I've been observing the trolls, gnolls, Hags and imps who inhabit the woods and hidden places near my home. This summer I was invited on a journey with one of the wise old Hags whose magic is such a strong influence on the lives of the Little Folk I have come to know.
This taciturn Hag, whose name I never learnt, travelled the older and wilder parts of the West Country on her rickety old cart, pulled, surprisingly, by an old troll. You can find more hags' stories here and here.
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From the sea
I first saw her on the beach in Devon as she rode along the rocky shore. I've no idea where she came from but she had a strange tentacled creature in a crate on the back of her wagon.
Journeying onwards
At our first meeting I was given a nod from the Hag and a grunt from the troll by way of greeting. She then trundled off into a corn field.
Towards the Tor
Despite the rickety nature of her cart she moved quickly, soon heading towards Dartmoor and up onto one of the many tors. If she met other folk up there I was not lucky enough to spot them.
Among the Tors
The Mendip Hills
Farewell to Dartmoor
Across the Hills
Camping near Avebury
She camped one night by one of Avebury's giant stones. I thought it best not to ask what was in the pot.
Sunrise over Avebury
Whatever business she conducted in this ancient magical ring was done at night and I was not allowed to see.
A last rest stop
We stopped on a high moor and sat contemplating the sky and listening to the winds.
Into the Night
We bid farewell north of Avebury as her sullen troll slowly pulled her onwards into the setting sun. Who knows where she will go next.