While many creatures of folklore make the forests their home, the hills and mountains of Europe have their own collection of nymphs, cryptids and wild-men. Take a look at...
- Zlatorog or Goldhorn, Fairy-Goat of the Alps
- The Tatzelwurm, a Catlike Dragon
- The Turnip-Counting Rübezahl (AKA Liczyrzepa, Karkonosz or Krakonoš)
- Basajaun, Wild Man of the Pyrenees
- The Anguane, Nymphs of the Mountain Streams and Lakes
- The Cailleach, Divine Crone of the British Isles
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| Zlatorog was said to be a golden-horned chamois buck... (Jan Huber) |
Zlatorog or Goldhorn, Fairy-Goat of the Alps
Folklore has it that the mountains of Slovenia were once home to Zlatorog, a white chamois (goat-antelope) buck with golden horns. He was the leader of a herd of mountain goats kept by the white women, fairies that gardened on the Julian Alps above Komna. It was also said that the golden horns served as the key to a treasure horde hidden on the mountain.
The legend goes that a young hunter (also raised by the fairies) fell in love with a girl and wooed her with bunches of wild flowers... but her head was turned by a rich Venetian merchant who gave her gifts of jewelry. The merchant also said that if the hunter really loved the girl, he would hunt down Zlatorog and bring her the fabled treasure of the mountains to prove his worth.
Bitter from the rejection, the hunter took up the challenge to kill Zlatorog. The very next morning, he found and fatally shot his quarry... but in his anger and haste had failed to account for the magical powers of the fairy goat. From Zlatorog's blood sprung Triglav flowers, which immediately restored the goat to full fighting strength.
Faced with the furious and charging Zlatorog, the hunter panicked, fled and stumbled into a crevasse - his body would be found in the Soča river flowing from the mountains. Zlatorog tore apart the mountain gardens, then both he and the fairies disappeared. The treasure, however, remains to be found...
The Tatzelwurm, a Catlike Dragon
The
tatzelwurm is a strange
dragon-like creature from the folklore of the Alps. It's described as a wingless (they'd not be suited for the tight gorges, caves and mountain streams it inhabits)
hybrid creature blending elements of serpent and cat. It's also known as a tunnel worm, arassas or stutzwurm (slope or cliff worm) in other regions.
The normally shy tatzelwurms were said to be rather territorial, which occasionally resulted in a conflict with humans encroaching on their land. These battles tended to end poorly for humans - though the tatzelwurm lacked the flight and sheer physical bulk (
stories tend to put them at up to 7ft long) of a "normal" dragon, they were strong for their size, cold generate intense heat and produce toxins to exhale or simply coat itself with. Should a warrior that manage to slay a tatzelwurm, they would probably still fall foul of the toxins after the fight!
The Turnip-Counting Rübezahl (AKA Liczyrzepa, Karkonosz or Krakonoš)
The legend of
Rübezahl is quite unusual, as it straddles not one or two but
three sets of mythology. He's sometimes called the "Lord of the Giant Mountains" (a real range known as the Riesengebirge or Krkonoše) between Poland and the Czech Republic.
The German name for this entity is rather puzzling, as Rübezahl can be translated as turnip counter. There's actually a
turnip-based story about the creature, recounting that he once abducted a turnip-loving princess... and to keep her happy, Rübezahl created duplicates of her friends from turnips. Of course, these vegetable companions eventually wilted, and the princess asked Rübezahl to count the remaining turnips in his fields... and made her escape while her would-be husband was busy!
Since he shows up in three different cultures, it's not surprising that descriptions of Rübezahl vary. In some he's an old man, in others a giant or gnome and in yet more a hermit or an old woman - some tales just outright declare him to be a shapeshifter. He could be an easily-angered trickster or a helpful figure that could protect you from the hazards of mining. He could cause storms on a bright day, or bring bread to the hungry.
One of the darkest tales of Rübezahl involves what he did to a trespassing nobleman. Now, it must be said that this noble was not a good person - he was cruel to the peasants on his land, punishing them for interfering with his deer (even when they were wrecking the fields.) One day the noble takes a hunt onto Rübezahl's land, and after a exchange of threats, Rübezahl throws him to the ground and cracks all of his ribs. The injury proves supernaturally hard to treat - eventually the noble gives up and dies, before Rübezahl reappears and turns his body to ash!
Basajaun, Wild-Man of the Pyrenees
Other tales go further, crediting Basajaun with cultivation and foraging skills that may have been passed on to humans. This actually raises an interesting point - is it possible that the legend of these reclusive mountain folk was inspired by ancient encounters with
Neanderthals? We know that Neanderthals lived alongside humans for a time... and that they were avid tool users along with being a lot more sophisticated than we tend to give them credit for!
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| Alpine streams like this were said to be the home of the anguane... (Kaspar Allenbach) |
The Anguane, Nymphs of the Mountain Streams and Lakes
Aside from their acrobatic tendencies, they were said to have captivating faces offset by the cloven hooves in place of their feet. They were also said to be extremely well endowed in the chest department,
being able to tuck their breasts beneath their arms - a talent that they used to feed their babies while carrying them in baskets!
The Cailleach, Divine Crone of the British Isles
The
Cailleach (veiled one) is an eerie figure from the British Isles, a mysteriously powerful entity somewhere between a witch and a goddess.
Though described as a frail crone with a single eye and pale skin, the Cailleach walked the mountains and twisted the very landscape to her will. She was a creature of contradictions, neither good nor evil - for example, she was the patron of wolves but might also safeguard deer. She was the goddess of grain, but would curse whomever harvested the last sheaf of grain from a field to a solitary existence (farmers would let a sheep eat the last bit to avoid becoming the victim of this curse)
Even the seasons were bound to the Cailleach's will, as she decided when winter would end. In a surprisingly relatable bit of folklore, she was said to decide based on how much firewood she could collect - and if she didn't have enough for a cozy fire, she'd let the spring begin!
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