The Dwarfie Stone

: The Scottish Fairy Book

Far up in a green valley in the Island of Hoy stands an immense boulder.

It is hollow inside, and the natives of these northern islands call it

the Dwarfie Stone, because long centuries ago, so the legend has it,

Snorro the Dwarf lived there.



Nobody knew where Snorro came from, or how long he had dwelt in the dark

chamber inside the Dwarfie Stone. All that they knew about him was that

he was a little man, with a queer, twisted, deformed body and a face of

marvellous beauty, which never seemed to look any older, but was always

smiling and young.



Men said that this was because Snorro's father had been a Fairy, and not

a denizen of earth, who had bequeathed to his son the gift of perpetual

youth, but nobody knew whether this were true or not, for the Dwarf had

inhabited the Dwarfie Stone long before the oldest man or woman in Hoy

had been born.



One thing was certain, however: he had inherited from his mother, whom

all men agreed had been mortal, the dangerous qualities of vanity and

ambition. And the longer he lived the more vain and ambitious did he

become, until at last he always carried a mirror of polished steel round

his neck, into which he constantly looked in order to see the reflection

of his handsome face.



And he would not attend to the country people who came to seek his help,

unless they bowed themselves humbly before him and spoke to him as if he

were a King.



I say that the country people sought his help, for he spent his time, or

appeared to spend it, in collecting herbs and simples on the hillsides,

which he carried home with him to his dark abode, and distilled

medicines and potions from them, which he sold to his neighbours at

wondrous high prices.



He was also the possessor of a wonderful leathern-covered book, clasped

with clasps of brass, over which he would pore for hours together, and

out of which he would tell the simple Islanders their fortunes, if they

would.



For they feared the book almost as much as they feared Snorro himself,

for it was whispered that it had once belonged to Odin, and they crossed

themselves for protection as they named the mighty Enchanter.



But all the time they never guessed the real reason why Snorro chose to

live in the Dwarfie Stone.



I will tell you why he did so. Not very far from the Stone there was a

curious hill, shaped exactly like a wart. It was known as the Wart Hill

of Hoy, and men said that somewhere in the side of it was hidden a

wonderful carbuncle, which, when it was found, would bestow on its

finder marvellous magic gifts--Health, Wealth, and Happiness.

Everything, in fact, that a human being could desire.



And the curious thing about this carbuncle was, that it was said that it

could be seen at certain times, if only the people who were looking for

it were at the right spot at the right moment.



Now Snorro had made up his mind that he would find this wonderful stone,

so, while he pretended to spend all his time in reading his great book

or distilling medicines from his herbs, he was really keeping a keen

look-out during his wanderings, noting every tuft of grass or piece of

rock under which it might be hidden. And at night, when everyone else

was asleep, he would creep out, with pickaxe and spade, to turn over the

rocks or dig over the turf, in the hope of finding the long-sought-for

treasure underneath them.



He was always accompanied on these occasions by an enormous grey-headed

Raven, who lived in the cave along with him, and who was his bosom

friend and companion. The Islanders feared this bird of ill omen as

much, perhaps, as they feared its Master; for, although they went to

consult Snorro in all their difficulties and perplexities, and bought

medicines and love-potions from him, they always looked upon him with a

certain dread, feeling that there was something weird and uncanny about

him.



Now, at the time we are speaking of, Orkney was governed by two Earls,

who were half-brothers. Paul, the elder, was a tall, handsome man, with

dark hair, and eyes like sloes. All the country people loved him, for he

was so skilled in knightly exercises, and had such a sweet and loving

nature, that no one could help being fond of him. Old people's eyes

would brighten at the sight of him, and the little children would run

out to greet him as he rode by their mothers' doors.



And this was the more remarkable because, with all his winning manner,

he had such a lack of conversation that men called him Paul the Silent,

or Paul the Taciturn.



Harold, on the other hand, was as different from his brother as night is

from day. He was fair-haired and blue-eyed, and he had gained for

himself the name of Harold the Orator, because he was always free of

speech and ready with his tongue.



