Off of the northernmost coast of
Scotland lies the Orkney Islands, an archipelago of seventy islands that has
been continuously inhabited by humans for the last 8,500 years. The islands
have been inhabited by a number of peoples: Old and Middle Stone Age tribesmen,
the Picts, the Vikings, and the Norwegians. The islands themselves were given
to Scotland in the year 1472 A.D. by Denmark. The land is a captive in that it
is surrounded by water, both from the ocean and
deep freshwater lakes further inland. Monsters and mysteries hide in these
murky waters, and one of the most horrifying and the most vile of these
creatures calls the seas surrounding the Orkneys home. At night, the beast
emerges from the sea to hunt, and its only purpose is to torment and kill humans.
The monster is greatly feared throughout the islands, and the people will never
speak its name without uttering a prayer afterwards. The Orcadians know this
monster as the Nuckelavee, the Devil of the Sea.
According to Orcadian legend, the
Nuckelavee (pronounced nuh-kel-ah-vee) is a horrible sea faery or a demon that
comes out of the sea when darkness falls to bring sickness and death to humans,
animals, and the very land itself. The beast then feeds upon the lifeforce of
everything it has killed (Bane 220). The Nuckelavee is thought to be a member
of the Unseelie Court, which is a court of evil faeries in Scottish folklore.
These faeries are said to be the evil souls of the damned, and actively seek to
do as much harm as they possibly can to humans, rather than just causing random
mischief like other faeries (Franklin 260; “Nuckelavee”, Monstropedia). The
beast is also thought to belong to the Fuath,
a collective term for a wide variety of malevolent water faeries in Scottish
and Irish folklore (Franklin 102). The name nuckelavee
is thought to be derived from a corruption of the Orcadian word knoggelvi which, according to Orkney
resident and folklorist Walter Traill Dennison, means “Devil of the Sea”
(“Nuckelavee”, Wikipedia; “The Nightmarish Nuckelavee”, EsoterX). In Shetland,
the same creature is known as a mukkelevi
(“Nuckelavee”, Wikipedia). The word itself may very well be a variation of the
Norse word nokk or the Icelandic word
nykur (“The Nightmarish Nuckelavee”,
EsoterX). But wherever the name comes from, they all more or less describe the
same terrible creature.
The Nuckelavee has been described as
looking more or less like a centaur, but there are some significant differences. The monster’s main body is essentially that
of a horse. However, growing out of the horse’s back is the head, the torso,
and the arms of a man. This “man” is said to be large in stature and appears to
be riding the horse, but in actuality he has no legs and is in fact part of the horse (“Nuckelavee”, Monstropedia).
In other descriptions of the monster, the head, the torso, and the arms of a
man are said to be growing out from where the horse’s head should be. In both descriptions, the head is said to be huge – about three feet in diameter –
and has a very large mouth, filled
with sharp, jagged teeth. The head rolls back and forth, as if the beast’s neck
is too weak to support the weight (“Nuckelavee”, Wikipedia; “Nuckelavee”,
Monstropedia). On that same head is a protruding, piglike nose and a single
large eye, which is bloodshot and glows a fiery red color in the dark. The
manlike portion of the monster has very
long arms that nearly touch the ground. The beast has large hands, and its
fingers are tipped with very sharp, rending claws. But the one thing that makes
the Nuckelavee so unique is the fact that the monster has no skin whatsoever! Thick black blood can be seen coursing through
sickly yellow veins and arteries, which stand out amid the beast’s blood-red
muscles and white sinews (Bane 220; Mack and Mack 57; Franklin 194;
“Nuckelavee”, Wikipedia). Some people say that the creature has fins or
flippers, and that the horrid thing smells like putrid, decomposing fish and a
pile of rotten eggs (Franklin 194). In other words, the Nuckelavee is terrifying
to behold, and smells even worse!
