*LUPINE – adjective meaning “of, like, or relating to a wolf or wolves”
How do you become a werewolf? Most of us think first of the Hollywood movie tradition – that if you’re bitten by a werewolf, you’ll
automatically turn into one. This method is actually quite rare among the many
lupine* legends and lore from around the world. Because I write novels about
shapeshifters, I collect shapeshifter trivia. Today I dusted off some of the
more interesting ways and means of becoming a werewolf – all of them involuntary!
In many countries on both sides of the Atlantic a person
could become a werewolf against their will if someone cursed them. Often, the
person doing the hexing was not a witch but a priest!
If you weren't "good" you might be cursed to become a werewolf. But if you offended the devil (by being too good?) you could receive the very same curse!
From Russia to France, if you didn’t go to church or
offended God in some other way, you could be officially cursed with lycanthropy.
This was said to happen to those who failed to attend annual confession – do
this 10 years in a row and you’re automatically a werewolf.
In 14th century
Normandy, the varouage was an
excommunicated person who became a werewolf between Christmas and Candlemas or
during Advent. During this time, the sinner was either redeemed – or doomed to
belong to the devil and run as a wolf forever. (By the way, in Finland, if you
were lucky enough to break the spell, you were still stuck with a wolf’s tail
for the rest of your life!)
Because they would not accept Christianity, St. Patrick is
said to have cursed the ruler of a Welsh tribe and all his followers to become
wolves! It’s said that the curse lasted 7 years, but other versions of the
story have them turning into wolves EVERY 7 years for the rest of their lives.
This is similar to the curse delivered by Saint Natalis (or Naile), who condemned
an Irish clan to werewolfism for some long-forgotten sin. Forever after, every member of the clan
would spend 7 years of their lives as a wolf.
If your parents were werewolves, you were likely to be born
one too. But curses abound for anyone born on the wrong day. In Italy, it was bad luck to be born on the winter solstice, December 20-21, and a sure way to become a shapeshifter. In many other European
countries, it was believed that children born on December 24th, Christmas Eve, automatically became werewolves. Apparently it was a divine punishment for competing with the
Christ child!
In Romania, this legend went
a step further. Children conceived on
Christmas Eve were cursed to become werewolves because their parents
were supposed to have abstained from sex at that time!
Birth order could also determine your fate. If you were the seventh boy of seven boys born in a row (no girls inbetween), then you would become a werewolf. This belief was so prevalent in Argentina (where the werewolf is called a lobizon) that seventh sons were commonly abandoned, given up for adoption or even killed! In 1920, the president of Argentina countered this by declaring all seventh sons to be his official godchildren.
A Polish legend says that if a witch lays a belt of human
skin across the threshold of a house in which a marriage is being celebrated,
any member of the wedding party that steps over it is immediately transformed into a wolf. The
wolves are forced to serve the witch for a year, then regain their human form
and return to their lives.
As if there weren't enough ways to become a werewolf, it was also possible to become one by sheer accident! In some stories, if you happen to lock eyes with a wild wolf, it could
cause you to turn into a wolf within a few days.
Legend also says that a “lycanthropic flower” grows wild in
the Balkan Peninsula, with a sickly death-like scent and white or yellow
blooms. If you pick these flowers, you become a wolf!
Not even water is safe. If you unknowingly drink
from a "lycanthropic" river
or stream, you could become a werewolf. In some European legends, especially in Scandinavian countries, lycanthropic
water is said to possess a "lurid sparkle" and a faint smell that is
like nothing else. Other legends say that drinking from any
body of water where a wolf pack has recently satisfied their thirst
will cause you to become a shapeshifter!
A name has been drawn at random from the commenters
and the winner is KWEENY TODD from Canada.
She'll be receiving a signed copy of Book 3 in my shapeshifter series, CHANGELING DAWN and a Dani Harper TOTE BAG to put it in! (check out the "Paranormal Novels" button to learn more about my work or go to my website at www.daniharper.com)
‘Tis Spring and the fair folk flourish. Indeed, they are at their strongest in the month of May.