But for all this he was not a favourite. For he was haughty, and

jealous, and quick-tempered, and the old folks' eyes did not brighten at

the sight of him, and the babes, instead of toddling out to greet him,

hid their faces in their mothers' skirts when they saw him coming.



Harold could not help knowing that the people liked his silent brother

best, and the knowledge made him jealous of him, so a coldness sprang up

between them.



Now it chanced, one summer, that Earl Harold went on a visit to the King

of Scotland, accompanied by his mother, the Countess Helga, and her

sister, the Countess Fraukirk.



And while he was at Court he met a charming young Irish lady, the Lady

Morna, who had come from Ireland to Scotland to attend upon the Scottish

Queen. She was so sweet, and good, and gentle that Earl Harold's heart

was won, and he made up his mind that she, and only she, should be his

bride.



But although he had paid her much attention, Lady Morna had sometimes

caught glimpses of his jealous temper; she had seen an evil expression

in his eyes, and had heard him speak sharply to his servants, and she

had no wish to marry him. So, to his great amazement, she refused the

honour which he offered her, and told him that she would prefer to

remain as she was.



Earl Harold ground his teeth in silent rage, but he saw that it was no

use pressing his suit at that moment. So what he could not obtain by his

own merits he determined to obtain by guile.



Accordingly he begged his mother to persuade the Lady Morna to go back

with them on a visit, hoping that when she was alone with him in Orkney,

he would be able to overcome her prejudice against him, and induce her

to become his wife. And all the while he never remembered his brother

Paul; or, if he did, he never thought it possible that he could be his

rival.



But that was just the very thing that happened. The Lady Morna, thinking

no evil, accepted the Countess Helga's invitation, and no sooner had the

party arrived back in Orkney than Paul, charmed with the grace and

beauty of the fair Irish Maiden, fell head over ears in love with her.

And the Lady Morna, from the very first hour that she saw him, returned

his love.



Of course this state of things could not long go on hidden, and when

Harold realised what had happened his anger and jealousy knew no bounds.

Seizing a dagger, he rushed up to the turret where his brother was

sitting in his private apartments, and threatened to stab him to the

heart if he did not promise to give up all thoughts of winning the

lovely stranger.



But Paul met him with pleasant words.



"Calm thyself, Brother," he said. "It is true that I love the lady, but

that is no proof that I shall win her. Is it likely that she will choose

me, whom all men name Paul the Silent, when she hath the chance of

marrying you, whose tongue moves so swiftly that to you is given the

proud title of Harold the Orator?"



At these words Harold's vanity was flattered, and he thought that, after

all, his step-brother was right, and that he had a very small chance,

with his meagre gift of speech, of being successful in his suit. So he

threw down his dagger, and, shaking hands with him, begged him to

pardon his unkind thoughts, and went down the winding stair again in

high good-humour with himself and all the world.



By this time it was coming near to the Feast of Yule, and at that

Festival it was the custom for the Earl and his Court to leave Kirkwall

for some weeks, and go to the great Palace of Orphir, nine miles

distant. And in order to see that everything was ready, Earl Paul took

his departure some days before the others.



The evening before he left he chanced to find the Lady Morna sitting

alone in one of the deep windows of the great hall. She had been

weeping, for she was full of sadness at the thought of his departure;

and at the sight of her distress the kind-hearted young Earl could no

longer contain himself, but, folding her in his arms, he whispered to

her how much he loved her, and begged her to promise to be his wife.



She agreed willingly. Hiding her rosy face on his shoulder, she

confessed that she had loved him from the very first day that she had

seen him; and ever since that moment she had determined that, if she

could not wed him, she would wed no other man.



For a little time they sat together, rejoicing in their new-found

happiness. Then Earl Paul sprang to his feet.



"Let us go and tell the good news to my mother and my brother," he said.

"Harold may be disappointed at first, for I know, Sweetheart, he would

fain have had thee for his own. But his good heart will soon overcome

all that, and he will rejoice with us also."



But the Lady Morna shook her head. She knew, better than her lover, what

Earl Harold's feeling would be; and she would fain put off the evil

hour.