Although many monsters have a dual
purpose, this is not the case with
the Nuckelavee. The monster is pure, unrestrained evil that only seeks to
plague the inhabitants of the Orkneys with sickness and death, a task from
which it rarely (if ever) rests (“Nuckelavee”, Orkneyjar). Although the monster
is more than capable of wreaking all kinds of death and destruction with its
sheer size and strength alone, the beast prefers to use its deadly breath for
that purpose. The creature absorbs and feeds upon the lifeforce of anything
that dies from its vile breath (Bane 220). But judging from the only recorded encounter with the
Nuckelavee, one can surmise that the monster wouldn’t be adverse to
slaughtering and eating livestock and
humans as well (“Nuckelavee”, Monstropedia). Tearing its prey apart with its
vicious claws or trampling them to pieces with its hooves wouldn’t be out of
the question, either.
The Nuckelavee is said to be one of the
most fearsome of all faeries, and its
powers are formidable. The monster has enormous strength, and can gallop faster
than any human can run (or any other horse, for that matter). Nobody seems to
be sure if the Nuckelavee takes on another form when it enter the sea, or if
indeed it changes form at all (“Nuckelavee”, Wikipedia), so shapeshifting may
or may not be out of the question. But it is the Nuckelavee’s breath that is its most formidable
weapon. It has been described as a “foul, black reek” that spews forth from the
beast’s mouth (“Nuckelavee”, Orkneyjar) and causes plants and crops to wither,
animals to sicken and die on the spot,
and infects humans with a deadly wasting disease, which is known as Mortasheen.
The Nuckelavee’s breath is so deadly that it can ruin crops, create epidemics
in both humans and animals, and can
cause long periods of little to no rainfall. This leads to drought, which in
turn makes for poor harvests and eventually leads to famine. However, this
could be more readily attributed to the Nuckelavee itself, rather than the creature’s breath. The dreadful smell can
also drive entire herds of animals
off of cliffs and to their deaths in the sea below (Bane 220; Mack and Mack 58;
“Nuckelavee”, Wikipedia). Unfortunately, the beast’s horrible breath isn’t
something that can be fought with Tic-Tacs® or a pack of Mentos®. It must be
killed or driven away to stop the devastation.
Despite the Nuckelavee’s notoriety,
there is only one recorded encounter
with the monster. It appears that there isn’t any given date or year to
indicate when the event took place, but it is still regarded as being a true story by some Orkney natives. But please bear in mind that the story given
here has been cobbled together from half a dozen different sources, and is
retold here from this blogger’s point of view. It was originally told by Orkney
folklorist Walter Traill Dennison, who lived on Sanday in the 1800s and claimed
to have actually met the man that
encountered the beast. The man was extremely
reluctant to speak of it, and it was only after a lot of cajoling and persuasion on Dennison’s part (“Nuckelavee”,
Wikipedia) that this man agreed to tell his tale.
On one moonless, starlit night, a man
by the name of Tammas Taylor was walking home (perhaps from work or a tavern).
The road he was walking on was close to the seashore, and as he moved forward,
he came to a narrow section of road “that was hemmed in on one side by the sea,
and on the other by a deep freshwater loch”, of which there are many on Sanday
(“Tammas and the Nuckelavee”, Orkneyjar; Fleming 125). Then, it suddenly dawned
on Tammas that there was something huge
on the road in front of him. And worse yet, it was moving towards him. What was he to do?
Tammas immediately knew that the
lumbering thing in front of him was no earthly
beast. He couldn’t leap to either side, but could only go forward or turn back.
Tammas had been taught that a person should never
turn their back on any supernatural beast, and that to do so was to invite
immediate destruction (“The Nightmarish Nuckelavee”, EsoterX; Fleming 125). But
then again, Tammas had always been regarded as being “rough and foolhardy” by
others (“Tammas and the Nuckelavee”, Orkneyjar). With nothing to lose, Tammas
said to himself, “The Lord be aboot me, an’ take care o’ me, as I am oot on no
evil intent this night!” He knew what he had to do…
Determined to face his foe, as the
lesser of two evils, Tammas began to slowly walk forward. Yet as he drew
closer, the man realized that it wasn’t just any monster that he was facing: it was the dreaded Nuckelavee, the
Devil of the Sea. He saw just how gruesome
the creature was up close: the lower part of the body was that of “a great
horse with flappers like fins about his legs, with a mouth as wide as a
whale’s, from whence came breath like steam from a brewing-kettle” (Fleming
125; “Nuckelavee”, Monstropedia). The creature had a single eye, which burned
like hot coals in a fire (Fleming 125). “On the monster’s back was what looked
to him like a huge man, though to Tammas he seemed as if he might be part of
the ‘horse’, for he appeared to have no legs. He did though have long arms
stretching nearly to the ground. His head lolled about on his shoulders as if
at any moment it might topple to the ground” (Fleming 125). In addition, the
man’s head had “a mouth projected like that of a pig” (“Nuckelavee”,
Wikipedia). However, what terrified Tammas the
most about the creature “was that the monster was skinless; this utter want
of skin adding much to the terrific appearance of the creature’s naked body,
the whole surface of it showing only red raw flesh, in which Tammas saw blood
as black as tar, running through yellow veins, and great white sinews thick as
horse tethers, twisting, stretching, and contracting as the monster moved”
(Fleming 125; “Nuckelavee”, Monstropedia). But in spite of his horror, Tammas
kept moving forward.
