An Elven Story – Chapter Fourteen – The Stag

Avebury is a henge monument containing three stone circles, around the village of Avebury in Wiltshire, in south-west England. One of the best known prehistoric sites in Britain, it contains the largest megalithic stone circle in the world. Contained within a giant circular henge about 430 metres across, the site of Avebury rivals, and some would say surpasses Stonehenge for its sheer scale and impressiveness. It is 427m (1401ft) in diameter and covers an area of some 28 acres .It has a great ring of 98 sarsen slabs enclosing two smaller circles of 30 stones each.

My partner and I walked through the circle one evening, when it was just getting dusk. We had visited Avebury for the day and had just eaten a hearty meal at the pub. As we walked along the line of stones all of a sudden a stag appeared right in front of us, he looked briefly at us and then jumped over the hedge and he was gone. We gasped with surprise, we knew this was some sort of sign.

During an Ayahuasca ceremony I was having a hard time with negative entities, I was battling demons most of the evening. All the way through this process I had seen what I thought was a devil knocking on my aura. I had noticed that only the beings I had invited in at one point or another could actually come into my plasma field and interact with me. This devil kept knocking on my aura. He looked like the way the devil is portrayed in horror films; he had one horn red and the other black. He looked just like Satan. I was so confused I thought I was already being plagued by demons I did not know if it was a good idea to let in a being who seemed to be Satan.

I was so confused, on Ayahuasca it is so overwhelmingly real it brought me to fear. In the end I screamed in my head, will someone please tell me if I am to let this being in or not? I was so confused every time I thought about letting him in, I had all these programmes and beliefs come up as to what this Satan energy is, I saw much religious Christian doctrine falling away from me. I went through inquisition memories and burning of the witches. I then went through all the persecution of the women and their connection to this satanic being. As this process continued he began to change his appearance. He went from being a black and red devil to looking more like a stag man , the more I processed through all the false programming around this being and my connection to him, the more he transformed until finally he looked like the most beautiful , powerful, strong man. He had a gorgeous body he was muscular and very good looking. He had hairy legs with hooves, a muscly male torso; he had scruffy hair with stag’s horns coming out of this head. He had a bow and arrow. Then I realised this was the Horned God and so I opened my aura and let him in.

It was awesome when he came in; he brought me such a feeling of power, lust for life, strength and a feeling of being of the earth. I felt like I had energy to walk the ancestral line and felt like I was all the animals on the planet. I started moving from one wild woodland animal to another, fox, deer, stag, and boar. I watched a scene of the earth and how humans had become agricultural and had learnt the skills needed from this Horned God. I saw how they worshipped first the Goddess with ram’s horns upon her head and later how this had turned to a male god form as Horned God.

Several months previous to my ceremony I had taken a client through a past life process. During this I saw her as a clan’s woman; she was the matriarch of the clan. She was inside a hut sitting upon a chair covered with furs; she was also dressed in furs. Upon her head was a headdress made of flowers with two ram’s horns upon it. Sitting at her feet were the young men of the clan, they were listening attentively to her lessons as she was teaching the men all about sex. I recognised this clan woman and the horns on her head really triggered me. I then spent the next few weeks having dreams about the Goddess with the ram’s horns upon her head. I even bought a pair of ram’s horns to make my own headdress. I knew this was somehow an aspect of the Goddess that I was missing. So when the Horned God turned up in my ceremony I came to realise what it all meant.

In Celtic mythology, the Stag symbolises the existence of the Other world .The Celtic god Cernunnos was depicted zoomorphically as a man with horns growing from his head. In earlier times the Celts believed that the stag was an agent from the ‘Other world’ and a bringer of great changes to those it encountered. The stag often appeared when something sacred, or a law or code, was being broken. In many of the legends of King Arthur, the white stag is so elusive it can never be caught and it is the pursuit of the beast that represents humanity’s spiritual quest, always searching for something just out of reach. Its entrance or discovery is often the stimulus for the knights to begin a high and noble quest. In folklore, sometimes the white stag has red ears or bears the sun between its horns. Other tales suggest its horns flame with fire that never consumes them, while in Persian legend, a creature like the white stag, actually had blue fur, eyes like rubies, and hooves like gold. Its mere appearance, signalled that the time for a quest was at hand. Many tales suggest its presence heralded coming change.

In Hungarian folklore, the tale of Hunor and Magor credits the white stag with leading these two sons of Nimrod to the bountiful land in which they settled, eventually giving birth to two people groups–the Huns and the Magyars. This theme of the stag leading its pursuers to a significant location, usually favourable, is common and appears in Persian, Japanese and Celtic mythologies.

The white stag is a creature of the Dream, symbolizing hope. It exists both in reality and in the Dream. The symbol of the cosmos and the mother of the sun was symbolized as a large horned female doe. The great horned doe often was shown carrying the sun in her horns, in some cases the sun itself was symbolized as a stag the son of the doe of the legend. The following Christmas song told by the Hungarian regos (bards) illustrate the stag as the carrier of the sun. The hind represents not the sun, but its mother, the heavenly firmament, the cosmos, which carries the stars, the sun and the moon in its horns.