I know what you’re saying. Why would you need protection against a cute little fairy? The truth is, in most countries where legends of fairies exist and where the belief in fairies lingers, many of the Fair Folk are not all that cute. Or little.
And they definitely are not nice.
Legend has it that the term “fairy” can be applied to a wide range of supernatural beings who possess considerable magical powers. Sprites, boggarts, pixies, banshees, brownies, hobgoblins, elementals, trolls, elves and many, many other creatures can all be lumped under the single heading of “fairies”.
According to the old stories, fairies could be so beautiful that mortals were unable to resist them, or so ugly that mortals could perish from fear. There were light fairies who were mostly good and dark fairies who were mostly evil. Still others were both friendly and hostile, helpful and mischievous, kind and cruel. This amoral unpredictability made most fairies very dangerous creatures. Your only hope as a mere mortal was to avoid the fairies, repel the fairies or appease the fairies.
AVOIDING FAIRIES
Fairy Mound in Ireland
In the Celtic countries (Scotland, Ireland, Wales and England), children used to be cautioned to stay away from fairy mounds. These are strange solitary hills in odd places, such as the middle of a field. These round grassy knolls were believed to be entrances to the underground fairy realm. Venture too close and you could disappear, never to be seen again. It was especially dangerous if you were a beautiful woman or a handsome man. You might be spirited away by fairies looking for a mortal mate!
Steer clear of certain trees late at night, especially hazel, thorn, alder and oak, because they’re favorite haunts for fairies. You could find yourself pinched and hit as you walk by – or tangled in the branches until morning.
Farmers knew better than to enter a mill at night. That was the time that fairies brought their grain to be ground. Interrupting fairies when they were working could earn you a failed crop or other curse.
You needed to watch where you were walking because a strange tuft of grass or stray bit of sod could trigger a spell if stepped on. Your path through the woods could suddenly disappear. If you were crossing an open field, you might keep veering in the wrong direction or cross it only to arrive on the same side you started from. It’s called “being pixie-led” and it could happen in broad daylight.
Certain ponds, lakes and rivers were said to be the haunts of kelpies and other water fairies. If you came to these waters alone, you could be pulled in by these nasty creatures and drown. It was said that your spirit would then be forced to live in the fairy realm forever. Stay away or use the buddy system.
REPELLING FAIRIES
St. John's Wort
Garlands were often made of marsh marigolds and hung over the barn doors to protect the horses from being ridden to exhaustion by fairies. Flowers, especially primroses, were spread over windowsills and hung above the door-posts of the house for safety. Your best bet, however, was a plant called St. John's Wort. Wearing it was said to provide strong protection from fairy magic and mischief.
Fairies could vanish at will and remain invisible to mortal eyes as long as they pleased. Carrying a four-leafed clover would allow you to see the fairies – but only once. A Celtic tradition was to sew several of the clovers into a tiny bag to be worn around the neck. You could then discern the fairies once for each clover in the bag. In some legends, the clover was said to allow you to see through fairy glamors and magical disguises.
Iron in any form has always been the best protection against fairies – it was like kryptonite to Superman. If you kept an iron nail in your pocket, you couldn’t be carried away by them. A pair of iron shears hung on the wall near a baby’s bed was said to prevent the child from being swapped for an ugly fairy baby. Horseshoes could be nailed over doorposts.
Red berries kept fairies at bay, especially if they were from rowan trees, mountain ash or holly.
Even humble oatmeal was said to be a fairy repellent, if you carried it in your pocket or sprinkled it on your clothes. As long as you didn’t mind looking flaky, you’d be safe.
APPEASING FAIRIES
In many cultures, protection from fairies was achieved by cooperation and respect.
If you were Welsh, for instance, you might leave bread and milk on the back porch at night as an offering for the fairies. This was said to prevent them from playing pranks on the family and might even gain their favor. (Note – they liked butter, cream, and ale too. Especially ale.)
