Morrigan looks relieved, as if a huge weight has left her. She nods toward Sandy’s fin. ‘An how did yee get that gash, old fella?’ Sandy eagerly tells her about the close escape from a great white shark and Morrigan enjoys the story immensely. The seahorses swing from their seaweed branches, dangling in the tide as if they are listening to the story too, and a flatfish rolls his eyes from the ocean floor, hoping he will not be their meal tonight. Sandy holds out his fin for Morrigan to see the gash where he ripped it on the rocks while escaping. Morrigan thinks how like the old Sandy this is. He carries his wounds as if in battle, be that from a hoe or a scythe or a shark. She chuckles to herself.
Once Sandy has finished his tale and Fiona has added the part about her time in the crevice, she asks Morrigan if Shelley knows the truth about who is really her mother. Morrigan flinches, twists her tail in discomfort. She’d never realised that Fiona, or anyone else knew about this.
‘How did you guess?’ she asks. ‘Did Kelpie tell you?’
‘Aye,’ replies Sandy, cleaning his whiskers with his fin. ‘Kelpie was right proud of young Shelley and he told us you was the true mother of the bairn. We never told Bonnie, of course. Evidently, she always thought Shelley was his niece, abandoned by her own mother who flew the nest for Australia and just a baby when they met. She took her on as her own and reckoned it was better that Shelley thought that too. Bonnie might’ve treated her rough if she knew you were the true mother. It was best left that way for all, Kelpie said. Bonnie swam away to live in Shetland with her new selkie lover, and there she stays as far as I know. She is a happier lass in the sea than ever she was on land, so I’m right pleased aboot that.’
‘Me too,’ replies Morrigan. ‘It’s a relief. I was always concerned aboot her though nobody would have known.’
‘You hide yer feelings a lot, Morrigan. You could do with more lessons below sea,’ adds Fiona. ‘Time you made some changes now Kelpie is gone. You need to make a new start.’
‘Think I will,’ replies Morrigan, her eyes following a beautiful haddock as he proudly swishes by.
‘Keep yer flashers off that fella,’ warns Sandy. ‘He’s a right bugger.’ They laugh and swim deeper into the kelp.
For some time, they catch up on news and then the moment comes for Morrigan to say her farewells and surface for the last time. They are sad to see her go, despite her gruffness when ruffled. They watch from the deep as Morrigan fins her way to the surface and emerges amidst a show of bright lights dazzling in the sky, a rainbow of colours and sparkling stars shooting through the heavens. Morrigan leaps over the side of the dory for the final time, sad to be leaving the sea, glad to be starting again. This time, she will try to be more consistent, not just swing with her moods.
Above her, a star shoots from the sky and splashes into the sea, followed by a fiery constellation resembling the northern lights. A harbinger of hope.
[40]
‘Congratulations, Camilla, you did an excellent job organising this venue.’ Monique pats her on the shoulder. Camilla is not so bad after all. Bit of a control freak but definitely organised when it comes to producing the goodies. Around them, the storytellers are preparing for their final performances, dressing up for the occasion in the clothes of their characters, and fires have been started around the farmer’s land, lighting up the Ring of Brodgar.
‘The best is yet to come. You wait,’ adds Camilla, just a speckle of a twinkle in her eye.
‘You mean the performances?’ asks Monique.
‘You could say that, with a bit of help from Heaven,’ replies Camilla.
I wish she’d leave heaven out of the equation, thinks Monique. Her fundamentalist background always has to surface somewhere. But tonight is not a night for differences, rather to celebrate our common strengths. Monique changes the subject. ‘Did Morrigan ever tell you why she called herself Ellen in Scotland?’
‘Turns out it is her first name and she uses it rarely, mostly outside of Orkney. She reckons she is a different creature once she leaves the islands.’
‘She sure is,’ replies Monique, grinning. They both return to help their groups prepare for the celebration.
Cowrie notices that Shelley has returned to the circle and looks a bit pale. She takes her aside and asks if everything is okay. Shelley spills out everything, to a stunned Cowrie, and at the end all she can do is hug her closely. ‘Well, I reckon you can celebrate a bloody fine mother, even if she’s unconventional, and even if she’s not the one who physically raised you.’
