The Enchanted Way.

The Enchanted Way.


This happened tae me a puckle years ago, well mair than a puckle years, a gye puckle years ago one day fin I wint oot for a wee bit wander. It wiz an affa hot day in July it wiz an feelin a bit peched wi the heat I saw a richt bonny wee burn. At ae side the girss wiz that green and shaded as it wiz by a fyowe trees by the burnside I made my wye tae it for tae rest a while. I sat masel doon wi my back anent a tree. Michty but it wiz fine and cool. If ye sit doon in a place like this and let yersel relax ye start tae tune in tae yer surroundings. I hear the wimmplin o the burn as it slowly ran past faar I sat. In the distance I could hear the barkin o a dog and nearer hand the reed bumbees droned aboot the flooers an lazily collected nectar, it wiz that hot they even teen it canny. The fine sweet spicy smell o the flooers wafted ower me and the grass smelled like times lang past and reminded me as a bairn playin in the new cut girss.
I jist sat there lettin the sounds, smells an memories wash aroon my mind. Michty I could've done wi a cup o tay, that wid mak athing perfect. Next time I gyang for a traivel like this I'll full my flask.
  I teen oot my pipe an kennled it up an added the fine smell o Condor tae the myriad o scents already there. Michty but it disna get better norr this! Mind you a wee cuppy o fine strong tay wid've wint doon a treat aa the same.
"Aye min!" A hard voice sounded jist aside ma. I shaded my een fae the dapplin beams o sunlicht comin throwe the trees tae see faa it wiz wi the hard voice.
"Gweed sakes!" I nearly loupit in the air wi the shock fin I beheld the wee mannie under a fit high. He'd a puckered facie wi a stickin oot tap lip. Ontae his heed he wore fit looked like a Kilmarnock bunnet and green as the girss I sat on wi a reed cockade at one side. His pea jaicket wiz as reed as the cockade and hid green facings tae it like an aal time sojer's cwite, his breeks were o broon moleskin and a wee pair o syvin league boots came up tae his knees and shone like black glaiss. The wee puckered facie smiled an it said-
"That gid ye a flegg ye bugger! Eh? Eh?" He then laached wi a chortling smiting laach that soon hid me jynin in. I managed tae say "Aye did it min!" afore burstin oot laachin eence mair.
I picked up my pipe for it hid fell fae ma mooth wi the shock. He looked at me and then at my pipe "Wid ye hae a bit spare tabacca for ma phiap?" so sayin he pulled oot a smaa pipe or phiap as he caad it fae his pooch. It wiz made fae a half hazelnut wi a bit o strae for a stalk. I handed him my tabacca pooch and watched as its wee fammils teen haanfaes o tabacca an stappit it intae its pipe. It flipped my pooch closed and handed it back nearly teem. I didna think a half hazelnut could hud that muckle? He pulled oot a flint 'n' fleerish and soon the reek wiz yoamin fae its phiap. It lay itsel back on the girss wi a satisfied grunt and started tae diddle a wee tune tae itsel an its wee fittie tappin oot the measure.
I didna ken fit tae say if the truth be tellt. Fit wid you think?
Here's a wee mannie nae a fit high lying on the breed o its back sookin a pipe its wee tap lippy gan oot an in diddlin a tune at the same time. I tell fit ye'd be thinking! Ye'd be thinking yer gan aff the heed an that yer brain hid wint saft that's fit ye'd be thinkin. As this wiz rinnin throwe my heed the wee mannie leaned forritt and gave me a backhand slap across the mooth. "Fit did ye dee that for min?" I speired  rubbin ma mooth an checkin for bleed.
A wee chortle come fae it "Jist tae show yer nae gyan aff the heed like yer thinkin, I’m real!"A wee chortle an a sleekit look tae its face he said "If ye still dinna believe ma I'll gie tae ye anither wullt across the mooth but a better yin next time!" I held up ma hand "Na na it's aricht I believe ye!" He chortled "Ah well that's fine then, I'm glaid that's oot o the wye!" He started tae ficher wi his phiap eence mair so I threw him my tabacca pooch again. Then like a fool I askit o him "Are ye a fairey?"