If you spilled salt in Ireland, you might throw some over your shoulder in order to give the fairies their share. If you passed a body of water, or even a well, you could drop in a piece of silver for the fairy that lives there. If you were milking a cow or goat by hand, you would probably let the first few squirts fall to the ground to appease any unseen fairies that were thirsty.
Many of the kindlier fairies were said to be offended when they saw a lack of hospitality and courtesy among human mortals, and would punish such offences severely. On the other hand, if you were fair and honest with your fellow mortals, and practiced generosity, the fairies were likely to treat you in kind. Or, at the very least, leave you safely alone!
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The winner of my giveaway is bluesun1218 She'll be receiving a signed copy of Changeling Dawn (Book 3 in my PNR series) and a Dani Harper tote bag! Thanks to everyone who took the time to read my post on Fairies, and to leave a comment. I was able to add a LOT of books to my TBR list, and hope you were too!
The men in my shapeshifter series are sexy. I get a few emails a week from readers asking if they can have a “Connor” or a “Culley” of their very own (most are joking, a few I’m not quite sure...). But of all my leading men, the one who seems to set female hearts a-flutter the MOST is – *drumroll*
James August Macleod !
Yup, the oldest brother of the shapeshifting Macleod clan is the one informally designated “most likely to attract groupies”. Interestingly, he’s also the one least likely to pay any attention to them. Not because he doesn't like women, but because he's more the hyper-loyal-to-one-woman kind of guy. He’s the strong, silent type and when James isn’t being silent, he’s gruff and just a little on the impatient side. That’s because he’s out of practice when it comes to being human.
James, you see, has been a lone wolf, literally, for more than three decades. The tragic loss of his wife and unborn child to a murderer literally drove him from his humanity. He’s wandered far from both family and pack in the form of a great white wolf …
Now, lots of people ask me where I get the ideas for my characters. And I have to tell them that they show up on their own. I always know the characters extremely well before I know the story. They pop up in my head, fully formed and usually in conversation with other characters. In the case of the Macleods, the whole gang of them arrived at once. (It gets very noisy in my head some days…)
So if you’ve read Changeling Dream, you know that James is often kidded about being a Viking by his brothers. It’s partly because of his imposing height and muscle. And partly because the entire family is dark-haired, yet James has piercing blue eyes, pale blonde hair and wears a close beard. The Viking-like gruffness might have something to do with it too, LOL.
Imagine my surprise when I watched the movie Thor for the first time – my husband will testify that I pounded his popcorn-holding arm when Chris Hemsworth came onscreen, exclaiming “That’s JAMES! That's James Macleod!”. In fact, I may have said it more than a few times … but not more than twenty, I’m almost sure.
I’d say it was a case of art imitates life – or maybe art imitates life imitates art? Chris Hemsworth is a gorgeous actor and a good one. I totally enjoyed his performance in Star Trek but he took my breath away in Thor. He probably had no idea that he’d accidently brought TWO characters to life at the same time – Thor and James Macleod.
Congrats to SUZAN from Northern Ireland - her name was drawn from the big green mixing bowl (yeah, I know, not very high tech but it works!) She'll be receiving a signed copy of Changeling Dawn (Book 3 in my Changeling series) and a Dani Harper tote bag.
Thanks to everyone who came by to read the blog, and double thanks to those who commented. Be sure and check out my newest post and giveaway!
I talk a lot about wolves on this blog. I also write novels about wolves, I post trivia on Facebook about wolves, I tweet about wolves... But some of my best friends are wild and, well, woolly!
I've paired up with the fabulous review site, I SMELL SHEEP, for a special dual blog and giveaway*, so today I'm writing about -- SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!
