Spirits, Fairies, and Merpeople Read online

  Text and illustrations copyright © 2009 by C.J. Taylor

  Published in Canada by Tundra Books,

  75 Sherbourne Street, Toronto, Ontario M5A 2P9

  Published in the United States by Tundra Books of Northern New York,

  P.O. Box 1030, Plattsburgh, New York 12901

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2008909731

  All rights reserved. The use of any part of this publication reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, or stored in a retrieval system, without the prior written consent of the publisher – or, in case of photocopying or other reprographic copying, a licence from the Canadian Copyright Licensing Agency – is an infringement of the copyright law.

  Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

  Taylor, C. J. (Carrie J.), 1952-

  Spirits, fairies, and merpeople / C.J. Taylor.

  eISBN: 978-1-77049-176-2

  1. Indians of North America – Folklore. 2. Water spirits. 3. Mermaids. 4. Mermen. 5. Fairies. 6. Legends – North America. 7. Indians of North America – Juvenile literature. I. Title.

  PS8589.A88173S65 2009 j398.2′08997 C2008-906646-4

  We acknowledge the financial support of the Government of Canada through the Book Publishing Industry Development Program (BPIDP) and that of the Government of Ontario through the Ontario Media Development Corporation’s Ontario Book Initiative. We further acknowledge the support of the Canada Council for the Arts and the Ontario Arts Council for our publishing program.

  Design: Kong Njo

  v3.1

  For my little friends

  Zachary, Vanya, and Octavia

  CONTENTS

  The Mermaid

  The Little People

  The Lodge Eater

  Water Lily Finds Her Love

  The Fairy Village

  Spirits of Heaven and Earth

  Souls in the Mist

  Afterword

  THE MERMAID

  MI’KMAQ

  The Coastal Regions of Nova Scotia

  The shores of the great, gray eastern sea were home to Lone Bird. His people were the Mi’kmaq and they loved their unforgiving coast. Lone Bird knew each rock and cove and high, craggy cliff.

  One day, however, when he scrambled over some rocks at the foot of a cliff, he came upon a lovely cove he had never seen before, and from that cove came the sound of splashing water. He crept closer. Soon he could hear playful laughter. He crept closer still.

  Five maidens were swimming and playing in the water. They were lovely, it is true, but they looked nothing like human maidens, for humans do not have pale skin, spotted with silvery scales. They do not dress their hair with strands of seaweed. And though maidens adorn themselves with necklaces of bright shells, humans have legs. Their bodies do not end in long fish tails.

  “Hello,” called Lone Bird, in a voice as friendly as he could make it. He did not want to startle the maidens, but they dove under the water the instant they heard him.

  Lone Bird longed to see them again. He returned the next day and found a new hiding place among the jagged rocks, and waited and waited in case they returned. Just as he was about to give up, the five water maidens appeared.

  Lone Bird watched from his hiding place as they splashed in the clear pool, playing their watery games. How he longed to capture one! He jumped out from his hiding place, into the water, and swam as fast as he could. But he was not fast enough, and the maidens disappeared under the surface once again.

  Lone Star did not give up. On the third day, he returned and searched for another hiding place. The water’s edge was lined with tall reeds. He found a hollow one to breathe through and sank beneath the surface of the cold water. There he waited. He did not have to wait long.

  When the water maidens appeared this time, they looked around cautiously but saw no danger. They began their water games as Lone Bird swam closer and closer underwater. At last, he seized one of the lovely ocean creatures.

  “Let me go. Please! I have a husband and three children who wait for me back home.” The frightened creature spoke sweetly, but Lone Bird did not release his grip.

  The creature spoke again. “My youngest sister, Minnow, has been watching you for a long time and has fallen in love with you, but she is very shy. Let me return to my family, and I will gladly bring her to you tomorrow.” Lone Bird could not deny her plea. He let her go, and she darted away through the water.

