The Trow - a Spirit of the Dead?

[Dept of PMM Artists & things]

he trows' inclination to become more active, and dangerous, at midwinter - particularly Yule - has clear parallels to the ancient belief that the draugr grew more powerful in darkness.

As the northern days shortened, the draugr became more and more active - its powers reaching a peak at Yule - a time when the dead were thought to be at their strongest and permitted to leave their burial mounds.

Orkney folklore echoes this, stating that, at Yule, the trows were at their most dangerous and, because they were allowed to leave their howes and knowes at will, special precautions had to be taken to avoid their attentions.

At one time in the Northern Isles, an extra place at the Yule table was laid for the returning spirits of the dead — usually family. This would indicate that these returning spirits were once welcomed welcomed but, as time went on, the original lore became corrupted and confused. Did the idea gradually distort until the released spirits took on the persona of malicious little folk?

To a certain extent we can also look to the Scandinavian draugr to explain the trows' tendency to attack animals and livestock.

A custom found in Iceland explains that as well as attacking livestock, the draugr were renowned for preying on individual households. The Icelandic fear of answering a knock at the door after dark is very reminiscent to the trows' habit of plaguing dwelling-houses and, in particular, their hatred of locked doors.

Within the sagas, the dwelling places of the draugr, their mounds, were described as the "halls of the dead".

Furnished with mead benches, warbands, great fires and the noise of "feasting and clamour over the ale horns", the connection between these halls and the plethora of Orcadian tales describing the trows feasting and dancing within their hollow hills is immediately apparent.

A final interesting connection between trow lore and the Norse undead is the phenomenon of otherworldly light that seems to have accompanied both creatures. The mounds of the draugr were said to glow with an eerie otherworldly light, while the appearance, and disappearance, of trows was said to be characterised by a "blue low" - a glowing blue light.

 

Early Accounts of the 'Trow'

Although the draugr of Norse folklore was originally a revenant, over time it too seems to have corrupted so that later tradition has it as the wandering spirit of those drowned at sea. In other cases, "draug" became a term used to describe any supernatural sea-being.

By the middle of the 16th century, this evolution of the draugr seems to have taken place within Orkney as well, although by now the term “trow” appears to have taken root.

Writing his Descriptio Insularum Orchadiarum, sometime between 1529 and 1657, the enigmatic author Jo Ben described his travels in Orkney.

Within this Latin document he tells us of the "trowis" found in Stronsay:

"Furthermore sea-monsters called Trowis very often go with the women living there…..This is a description of that monster. It is clad in seaweed, in its whole body it is like a foal, with curly hair, it has a member like that of a horse and large testicles."

So here we have the term “trow” being used exactly in the same manner as its Norwegian counterpart “draug”.

It is hard to say whether Ben’s record shows that the term “trow” was in common use or whether Ben simply had difficulty “translating” the Orcadian accent - “dr” and “tr” can be hard to distinguish, even more so in a time when the rural population would have been speaking Norn.

Ben’s description of the Stronsay creature has absolutely no resemblance to the trow found in folklore these days and it would be tempting to suggest that he was, perhaps, using some poetic licence in his description of the creature. However, the fact remains that it his “monster” does bear a slight resemblance to the horse-like appearance of the dreaded Nuckelavee. The seaweed also brings to mind the appearance of the typical sea-trow of our folklore.

What we can definitely take from Jo Ben’s description, however, is that, at the time, the word "trow" or “drow” was clearly being used to describe any spirit, or supernatural creature.

This makes more sense, but Ben’s next statement confirms the connection between the trows and the ancient beliefs concerning the spirits of the dead.

Within this passage, Jo Ben declares that the people of Stronsay:

“...say that folk who die suddenly spend their lives thereafter with them [trows], although I do not believe it."

A clear reference to the idea that the trows were, at one time, equated with the dead, or at least some form of afterlife.

Not only did the Norse settlers believe in the draugr but, as is detailed on the pages dealing with the hogboon, they also brought with them a belief that, after death, a person’s spirit continued to live on the family farm, or near it.

This applied, in particular, to the founding-father of the estate, over whose body a large "haugr" or burial mound was often constructed. The revered ancestor's spirit was thought to remain within this mound, becoming the family, or farm’s, guardian.

Thousands of years before the Norsemen took the islands, it is likely that the Neolithic Orcadians also participated in some form of ancestor worship. The remains of their venerated dead were stored within purpose-built chambered tombs — tombs that became the "hollow hills" of later lore.

The actual details of the Neolithic ceremonies, and beliefs, can only be guessed at but it is likely that the tombs, which were sealed after each use, were regarded as the home of the ancestors. This place, where time has no meaning, is echoed within the folklore tales of mortals tempted into the mounds of trows. The unfortunate mortal enters for one night and upon leaving the next morning realises that several years had flown by.

