Stone Men

A story of the Monts d'Arrée

Everyone knows our story, or the crux of the matter, how we were turned from laughing revellers to lumps of solid stone. How we now sit motionless on the heath, frozen in our folly, evidence of man’s power to impose his will on nature. But that is only half the tale…

It was an unforgettable evening, aftermath of a wedding party, a crowd of cheery souls making their way back from Brennilis. We diverted from the route to revive our festivities on the lonely moor, singing and dancing merrily, young men and girls, reluctant to return to sober hearths. We weren’t so much drunk as merry, pleased with ourselves, with life and our lot on a fair May evening after a day of celebration.

There was a lot of banter, especially when Lanig tripped headlong into the heather, and when Lom pulled Maï behind a gorse bush for a kiss. It was at that moment someone saw a figure up ahead and called to us to hush our noise. We took no notice, laughing at our own antics, pushing and shoving each other playfully.

The priest was not without a measure of communion wine himself, it seemed to us as he drew near. His path weaved more than the bracken warranted and what sounded like a muffled oath reached us through the gloaming as he missed his step. He was carrying the sacrament, doubtless called reluctantly from his warm fire and full tankard by some old one’s final plight.

But when he saw us in our frolics, it was all pride and superiority, the act all the more forceful for its pretence. He ordered us rudely out of his path, and when Lom pointed out the way was wide enough for a herd of cattle let alone free men, he stabbed a finger in the lad’s face and told him to get off the moors and away to his bed where God-fearing folk should be. Maï giggled at that point and a few ribald remarks were passed, but we did break ranks to let him through, the sacrament wobbling dangerously as he tried to maintain a dignified gait. All might have been well, had Lom not called after him for a blessing.

The priest turned, face livid, quivering with barely-suppressed indignation. ‘A blessing you want, is it?’ He spat the words into the soft evening air. ‘Have this from me instead. A curse in God’s name to keep you here forever, witness that the mockery of sinners will never triumph over all that’s holy.’ We laughed good-humouredly and waved him on his way, continuing gradually on our journey, straggling across the heath.

After a few moments, a faint cry came from behind where Lom and Maï had lingered but oddly we saw no sign of them. Then Lanig seemed to be missing and then, then suddenly all of us were gone - slowing, stopping, stiffening - until only a line of stones remained where we had stood.

Everyone knows our story, but that was not the beginning at all, and to this day no-one knows the earlier part, the start of it all. For we were not so much men turned to stones, but stones turned to men and then back again, strange as it is to relate.

We were formed from the original rise of Arrée, millions of years in the making, gradually evolving into individuals – you could say the same of men, I suppose, but they had neither our tenacity nor inner strength. It was that strength that caused all the trouble in the end. We made a united stand against Lagad Fall, the wicked wizard bent on destroying this land to find the secret of metal. Below the height of Tuchenn Gador where he had built his lair, we stood shoulder to shoulder, impenetrable and impervious to his magic charms.

His frustration at our obstinacy knew no bounds and he did not have the means to destroy us, essence of the earth that we were. Alas he had acquired other powers, of ancient craft and cunning. He knew that in the world of stone there is nothing worse than lively movement. So one day he unleashed a fearful storm over the Arrée and vowed the foulest retribution for our resistance to his dominance. He cast a spell and – shocking to relate - transformed us into men. Men destined to remain in perpetuity and work this stubborn land, in memory of our own obstruction. So in fact on that fatal night of the Wedding Party, we only took back our essential nature and that old priest did us an immeasurable favour.

And to this day no-one knows that part of our story.

Thank you for reading!