Shelley is about to grimace, when she thinks about the stories over their day together, and how Bessie filled her in on the afternoon session, telling her how the children asked such amazing questions and how she had a chance to surprise herself by her answers. Shelley is determined to try to get along with Morrigan, even if it takes some time. Just because she is different doesn’t mean she is no good, thinks Shelley. At least she is alive and there for me. She tells Cowrie about her discussion with Bessie and asks what she thinks. Cowrie encourages her to try to get along with Morrigan and suggests she ask Morrigan to take her to the next fringe festival once she has made contact with the fiddlers. Maybe she could stay with them in Edinburgh for a while if Morrigan agrees. Cowrie promises she will broach the topic with Morrigan and Shelley kisses her on the cheek in thanks.
By now the twenty-seven standing stones in the magic ring are surrounded by fairies and Finfolk, selkies and trows. ‘Never a scene like this was witnessed since the women of Skara Brae stood around these stoons themselves,’ laughs Bessie, rejoicing in the atmosphere of joy and celebration. Men and women and children, young and old, some descended from selkies, some from Finfolk, some from Norsemen and others from the Scots and Irish and Celts and Picts, hold hands and dance around the Ring of Brodgar as the sun sets over the Loch of Stenness. Between stories, they sing and play the flute and fiddle.
Sasha recounts the story her Canadian Inuit grandmother told her about the origin of the Sea Spirit and how the fingers cut from the girl by her father as she tried to get back into their boat caused seals to come to life in the sea. Then she tells the Netsilik Eskimo version where Nuliajuk’s finger stumps spring to life in the sea and rise to the surface crying like seals, and how Nuliajuk became the mother of all sea creatures, and a woman of great powers whom Inuit are taught to respect. She enacts the stories as she did at the festival and the Orcadians are moved. Bessie responds by telling of the giant stoorworm who could only be subdued by a young Orcadian sailing into his stomach with a burning peat which he lodged into its liver. The stoorworm screamed and its tongue lashed the skies nearly pulling down the moon, then crashed back into the sea, its forked tongue cutting off Denmark and Norway and creating the Baltic Sea. Still screaming, the stoorworm lurched its head from the waves and crashed down again, causing his teeth to splash out into the ocean, creating the islands of Orkney. And so the islands of Shetland and Faroe also sprang to life. Then the defeated giant lay dormant and became the body of Iceland, its fiery volcanoes testament to the Orcadian peat still burning in its liver. The crowd draws in its breath as Sasha enacts the story while Bessie relays it.
Cowrie thinks about the similarity in the Inuit tales of the creation of the seals from the fingers, the Orcadian story about the creation of these islands from the stoorworm’s teeth and the Pacific version where the fins of floating turtles were cut off to form groups of islands. Maybe it is in ancient storytelling that our shared roots can be found, where a common thread for the future lies, and all the stories require some form of sacrifice to achieve change. She looks around the faces of the storytellers and musicians. Keri was right. They have become the heart and muscles and mind of something perilous and new, something strange and growing and great.
As the moon rises, a dazzling display of lights appears high in the sky and startles the storytellers, leaving them looking up in awe. Camilla smiles. She’d planned the entire event to coincide with the aurora borealis and kept it secret from them
all. Monique now realises what she meant by the heavens giving a helping hand. She smiles, thinking this Camilla has more to her than meets the eye.
There’s another creature believing this right now, as she lands ashore at Finstown and jumps into the van, heading for the ring. The aurora borealis is still showering her dazzling display on the storytellers, arms linked in awe, looking up to the night sky, when a van pulls up at the shores of the Loch of Harray. A figure emerges from the van and quietly walks over the fields and joins hands between Camilla and Shelley. Shelley looks to her left and smiles. Morrigan smiles back. This is at least a start.
The stones are lit by all the colours of the rainbow and glow with pride at witnessing a new awakening of ritual. Just like the old days. When the women of Skara Brae celebrated with their men folk under the starry skies, when each harvest brought a new celebration, each animal who gave its life was honoured, when people did not need to bear arms against each other, because the common good was deemed more important than individual needs. The moon smiles down on the Ring of Brodgar. The stones are witnessing the dawning of a new age.