To a certain extent, some of the documented descriptions of trows as bad tempered old men hint at this idea of ancestral-spirits.

 

 

[Dept of PMM Artists & things]

Early Accounts of the 'Trow'

Although the draugr of Norse folklore was originally a revenant, over time it too seems to have corrupted so that later tradition has it as the wandering spirit of those drowned at sea. In other cases, "draug" became a term used to describe any supernatural sea-being.

By the middle of the 16th century, this evolution of the draugr seems to have taken place within Orkney as well, although by now the term “trow” appears to have taken root.

Writing his Descriptio Insularum Orchadiarum, sometime between 1529 and 1657, the enigmatic author Jo Ben described his travels in Orkney.

Within this Latin document he tells us of the "trowis" found in Stronsay:

"Furthermore sea-monsters called Trowis very often go with the women living there…..This is a description of that monster. It is clad in seaweed, in its whole body it is like a foal, with curly hair, it has a member like that of a horse and large testicles."

So here we have the term “trow” being used exactly in the same manner as its Norwegian counterpart “draug”.

It is hard to say whether Ben’s record shows that the term “trow” was in common use or whether Ben simply had difficulty “translating” the Orcadian accent - “dr” and “tr” can be hard to distinguish, even more so in a time when the rural population would have been speaking Norn.

Ben’s description of the Stronsay creature has absolutely no resemblance to the trow found in folklore these days and it would be tempting to suggest that he was, perhaps, using some poetic licence in his description of the creature. However, the fact remains that it his “monster” does bear a slight resemblance to the horse-like appearance of the dreaded Nuckelavee. The seaweed also brings to mind the appearance of the typical sea-trow of our folklore.

What we can definitely take from Jo Ben’s description, however, is that, at the time, the word "trow" or “drow” was clearly being used to describe any spirit, or supernatural creature.

This makes more sense, but Ben’s next statement confirms the connection between the trows and the ancient beliefs concerning the spirits of the dead.

Within this passage, Jo Ben declares that the people of Stronsay:

“...say that folk who die suddenly spend their lives thereafter with them [trows], although I do not believe it."

A clear reference to the idea that the trows were, at one time, equated with the dead, or at least some form of afterlife.

Not only did the Norse settlers believe in the draugr but, as is detailed on the pages dealing with the hogboon, they also brought with them a belief that, after death, a person’s spirit continued to live on the family farm, or near it.

This applied, in particular, to the founding-father of the estate, over whose body a large "haugr" or burial mound was often constructed. The revered ancestor's spirit was thought to remain within this mound, becoming the family, or farm’s, guardian.

Thousands of years before the Norsemen took the islands, it is likely that the Neolithic Orcadians also participated in some form of ancestor worship. The remains of their venerated dead were stored within purpose-built chambered tombs — tombs that became the "hollow hills" of later lore.

The actual details of the Neolithic ceremonies, and beliefs, can only be guessed at but it is likely that the tombs, which were sealed after each use, were regarded as the home of the ancestors. This place, where time has no meaning, is echoed within the folklore tales of mortals tempted into the mounds of trows. The unfortunate mortal enters for one night and upon leaving the next morning realises that several years had flown by.

To a certain extent, some of the documented descriptions of trows as bad tempered old men hint at this idea of ancestral-spirits.

[Dept of PMM Artists & things]

"A sad tale's best for winter: I have one
Of sprites and goblins."
William Shakespeare, The Winter’s Tale

The tales of the trows are probably the best known, and widespread, element of Orkney folklore.

In many cases indistinguishable from the fairy folklore found throughout Northern Europe, the archetypal trow was an ugly, mischievous, little creature that resided in the ancient mounds scattered across Orkney.

Although some tales declared that a trow could pass for a human - although usually old, wizened or deformed - in general they were said to be short, ugly, stunted creatures and considerably smaller than a man.

Their traditional grotesque and outlandish appearance is confirmed by some of the names ascribed to them - names such as Truncherface (trencher face) and Bannafeet (bannock feet).

In what may be one of the earliest recorded trow tales, the creatures were said to be nocturnal and never appeared in daylight. Even when they emerged at night, to many they were invisible. This element of trow folklore echoes both the traditions that the Orkney fairy was invisible and that the Norwegian troll was unable to venture outside in sunlight.

Another account of invisible trows explains how an Orkneyman was unable to see the creatures dancing on the shore. Only by holding his wife's hand, or placing his foot on hers, was he able to watch their exploits.

A practically identical account from Shetland explains that only certain people had the power to see the trows. "Normal" mortals could not see the creatures unless without touching one of these gifted individuals.

