These two legends have been told by people in different parts of Britain for many centuries. They were told to explain how local hills and strangely-placed stones came into being.

In the village of Standon Drew, in Somerset, there stand four groups of stones. For many centuries, they have stood there, beaten by the wind and rain, and some of them have disappeared from their original place. When the groups were complete, they formed three circles and one triangle.

The people of the area call them the Fiddler and the Maids, and there is an old legend that tells how they came to be there.

One Saturday, long ago, so the legend runs, there was a wedding in the village. All day the bride and groom and their friends feasted and danced merrily, but at last midnight struck and it was Sunday. The piper, who was a pious man, put down his pipe and refused to make music for the dancing any longer. However, the bride was fond of dancing, and she and the other guests begged the piper to play on. “Only play a little longer, until we are tired of dancing,” she begged. “Then we will return home.”

The piper, however, refused to play another note, and at this, the bride became very angry. She swore that the revelry should go on. “I will not have my wedding spoilt by a beggarly piper,” she stormed. “I will find someone to play for me, even if I have to fetch the Devil from Hell itself.”

Hardly had she spoken, when an old man appeared. He had a long white beard and under his arm, he carried a fiddle. “I will gladly take the place of that surly piper and play for your wedding,” he said to the bride.

The bride clapped her hands, and all the wedding guests looked pleased. “Play on till dawn,” she ordered.

The old man took up his fiddle and began to play, but the first melody was so slow and solemn that all the guests called out to him to change it for a tune more lively. He sat down on a large stone, and the tunes he played were so merry and gay that the wedding guests found themselves whirling round faster and faster.

Finally, out of breath, they called to him to stop, but he did not seem to hear them. He only played faster, and they found themselves whirling round him so quickly that they could not stop.

Then, to their horror, the old fiddler began to change his shape, and they saw that it was really the Devil, in disguise, who had played for their dancing. Through the night, they danced, the Devil unheeding their cries for mercy, until at last day began to dawn. As the first rays of the sun appeared over the horizon, the Devil vanished, and silence descended over the meadow.

When, later, some of the villagers went out there, they found the meadow strewn with large stones and no sign of the wedding party. Only the piper was there, hiding under a hedge, half-dead with fright. He told the villagers what had happened and how the wedding party had been turned to stone as the sun rose and ever after, the huge stones were known as the Fiddler and the Maids.

The Angry Giant

Long ago, a giant who lived in Wales had a grievance against the people of Shrewsbury. They had annoyed him, and for a long time, he brooded, wondering how to have his revenge.

Finally, he decided that he would dam up the River Severn, which flows through Shrewsbury, by blocking up part of it with earth and stones, so that the water could not flow away. It would build up in the river until it flowed over the banks on either side, flooding the town and drowning all the people who lived there.

Having made this decision, he felt very pleased with himself. He went out and picked up the largest shovel he could find. Then he piled it high with earth and stones until he thought he had enough to block the river forever.

The giant set out from his home in Wales, carrying his spadeful of earth, in the direction in which he thought Shrewsbury lay, but there were no signposts in those days, and he did not know the way, so he traveled by a very roundabout road. The sun rose higher in the sky, and it grew hotter and hotter.

Time after time, the giant had to stop and pull out a large handkerchief with which to mop his brow, and still, there was no sign of the town of Shrewsbury.

He was beginning to grow very tired, when at last he met a cobbler, carrying on his back a sack of old boots and shoes. “Good day to you, friend,” called the giant.

“Good day to you, giant,” called the cobbler. “It’s a lovely day for a walk.”

“Too hot for me with my heavy load,” replied the giant. “How much further to Shrewsbury?”

“Why are you carrying that load of earth all the way to Shrewsbury?” asked the cobbler cautiously.

“Because I intend to have my revenge on the town,” said the giant. “I am taking this earth to dam up the River Severn so that it will overflow and flood the town, but I am not sure of the way there.”

Now the cobbler lived in Shrewsbury himself, and when he heard this, he did not like the sound of it at all, but he was a quick-thinking man, and he replied. “Why you’ll never get to Shrewsbury today, nor tomorrow either. I’ve just come from Shrewsbury and it’s a long way.” He pulled open the mouth of his sack. “Look at these boots and shoes,” he said. “The soles are full of holes and the heels are all worn down. I’ve worn them all through on the road from Shrewsbury. It’s a long way for a man carrying a heavy load. Take my advice. Turn round and go back home.”

The weary giant, thinking that he was many miles from Shrewsbury, decided to take the cobbler’s advice. He hurled his load of earth to the ground, and there was so much of it that it made a huge hill. Because he had had to wade through rivers and streams, his boots had become caked with mud, so he scraped the mud off them with his shovel and dumped it beside the larger mound.

Then, he turned round and tramped wearily back home, leaving behind him the large hill called the Wrekin, which is still there today, and beside it, the smaller hill called Ercall Hill. The clever little cobbler, meanwhile, went on his way to the town of Shrewsbury, which lay nearby, chuckling to himself all the way.