*Note - To qualify for either draw, you MUST ENTER BOTH. Yes, it's our sneaky way of making sure you get the FULL SHEEP EXPERIENCE! (instructions at the end of the blog)
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SHEEP IN LEGEND AND LORE
In Guangzhou, China, there is a statue commemorating the Five Sheep. It is said that the people used to eat only fish, until five gods came to earth riding on five sheep. Each sheep was a different color and held an ear of rice in its mouth. The gods instructed the people to plant the rice and blessed the city against famine. The gods flew back to the sky but the sheep remained standing until they became stones. Guangzhou is nicknamed “Five Sheep City”, and all sheep are believed to be lucky.
In Greek mythology, Eros (Cupid) fell in love with the mortal Psyche but Psyche had to win over his mother, the goddess Aphrodite. Aphrodite was jealous of Psyche’s beauty and commanded her to perform a number of impossible tasks --- and one of them was to obtain a snippet of fleece from every member of a certain flock of sheep. Of course, this was not an ordinary flock. They were the wild Meloi Khyseoi, vicious golden-fleeced sheep with sharp horns and venomous bites! Fortunately, the spirit of the river spoke to Psyche and told her that the sheep were only violent in the heat of the day. Following the river’s instructions, Psyche waited until the day grew cooler and the sheep drowsed in the shade. She then was able to obtain the fleece without being harmed.
On the island of Crete, the villages around Mount Psiloritis (now Mount Idi) were said to raise sheep with golden teeth. The people believed that there were such rich deposits of gold in the mountain that the grasses drew gold from the soil, and when the sheep ate the grass, the gold was deposited on their teeth. A monk first recorded the phenomenon in 1415. The real cause turned out to be a plant called nevrida, which the sheep eat in great quantity. Lambs are born with white teeth, and the teeth begin to turn yellow then deep gold as the animal ages. It takes quite a long time for the process, and when the teeth finally become golden, it’s time to butcher that particular sheep.
A Crow legend tells of a man possessed by evil spirits who tries to kill his stepson by pushing him over a cliff. The young man is saved by seven mighty bighorn sheep. The leader of the sheep is Big Metal and he re-names the boy Big Iron. The seven sheep grant him gifts of power and wisdom, surefootedness and keen eyesight. Big Iron returns to his village with knowledge for the people, such as how to build a sweat lodge. He also carried the message that the Crow people would survive only so long as the river winding out of the mountains is known as the Bighorn River. Big Iron became a strong and wise man who lived a long life. He asked to be buried next to the Bighorn River so he could be close to the seven mighty sheep in the afterlife.
Hades was the Greek god of the underworld and also of wealth. Black sheep were sacred to him. He was worshipped but seldom petitioned (in the belief that he could not be swayed) but occasionally mortals would make prayers and bang on the ground to make sure that Hades heard them. They sacrificed black sheep (always at night) and allowed their blood to flow into pits dug into the ground in the belief that it would then reach Hades. Whoever offered the sacrifice however had to turn his face away in case he caught a glimpse of the underworld god. Every hundred years on April 30, a festival was held in honor of Hades, and black sheep and other black animals would be in high demand.
The story of the Golden Fleece was told since at least 800 BC, and probably earlier. The Greek king Athamas was said to have married Nephele, a cloud nymph, and together they had twins, a boy and a girl, Phrixus and Helle. But Athamas was unfaithful. He sired children with a mortal woman, Ino, and then divorced Nephele so he could marry Ino instead. Nephele was cast out of Athamas’ court, but he kept her children. Ino hated the stepchildren and plotted to kill them. Before she could do so, Nephele sent a flying ram with golden fleece that carried her children away. Sadly, Helles fell off and was drowned in the sea, but Phrixus made it to safety. He married the daughter of a king, and gave the king the sheared golden fleece of the ram as a gift. This is the same fleece that Jason and the Argonauts would later obtain. Incidentally, the constellation and zodiac sign Aries represents the golden flying ram that rescued Nephele’s children.