Nocturnal visitors and spirits of the dead

In days past, trows were said to be frequent night-time visitors to the house.

Once a household had retired for the night, the trows would enter the building and sit by the glowing fire. Numerous tales recount how the terrified farmer and his wife would lie in bed listening to their unwanted guests scuttling around in the other end of the house.

This, together with the trows' documented hatred of locked doors, strengthens my opinion that the tradition is a remnant of the creatures' origin as an undead spirit.

In Norse tradition, the ghosts of the family's predecessors had to be welcomed into the house - a custom particularly prevalent at Yule, when later tradition has the trows at their most active and dangerous. At this time of the year, one of the last preparations on Yule Eve was to unlock every lock in the house.

Howes, knowes and trows

Within their earthen mounds - known locally as howes or knowes - the dwelling-places of the trows were said to be sumptuous and dazzling. Gold, silver and previous materials were said to decorate the walls, while only fine food and drink was served at their tables.

Deep inside these magical halls, the trows would satisfy their insatiable passion for music and dancing, very often luring mortal fiddlers inside to perform at their otherworldly celebrations.

But although the majority of trow tales come to us as mere folktales, there are still a few intriguing accounts that supposedly detail actual trow encounters.

In the late 1960s, after the Orcadian folklorist Ernest Marwick published some stories about the trows in a Scottish magazine, an Englishman who had spent time in Hoy during World War Two wrote to describe:

"a never-to-be forgotten experience that would seem to lend weight to the belief in the existence of these supernatural creatures."

[Dept of PMM Artists & things]

Changelings and Trowie Bairns

Of all Orkney's supernatural inhabitants, Orkney's trows had a particularly dark, malevolent streak.

Aside from their mischievous, but generally harmless, pranks, the trows were renowned for their disturbing habit of stealing newborn babies!

Much like the fairy folklore throughout Northern Europe, the offspring of the trows were thought to be weak, sickly little creatures.

Because of this, the trows would go to any lengths to exchange their infants for healthy human children. This resulted in the widespread changeling folklore that comes to us today.

At the root of the changeling folklore is undoubtedly the need to understand why a child failed to develop, or was perhaps in some way different to its siblings.

To the Orcadian family of old, the concept of mental or physical abnormalities could be explained away simply. The "healthy child" must have been taken - switched at some point for one the unnatural offspring of the trows.

This belief distanced the parents from the child.

In their eyes, after all, it wasn't theirs but an unnatural creature - something that inevitably almost justified the punishment and abuse meted out to the unfortunate infant.

"Nothing will induce parents to show any attention to a child that they suspect of being a changeling. But there are persons who undertake to enter the hills and regain the lost child."
Thomas Keightley, The Fairy Mythology (1850)

The appearance of the sickly trow children led to the descriptive word "trowie" in Orcadian dialect which, when used to describe a person's appearance, means "pale" or "unwell". The same word is also used to describe any poor quality object.

But the trows were not only notorious child-stealers.

They had an equally terrible reputation for abducting adults - spiriting unfortunate mortals away to their homes hidden deep within the earth. Those said to be the most vulnerable were new brides, grooms and pregnant women.

The threat of being taken by the trows was so great that numerous precautions were taken to guard against such an eventuality.

Prior to every wedding, for example, elaborate rituals were carried out to drive away any malevolent trow and pregnant women went to incredible lengths to protect themselves and....

Pregnant abductions

Pregnancies were carefully concealed so the trows would not be alerted to any woman's condition. Then, once a child had been safely delivered, family and neighbours took it in turns to rock the infant's cradle throughout the night. This constant vigil ensured the infant was not stolen away or replaced by a changeling.

No clear reason has made it on to paper as to why the trows were so anxious to steal away pregnant women and midwives. In Shetland, however, the notion that trows could only father male children was suggested.

In the island of Unst, the breed of trows afflicted by this condition went by the name of Kurnal-trows.

The Kurnal-trow was a sullen, dour creature, who, it was said, married human wives in order to produce healthy children. But as soon as the baby-trow was born, the unfortunate human mother was doomed to die.

The Shetlanders came to the conclusion that if the baby-trow's natural mother had died in childbirth, it was clear that the little creature required a wet-nurse - hence the abduction of the pregnant women or women in labour.

It was also argued that this was also the reason the trows would take the attending midwife. Did the trows depend on the midwife's skills to save the pregnant Kurnal-trow's wife from her doom?

