Forest Folk Tales for Children E-Book

Tom Phillips

• Herausgeber: The History Press
• Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 113

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019

Beschreibung

Nestled within our green and pleasant land lies pockets of emerald trees. Their roots search deep into the ground and the branches reach high towards the sun. For centuries some of these have stood watching and listening to the human creatures living among them, hearing their stories and remembering. What mysteries could these woodlands tell if the trees could speak? Stories of brave deeds and foolish, star-crossed lovers, of monsters, giants and witches, hobs and kings. Discover the secrets of our forests in this engaging collection of folk tales.

Leseprobe

First published 2019

The History Press

The Mill, Brimscombe Port

Stroud, Gloucestershire, GL5 2QG

www.thehistorypress.co.uk

Text © Tom Phillips, 2019

Illustrations © Amanda Vigor, 2019

The right of Tom Phillips to be identified as the Author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without the permission in writing from the Publishers.

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

ISBN 978 0 7509 9182 7

Typesetting and origination by The History Press

Printed and bound in Europe by Imak

eBook converted by Geethik Technologies

Contents

Introduction

Hobs: Yorkshire Forests of Guisborough, Dalby and the North Yorkshire Moors

Dragons: Forests of North Wales; Beddgelert Forest, Clwyd Forest and Gwydir Forest

Faeries: The Many Forests of Scotland and the Borderlands

Kings, Curses and Colluders: The New Forest, Hampshire

Ghostly Beasts: Thetford Forest

Robin Hood: Sherwood Forest

Witches and Wizards: Forest of Dean

Trees: The National Forest

The Greenman: All Forests

Bibliography

Introduction

Who am I?

Firstly, let me introduce myself and thank you for buying my book. I am Tom Phillips, formally known as Mr Phillips when I was a primary school teacher, sometimes known as Tom the Tale Teller when I travel the lands telling traditional stories, folk tales, myths and legends to audiences of children and adults alike as a storyteller, and most of the time I’m known as Daddy by my two young children who both love stories and adventures in the countryside.

Why did I write this book?

I grew up in a sleepy little village in Leicestershire. We didn’t have a forest or large woodland nearby, but we did have lots of spinneys and hedgerows full of trees. I must have climbed (or tried to climb) every tree in my village growing up. I loved trees and nature (despite having hay fever and actually being allergic to tree pollen, it never stopped me). I remember stopping off for picnics in the Forest of Dean on our way to our family holidays in Pembrokeshire every year and being amazed by the number of trees in this forest. I have always found forests and woodlands magical places to explore and, when I became a storyteller and writer, I discovered all this folklore surrounding these mystical places. I have also started working deep within the National Forest and so thought now was the best time to write this book.

How have I written it?

I used books to help me find the stories. Most of the time they were short little nuggets which I have had to stretch out and shape to make them the enjoyable stories I knew they could be. I would write the book out, read it over, change what I needed, then give it to Samantha, my wife, to proofread it before testing it on Emelia, my daughter. The whole book was written in just over two months. It took a LOT of research and a LOT of work writing it up but, well, I am happy with how it turned out and hope you are too.

So, get reading, go get lost in the stories, learn something new and then go and explore the countryside and forests of this wonderful country, from Scotland to Wales and through the length and breadth of England, trying out some of the Why Don’t You? suggestions and making up your own fun and games.

Enjoy!

Hidden in your house or grounds,Helping out all around,Cleaning up or doing the milking,Any jobs that might need doing,They live to work, this they do,Not for themselves, but all for you.In return they ask for nought,So leave them be, don’t seek them out.Let them alone, leave them be,And a better home you’ll have for thee.

Yorkshire is a land of extremes, from the lush, wooded valleys to the harsh, exposed moorland. The whole county just takes your breath away. And then, after travelling through the most amazing countryside, you reach the sea, a coastline of cliffs, harbours and fossils, hiding secrets from millions of years ago. Many years before, the moors were covered in trees with the great forests of Dalby to the south and Guisborough to the north, stretching as far as the sea to the east. Even now, the North Yorkshire Moors have more trees than the New Forest!

Many stories are told of this ancient landscape and the creatures and people who lived in it. One such story tells of a brave young man who slew a dragon, but alas, there is not room for his story in this chapter.

We shall be hearing about hobs. Now I’m guessing you thought I meant to write hobgoblin. Well, I didn’t but they wouldn’t be far off what I’m talking about. You may recognise hobs as something else though. The great J.K. Rowling used hobs in her Harry Potter stories, but she did not call them by that name. She named them house elves.

Hobs are thought to be little men that live in your house. They are only a few feet high, about the size of a toddler, and often have a long beard that brushes the floor as they walk. They do not wear clothes and have a large nose that takes up most of their face. These funny little creatures are rarely seen, but what they do can be very easily spotted.

Hobs are thought to be extremely helpful little things. They work on the land, helping the farmer, or live in local caves, looking out for the people of the nearby village. All they need in return is to be left alone and respected. However, if you upset one, disrespect him or anger him in some way, he will become naughty and mischievous, causing bad things to happen on your farm. The only way to get rid of a hob is to give it a new set of clothing to wear. With this, most of them leave the house and don’t come back, but not all. Some, in really bad cases, never leave and even follow you if you move!