  As she promised, the very next day the water maiden returned with Minnow. When Lone Bird saw the young girl, he fell madly in love, for she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. When she smiled at him, he knew she loved him too.

  “How can we be together?” he asked. “I cannot live underwater.”

  “My father, Chief of All the Oceans, has granted my wish to leave him and to be with you. I will live in your village,” Minnow told him. She took Lone Bird’s hand and stepped ashore. To his amazement, her fish tail was transformed into feet, the webbing disappeared from her hands, and the scales fell from her skin.

  Together, Minnow and Lone Bird returned to his village, where they were married. Minnow quickly learned the ways of the humans, and they soon grew to love her. The couple lived happily for many seasons.

  Lone Bird thought he could not be happier until his beloved wife gave birth to a little girl they named Sea Pebble. Although Minnow was content with her life among the people of the village, she never forgot her watery home. She told Sea Pebble many stories of her sisters and her great father, Chief of All the Oceans.

  “I would like to visit my aunts and grandfather,” said Sea Pebble one day.

  Minnow was feeling homesick herself. “Perhaps it is time to go back for a visit.”

  And so Lone Bird, Minnow, and Sea Pebble prepared for the journey to the underwater world that was once Minnow’s home. As they approached the rocky shore and lovely cove where Lone Bird had first seen his beautiful wife, he grew afraid.

  “I cannot live underwater. And what if our daughter cannot do so, either?”

  “Do not worry, husband. My father has always granted me what I wish. And I wish to bring my family home.” Holding his hand, their little daughter strapped securely on her back, Minnow led them slowly into the water.

  Deeper and deeper they went, until they came to a great underwater village. Lone Bird was surprised to see how big and grand it was, with its many lodges and people. They were greeted by Minnow’s sisters, father, and all the water people. It was a joyous time.

  Minnow was happy to see her family. They shared their news and she told them of the very different world in which she now lived.

  After a while, it was Lone Bird who grew homesick. He missed the blue skies, the trees, the songbirds, and all the earthly things he knew. Minnow saw her husband’s sadness. “It has been a grand visit,” she said, “but I think it is time to return to our earthly home.”

  Once again, the little family prepared for a journey, this time back to Lone Bird’s village. With Sea Pebble strapped on her back and Lone Bird following close behind, the three swam upwards toward the air.

  Suddenly, out of the murky depths of the cold waters a shark appeared. Minnow feared for her family. She guided Lone Bird to a large patch of seaweed. “Hide here. I am a stronger swimmer than you,” she told him. “I will lead the shark away.”

  She strapped Sea Pebble to Lone Bird’s back. “Once the shark is following me, swim as quickly as you can and don’t look back. I will meet you on the shore once it is safe.”

  Minnow swam out of their hiding place among the fronds of seaweed. She splashed and made waves to get the shark’s attention, and s
ure enough, the shark followed her. Lone Bird seized the moment. He swam as quickly as he could, up, up to the shore. Neither he nor the child he was carrying looked back.

  Safely ashore, Lone Bird and Sea Pebble sat and waited and waited, but in his heart, Lone Bird knew he would never see Minnow again. She had given her life to save her family.

  THE LITTLE PEOPLE

  KAHNAWAKE

  The Mohawk Territory of Southern Quebec

  Outside the longhouse, the wailing wind whips the snow into high drifts. Grandmother Moon peeks through the racing clouds. All the animals are safely tucked away in their dens and burrows. It is so cold that the wolf won’t even be howling tonight.

  Inside the longhouse, a log is thrown on the fire. Sparks shoot up and dance through the dark smoke hole to join the stars in the cold, night sky. Wisps of smoke swirl around the drying corn, beans, and squash hanging from the longhouse rafters.

  The birch-bark walls are lined with baskets of ground corn and bundles of hollow reeds and painted clay pots, filled with dry meat, berries, and fish. Above the fur-lined sleeping platforms are shelves piled with soft tanned hides, baskets of shells in glowing colors, sewing awls, and lengths of sinew.