"Let us hold our peace till after Yule," she pleaded. "It will be a joy

to keep our secret to ourselves for a little space; there will be time

enough then to let all the world know."



Rather reluctantly, Earl Paul agreed; and next day he set off for the

Palace at Orphir, leaving his lady-love behind him.



Little he guessed the danger he was in! For, all unknown to him, his

step-aunt, Countess Fraukirk, had chanced to be in the hall, the evening

before, hidden behind a curtain, and she had overheard every word that

Morna and he had spoken, and her heart was filled with black rage.



For she was a hard, ambitious woman, and she had always hated the young

Earl, who was no blood-relation to her, and who stood in the way of his

brother, her own nephew; for, if Paul were only dead, Harold would be

the sole Earl of Orkney.



And now that he had stolen the heart of the Lady Morna, whom her own

nephew loved, her hate and anger knew no bounds. She had hastened off to

her sister's chamber as soon as the lovers had parted; and there the two

women had remained talking together till the chilly dawn broke in the

sky.






Countess Fraukirk ... hidden behind a curtain ... overheard every

word.]



Next day a boat went speeding over the narrow channel of water that

separates Pomona (on the mainland) from Hoy. In it sat a woman, but who

she was, or what she was like, no one could say, for she was covered

from head to foot with a black cloak, and her face was hidden behind a

thick, dark veil.



Snorro the Dwarf knew her, even before she laid aside her trappings, for

Countess Fraukirk was no stranger to him. In the course of her long life

she had often had occasion to seek his aid to help her in her evil

deeds, and she had always paid him well for his services in yellow gold.

He therefore welcomed her gladly; but when he had heard the nature of

her errand his smiling face grew grave again, and he shook his head.



"I have served thee well, Lady, in the past," he said, "but methinks

that this thing goeth beyond my courage. For to compass an Earl's death

is a weighty matter, especially when he is so well beloved as is the

Earl Paul.



"Thou knowest why I have taken up my abode in this lonely spot--how I

hope some day to light upon the magic carbuncle. Thou knowest also how

the people fear me, and hate me too, forsooth. And if the young Earl

died, and suspicion fell on me, I must needs fly the Island, for my life

would not be worth a grain of sand. Then my chance of success would be

gone. Nay! I cannot do it, Lady; I cannot do it."






But the wily Countess offered him much gold, and bribed him higher and

higher, first with wealth, then with success, and lastly she promised to

obtain for him a high post at the Court of the King of Scotland; and at

that his ambition stirred within him, his determination gave way, and he

consented to do what she asked.



"I will summon my magic loom," he said, "and weave a piece of cloth of

finest texture and of marvellous beauty; and before I weave it I will so

poison the thread with a magic potion that, when it is fashioned into a

garment, whoever puts it on will die ere he hath worn it many minutes."



"Thou art a clever knave," answered the Countess, a cruel smile lighting

up her evil face, "and thou shalt be rewarded. Let me have a couple of

yards of this wonderful web, and I will make a bonnie waistcoat for my

fine young Earl and give it to him as a Yuletide gift. Then I reckon

that he will not see the year out."



"That will he not," said Dwarf Snorro, with a malicious grin; and the

two parted, after arranging that the piece of cloth should be delivered

at the Palace of Orphir on the day before Christmas Eve.



Now, when the Countess Fraukirk had been away upon her wicked errand,

strange things were happening at the Castle at Kirkwall. For Harold,

encouraged by his brother's absence, offered his heart and hand once

more to the Lady Morna. Once more she refused him, and in order to make

sure that the scene should not be repeated, she told him that she had

plighted her troth to his brother. When he heard that this was so, rage

and fury were like to devour him. Mad with anger, he rushed from her

presence, flung himself upon his horse, and rode away in the direction

of the sea shore.



While he was galloping wildly along, his eyes fell on the snow-clad

hills of Hoy rising up across the strip of sea that divided the one

island from the other. And his thoughts flew at once to Snorro the

Dwarf, who he had had occasion, as well as his step-aunt, to visit in

bygone days.