English Translation

Boy stag of wonder, with horns of a thousand branches and knobs

Thousand branches and knobs and of a thousand bright candles

Amongst its horns it carries the light of the blessed sun

On its forehead there is a star, on its chest the moon

And it starts along the banks of the shining heavenly Danube

That it may be the messenger of heaven and bringer of news

About our creator and caring god

Deer Power Animal Symbol Of Gentleness Unconditional Love and Kindness- By Ina Woolcott – “ In the Celtic tradition, there are two aspects of deer – female and male. The Hind (the red female deer), called Eilid in the Gaelic language, symbolises femininity, subtlety and gracefulness. The Hind is believed to call to us from the Faery realm, tempting us to release the material trappings of so-called ‘civilization’, to go deep into the forest of magic, to explore our own magical and spiritual nature. The topic gentleness is part of this tradition. Many stories tell of Hinds changing into women, often goddesses, to protect does from being hunted. The lesson to be gleaned here is that when we explore magic and spirituality, it must be with good intention, to harm no living being, but to enter the realm of the wild things in the spirit of love and communion. The Stag, Damh in the Gaelic tongue, is also linked to the sacredness of the magical forest. The Damh represents independence, purification, and pride. It is known as the King of the Forest, the protector of its creatures. For time immemorial people have sought to identify with the stag by ceremonially wearing antlered headdresses and imitating the deer’s leaping grace.”

In northern Siberia, the heavenly reindeer, symbolised by the big dipper, steals the sun, and that is why there is no sun for half a year in the arctic. When the mythical hunter, who is often symbolised by a bear, kills the female reindeer, it starts the new days. This is an important key to the stories, for the chase after the stag is a hunt for the return of the sun, which during winter is taken away by the stag. The hunters are searching for its light and heat. The recapturing of the Stag then brings back summer.

The deer was said to be a fairy creature that could pass between the worlds. This was especially true for a white deer. Fionn’s wife Sabha became a deer when she went to the Other world Beautiful women frequently became deer in many tales while fleeing from hunters.

Irish Tale

Fionn met his most famous wife, Sadhbh, when he was out hunting. She had been turned into a deer by a druid, Fear Doirich, whom she had refused to marry. Fionn’s hounds, Bran and Sceólang, born of a human enchanted into the form of a hound, recognised her as human, and Fionn brought her home. She transformed back into a woman the moment she set foot on Fionn’s land, as this was the one place she could regain her true form. She and Fionn married and she was soon pregnant. When Fionn was away defending his country, Fear Doirich (literally meaning Dark Man) returned and turned her back into a deer, whereupon she vanished. Fionn spent years searching for her, but to no avail. Bran and Sceólang, again hunting, found her son, Oisín, in the form of a fawn; he transformed into a child, and went on to be one of the greatest of the Fianna.

The Druid Tuan mac Carill is the sole survivor of a group of early Partholanian Irish settlers. He lives at first as a Wildman of the woods eventually becoming a stag, an eagle, a salmon and eventually is reincarnated as himself in the role of the White Hart/Hind, where the deer is a messenger from the Other world, then the time of year is associated with Samhuin/Halloween when the bridge between the Other world and ours appears.

The Tale of Tuan by Jim Fitzpatrick – “ Tuan Mac Carill was one of 2 elders who knew the History of Ireland. He had come to Ireland under the leader, Partholon. All in this party were taken ill. Tuan alone survived. When the elders met at Tara to write a history of the land, it was up to Tuan to tell them of their past and elder Trefuilngid Tre-Eochair to verify his story…

I am Tuan

I am legend

I am memory turned myth.

I am the story teller. Warriors and young boys creep away from the hearths of wine halls to hear me. Greedy for tales of honour and history they watch my lips with bright eyes, for I give them what is more precious than gold; treasure unlocked from my heart. My words burn like flame in the darkness. I speak and hearts beat high, swords warm to the hand; under my spell boys become men. But I know both the pain as well as the brightness of fire. I am the story teller who cannot find rest. The peace of death will never be mine. I am condemned to watch and to speak; my hand reaches in vain for the warrior’s sword.

Once I, Tuan, was a man, the chieftain of a great race, the Cesair. My warriors sat on wolf skins; they raised golden goblets to me brimming with wine. Neither evil nor harm dared cross the threshold where I sat, my throne studded with jewels, inlaid with ivory. But the gods envy the happiness of men; flood and sword combined to destroy my people. Now the wine hall stood empty, ruined; doorway and roof gaped wide to receive the beasts of the earth and the birds of the air. It was ordained that I alone should be saved to bear witness to my peoples fate. I watched helpless while the fair land of Èireann was ravaged by the scavengers and foes. The golden cities I once loved lay fathoms deep beneath gray seas.

