๐๐ฅ๐ข ๐๐ซ๐ฑ๐ฆ๐ฎ๐ฒ๐๐ฏ๐ฆ๐๐ฑ
An ANTHOLOGY of
FANTASTIC PROSE and VERSE
with COMMENTARY
---
Compiled by Mr. Jack M. O'Donnell
24/4/25 --- ON SHAPE-SHIFTING CONTESTS
INTRODUCTION
As an addendum to yesterday's discussion of Jack Rowland, today's entry be a brief examination of a particular trope in folklore, namely contests wherein one or both contenders use magic to adopt various forms. This is a widespread and long-enduring mytheme, with precedent reaching back as far as Greek mythology, and it would be neither practical nor productive to try and catalogue every every attested instance, so I shall restrict myself to Anglo-Scottish ballads.
TAM LIN
In this ballad (Roud 35, Child 39), the lady Janet is with-child out-of-wedlock by her lover, the fairy-knight Tam Lin. Seeking an herb to โscathe the babe awayโ, she returns to the woods, only to be stopped by Tam Lin just as she was to pick it. She asks him if he was "sained in Christentie", to which he explains that he is by birth a mortal man and noble, but had been ensorcelled by the Queen of Fairies:
"The Queen of Fairies keppit me
In yon green hill to dwell,
And I'm a fairy, lyth and limb,
Fair ladye, view me well.
"Then would I never tire, Janet,
In Elfish land to dwell,
But aye, at every seven years,
They pay the teind to hell;
And I am sae fat and fair of flesh,
I fear 'twill be mysell.
He further explains that "[t]he night it is good Hallowe'en/When the fairy folk will ride," and that she must pull him from his white horse and thus free him from his curse. He also warns that the Queen of Fairy will try to thwart Janet by turning Tam Lin into various terrible forms, but he assures her that, as the father of her child, he will not and cannot do her any harm:
"They'll turn me in your arms, Janet,
An adder and a snake;
But had me fast, let me not pass,
Gin ye wad be my maik.
"They'll turn me in your arms, Janet,
An adder and an ask;
They'll turn me in your arms, Janet,
A bale that burns fast.
"They'll turn me in your arms, Janet,
A red-hot gad o airn;
But haud me fast, let me not pass,
For Iโll do you no harm.
"First dip me in a stand o milk,
And then in a stand o water;
But had me fast, let me not pass,
Iโll be your bairn's father.
"And next they'll shape me in your arms
A tod but and an eel;
But had me fast, nor let me gang,
As you do love me weel.
"They'll shape me in your arms, Janet,
A dove but and a swan,
And last they'll shape me in your arms
A mother-naked man;
Cast your green mantle over me,
I'll be myself again."
Of today's examples, this is only where the one shifting-shape is a victim of sorcery rather than an agent, but it is elsewhere common, especially in Celtic tradition. For one very strange example, Fionn mac Cumhaill had two wonderous hounds, Bran and Sceolang. The hound's mother, Uirne was a woman who, while with child, was turned into a bitch and thus bore her babes as whelps, and whelps they remained, even after Uirne returned to her true form. However, Uirne had a sister Fuirne, who was the mother of Fionn, thus making his hounds also his first-cousins.
THE TWA MAGICIANS
In this ballad (Roud 1350, Child 44), a hideous blacksmith attempts to court a fair maiden. She rebuffs him, but he persists, so:
The lady, she turnt into a dove,
And flew into the air,
The smith became an old cock pigeon,
And they flew pair-and-pair.
What follows is perhaps the longest and most elaborate shape-shifting contest in all of songdom. She cannot escape him as a dove, so she becomes a mare "dark as the night is black", but he turns into a golden saddle and thereby takes hold of her. Shifting into a hare she slips through his clutches, only for him to become a greyhound. The wizardry only proves cleverer from there:
And she's become a mulberry tree,
A mulberry tree in the wood,
But he's become the morning dew,
And sprinkled her where she stood.
Then she became a hot griddle,
But he became a cake,
And every move the poor girl made,
The blacksmith was her mate.
She's turnt into a full-dress ship,
A-sailing 'pon the sea,
But the smith's become a bold captain,
And aboard of her went he.
So the lady she turnt into a cloud,
A-floating away in the air,
Ah, but he became a lightning dart,
And struck right into her!
Freud or Frazer might found themselves preoccupied with the sexual imagery of the ballad (e.g. the lightning dart is implicitly phallic), but we are primarily concerned with the literal events of the narrative. As mentioned in my commentary for Jack Rowland, the shape-shifting contest, so pervasive in these old stories, presents a far more interesting and mystical approach to a combat between sorcerers than shooting beams of energy at one another. There is much opportunity for creativity in such narratives, and it displays not merely a wizardโs power, but also his intelligence. Additionally, I think shape-shifting and similar subtle-arts to be a better way for a wizard to overcome foes than treating his wand as essentially a lasgun.