If Tammas had been frightened before,
he was utterly terrified now. His
hair was standing on end, which he described as “a cold sensation like a film
of ice between his scalp and his skull”, and he was breaking into cold sweats
on top of that (“Nuckelavee”, Monstropedia). But Tammas knew that it was useless trying to run away, and if it
was his fate to die that night, he would rather face his enemy head-on than die
with his back to the creature. But despite how scared he was, something came to Tammas, and he
suddenly remembered that the Nuckelavee absolutely hated
fresh water. He now knew that he had only one
chance to escape, or else he would die in the monster’s enormous jaws.
Slowly, Tammas began to move to the
edge of the road closest to the loch. But then the monster’s horselike lower
head caught on to what the man was doing, and it moved itself accordingly. The
beast opened its mouth, and inside was a bottomless, teeth-filled abyss. Tammas
could feel the Nuckelavee’s disgusting breath on his face, which was hot like a
fire (“Nuckelavee”, Monstropedia). The beast raised its long arms and reached
out to grab the poor man, but Tammas narrowly managed to duck and evaded the
attack! In the process, however, the man momentarily lost his footing, and one
of his feet accidentally slipped into the loch. This made a splash of water,
some of which hit one of the monster’s forelegs. The Nuckelavee reared up on
its hind legs and let out “a thunderous snort” (Fleming 125). Tammas saw his
chance, and began to run as fast as
he could! And it was a good thing he did, because the Nuckelavee was right behind him, bellowing with anger
(“Nuckelavee”, Monstropedia; Fleming 125).
Tammas had never run so fast or so hard
before, nor had he ever been so scared.
But then again, he hadn’t ever encountered a monster before, either. But then he saw the rivulet, a small stream
through which excess water from the loch made its way into the ocean. He knew
that a great many supernatural beings were afraid of or otherwise despised running water, and the
Nuckelavee was no exception. If he could get across the stream, he would be
safe from the beast’s grasp. As he closed in on the bank, the monster extended
its arms again to grab its prey. Tammas made one last desperate leap and landed
on the opposite bank, leaving only his bonnet in the monster’s clawed hands.
The Nuckelavee let out “a wild unearthly yell of disappointed rage”, and
disappeared into the night. Utterly exhausted, Tammas collapsed on the other side of the bank, unconscious but safe (Fleming 125-126; “Nuckelavee”,
Wikipedia; “Nuckelavee”, Monstropedia; Mack and Mack 58; “The Nightmarish
Nuckelavee”, EsoterX; “Tammas and the Nuckelavee”, Orkneyjar).
As powerful as the Nuckelavee is, the
beast is not without its weaknesses. As the story above states, the Nuckelavee
is deathly afraid of fresh water, nor
is it able to wade across running water. Furthermore, the beast will never come ashore during a rainstorm
(“Nuckelavee”, Monstropedia). Exactly why
the Nuckelavee despises fresh water so much is something of a mystery, but
what’s important is that it works. In
their book A Field Guide to Demons,
Vampires, Fallen Angels, and Other Subversive Spirits (Arcade
Publishing, 2011), Carol and Dinah Mack state that anyone who takes it upon
themselves to go traveling through the Scottish Isles (i.e. on a backpacking
trip) should, as a general rule, pack a number of bottles of fresh spring water
with them (Mack and Mack 59). Not only is water essential for staying hydrated and alive, but it will also keep the Nuckelavee at bay (Mack
and Mack 59). And like most faeries (there are some exceptions), the Nuckelavee
is vulnerable to iron and steel, and can be wounded or even slain by these metals (Bane 220; Mack
and Mack 59). If a physical confrontation becomes necessary, use the bottled
water to repeatedly splash the monster, while simultaneously slashing at it
with a steel blade or beating the beast with a rusty metal rod. If this assault
doesn’t drive the Nuckelavee away,
then nothing will.
