Old Man of Storr
This was another stop where the view was cool but wouldn't have been capture adequately by camera. The story however...
Once upon a time, many years ago....there was a little old man and a little old woman. Each night they would take their chairs and their little bag and they would climb up this hill to watch the sunset. The little old man would settle down and read his newspaper and the little old woman would settle down with her knitting and would gossip away to him. One night a fairy was passing by as they sat there and listened to her gossip. Each night he would come by to listen and each night he would creep a little closer. The little old woman eventually became aware of him but she had no more than the normal, healthy, respectful sort of fear of the fairies and since she was very old, and kind, and wise, she took no notice of him, apart from to begin adding stories to her gossip so that she might amuse him. The fairy was delighted by her and began to invite his friends to come and listen as well. Eventually, even the king of the fairies was coming by each night to listen to the little old woman. But as everyone knows, people age far quicker than fairies do. At last, one night, the little old woman turned to the fairies and gently told them that she was getting too old to manage the climb up the hill each night and that her storytelling would have to end. The King of the Fairies was so angry at this that he instantly turned her to rock.
The little old man began to weep when he saw what they had to done to his little old woman and many of the faeries that had been coming the longest began to mutter uncomfortably amongst themselves. The King of the Fairies began to regret what he had done, but such things cannot be undone once they are achieved. He turned to the little old man and turned him to stone as well so that they might always have each other's company.
For years to come anyone passing by could look to the top of the hill and see two identical menhirs standing there. But even rock ages and at the end of the last century the little old woman crumbled and fell. Now there is only the little old man sadly watching the sun rise and set.
Once upon a time, many years ago....there was a little old man and a little old woman. Each night they would take their chairs and their little bag and they would climb up this hill to watch the sunset. The little old man would settle down and read his newspaper and the little old woman would settle down with her knitting and would gossip away to him. One night a fairy was passing by as they sat there and listened to her gossip. Each night he would come by to listen and each night he would creep a little closer. The little old woman eventually became aware of him but she had no more than the normal, healthy, respectful sort of fear of the fairies and since she was very old, and kind, and wise, she took no notice of him, apart from to begin adding stories to her gossip so that she might amuse him. The fairy was delighted by her and began to invite his friends to come and listen as well. Eventually, even the king of the fairies was coming by each night to listen to the little old woman. But as everyone knows, people age far quicker than fairies do. At last, one night, the little old woman turned to the fairies and gently told them that she was getting too old to manage the climb up the hill each night and that her storytelling would have to end. The King of the Fairies was so angry at this that he instantly turned her to rock.
The little old man began to weep when he saw what they had to done to his little old woman and many of the faeries that had been coming the longest began to mutter uncomfortably amongst themselves. The King of the Fairies began to regret what he had done, but such things cannot be undone once they are achieved. He turned to the little old man and turned him to stone as well so that they might always have each other's company.
For years to come anyone passing by could look to the top of the hill and see two identical menhirs standing there. But even rock ages and at the end of the last century the little old woman crumbled and fell. Now there is only the little old man sadly watching the sun rise and set.
posted by Nixie! at 11:51 am
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