Scotland's Storybook: stories in English (1.1 - Education Scotland

Mallie as she opened the door. There stood a tiny man dressed in grey, and with
a grey hat on his head. His whiskers bristled, and his dark eyes sparkled with
mischief, and Mallie knew that this must be a hill trow, as the fairy folk are
called in Shetland.
‘I’m an old man in need of food and shelter,’ said the trow, ‘can I come in?’
‘I’m sorry old man,’ said Mallie, ‘but I’m afraid that you’ve picked the wrong
house, for I have no food to give you. Maybe you could try another house?’
‘I’m an old man,’ said the trow, ‘and I’m very tired from walking. I’ll take my
chances here.’
‘Come in, come in,’ said Mallie, ‘and take a seat by the fire and warm
yourself.’
She put more peats on the fire and made the trow comfortable.
The trow looked around the tiny house, and he saw the four bairns peering
bleary-eyed at him from the foot of the bed.
‘Come on woman,’ said the trow, ‘you must have something to eat in the
house.’
‘Well, I’ll try,’ said Mallie.
She went over to the empty meal girnal and she took a knife and scraped the
sides of it to remove any flour dust still sticking to it. She gathered together a
small pile of flour, dust, cobwebs and wood shavings and she carefully gathered
them up into a cup. She took this over to the empty barrel that had contained
the brine that the herring had been pickled in, and she poured a small amount
of the pickle onto the flour and dust and she mixed it into a paste before
carefully dividing it into six equal parts; one for the trow, one each for her four
children and one for herself. The trow stared at this disgusting substance, more
like wallpaper paste than food, and he said:
‘Is this all you have?’
‘Yes,’ said Mallie sadly, ‘this is the only food in this house, and tomorrow we
won’t even have this much to eat.’
The trow scratched his head, and then he cheered up a bit, saying,
‘Ah, but you’ll have a fine drop of home brewed ale to wash this stuff down
with?’
‘No, I’m sorry,’ said Mallie, ‘I have no barley for malt to make ale, but there is
good sweet water from the well.’
‘Ugh! No thank you!’ said the trow, ‘I never touch the stuff.’
‘I told you that you had picked the wrong house,’ said Mallie, ‘but at least
you will be warm tonight, as I have plenty of peats to burn, so don’t be cold.’
With that she retired to bed with the bairns, and left the trow sitting in the
chair by the fire.
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