One recorded tradition has it that when the trows entered the a house of a newborn infant to steal the mother they were known to sing this song:

Spinnan yet, spinnan yet
Go tae bed, go tae bed!
Cutty speun an' treelaidle
Gaad horse an' riven saiddle,
Strae-i an' strae-boggan,
Tae hi dal doodle, an'
tae hiddle del doo-dee.

which translates roughly as

Spinning yet, spinning yet?
Got to bed, go to bed!
Short spoon and wooden ladle
Unsound horse and torn saddle
In childbed and unwell;
To hi dal doodle, and
to hi del doo-dee

The significance of this little verse - if there was any - is now lost.

Trowie stocks

Where children were stolen, in most cases a trowie changeling was left in its place. But on the occasions where the trows abducted adults, or even farm animals, they were known to leave a likeness of the abductee - a thing known as a "stock".

In 1893, a writer in the prominent The Scotsman newspaper discussed the character and activities of Orkney's trows. They were, he observed:

"incredibly skilful in making images of human beings and animals. The stocks or likenesses, they left in a bed when they removed a man, woman, or child, or in a byre, when they removed a cow, defied detection except by the application of fire.

They were utter heathens and hated the Bible.

A leaf from the Scriptures tied around a cow's horn was a sufficient protection and they were so afraid of steel that they would on no account enter a house above the door of which a knife was stuck.

They were lovers of fire and had their underground dwellings well lighted. When the household fires went out, they would renew them from the nearest human dwelling."

[Dept of PMM Artists & things]

Changelings and Trowie Bairns

Of all Orkney's supernatural inhabitants, Orkney's trows had a particularly dark, malevolent streak.

Aside from their mischievous, but generally harmless, pranks, the trows were renowned for their disturbing habit of stealing newborn babies!

Much like the fairy folklore throughout Northern Europe, the offspring of the trows were thought to be weak, sickly little creatures.

Because of this, the trows would go to any lengths to exchange their infants for healthy human children. This resulted in the widespread changeling folklore that comes to us today.

At the root of the changeling folklore is undoubtedly the need to understand why a child failed to develop, or was perhaps in some way different to its siblings.

To the Orcadian family of old, the concept of mental or physical abnormalities could be explained away simply. The "healthy child" must have been taken - switched at some point for one the unnatural offspring of the trows.

This belief distanced the parents from the child.

In their eyes, after all, it wasn't theirs but an unnatural creature - something that inevitably almost justified the punishment and abuse meted out to the unfortunate infant.

"Nothing will induce parents to show any attention to a child that they suspect of being a changeling. But there are persons who undertake to enter the hills and regain the lost child."
Thomas Keightley, The Fairy Mythology (1850)

The appearance of the sickly trow children led to the descriptive word "trowie" in Orcadian dialect which, when used to describe a person's appearance, means "pale" or "unwell". The same word is also used to describe any poor quality object.

But the trows were not only notorious child-stealers.

They had an equally terrible reputation for abducting adults - spiriting unfortunate mortals away to their homes hidden deep within the earth. Those said to be the most vulnerable were new brides, grooms and pregnant women.

The threat of being taken by the trows was so great that numerous precautions were taken to guard against such an eventuality.

Prior to every wedding, for example, elaborate rituals were carried out to drive away any malevolent trow and pregnant women went to incredible lengths to protect themselves and....

Pregnant abductions

Pregnancies were carefully concealed so the trows would not be alerted to any woman's condition. Then, once a child had been safely delivered, family and neighbours took it in turns to rock the infant's cradle throughout the night. This constant vigil ensured the infant was not stolen away or replaced by a changeling.

No clear reason has made it on to paper as to why the trows were so anxious to steal away pregnant women and midwives. In Shetland, however, the notion that trows could only father male children was suggested.

In the island of Unst, the breed of trows afflicted by this condition went by the name of Kurnal-trows.

The Kurnal-trow was a sullen, dour creature, who, it was said, married human wives in order to produce healthy children. But as soon as the baby-trow was born, the unfortunate human mother was doomed to die.

The Shetlanders came to the conclusion that if the baby-trow's natural mother had died in childbirth, it was clear that the little creature required a wet-nurse - hence the abduction of the pregnant women or women in labour.

It was also argued that this was also the reason the trows would take the attending midwife. Did the trows depend on the midwife's skills to save the pregnant Kurnal-trow's wife from her doom?

One recorded tradition has it that when the trows entered the a house of a newborn infant to steal the mother they were known to sing this song:

Spinnan yet, spinnan yet
Go tae bed, go tae bed!
Cutty speun an' treelaidle
Gaad horse an' riven saiddle,
Strae-i an' strae-boggan,
Tae hi dal doodle, an'
tae hiddle del doo-dee.

which translates roughly as

Spinning yet, spinning yet?
Got to bed, go to bed!
Short spoon and wooden ladle
Unsound horse and torn saddle
In childbed and unwell;
To hi dal doodle, and
to hi del doo-dee

The significance of this little verse - if there was any - is now lost.

