Strangers in the Land
"But about the Strangers…you know what they be- aye- you’re gettin’ ready with the word, but it’s chancy to call them such! No, and if you’d seen them as much as I have, you’d twist your tongue into another shape, you would. Folk in these parts, they call them mostly the Strangers, or the tiddy people, or the Greencoaties from their green jackets; or maybe the Yarthkin, since they dwelled in the mools. But mostly the Strangers, as I said before, for strange they be- in looks and in ways...
On summer nights they danced in the moonshine on the great flat stones you see about, I don’t know where they come from, but my grandmother said how her grandmother’s grandmother told them that long ago the folk set fire on those stones and smeared them with blood and thought a deal more on them than the passion bodies at the church...
And on winter evenings the Strangers danced at nights on the fireplace when the folk went to bed; and the crickets played for them with right good will… Folk thought the Strangers helped the corn to ripen, and all the green things to grow and that they painted the pretty colors on the flowers and the reds and browns on the fruit and the yallerin leaves. And that’s how, if they were fratched (offended) things would dwindle and wither and the harvest would fail and the folk would go hungry. So, they did all they could think to please the tiddy people and keep friends with them.
In the gardens, the first flowers, the first fruit, and the first cabbage or whatnot, they’d be taken to the nearest flat stone and laid there for the Strangers; in the fields, the first yearn of corn or the first potatoes were given to them and at home, before you began to eat your vittles, a bit of bread and drop of milk or beer, was spilled on the fireplace to keep the Greencoaties from hunger and thirst.
...According to the Story, all went well with the people and the Land as long as they kept up these habits. But as time went on, the people became careless. No libations were poured out, the great flat stones were left empty, and even sometimes broken up and carried away. There was more church-going, and in time a generation sprang up that had almost forgotten about the Strangers. Only the wise women remembered.
At first nothing happened; the Strangers were reluctant to believe that their old worshippers had deserted them. At last they became angry, and struck. Harvest after harvest failed, there was no growth of corn or hay, the beasts sickened on the farms, the children pined away and there was no food to give them. Then the men spent the little they could get on drink, and the women on opium. They were bewildered, and could think of nothing to do; all except the wise women.
They got together and made a solemn ceremony of divination, with fire and blood. (presumably on the stones) And when they learnt what was making the mischief, they went all among the people, and summoned them to gather at the cross-roads in the deep twilight, and there they told them the cause of the trouble, and explained the usages of the older people. And the women, remembering all the little graves in the churchyard and the pining babies in their arms, said that the old ways must be taken up again, and the men agreed with them.
So they went home, and spilled their libations, and laid out the firstings of the little that they had, and taught their children to respect the Strangers. Then, little by little, things began to mend; the children lifted their heads, the crops grew and the cattle throve. Still, there were never such merry times as there once had been, and the fever still hovered over the Land. It is a bad thing to forsake the old ways, and what is once lost can never quite be recovered.”
(Katharine Briggs, “The Encyclopedia of Fairies”, pp. 384- 385; From Artisson, http://www.robinartisson.com/scarespite/strangers.html)
On summer nights they danced in the moonshine on the great flat stones you see about, I don’t know where they come from, but my grandmother said how her grandmother’s grandmother told them that long ago the folk set fire on those stones and smeared them with blood and thought a deal more on them than the passion bodies at the church...
And on winter evenings the Strangers danced at nights on the fireplace when the folk went to bed; and the crickets played for them with right good will… Folk thought the Strangers helped the corn to ripen, and all the green things to grow and that they painted the pretty colors on the flowers and the reds and browns on the fruit and the yallerin leaves. And that’s how, if they were fratched (offended) things would dwindle and wither and the harvest would fail and the folk would go hungry. So, they did all they could think to please the tiddy people and keep friends with them.
In the gardens, the first flowers, the first fruit, and the first cabbage or whatnot, they’d be taken to the nearest flat stone and laid there for the Strangers; in the fields, the first yearn of corn or the first potatoes were given to them and at home, before you began to eat your vittles, a bit of bread and drop of milk or beer, was spilled on the fireplace to keep the Greencoaties from hunger and thirst.
...According to the Story, all went well with the people and the Land as long as they kept up these habits. But as time went on, the people became careless. No libations were poured out, the great flat stones were left empty, and even sometimes broken up and carried away. There was more church-going, and in time a generation sprang up that had almost forgotten about the Strangers. Only the wise women remembered.
At first nothing happened; the Strangers were reluctant to believe that their old worshippers had deserted them. At last they became angry, and struck. Harvest after harvest failed, there was no growth of corn or hay, the beasts sickened on the farms, the children pined away and there was no food to give them. Then the men spent the little they could get on drink, and the women on opium. They were bewildered, and could think of nothing to do; all except the wise women.
They got together and made a solemn ceremony of divination, with fire and blood. (presumably on the stones) And when they learnt what was making the mischief, they went all among the people, and summoned them to gather at the cross-roads in the deep twilight, and there they told them the cause of the trouble, and explained the usages of the older people. And the women, remembering all the little graves in the churchyard and the pining babies in their arms, said that the old ways must be taken up again, and the men agreed with them.
So they went home, and spilled their libations, and laid out the firstings of the little that they had, and taught their children to respect the Strangers. Then, little by little, things began to mend; the children lifted their heads, the crops grew and the cattle throve. Still, there were never such merry times as there once had been, and the fever still hovered over the Land. It is a bad thing to forsake the old ways, and what is once lost can never quite be recovered.”
(Katharine Briggs, “The Encyclopedia of Fairies”, pp. 384- 385; From Artisson, http://www.robinartisson.com/scarespite/strangers.html)