  The elders sit by the warm lodge fire, quietly talking of past winters. The women are stitching and beading new moccasins, shirts, and leggings. The men dream of the spring hunt as they craft new bows and arrows. Children fidget as they wait. Finally, it is time.

  The storyteller has arrived. She is a grand old woman and holds the stories of the people, the ancient ones. The longhouse grows silent, except for the crackling of the fire. The women lay aside their sewing, the men their bows, and the children stop fidgeting. Even the elders fall silent. No one is too old for a good story.

  Taking her place by the fire, the storyteller begins.

  Long ago, there was a village such as this. The people were fortunate in their wealth. The fine gardens gave all the corn, beans, and squash the women could dry and store. The berries were so sweet and big, it took only a few to fill a basket. The forest provided all the roots and plants for medicines and healing potions. The moose, deer, and fowl were so plentiful that the hunters rarely missed their mark. The fish swam into the nets that were laid across the streams.

  Their shelters were warm and sturdy and held many fires. Everyone had gathered enough firewood to keep the longhouse cozy all winter. All was in readiness for the long, cold season to begin. The people waited peacefully.

  All except four young men. They were restless and bored. “There is nothing to do,” they complained, looking to Red Bird, the eldest of the group. He was the one with ideas. Some good. Some not.

  “There is still plenty of game,” he said. “Let’s go on a hunt.” The others agreed and went about collecting their bows and arrows and packing their travel bundles.

  “Why are you going, Red Bird?” said his mother. “We do not need any more meat. It would only be wasted.”

  “We do not go for meat. We go for fun,” he said as he prepared his travel bundle.

  “The nights are cold. Take a warm blanket,” said his mother. Red Bird knew not to argue with her and packed the fur robe she handed him.

  The young men set off on the hunt. They walked and walked until Red Bird spotted the tracks of a small herd of deer in the muddy trail. They followed the tracks without taking note of their direction.

  Soon the young men were lost, deep in a part of the forest they had never been before. “There is something strange about this place,” said one of the youths nervously.

  “It’s as if the woods are watching us,” said another.

  The third agreed.

  Red Bird did not listen. He was intent on finding the herd of deer. “I am sure we are close,” he said, pointing to the tracks that led deeper into the strange, unfamiliar forest.

  “But we are lost,” they told him.

  “Don’t worry. We followed the tracks here – we can follow them back.” Red Bird always had ideas. Still, it was a strange place.

  Once again the young men set off, following the tracks deeper and deeper into the dark woods. Finally they came upon an overgrown meadow where the herd of deer were browsing. It was not long before their arrows flew, felling many of the animals.

  “We cannot carry all this home,” the young men complained.

  “Take only a little meat and all the hides. We can use them in trade,” Red Bird told them. They prepared several bundles of hides for travel and left the meat to rot.

  When all was ready, Red Bird looked for the muddy trail that had lead them to the meadow. It was gone. He did not want to worry his friends, so Red Bird picked another path. For days and days they wandered, lost in the strange forest. The weather grew colder. Their bundles grew heavier. The little bit of food they had was long gone. Worst of all, they felt that they were being watched.

  The young men began to argue. “We should go this way,” said one.

  “No, no. It is this way,” said another. “I am certain that the path is this way.”

  “You are all wrong. We must continue on this path.”

  Each of them pointed in a different direction.

  The four young men, weak from starvation and despair, thought about the meat they had left to rot in the meadow and regretted their wastefulness.

  Suddenly, a pile of dry yellow leaves rustled. A small man, the smallest they had ever seen, brushed the leaves from his tunic. “You are suffering because you have been greedy and wasteful and you killed for pleasure. I am one of the Little People. Give us your hides and you will have food.”