An Irish tale tells of King Fiachna, who was forced to make war upon King Lochlann. He took ten battalions into battle, and slew 300 of Lochlann’s men. But venomous sheep were released from Lochlann’s tent. These sheep slew 300 of Fiachna’s warriors each day. They caused immense slaughter and terror and no one could stand against them. Finally, Fiachna’s entire army was forced to climb the trees of the forest and remain in their branches, while the sheep raged on the ground below, bleating terribly and tearing up the ground. Embarrassed by his army’s plight, King Fiachna was determined to climb down and take on the sheep alone, but a stranger came along with a monstrous and magical dog. The creature killed every one of the savage sheep at its master’s command. The stranger then ordered Fiachna to take over the kingdom of Lochlann, which he did.
In modern times, the most famous sheep in the world is likely Shrek, a Merino in New Zealand that evaded shearing for six years by hiding in caves. He was finally captured in 2004 and his wool was sheared on national television. The wool weighed an amazing 60 pounds – most Merino fleeces are about 10 to 20 pounds at the most. Shrek became a celebrity, getting to meet the prime minister of New Zealand and promoting a children’s charity. Shrek celebrated his 10th birthday with a fundraising stunt for the charity – he was shorn on top of an iceberg that was floating off the coast of New Zealand at the time, wearing special crampons on his feet so he could walk without slipping. Shrek lived to the ripe old age of 17, which is said to be 90 in human years.
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THIS GIVEAWAY IS NOW CLOSED
Congrats to Kristina - her name was drawn from the mixing bowl as the winner of the stuffed sheep and swag. And oh yes, we checked -- she did indeed enter the twin draw over at I SMELL SHEEPas well and therefore qualified according to the rules of this particular event.
LOCATION – The Village of Dunvegan – a small northern Canadian town that’s literally Werewolf Central in my paranormal novels, Changeling Moon, Changeling Dream and Changeling Dawn.
* * * *
You step off the dusty bus into the late afternoon sun, sweaty, tired and your luggage is missing. Somebody takes your arm and steers you to a shiny red pickup truck – a small white-haired woman with bright eyes, flawlessly French-rolled hair and a tailored citrus green pantsuit.
“The Pack has run up to Elk Point for a special meeting, so I’ll be your tour guide today. Name’s Birkie Peterson and I’m the power behind the throne at the North Star Animal Hospital.” She barks a laugh and slaps the steering wheel. “Means I’m the receptionist and bookkeeper and Jill-of-all-trades there. Believe me, you haven’t lived until you’ve hosed blood and manure off the ceiling, dear.”
You have a hard time imagining that. With such an impeccable appearance, Birkie looks like she would be more at home in the back of a limousine than hosing out a livestock pen. Yet she handles the big truck as if she’d been born behind the wheel.
“That wide water you crossed on the way here is the Peace River. Gonna tell you right off, it’s a misnomer. Smooth as silk on top, but there’s a powerful current underneath. Lots of folks drowned there over the years.
“People say there’s more than one ghost on that bridge too. Jumped, you know.”
You don’t want to be distracted by ghost stories. You tell her about the werewolf book you’re writing, the one that proves it all, and you want to include a chapter about Changelings.
She eyes you then. “Heard about that. The Pack leader, Jessie, says that since you know Changelings exist, you’re to get the full trea-, I mean tour. Connor didn’t agree, mind you and I don’t know if I do either, but here we are. Sure hope you know what you’re getting into.”
You say you’re glad to get a firsthand look at Dunvegan, and you’re excited as the truck turns away from Main Street.
“This is Hemstock Ave.” Birkie points to a stretch of curb. “And right there’s the spot where Zoey was attacked by a rogue Changeling. No screaming and fainting for that gal, she gave almost as good as she got. Still, it’s lucky Connor came along when he did because a human can’t hold out against a Changeling for long. They’re too strong, too powerful. Bigger than ordinary wolves you know. And the one that attacked Zoey was crazy as a bedbug to boot.”
Out of the corner of your eye, you spot something huge and black moving behind the shrubbery. But when you turn to look, there’s nothing there.
“Up ahead of us is Dunvegan’s town hall,” she continues. “Zoey almost changed into a wolf right there in the middle of a council meeting. So much for trying to keep Changelings a secret after an incident like that.” She shakes her head.
