Myths & legends
What the woods are said to keep
Every village has stories that outlive the people who first told them. Ours are best enjoyed beside a fire, with enough light left for the walk home.
Will-o’-the-wisps
Small wandering lights are said to tempt walkers away from the stream path. Practical advice is less romantic: marshy ground and fading daylight are reason enough to stay on the trail.
Brownies
Helpful little house spirits appear in older household tales. Leave them a bowl of cream, one grandmother advised; leave the washing-up for a neighbour, another replied.
Boggarts
These troublesome shapeshifters take the blame for lost keys, upset animals and a surprising number of creaking stairs.
The black dog
A large dark hound has been reported on the ridge road for as long as anyone can remember. Most accounts agree only on the size of its footsteps.
The Shadow
Late-summer campers tell of a tall, slender and shapeless mass, translucent black against the trees. Its red eyes are said to chill the blood. They remain open, the story insists, because it has no eyelids. Some versions place it near the old underground works after dark.
We promise this is chiefly the tale brought out to frighten friends on the traditional end-of-summer camping trips. If you do see two red points on a night walk, please start with the ordinary explanation: turn on your torch, keep to the marked path and come back to the village.
Collected by Ruth Mercer for the late-summer walking group. The stories belong to the fireside tradition; they are not directions to hidden places.