For many years I wandered as a man seeking shelter in caves and the depths of the forest; but when at last the noble race of Nemed came to reclaim their homeland I was barred from greeting them as either chieftain or warrior. Another fate was mine; to watch unseen, keeping the secrets of time close in heart and brain. The gods had singled me out for a strange fate, unfamiliar pains and pleasures, for as the years passed, they bound me within the bodies of beast and bird so that I might watch and keep the history of Èireann unnoticed by men.

The first transformation came upon me unaware. I had grown old as a man. The years had left my body naked and weak; my joints ached and my hair fell gray and matted over my bowed shoulders. One day a great weariness came upon me. I sought shelter in my cave certain that death had claimed me. For many days and nights I slept. Then at last I awoke to the sun. My limbs felt strong and free. My heart leapt up within me for I had been reborn as Tuan, the great-horned stag, King of the deer-herds of Èireann. The green hills were mine, the valleys and the streams.

As I ran free across the heather covered plains, the children of Nemed were driven from their homeland. Only I remained, grown old as a stag, their story locked in my heart. Then the great heaviness of change again weighed me down; again I sought shelter in my cave. Wolves eager for my blood and sinewy flesh howled to the moon. But I slept, floating loose in dream-time. Through the heaviness of sleep I felt myself grow young again. When the low rays of sunrise touched me I awoke.

The wolves still sniffed about the entrance to my cave. But now I was young and strong; fit to face them. I, Tuan, with joyful heart, thrust my sharp tusks out of my lair and the wolves fled yelping like frightened dogs. I was fresh, lusty with life; I had been born again, a black boar bristling with power, thirsty for blood. Now I was a king of herds; my back was sharp with dark bristles; my teeth and tusks were ready to cut and kill. All creatures feared me.

But while I had lain locked in dreams a new race of men had come to disturb the silence of mountain and valley. They were the Fir Bolg and they belonged to the family of Nemed. These I did not chase and when they chased me I fled, for their blood was mine also. The Fir Bolg divided the island into five provinces and proclaimed the title Ard-Ri, that is High King, for the first time in Èireann.

As I roamed the purple hills I would often leave my herd and gaze across to the High King’s hall and remember with sadness the time when I also had sat in council, with warriors at my feet, and felt the bright eyes of women gaze upon me.

Once again the ache of change drove me back to my lonely cave in Ulster. After three days fasting, another death floated me beyond dream-time. Nights circled from summer into winter until one morning I woke and soared high into the clear sky.

I was reborn

I was lord of the heavens

I was Tuan the great sea-eagle.

I, who had been king among the heather and scented woodlands, became lord of the heavens. From the highest mountain I could see the field-mouse gathering wheat husks, nothing escaped my sharp eye.

Motionless, feathering the air, riding the wind, I watched the children of Nemed return to Èireann. Now known as the Tuatha De Danann they sailed down over the mountains in a magic fleet of sky riding ships until they came to rest among the Red Hills of Rein led by Nuada, their king.

Rather than fight their own flesh and blood the Tuatha offered to share the island with the tribes of the Fir Bolg but on the advice of his elders Eochai, their High King, refused and the battle lines were drawn up.

I, Tuan the eagle, watched that fratricidal struggle; that terrible slaughter of kinsmen known as the First Battle of Moy Tura. I saw the same green plain across which I had, as a stag and boar, led my herd, drenched in blood. There I saw for the last time the Fir Bolg in their fullness and their pride, in their beauty and their youth, ranged against the glittering armies of the Tuatha. The battle was fierce and ebbed and flowed like waves on a sea of fortune and price.

The circles of my eyes were rimmed with bitter tears as I watched that dreadful carnage of kinsmen, for all who fought were bound by a common bond, the blood of Nemed the Great. The battle raged for many days; death cut down the flower of the youth on both sides.

At last the Tuatha De Danann took the sovereignty of Èireann from the Fir Bolg and their allies. But in that First Battle of Moy Tura, Nuada, King of the De Dananns, had his arm struck off and from that loss there came sorrow and trouble to his people, for it was a law with the Tuatha De Danann that no man imperfect in form could be king. So it happened that Nuada who had led his people to victory had to abdicate his throne and hand the royal crown over to the elders of his race.

I, Tuan, the sea-eagle, wept secretly with Nuada over the loss of his crown, for he was a noble king and a just ruler who had won back the land of Èireann for his people. His mutilation and his loss were the result of his bravery in battle. For he was a great warrior, skilled and courageous and as one with his god, the Sun.

When the noise of battle and the wailing of women had faded into silence, when the earth had soaked up the blood, when the plain of Moy Tura had become a sad spirit-haunted place marked by pillars and cairns, I, Tuan, still sailed high above it. I knew that that same force of history that governed the fortunes of men had made me the winged bearer of myth. I knew that the pattern of change is never completed until the world’s end. Still I would have to bear the burden of man’s triumph and grief.


I am Tuan

I am Legend

I am memory turned myth.

I have lived through the ages

In the shape of man, beast and bird

Mute witness to great events,

Guardian of past deeds.

Chapter Fifteen

 NB * This is an ongoing project , these are the first chapters more to come

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