Again your eye catches furtive movement, this time between a house and a stand of lilac bushes. Again, nothing.
“Over there is a place you want to remember, the Finer Diner. Looks like just a gas station and burger joint, but let me tell you, it’s got the best food in town. Bill and Jessie Watson own that operation. I’ll take you to lunch there in a day or so when you’re settled. Jessie’s the Pack leader by the way – you have a problem, you see her about it. She’s not much bigger than me, but don’t be fooled. She’s leader for a reason, and what she says, goes.”
Was that a gleam of silver fur between the cars back there? You wonder why people keep such big dogs here. At least, you think it was a dog…
Birkie turns the truck onto Third Ave and a small house comes into view with a crooked sign on it that says MUSEUM. “There’s an old diary in there from 1904, with an eye-witness account of a man turning into a wolf. Kathleen Summers has kept it under lock and key for over thirty years. Still, the page got photographed somehow and put in the paper a few years back, so although Kathleen won’t show it to you, you can find it in the Dunvegan Herald Weekly morgue.”
She chuckles at the look on your face. “Oh, not a real morgue, hon – although we have one of those too – this is where the newspaper keeps all its old issues. You can read all the old werewolf stories there too. Goodness knows we’ve had more than a few of those in recent years. And the murders of course.”
You shiver at that. You’ve heard of those. And you’ve heard that the killer wasn’t human.
Birkie carries on as if violent death is an everyday occurrence. “Have to go to Macklin’s down the street here if you want any sporting goods. Do you fish? I like to go for trout on the weekends, sometimes get a few perch to fry up. Sergeant Fitzpatrick, now, he likes to fish for sturgeon. I see him on the river quite a bit. When he’s not fishing, he heads the RCMP Detachment in these parts, and if he asks you for a date, say yes. He’s a good man. Connor is too, but he’s taken. Mind you, his younger brothers are still available and all those Macleod men are easy on the eyes. Big, strong, sexy types -- just what a gal needs to get her blood going.
“And as you know, they’re all Changelings too. Fitz included. Best place to hide is in plain sight, don't you think?”
Even the police sergeant can turn into a wolf at will? Suddenly you’re very uncomfortable.
The sun has just slid below the horizon when the truck pulls into the parking lot of a sprawling modern building. “Welcome to the North Star Animal Hospital. It’s after hours now but I can show you around. You might want to walk around the loft where the big white wolf – that’s our James – slept for a while. Or the couch in Connor’s office with wolf hair all over it from Culley. See that area over by the dumpster? Well, all the blood’s gone now of course but that’s where the showdown happened not too long ago.”
What showdown? You ask Birkie to explain.
“I forgot that you probably hadn’t heard of that yet. Tell you what, let’s come back to this later. Right now, we’ll head out to a couple of the sites where the attacks took place. By then it’ll be moonrise and the Pack says to bring you up to Elk Point then.”
The hair on the back of your neck stands up. You don’t like the sound of that invitation, and say so.
“Just part of the tour, hon. Practically the whole Pack’ll be there – maybe 35, 40 wolves tonight. Full moon too. You’ll get to meet them all, get the whole experience.” Birkie smiles sweetly, “You know, for your research.”
Suddenly you don’t give a damn about the book you’re writing. As the truck slows down for a stop sign, you half leap, half stumble out and run for all you’re worth. There has to be a bus out of town tonight. A car you can rent. A taxi you can commandeer. Something. Anything.
A howl slices the cool dusk air. A hunting howl...
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THIS GIVEAWAY IS NOW CLOSED.
Congrats to BECKY, whose name was drawn as the winner. She's been contacted and the stuffed wolf will be on his way to his new home soon.
Thank you to everyone who entered. I totally enjoyed the comments and got some great reading recommendations!
Special thanks to DAWN, who was on the ball and noticed that I'd overlooked drawing a winner! Thanks for the save, Dawn!
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