There are not many girl hobs but it is believed that there are some. These are mostly called hobthrusts and live in wooded areas and in forests.

Lots of these funny little creatures were given names, names that would make us giggle such as:

Hodge Hob O’Bransdale,

Robin Round-Cap of Spaldington,

Old Delph Will of Saddleworth,

Elphi Bandy Legs of Low Farndale.

The Hob of Hart Hall

Hart Hall stands amongst trees and moorland on the edge of Guisborough Forest, not far from Whitby. It was said that many, many years ago, the farmers who worked the land were gifted by the help of a hob. The story goes like this …

Once, there lived a hob on the farm at Hart Hall. He was rarely seen by any of the farm workers but they all knew he was there. At night, after the farm workers had filled the barn with the harvested wheat and grain, the hob would appear to thresh them until the moon became sleepy and the sun rose from his slumber. By threshing them, the hob separated the grain from the rest of the plant, ready for the grain to be gathered up and made into flour, beer or any of the other many foodstuffs you could make from cereal crops. The hob would do twice as much in one night as a single person and could finish the whole barn before dawn. With the hob’s help, the farmer made a good living and never had to hire many workers, so he didn’t have to pay too many people.

However, one night, after the sun had slipped beneath the hills in the west, the youngest of the farm workers was feeling curious. He had heard the stories of the hob and was keen to find out what this creature actually looked like. He wanted to see it with his own eyes. Slipping from shadow to shadow like a ninja farmer, the boy made his way to the threshing barn. Finding a gap in the wooden boards of the barn walls, the curious boy peered a single eye through. Lo and behold, there was the hob.

The boy watched and saw the hob, threshing the crop at such speed that the flails in his hands were a blur. He wielded two at once and had such skill as to never hit them together by accident. It was a marvel to watch. However, it was then that the boy noticed the size of the hob. He was tiny! No bigger in height than the shoulder of the sheep on the farm. The boy also noticed something that made him withdraw with shock. What at first he thought was some kind of fur coat was actually a mixture of the hob’s long beard and body hair. The hob was NAKED!

The boy, shocked at first, then took pity on the poor creature. He must be cold, even with all that hair, he thought. The boy had an idea. He returned to his work colleagues and told them of what he saw. They too took pity and it was decided that they were to give him some clothes. During the next day, some of the farm workers gathered some scraps of fabric and stitched them together to make a simple tunic, known as a hamp. Before the sun had set, they left it in the threshing barn so that the hob would find it, and then they hid, so they could see what happened.

They were all very excited. Surely the hob would love his present! If he did the job of two men when naked, he could do the job of four men if he was warm and clothed, they thought. As they were congratulating themselves and waiting, into the barn walked the hob.

The hob walked up to the clothing, picked it up and screamed in anger. The onlookers were very confused. The fury of the hob could be seen written all over his face. He then spoke, in a voice like rocks tumbling onto the ground, and said, ‘Gin hob mun hae nowght but a hardin’ hamp, he’ll coom nae mair, nowther to berry nor stamp.’

But what does this mean? You may well ask as this is old speech and needs some deciphering. Let me help.

‘Gin hob mun hae nowght but a hardin’ hamp’ means ‘give the hob man nothing but a hard hamp’ (we know what hamp means, remember?).

‘He’ll coom nae mair, nowther to berry nor stamp’ means ‘he will come no more, never to berry or stamp (thresh the grain)’.

The hob, like all hobs, liked being naked. They were born that way and lived their whole life that way. Maybe he would have accepted a nice outfit, a smart suit, but what he was being given was a hamp. This was a type of tunic worn by a farm worker. The hob really did not like being thought of as just a farm worker. He felt he was so much more – after all, he could do twice as much in one night as any other farm worker. And with that, the hob disappeared, never to be seen again.

It was the next morning when, pushed by the others, the young farm worker who had started all of this told the farmer what had happened. The farmer was fuming. He knew of hobs and knew you never give them clothes as this will drive them away. Now the farmer had to pay for more workers and those workers he had needed to work extra hard. In the end, the farm failed – all because a young boy wanted to help a hob.

Hob Hill

Further north, on the top side of Guisborough Forest, there was once a farmer by the name of Oughtred who, much like in the last story, had a helpful hob. However, this time what happened was purely by accident.

One day, one of the workers left his coat on a piece of machinery. When the hob arrived to help that night, he found the coat and was not happy. As we know, you should never give a hob any clothing. However, unlike in the last story, the hob didn’t leave; he decided to get even. It was then it started.

Over the next few weeks, strange things began to happen. Bottles where pushed off shelves and broken, the cattle were let loose from their barn, and the freshly separated grain and chaff were mixed together again, so they had to be sorted once more. This lasted for a month with the farmer trying everything. He knew what had happened, he knew it was a mistake and tried his hardest to get the hob to listen to his apology, but it was no good. He couldn’t see the hob.

In desperation, the farmer went to the wise man of the village for help. The only advice the wise man had was for the farmer and his family to move. The farmer managed eventually to sell the farm but for next to nothing. After all, who wanted to buy a farm plagued by a mischievous hob? Not me, that’s for sure.