Trowie stocks

Where children were stolen, in most cases a trowie changeling was left in its place. But on the occasions where the trows abducted adults, or even farm animals, they were known to leave a likeness of the abductee - a thing known as a "stock".

In 1893, a writer in the prominent The Scotsman newspaper discussed the character and activities of Orkney's trows. They were, he observed:

"incredibly skilful in making images of human beings and animals. The stocks or likenesses, they left in a bed when they removed a man, woman, or child, or in a byre, when they removed a cow, defied detection except by the application of fire.

They were utter heathens and hated the Bible.

A leaf from the Scriptures tied around a cow's horn was a sufficient protection and they were so afraid of steel that they would on no account enter a house above the door of which a knife was stuck.

They were lovers of fire and had their underground dwellings well lighted. When the household fires went out, they would renew them from the nearest human dwelling."

[Dept of PMM Artists & things]

Trowie Magic

Although the trows were said to possess magical powers, few details of what these powers were have come to be recorded.

However, one distinctly magical thing the trow could do was to ride rapidly through the air using "bulwands"- the stems of the Common Dock plant - as flying mounts.

According to some accounts the trows would use a magical chant in order to fly and one such tale tells of a man who, one night before going to bed, stepped outside for a breath of air in his shirt and underwear.

Needless to say he was slightly surprised to see a band of trows fly past, muttering some words as they hurtled by. The curious man repeated the words and immediately found himself thrown through the air among the trowie host.

The man was carried along for a time until the group finally came to rest on the roof of a house in which a woman was in labour.

Somehow the trows knew - more magic perhaps? - that as soon as the poor woman gave birth to the infant she would sneeze three times. This was to be the wicked little creatures' cue - if none of the mortals present at the birth sained the woman after her sneezing bout, they planned on exchanging her for an image and carrying her away.

Fortunately their dastardly scheme was thwarted.

When the woman sneezed, the man on the rooftop instinctively said "Geud save him and her" and the trowie horde vanished into thin air.

The man then climbed from the roof and entered the house. But the trows called up a tremendous gale that prevented the man from leaving again. Two weeks later the enchanted winds finally died away and the man was able to get home - back to a family that had given up expecting him.

For another variant of this tale, click here.

According to some accounts, the trows also had the ability to concoct magical potions and lotions. One tale explains that a woman was taken by the trows to assist at the birth of a trowie bairn. While in their underground halls, a pot of ointment was brought into the room and the woman instructed to anoint the newborn trow-child.

This she did, but during the operation wiped her eye and some of the magical ointment rubbed off. From that day her sight became:

"so keen that she could see a boat on the ocean twenty miles away and could tell the position and feature of every man in it."

[Dept of PMM Artists & things]

The Trows' passion for music It was a well-known fact that the trows of the Northern Isles were passionately addicted to music, in particular fiddle music. As such, they took great delight in luring mortal fiddlers into their knowes, howes and halls beneath the hills. There are many tales describing such incidents, some of which state that the fiddler remained with the trows for a year, others insisting it was a year and a day or longer. However, there is one element that all the tales agree on - to the unsuspecting fiddler only one night had passed and he always returned home not knowing the true length of time he had been away. A fiddler whose playing particularly pleased these underground music lovers might be well rewarded. Indeed, one episode tells of a fiddler who pleased the trows so much that when he finally left their howe after a long musical session he was informed that he would never again lack money. Thereafter, whenever he needed cash, he simply put his hand into his pocket and because of trow magic there was always money there. But, as always, his good fortune did not last. One Yule, when well well and trult drunk on some fine home-brew, the fiddler told a number of his companions the secret of his magic money. But his confession broke the trows' magical spell and never again did the foolish fiddler have a "trowie-shilling" to spend. Trowie tunes Certain tunes played around the islands were said to have been taught to the fiddlers by the trows. One such reel was supposedly learned by a man while walking over a hill one night. During his journey, the wanderer heard the trows playing from deep within the hill, so sat and listened intently until he had memorised their otherworldly tune. Another account explains that an old man, sitting outside his house on summer's night, watched a party of trows traverse a nearby area of marshy ground. As they crossed the terrain they sang: "Hupp horse handocks and we'll ride on Bulmints." The old man called out - "I'll ride with you" - and in an instant was whisked away by the trows. Twelve long months passed with no sign of the old man, until one day he appeared back back on his own rooftop. The folk in the area were astounded to see the old chap back and in good health. But no matter how much they asked, he would say nothing as to where he had been, and what he had seen. But the tune the trows had been singing when he first spied them was remembered and taught to others, soon becoming one of the known "Fairy Reels".	Section Contents What is a Trow? Origin of the Trow Changelings Trow Encounters Trowie Magic Trows and Music Folklore Tales of the Trows The Draugr The Trow - an undead spirit? Early accounts of Trows See Also Davie o' Teeveth and the Fairy folk   Anyone who has read "The Story of Rip Van Winkle" by American author Washington Irving will no doubt recognise elements of trow folklore. This is not surprising as Irving's father was an Orcadian from the island of Shapinsay.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 