Another thing that the Nuckelavee hates
is the old Orkney practice of burning gathered seaweed, which is known as
kelp-burning. The smell is extremely
offensive to the Nuckelavee, but it doesn’t actually have any apotropaic qualities. Instead, the pungent smoke sends the
beast into a foaming, extremely violent
rage that can cause plagues, the destruction of private property, the ruination
of crops, and widespread livestock slaughter (“Nuckelavee”, Wikipedia). Furthermore,
the Nuckelavee would “visit” the island of Stronsay and strike down all of the horses on the entire island
with a fatal disease, which again is known as Mortasheen. Stronsay was the
first island in the Orkneys to adopt the practice of kelp-burning in the early
1700s, where seaweed was gathered up from the beaches, dried, and burned in
large stone-lined pits for up to eight hours. During this time, dried seaweed
would be added to the pits continuously. The ash that remained was rich in
potash and soda, which was initially used for treating acidic soil, but was
eventually sought after by glass and soap manufacturers. Eventually, this
practice spread across the Orkneys, but went into decline in the early 1800s,
when deposits of the needed minerals were found in Germany. This made
kelp-burning both unnecessary and
obsolete (“Kelp-Burning”, Orkneyjar; “Nuckelavee”, Wikipedia; “Nuckelavee”,
Monstropedia). In this regard, it’s no wonder that the Nuckelavee targets this
island in its rage.
In Orcadian folklore, it is believed
that there is only one other
supernatural force that is capable of stopping the Nuckelavee, and the people
of the Orkneys call her the Mither o’ the Sea (Mother of the Sea), or Sea
Mither for short. It is thought to be her
great power that controls the beast and keeps it restrained during the dryer
summer months, while the monster’s fear of fresh water and rainstorms ensures
that it stays under the sea during the wet winter months (“Nuckelavee”,
Orkneyjar). The Sea Mither is the benevolent personification of the sea,
granting the gift of life to every single living thing and dispelling the
frightful storms that plague the Orkney natives so frequently. In other words,
she is a kind, loving goddess that fiercely
protects the inhabitants of the Orkneys, as a mother does for her children. She
is one of the oldest surviving traditions from Orcadian folklore to date
(“Mither o’ the Sea”, Orkneyjar).
The Mither o’ the Sea is not without
enemies of her own. As well as having to deal with the dreadful Nuckelavee, her
rival is the spirit of the winter, Teran. This spirit is believed to be very powerful and extremely hostile, and it is said that Teran’s awful voice could be
heard “in the fury of the winter gales and his anger seen in the mountainous waves
that crashed against the coastline” (“The Mither o’ the Sea”, Orkneyjar). Every
spring during the vernal equinox, the Sea Mither would come back to the Orkneys
to settle into her summer home. But in order to claim the seas for herself, she
had to defeat and imprison Teran first.
The Orcadian people called this event the Vore
Tullye, the Spring Struggle. This is believed to be a fearsome battle that
could last for several weeks and resulted in devastating storms which “churned
the sea into a boiling froth”. And yet the Sea Mither was always victorious,
her powers and strength fully restored by her winter’s rest. In other words, it
was no contest. Teran would be
imprisoned and bound in chains to the ocean floor, and the Mither o’ the Sea would
immediately go about undoing any damage that Teran had caused during the
winter, calming the angry sea and dispelling the storms. And except for an
occasional storm (caused by Teran’s struggling at the bottom of the sea), the
Sea Mither ruled her domain uncontested (“The Mither o’ the Sea”, Orkneyjar).
During this time, the Sea Mither kept her eyes on and restrained the
Nuckelavee.