"I have it," he cried. "Stupid fool that I was not to think of it at

once. I will go to Snorro, and buy from him a love-potion, which will

make my Lady Morna hate my precious brother and turn her thoughts kindly

towards me."



So he made haste to hire a boat, and soon he was speeding over the

tossing waters on his way to the Island of Hoy. When he arrived there he

hurried up the lonely valley to where the Dwarfie Stone stood, and he

had no difficulty in finding its uncanny occupant, for Snorro was

standing at the hole that served as a door, his raven on his shoulder,

gazing placidly at the setting sun.



A curious smile crossed his face when, hearing the sound of approaching

footsteps, he turned round and his eyes fell on the young noble.



"What bringeth thee here, Sir Earl?" he asked gaily, for he scented more

gold.



"I come for a love-potion," said Harold; and without more ado he told

the whole story to the Wizard. "I will pay thee for it," he added, "if

thou wilt give it to me quickly."



Snorro looked at him from head to foot. "Blind must the maiden be, Sir

Orator," he said, "who needeth a love-potion to make her fancy so

gallant a Knight."



Earl Harold laughed angrily. "It is easier to catch a sunbeam than a

woman's roving fancy," he replied. "I have no time for jesting. For,

hearken, old man, there is a proverb that saith, 'Time and tide wait for

no man,' so I need not expect the tide to wait for me. The potion I must

have, and that instantly."



Snorro saw that he was in earnest, so without a word he entered his

dwelling, and in a few minutes returned with a small phial in his hand,

which was full of a rosy liquid.



"Pour the contents of this into the Lady Morna's wine-cup," he said,

"and I warrant thee that before four-and-twenty hours have passed she

will love thee better than thou lovest her now."



Then he waved his hand, as if to dismiss his visitor, and disappeared

into his dwelling-place.



Earl Harold made all speed back to the Castle; but it was not until one

or two days had elapsed that he found a chance to pour the love-potion

into the Lady Morna's wine-cup. But at last, one night at supper, he

found an opportunity of doing so, and, waving away the little page-boy,

he handed it to her himself.



She raised it to her lips, but she only made a pretence at drinking, for

she had seen the hated Earl fingering the cup, and she feared some deed

of treachery. When he had gone back to his seat she managed to pour the

whole of the wine on the floor, and smiled to herself at the look of

satisfaction that came over Harold's face as she put down the empty

cup.



His satisfaction increased, for from that moment she felt so afraid of

him that she treated him with great kindness, hoping that by doing so

she would keep in his good graces until the Court moved to Orphir, and

her own true love could protect her.



Harold, on his side, was delighted with her graciousness, for he felt

certain that the charm was beginning to work, and that his hopes would

soon be fulfilled.



A week later the Court removed to the Royal Palace at Orphir, where Earl

Paul had everything in readiness for the reception of his guests.



Of course he was overjoyed to meet Lady Morna again, and she was

overjoyed to meet him, for she felt that she was now safe from the

unwelcome attentions of Earl Harold.



But to Earl Harold the sight of their joy was as gall and bitterness,

and he could scarcely contain himself, although he still trusted in the

efficacy of Snorro the Dwarf's love-potion.



As for Countess Fraukirk and Countess Helga, they looked forward eagerly

to the time when the magic web would arrive, out of which they hoped to

fashion a fatal gift for Earl Paul.



At last, the day before Christmas Eve, the two wicked women were sitting

in the Countess Helga's chamber talking of the time when Earl Harold

would rule alone in Orkney, when a tap came to the window, and on

looking round they saw Dwarf Snorro's grey-headed Raven perched on the

sill, a sealed packet in its beak.



They opened the casement, and with a hoarse croak the creature let the

packet drop on to the floor; then it flapped its great wings and rose

slowly into the air again its head turned in the direction of Hoy.



With fingers that trembled with excitement they broke the seals and

undid the packet. It contained a piece of the most beautiful material

that anyone could possibly imagine, woven in all the colours of the

rainbow, and sparkling with gold and jewels.