[Dept of PMM Artists & things]

Folklore Tales of the Trows

Select from one of the following tales of the trows:

	The Torness Trows - an eyewitness account
	The Death of the Mainland Trows
	The Maiden who was loved by the Trows
	The Trows take their Revenge
	The Trows and the Collapsing Kirk
	Broonie - King of the Trows
	The Trows and the Sandwick Farmer
	The Trows and the Norwegian Bride

[Dept of PMM Artists & things]

The Trow and the Draugr

Behind the surviving stories of the trow is, I believe, an older, and much more sinister, creature of Scandinavian origin.

Peeling away the layers of accumulated myth, the presence of this creature not only reveals elements of the trows' origin but also confirms that, at one time, there was little, or no, distinction between it and other preternatural creatures of Orcadian legend.

For years, the accepted explanation for the word "trow" has been that it is simply a corruption of "troll" - in other words, the trow is Orkney's version of Norway's lumbering trolls.

But in my opinion this is completely wrong.

Although "troll" is a general term to describe a number of unearthly beings, and could be applied to Orkney's trows, it doesn't explain the corruption from "troll" to "trow".

Instead, there is a blatantly obvious clue.

This lies not only in the Orcadian pronunciation of "trow", but also in another word now practically lost to Orcadian dialect — "drow".

For years, the folklorists' fixation on the Norwegian troll as the precursor to the trow seemed strange to me — especially considering we already have an entity in Scandinavian lore with an identical name, and attributes, of the Orcadian trow.

For the real predecessor of the trow, I believe we must look to the mound-dwelling creature in Norse tradition referred to as the "draugr".

The Icelandic Dictionary defines "draugr" as being a ghost or spirit; especially the dead inhabitant of a cairn. But this gives a false impression of the creature.

The pagan Norse believed that a body placed in its grave continued to live on. The term we would use today would be "undead" and, in much the same way as the hogboon, the draugr generally remained inside his burial mound, but was free to leave and wander among the living at will.

Along the same lines, we have a definite connection between the trows and the ancient beliefs concerning the spirits of the dead.

Writing in the 16th century, Jo Ben declared that the people of Stronsay:

“...say that folk who die suddenly spend their lives thereafter with them [trows], although I do not believe it."

A clear reference to the idea that the trows were, at one time, equated with the dead, or at least some form of afterlife.

So is the trow a purely Nordic creation?

In short, probably not. Elements of trow tales have similarities shared by mythical creatures throughout the British Isles, which clearly points to a pre-Norse influence.

Towards the end of the 8th century, when the early Norse pioneers began arriving in Orkney, they were undoubtedly exposed to a multitude of tales dealing with the mischievous, sometimes malicious, child-stealing "spirits" that dwelled inside the islands' many mounds.

To me, it seems likely that these Scandinavian newcomers equated these spirits with their nearest equivalent — the mound-dwelling draugr. Over the years, the mix of various strands of folklore developed into our archetypal trow.

Gradually, as the fairy lore became more prevalent, only vague elements of the undead draugr were remembered.

[Dept of PMM Artists & things]

The Trow - a Spirit of the Dead?

The trows' inclination to become more active, and dangerous, at midwinter - particularly Yule - has clear parallels to the ancient belief that the draugr grew more powerful in darkness.

As the northern days shortened, the draugr became more and more active - its powers reaching a peak at Yule - a time when the dead were thought to be at their strongest and permitted to leave their burial mounds.

Orkney folklore echoes this, stating that, at Yule, the trows were at their most dangerous and, because they were allowed to leave their howes and knowes at will, special precautions had to be taken to avoid their attentions.

At one time in the Northern Isles, an extra place at the Yule table was laid for the returning spirits of the dead — usually family. This would indicate that these returning spirits were once welcomed welcomed but, as time went on, the original lore became corrupted and confused. Did the idea gradually distort until the released spirits took on the persona of malicious little folk?

To a certain extent we can also look to the Scandinavian draugr to explain the trows' tendency to attack animals and livestock.

A custom found in Iceland explains that as well as attacking livestock, the draugr were renowned for preying on individual households. The Icelandic fear of answering a knock at the door after dark is very reminiscent to the trows' habit of plaguing dwelling-houses and, in particular, their hatred of locked doors.