Well its face collapsed in twa haafs an its tap lip stuck oot like an upturned soup spoon wi a look o anger on its face that made my bleed rin caal.
It girnned oot at ma "Dinna you ivver use that name in my presence again or I'll pit a hump on yer back like Bennachie and gie ye a ringle ee and I micht even add a ganch tae yer speech as a wee bit extra if ye do!" I apologised tae him and askit fit name should I use in the future. He tellt ma they were 'The Gweed Fowk' and that his name wiz 'Wee-Ma-Goorie' He calmed doon aifter that though and its facie turned tae its normal puckered look.
  For a fair fylie we sat and spoke aboot general things. He speired at ma aboot my life and ither odds an sods but seemed reluctant tae say muckle aboot himsel. Tae change the subject he said "If I granted ye a wish for the here and now fit wid ye wish for?"
Now abody wid probably wish for a crock o gold or something like that, ithers wid wish for a hunnder mair wishes. But it disna work like that ava leastwyes nae fin yer confronted wi it. Wee-Ma-Gorrie pynted oot though that a wish canna change 'Time'.
"Weel fit div ye say? It’s nae ivvery day a mortal gets sic an offer!" A wee smile played ower the puckered facie as he sat awytin my reply. It seemed like a lang time passes afore I said-
"Ken this Wee-Ma-Goorie I hinna an answer for ye!" He chortled at this an tried tae tryste a reply fae ma. "Come on noo! Fit aboot a crock o gowd? That wid mak a great man o ye!"
I shook ma heed "How could a crock o gowd mak the likes o me intae a great man? Onywye fit wid I need gowd for I’d still be the same feel as I am noo but wi a big bank account!" At this Wee-Ma-Goorie slapped his knee chortlin "Well done yer nae as feel as ye think ye are!" chortle chortle.
"Well fit aboot learnin the fiddle? Ye said nae minutes ago that wiz een o yer biggest regrets nae learnin tae play!"
Again I shook ma heed "How could I enjoy the music if I’d been granted the ability wi a wish? I’d want tae learn tae play the fiddle by hard work so I can enjoy the music as mine and nae as granted. And noo at aichty fower and my hands buggered wi a lifetime o hard vrocht ahin ma we baith ken that’s nae gyan tae happen wish or no!"
Wee-Ma-Goorie shook his heed an said "Michty min but yer an ill bugger tae please." But he wisna angry aboot it, he’d a smile on his puckered facie. "Aaricht Sanners (for that’s ma name) listen you here." says he "Wid onybody miss ye if ye didna wun hame?" I thocht on that een for a gweed minute or twa and for the life o ma couldna think on onybody that wid miss ma. Apart fae maybe a twa or three fowk I eence vrocht wi. My loons hid been killed in the war, the aalest een at Dunkirk the youngest een at Singapore an my wife hid deet years afore o a broken hert so I says-
"Not a soul min!"
"Well then" Wee-Ma-Goorie said "Why nae come wi me tae the ‘Enchanted Rath and there I’ll learn ye the fiddle like a champion. Fit div ye say?" He smiled and said as if tae entice ma even mair "And I’ll let ye come back tae the world o men for one day in ivvery syven years!"
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Well now that’s aboot the end o my story. Aifter I've feenished writin this I’ll pit it throwe the letter box o ‘The Journal’.
I thocht I’d tell ye my story seein this is my tenth day back in the world o men. Wee-Ma-Goorie wiz true tae his word and for the past seventy years I’ve learned tae play the fiddle like a maister. I’ve composed an affa lot o crackin tunes in the years for ‘The Gweed Fowk’ but that tunes are nae for the lugs o mortals. But onywye it’s time for me tae wun back tae ‘The Enchanted Rath’ for this day is nearing its eyn. My next day will be July 2024 and I’ll post a fair puckle o tunes that mortals can hear next time. ‘I'm awa for a fine cuppy o tay fae the Gweed Fowk so fairweel for eynoo an lang may yer phiap reek!’

Sanners Gow