But the Sea Mither isn’t able to rule forever. As the months went by and
summer turned into fall, the Mither o’ the Sea grew weak and tired from her exertions
during the warmer months. And as her powers waned, the magical shackles that
held Teran to the ocean floor weakened as well. Eventually, Teran broke free
and ascended to the surface, ready to do battle once again. This battle is
known as the Gore Vellye, the Autumn
Tumult. And this time, Teran would be triumphant, and the islands would tremble at his power and his tyrannical
rule. The Mither o’ the Sea would retreat, beaten but not defeated. It is said
that the Sea Mither is able to hear the desperate cries of every man, woman,
and child that drowns, and she weeps for them. But she is able to comfort
herself in the knowledge that, when spring finally
comes, she will be refreshed and stronger than ever before, with her powers
fully restored. And she will once again send Teran to the bottom of the sea,
and the Mither o’ the Sea will once again resume her throne as the rightful
ruler of the seas (“The Mither o’ the Sea”, Orkneyjar).
Although keeping the Nuckelavee away is
a fairly simple matter (although it is still far easier said than done),
killing the beast is a far more
complicated task. To make matters worse, none of the resources consulted for
this entry give any clues as to how
this can be accomplished, if indeed it is even remotely possible. Since no real details are given, speculation
comes into play. One idea that comes to mind involves literally pushing the
beast into a lake. Since the Nuckelavee hates fresh water so much, immersing
the monster may actually kill it, if
only from sheer shock or drowning. And since no mere mortal can actually push such a heavy creature into a loch,
a resourceful hunter must trick the
beast into the water. Exactly how
this can be done is up to the hunter, although being reckless or stupid about
it is not recommended.
If immersing the Nuckelavee in fresh
water doesn’t kill the beast, there are other
methods that a resourceful monster hunter can fall back on. Piercing the heart with an iron blade or a stake and
cutting off the head should prove to be highly effective. However, the fact
that the Nuckelavee has two heads and
(presumably) two hearts presents a
unique problem. For the decapitation, an extremely sharp blade that is long enough to put some distance between
oneself and the monster and also to take off both heads cleanly is recommended.
To pierce the hearts, a little digging into horse anatomy is needed. But one
should try to pierce both of the
hearts simultaneously for maximum effect, or otherwise the beast may not fall
right away. But once the creature is dead, the body should be dismembered and
burned. It will require a few hundred
pounds of wood and at least twenty (or more) gallons of gasoline or oil to
burn the corpse to cinders. Furthermore, it will require several hours or even
a few days of work and burning to
reduce the body to ashes. About twelve people should take shifts of watching
and adding fuel to the fire until there’s nothing left of the Nuckelavee but
cinders and ashes. In this way, the Nuckelavee cannot regenerate and resurrect
itself. If such a thing were to happen, the beast would undoubtedly be quick to wreak its horrible, bloody
revenge on its would-be killers.
Today, the Nuckelavee has been all but
forgotten. Legends say that the beast hasn’t been seen since Tammas Taylor
encountered the beast so long ago. Has it simply disappeared due to its humiliation? Nobody knows for sure. But despite this, the
Nuckelavee is remembered through its many appearances in popular culture, having
appeared in a number of video games and in literature. But is the Nuckelavee truly gone? The people of the Orkneys
don’t seem to think so, and they have every
reason to believe that the Nuckelavee is still out there, emerging from the sea at night to hunt on dry land
in search of a meal of human flesh…
Sources
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North Carolina: NeDeo Press, 2007.
Fleming, Maurice. Not of This World: Creatures of the Supernatural in Scotland.
Edinburgh, Scotland: Mercat Press Ltd., 2002.
Franklin, Anna. The Illustrated Encyclopaedia of Fairies. London, England: Anova
Books Company Ltd., 2004.
Mack, Carol K. & Dinah. A Field Guide to Demons, Vampires, Fallen
Angels, and Other Subversive Spirits. New York: Arcade Publishing,
2011.
“Nuckelavee”. Wikipedia, the Free
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<https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nuckelavee>
“Nuckelavee”. Monstropedia. Last
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December 29, 2015. <http://www.orkneyjar.com/folklore/nuckenc.htm>
Towrie, Sigurd. “Kelp Burning in Orkney”.
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Homicidal Orkney Unseelie”. EsoterX ~ If Monsters Don’t Exist,Why Are They
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