"'Twill make a bonnie waistcoat," exclaimed Countess Fraukirk, with an

unholy laugh. "The Silent Earl will be a braw man when he gets it on."



Then, without more ado, they set to work to cut out and sew the garment.

All that night they worked, and all next day, till, late in the

afternoon, when they were putting in the last stitches, hurried

footsteps were heard ascending the winding staircase, and Earl Harold

burst open the door.



His cheeks were red with passion, and his eyes were bright, for he could

not but notice that, now that she was safe at Orphir under her true

love's protection, the Lady Morna's manner had grown cold and distant

again, and he was beginning to lose faith in Snorro's charm.



Angry and disappointed, he had sought his mother's room to pour out his

story of vexation to her.



He stopped short, however, when he saw the wonderful waistcoat lying on

the table, all gold and silver and shining colours. It was like a fairy

garment, and its beauty took his breath away.



"For whom hast thou purchased that?" he asked, hoping to hear that it

was intended for him.



"'Tis a Christmas gift for thy brother Paul," answered his mother, and

she would have gone on to tell him how deadly a thing it was, had he

given her time to speak. But her words fanned his fury into madness, for

it seemed to him that this hated brother of his was claiming everything.



"Everything is for Paul! I am sick of his very name," he cried. "By my

troth, he shall not have this!" and he snatched the vest from the table.



It was in vain that his mother and his aunt threw themselves at his

feet, begging him to lay it down, and warning him that there was not a

thread in it which was not poisoned. He paid no heed to their words, but

rushed from the room, and, drawing it on, ran downstairs with a reckless

laugh, to show the Lady Morna how fine he was.



Alas! alas! Scarce had he gained the hall than he fell to the ground in

great pain.



Everyone crowded round him, and the two Countesses, terrified now by

what they had done, tried in vain to tear the magic vest from his body.

But he felt that it was too late, the deadly poison had done its work,

and, waving them aside, he turned to his brother, who, in great

distress, had knelt down and taken him tenderly in his arms.



"I wronged thee, Paul," he gasped. "For thou hast ever been true and

kind. Forgive me in thy thoughts, and," he added, gathering up his

strength for one last effort, and pointing to the two wretched women who

had wrought all this misery, "Beware of those two women, for they

seek to take thy life." Then his head sank back on his brother's

shoulder, and, with one long sigh, he died.



When he learned what had happened, and understood where the waistcoat

came from, and for what purpose it had been intended, the anger of the

Silent Earl knew no bounds. He swore a great oath that he would be

avenged, not only on Snorro the Dwarf, but also on his wicked

step-mother and her cruel sister.



His vengeance was baulked, however, for in the panic and confusion that

followed Harold's death, the two Countesses slipped out of the Palace

and fled to the coast, and took boat in haste to Scotland, where they

had great possessions, and where they were much looked up to, and where

no one would believe a word against them.



But retribution fell on them in the end, as it always does fall, sooner

or later, on everyone who is wicked, or selfish, or cruel; for the

Norsemen invaded the land, and their Castle was set on fire, and they

perished miserably in the flames.



When Earl Paul found that they had escaped, he set out in hot haste for

the Island of Hoy, for he was determined that the Dwarf, at least,

should not escape. But when he came to the Dwarfie Stone he found it

silent and deserted, all trace of its uncanny occupants having

disappeared.



No one knew what had become of them; a few people were inclined to think

that the Dwarf and his Raven had accompanied the Countess Fraukirk and

the Countess Helga on their flight, but the greater part of the

Islanders held to the belief, which I think was the true one, that the

Powers of the Air spirited Snorro away, and shut him up in some unknown

place as a punishment for his wickedness, and that his Raven accompanied

him.



At any rate, he was never seen again by any living person, and wherever

he went, he lost all chance of finding the magic carbuncle.



As for the Silent Earl and his Irish Sweetheart, they were married as

soon as Earl Harold's funeral was over; and for hundreds of years

afterwards, when the inhabitants of the Orkney Isles wanted to express

great happiness, they said, "As happy as Earl Paul and the Countess

Morna."