Within the sagas, the dwelling places of the draugr, their mounds, were described as the "halls of the dead".

Furnished with mead benches, warbands, great fires and the noise of "feasting and clamour over the ale horns", the connection between these halls and the plethora of Orcadian tales describing the trows feasting and dancing within their hollow hills is immediately apparent.

A final interesting connection between trow lore and the Norse undead is the phenomenon of otherworldly light that seems to have accompanied both creatures. The mounds of the draugr were said to glow with an eerie otherworldly light, while the appearance, and disappearance, of trows was said to be characterised by a "blue low" - a glowing blue light.

[Dept of PMM Artists & things]

Early Accounts of the 'Trow'

Although the draugr of Norse folklore was originally a revenant, over time it too seems to have corrupted so that later tradition has it as the wandering spirit of those drowned at sea. In other cases, "draug" became a term used to describe any supernatural sea-being.

By the middle of the 16th century, this evolution of the draugr seems to have taken place within Orkney as well, although by now the term “trow” appears to have taken root.

Writing his Descriptio Insularum Orchadiarum, sometime between 1529 and 1657, the enigmatic author Jo Ben described his travels in Orkney.

Within this Latin document he tells us of the "trowis" found in Stronsay:

"Furthermore sea-monsters called Trowis very often go with the women living there…..This is a description of that monster. It is clad in seaweed, in its whole body it is like a foal, with curly hair, it has a member like that of a horse and large testicles."

So here we have the term “trow” being used exactly in the same manner as its Norwegian counterpart “draug”.

It is hard to say whether Ben’s record shows that the term “trow” was in common use or whether Ben simply had difficulty “translating” the Orcadian accent - “dr” and “tr” can be hard to distinguish, even more so in a time when the rural population would have been speaking Norn.

Ben’s description of the Stronsay creature has absolutely no resemblance to the trow found in folklore these days and it would be tempting to suggest that he was, perhaps, using some poetic licence in his description of the creature. However, the fact remains that it his “monster” does bear a slight resemblance to the horse-like appearance of the dreaded Nuckelavee. The seaweed also brings to mind the appearance of the typical sea-trow of our folklore.

What we can definitely take from Jo Ben’s description, however, is that, at the time, the word "trow" or “drow” was clearly being used to describe any spirit, or supernatural creature.

This makes more sense, but Ben’s next statement confirms the connection between the trows and the ancient beliefs concerning the spirits of the dead.

Within this passage, Jo Ben declares that the people of Stronsay:

“...say that folk who die suddenly spend their lives thereafter with them [trows], although I do not believe it."

A clear reference to the idea that the trows were, at one time, equated with the dead, or at least some form of afterlife.

Not only did the Norse settlers believe in the draugr but, as is detailed on the pages dealing with the hogboon, they also brought with them a belief that, after death, a person’s spirit continued to live on the family farm, or near it.

This applied, in particular, to the founding-father of the estate, over whose body a large "haugr" or burial mound was often constructed. The revered ancestor's spirit was thought to remain within this mound, becoming the family, or farm’s, guardian.

Thousands of years before the Norsemen took the islands, it is likely that the Neolithic Orcadians also participated in some form of ancestor worship. The remains of their venerated dead were stored within purpose-built chambered tombs — tombs that became the "hollow hills" of later lore.

The actual details of the Neolithic ceremonies, and beliefs, can only be guessed at but it is likely that the tombs, which were sealed after each use, were regarded as the home of the ancestors. This place, where time has no meaning, is echoed within the folklore tales of mortals tempted into the mounds of trows. The unfortunate mortal enters for one night and upon leaving the next morning realises that several years had flown by.

To a certain extent, some of the documented descriptions of trows as bad tempered old men hint at this idea of ancestral-spirits

[Dept of PMM Artists & things]

 

According to surviving folklore, Orkney was once home to two distinct types of trow.

The first, and by far the most familiar, were the mischievous, and frequently malevolent, hill-trows, who dwelled in the islands' many hollow hills and mounds.

The second are known simply as sea-trows.

These creatures dwelled in the waters around the islands. Tradition has it that, at some time in the distant past, they shared the land with the hill-trows. For some, now forgotten, reason they were banished to the sea. In Orkney, details of this feud, and the enforced exile that followed, have been lost.

The sea-trow was also said to be the ugliest creature imaginable.

Described as having a face like that of a monkey, with huge unwieldy limbs, the sea-trow’s head  sloped to a sharp angle at top. Its body was wizened and its feet flat, round as millstones and, like his fingers, webbed. With skin that was scaly, and lank, matted hair like seaweed falling round his head, Orcadian storytellers often referred to the sea-trow as “Tangy” – from the dialect word “tang” meaning “seaweed”.