  The little man handed Red Bird a twig and a pebble. “Talk about it if you wish, and when you have decided, you may summon me with three taps on the stone.” Then, he vanished as quickly as he had appeared.

  “We have nothing but the hides. If they don’t give us a little food, we will still starve before we get home.” The others agreed.

  Red Bird had an idea. “We must learn from this. We will hunt only for meat, without greed or wastefulness. In exchange for the hides, we will ask for food, certainly, but we will also ask for a guide to show us the way home.” No sooner did he tap twig to pebble than the little man appeared.

  “I see you have learned your lesson, so your request will be granted. Follow me.” He led them to a cave where they could wait for a guide. Before they could speak, he disappeared once again.

  The young men looked around the cave. A cooking skin full of meat, beans, corn, and squash was hanging over a crackling, warm fire. They ate until they could eat no more and feel asleep.

  The next morning, the four young men awoke to an astonishing sight. Each of them was wrapped in his sleeping robes, safe at home in their longhouse.

  Everyone was surprised to see them for they had been gone a very long time. The young men told of their adventure in the deepest part of the forest.

  “How is it that you were able to return to us?” asked one of the elders. “Few ever do.”

  The young men looked at one another. “It was with the help of the Little People,” answered Red Bird.

  THE LODGE EATER

  DAKOTA

  The Great Plains

  Spotted Bear and Broken Feather were following a hunting trail when they heard an odd cry sounding from deep in the woods. They followed the cry and, in the underbrush beneath a big tree, they found a tiny baby wrapped in a soft fur blanket.

  Spotted Bear picked up the crying baby and held it close, but it wailed all the louder.

  “This is a spirit baby. We must leave it here,” said Broken Feather. He was a superstitious young man.

  “We cannot leave the child to starve. We will take the infant to our chief. He is a wise man and will know what to do.” Spotted Bear patted the baby’s back, but its wailing grew louder and louder.

  When Spotted Bear and Broken Feather arrived at the village they went straight to the chief’s tepee. As soon as they entered, the baby stopped its wailing and fell asleep. The c
hief listened to the two young men as they told of finding the little child all alone in the woods. He reached out to take the tiny infant from Spotted Bear.

  As the chief held the baby in his arms, his heart softened. He called to his youngest daughter, Blue Cloud. “This child is to be your son,” he told her. She looked into the infant’s round, sleeping face and her heart softened, too.

  “He is beautiful, Father. I will take good care of him.” Blue Cloud nuzzled the baby.

  The chief turned back to Spotted Bear and Broken Feather. “Tell all the people there is to be a great feast tonight in honor of my new grandson.”

  As the two young men went about the village inviting people to the chief’s feast, Broken Feather spoke again of his fears. “There is something not right with this. It is very odd.”

  “You worry too much. This is a time to celebrate. Blue Cloud has a new son. Our chief is happy,” Spotted Bear reassured him.

  The people were overjoyed as they prepared for the feast. Great amounts of food were soon cooking over campfires around the village, filling the air with delicious aromas. The women wore their finest dresses and took special care with their hair, braiding it neatly and tying it with strings of hide and feathers. The men donned long hide shirts beautifully decorated with colorful beads and long fringes.

  Everyone gathered in a circle in the center of the village. When the chief arrived with Blue Cloud and the baby, he held the child up for all to see. “This is the child that has been adopted by my daughter Blue Cloud. This celebration and feast is in his honor.”

  As soon as the chief sat down, the drums and singing began, softly and slowly at first, then louder and faster as the people joined the dancing. Late into the night they danced until, one by one, they returned to their lodges and fell into a deep sleep.

  Only the chief’s daughter remained awake. The child lay in her lap, tiny mouth ajar, sleeping peacefully. In the night stillness, she heard the distant murmur of voices. They grew louder as they grew nearer. Blue Cloud did not want to wake the sleeping baby, so she called softly to the chief. “Father, I hear people approaching. I fear it may be our enemies. You must warn the people!”