire bannock. In return, the grateful ùruisg made him a boat that could sail on dry land, and the youngest son set off with a few of his companions to the land of the giants. The first two giants he defeated, but the third was too strong. "I'll make you a deal," the third giant said. "If you will be my slave for a year, I will let the princesses go." The youngest son agreed. What else could such a noble-hearted man do? The three princesses returned to the castle with his companions, but the son stayed in their place to be a slave for a year.
Now the giant, of course, didn't mean what he said — he planned to keep the youngest son as his slave forever. However, the son made friends with the giant's eagle, and after the year of his service was up, the eagle flew him to the surface. "If you ever need anything," said the eagle, "just call for me, and I'll come."
The youngest son made his way to the king's town, only to find that his friends had been false, and had told the king that they themselves had saved the princesses. The marriages were a week away! Not knowing what to do, the youngest son went to the house of a blacksmith. The blacksmith, in despair, told him that the princesses had demanded that he make replicas of the crowns they had worn in the giants' realm. Of course the blacksmith didn't know what they looked like, or how to make such a thing. "Don't worry," said the youngest son, "I'll do it for you." He called for the eagle, and the eagle brought him the original crowns of gold, silver and copper from the giants' realm.
When the princesses saw the crowns, they praised the blacksmith for his work. The blacksmith, a good and honest man, revealed that they were in fact the work of a friend. Consequently, the youngest son was invited to the castle, where he told the king the whole story — of the help of the ùruisg, of defeating the giants, and of being a slave in exchange for the princesses' freedom. The king was struck by the bravery and sacrifice of the young man. The false companions were hanged, and the youngest son married the eldest princess. And, as my grandmother used to say at the end, "they reign happily as king and queen to this day."
Personally? Well, I think she may be right... perhaps they live on still at Kilchurn Castle.
Maggie
Author's Note
"The King of Lochlin's Three Daughters" is unlike any other tale in this storybook, perhaps because of the people who tell it. Among the rolling hills and the mist-covered lochs of the Western Highlands and Islands, the last remnant of the Gaelic-speakers hold on. Once dominating Scotland, the Celtic culture of the Scottish Gaels has since been confined to the west and north. This story, told to J.F. Campbell by a Gaelic-speaking fisherman, is typical of stories among the Gaelic speakers of the Highlands. Although they are similar to other Scottish tales in that they often involve fairies and other mythical creatures, they diverge when it comes to their scale. The Gaelic stories are often long, complex and grandiose, with a legendary quality that echos other fairytales around the world.
Unfortunately, it is due to this Celtic knot-like complexity that I had to pare down this story so much. I left out a whole passage near the end of the original story where the youngest son gets his revenge on some servants who treat him disrespectfully. Also, there were three men who helped the youngest son in finding and defeating the giants with their powers of hearing, drinking and eating. Overall, the motif of "three" is an element that was much stronger in the original story. There are three princesses, three giants, three brothers, three men with strange powers. The ùruisg's test is passed only on the third try with the third bannock, the youngest brother is enslaved by the third giant, he finally escapes on the back of the eagle on his third try, he calls for the eagle three times to bring the three crowns, and is later treated poorly by the king's servants until the third time they try to bring him to the castle.
Bibliography: "The King of Lochlin's Three Daughters" by J.F. Campbell, from Popular Tales of the West Highlands (1890). Web Source: Sacred Texts Archive
Image 1: Highland Road. Photo by albireo2006. Web Source: albireo2006's Flickr Photostream
Image 2: Kilchurn Castle and Loch Awe, Argyll. Web Source: Walking Scotland
Image 3: By Ardtaraig, Loch Long, Cowal, Argyll, Scotland. Photo by Philippa Elliott. Web Source: ARBU
Coverpage
- Introduction - The Changeling - The King
of Lochlin's Three Daughters - Gioga's Son -
Andrew
Lammie