Like the other supernatural denizens of the sea, the sea-trows were fond of returning to the land, but out of water their grotesque shape meant their movements were clumsy, slow and waddling.

Their favourite onshore haunt was the "foreshore", the area of ground between high and low water. Although the poor sea-trow would have dearly loved to extend his onshore wanderings inland, he could not do so safely for fear of his deadly enemies, the hill-trows. The sea was the only place the sea-trow was safe from its land-dwelling cousins.

Unlike the archetypal trow, the sea-trows were notoriously stupid.

Although they were not represented as evil creatures, they often played tricks on the few humans they encountered. More often than not, however, the sea-trow's stupidity meant that their pranks backfired, leaving the bewildered creature in a state of utter confusion.

As well as being stupid, the sea-trow was notoriously lazy.

Rather than catch fish for himself, the sea-trow preferred to lie on the seabed watching the mortal fishermen's lines above. When a fish was hooked, the sea-trow would unhook it quickly and devour it greedily. Many a poor fisherman went home empty-handed because of thieving sea-trows.

Where the fishing was poor, and the fish weren't biting, the sea-trow satisfied his hunger by removing the bait from the fishermen’s hook. This was a dangerous prank, for the sea-trow himself was sometimes hooked and drawn up to the surface where, if his frightful appearance did not terrify the fishermen, he was punished for his insolence.

One such story is told in an old Orcadian rhyme.

After describing the dread terror of the boatmen at seeing the misshapen monster alongside the boat after hauling him up on one of their lines, the rhyme says:

"The Geudman o' Ancum was grippid wi grace,
He ap wi the aethic steen, an sank i his face,
An heem day rowed i muckel fare,
An sang a psalm, an meed a prayer."

And that is all the surviving lore on the Orkney sea-trow.

Although tradition abounds with tales of the hill-trows, and their exploits, information on their aquatic cousins is much rarer. In the tale of the Copinsay Brownie, we get a tantalising glimpse of a creature that seems to be related somehow, but there is very little else.

"They tell us that several such Creatures do appear to Fishers at Sea, particularly such as they call Sea-Trowes, great rolling Creatures, tumbling in the waters, which, if they come among their nets they break them, and sometimes takes them away with them;

If the Fishers see them before they come near, they endeavour to keep them off with their oars or long staves, and if they can get them beaten therewith, they will endeavour to do it:

The Fishers both in Orkney and Zetland are affraid when they see them, which panick fear of their's makes them think and sometimes say that it is the Devil in the shape of such Creatures, whether it be so or not as they apprehend, I cannot determine. However, it seems to be more than probable, that evil spirits frequent both Sea and Land."

Rev John Brand; 1703

Comparing the earliest reports of the folklore with the surviving accounts, I believe the sea-trow is a development of an earlier term.

As I discuss elsewhere, the term "trow" was once used throughout Orkney to refer to any spirit or monster. In the same way "sea-trow" probably applied to a collection of unnatural "sea spirits".

Turning to the 16th century writings of Jo Ben, for example, we can read of one of the sea dwelling "trowis" - a monster that was: "clad in seaweed, in its whole body it is like a foal, with curly hair, it has a member like that of a horse and large testicles."

Slightly different to our slow-witted, ape-like sea-trow account that survives today.

I believe that when a variant of one, or more, of these tales came to be recorded by Walter Traill Dennison in the 19th century, his “version” of the neatly labelled “sea-trow” soon became the norm.

But there is another element that needs to be looked at.

Behind all the tales of the trow tales of folklore lies the creature known in Scandinavian myth as the draugr. This connection applies to the sea-trow too.

For example, Orkney folklore dictates that the sea-trows and the hill-trows were mortal enemies, after the hill-trows had banished the sea-trows to the sea. Whenever the two met fearful battles would result.

This enmity between the two puzzled me for a long time - until I encountered a Norwegian folk tale relating to the sea-dwelling draug and it’s continual battles with the dead on land.

In Norway, the draug was a solitary creature, circling the boats of the unwary, sometimes invisible. Although known to be responsible for a few drownings after capsizing boats, the draug was generally harmless. Its appearance, however, was said to be a certain omen of death.

The draug was often identified with drowned seamen – men who had been denied a burial and therefore doomed to haunt the sea and the coastlines. As such, the draug had human form but with a head made of seaweed. This parallels the Orkney tradition that the creature’s lank, matted hair looked like seaweed.

These draug tales inevitably survived in Orkney. By the time Traill Dennison came to record what survived of these stories, he introduced the term “sea-trow” as a convenient means of distinguishing the lore from that of the land trows.