Deep beneath the Bay of Skaill, two seals prepare to leave for warmer oceans, knowing their work is done here and they can return for the next season. From the walls of Skara Brae, the old women wail a farewell to protect them on their journey, then their spirits return to the Ring of Brodgar, as they always promised to do.
Cowrie notices two elderly women, set apart from the group. She is about to welcome them forward, when they disappear into the stones. Nobody else seems to see them. Maybe it’s a trick of the light. She looks up into the night sky, dazzled by the starry circus. The colours light up the faces of the group. It is then that she notices Morrigan, one hand in Shelley’s and the other in Camilla’s. She smiles. Sasha holds her own hand, squeezes it gently.
Out beyond the breakers, two seals swim into the rainbow-splashed seas, their new journey started amidst a sky full of sizzling stars. But they know, like the women, they will return to these Orcadian waters, for they have experienced the blessing of the Finfolk and responded to the Song of the Selkies.
Select Bibliography
Books consulted during research for Song of the Selkies:
Chapel Preservation Committee. Orkney’s Italian Chapel, printed by the Orcadian Ltd, Kirkwall, Orkney.
Lamb, Gregor. Hid Kam Intae Words: Orkney’s Living Language, Byrgisey, Birsay, Orkney, 1986.
Lamb, Gregor. Orkney Wordbook: A Dictionary of the Dialect of Orkney, Byrgisey, Birsay, Orkney, 1988.
McAuley, John M. Seal-Folk and Ocean Paddlers: Sliochd nan Ron, The White Horse Press, Isle of Harris, Outer Hebrides, 1998.
Muir, Tom. The Mermaid Bride and other Orkney Folk Tales, The Kirkwall Press, Kirkwall, Orkney, 1998.
Ritchie, Anna. Prehistoric Orkney, (Historic Scotland Series), B.T. Battsford Ltd, London, 1995.
Ritchie, Anna. The Brochs of Gurness and Midhowe, (Historic Scotland Series), B.T. Battsford Ltd, London 1993.
Skara Brae, Maes Howe, Historic Scotland booklets.
Stewart, Bob & Matthews, John. Legendary Britain, Blandford Press, London, 1993.
Walsh, Mary. Walks in Orkney, Westmorland Gazette, Cumbria, 1994.
Glossary
Aotearoa New Zealand
arohanui much love
caisie Orkney for basket, usually made of heather but sometimes of grass or reeds
ceilidh dance within festival
ferryloopers non-Orcadians who come and go on the ferry
Finfolk the fin people of early Orkney myths
giro UK term for unemployment benefits
gracefins invented term for dolphins
hei matau bone fishhook worn around the neck
jandals thongs, slippers (US)
ka pae that’s good, that’s fine
kai moana seafood
karakia prayer
karanga chant
kelpie originally a water monster in Orkney
ki’i pohaku Hawai’ian petroglyphs or rock drawings
kia kaha stay strong
Kina sea egg
koauau Maori bone flute played through the nose
kohanga reo lit. language nest — Maori pre-school conducted entirely in Maori
kura kaupapa Maori secondary school conducted entirely in Maori
longfins whales
mahalo thank you (Hawai’ian)
manuhiri karanga
maranga mai come together, gather round
nousts moulds in the rocks where the prows of boats have been for many years worn into the rocks or sand or clay
Orkneyinga book describing the history of Orkney and saga and book have their own historical centre in Orkney of the same name
pahoehoe lava rocks (Hawai’i)
pakeha white person (Maori)
peedie little, wee (Orkney)
selkie seal woman. Many ancient myths surround the selkies. Book explains context.
shaldro pied oyster catcher or torea (from earlier Cowrie series). This bird has a symbolic role in the Cowrie series.
Siliyik story-telling performance group. (Chumash Indian term for ‘sacred enclosure in the dancing ground’)
taniwha mythical beast; water monster
tatties potatoes
tototoko Maori talking stick, sacred
trow troll
waiata song
whanau family
youngfin young finned creatures
Song of the Selkies Page 17