Angus and the Elves

A charming tale from the Scottish island of Iona. It is from an old legend supplied by Kathleen Mehean.

Iona is a very small island off the most Westerly coast of Mull, in Scotland, completely cut off from the mainland and so, if you lived there, you had to be good at handling a boat. It was also a lonely place, with no entertainments, so you had to be good at telling a story, to while away the long nights.

On Iona, there was one young man who was good at both. His name was Angus. However, despite his skills, he was often unhappy, for he was a hunchback. Wherever he went, he could never forget this great, ugly hump on his back. He tried to hide the pain, but when it was too bad to bear, he would go away from everyone and walk by the sea-shore or climb the little hill, called Dun-I.

Other days, when he felt quite well, he wondered if he dare ask the lovely girl, Cairistiona, to marry him. Then he would think how stupid he was. How could he ask Cairistiona to marry him, when he had the ugly hump on his back?

One day, the pain was so bad, that he went to the top of Dun-I and said, “I can bear it no longer, the pain is too bad…”, but he had to bear it until it grew better.

Then, when he looked at the lovely sea, he felt ashamed of himself and he said, “Oh, Angus, how selfish you are. Just be glad that the pain has gone. Look at the sea, feel the warmth of the sun, listen to the chirping of the crickets.”

He lay down, letting the dew-covered grass cool his hot face. Then he sat up. He had heard something strange. “Can that be the wind singing?” he asked himself. “It is a very funny song.”

He listened again.
No, it could not possibly be the wind singing. The sounds were coming from behind a bush.

“Monday — Tuesday — Monday — Tuesday — Monday — Tuesday —”

Angus stood up and walked over the grass to peer behind the bush. He could not believe his eyes. There before him was a wee elf.

The elf had stopped his singing and skipping and he had one leg high in the air. He put it down, muttering crossly to himself, “No, no, no! I cannot possibly sing a song that ends on Tuesday and leaves one of my legs up in the air.”

The elf began again, “Monday — Tuesday — Monday — Tuesday — Monday — Tuesday —”

and here he was again, with one leg high in the air.

How angry he was! He stamped his foot hard on the ground and tried again. “Monday — Tuesday — Monday — Tuesday — Monday — Tuesday — Monday — Tuesday —”

“‘Wednesday!’” sang Angus, very loudly and the little elf’s foot came down in time with the word.

The little elf danced up and down with joy and sang his song over and over again.

“‘Monday — Tuesday — Monday — Tuesday — Monday — Tuesday — Monday — Tuesday — WEDNESDAY!’”

The little elf ran over to Angus, grinning happily.

“Was it you who finished my song off for me?” he asked.

“Aye,” said Angus, “it was.”

“Then as you helped me,” replied the elf, “I must do something for you, in return.”

“There is no need,” Angus told him. “Surely, a man can do a good deed without a reward.”

“Just wait a wee while,” called the elf, for Angus had already begun to turn away, “there is no need to be in a hurry. Tell me now, why did you come to Dun-I, alone and sad?”

“Can you not see the lump on my back?” asked Angus.

“I come to Dun-I when the pain gets very bad. I put my face on the cool grass and soon my back gets less weary. How would you like to have a hump on your back?”

Angus turned to go away once more, but the little elf jumped on to a boulder and shouted after him.

“Do not be in such a hurry. Would you like to lose your hump?”

Angus snorted. “Would I like to lose it? Sure I would, but it is a burden I must always carry.”

“Always is a long time,” said the elf. “You helped me, now I’ll help you. You shall be rid of your hump, but first there will be pain.”

“Oh, I am used to pain,” Angus assured him.

Before he could say anything else, the wee elf skipped away behind the bush again. When he returned, he had six more little elves with him. When the first elf gave the word, they all leapt on to Angus, tugging at his hump and shouting, “Monday — Tuesday — WEDNESDAY!”

Angus groaned. The elves were rather heavy. Then, all at once, they leapt to the ground. Angus picked himself up and stood up straight. “It’s gone,” he shouted. “My hump has gone.”

He turned round to thank the wee folk for their help, but there was no sign of them. He ran home down the hill, rejoicing. When he reached the bottom, he turned. There, in the distance, were the little elves, dark figures against the skyline and he could just hear their voices, faintly but plainly.
“Monday — Tuesday — Monday — Tuesday — Monday — Tuesday — WEDNESDAY!”

Everyone in the village was very pleased to see Angus again, such a fine, upright man now.

And no one was more pleased than the girl Cairistiona. Soon afterwards, Angus was married. Do you know who to? It had to be Cairistiona, the fairest maiden in all the Isle of Iona, and they lived happily ever after.

Angus never saw the little elves again, but he did not forget them or their song. He used to sing it to himself, “Monday — Tuesday — Monday — Tuesday — Monday — Tuesday — WEDNESDAY!” and remember the day that they helped him, on the little hill, called Dun-I.