In a previous post I’ve examined how faery names appear in British place-names and give us a hint of a wider network of faery presence underlying the current landscape. I want to pursue that theme a little further here.
I’ve also observed (many times) how closely linked the faeries are to hills and mounds, especially ancient sites such as barrows and hill forts. It’s notable how frequently there is a coincidence between the two. See, by way of illustration, a succession of sites along the South Downs in Sussex. The faeries have been seen dancing at midnight on Midsummer’s Eve at both Torberry and Cissbury hillforts whilst at Pulborough, a faery funeral was encountered, and Burlow (or Burlough) Castle is associated with a classic ‘broken peel’ story: a ploughman mends a damaged tool for the faeries and is rewarded with some beer; a companion who refuses to assist is struck ill and soon dies. We see how ‘bury,’ ‘borough’ and ‘low’ feature in these examples- from the Anglo-Saxon words burg/ burh (a fort) or beorg (a mound) and hlaew (mound). Faery pipes have been found at Dolbury Camp in Somerset and, at Greenhow Hill in North Yorkshire, a district nurse was called to attend at a faery birth inside the How. So consistent are these matches that it might even be worthwhile (given sufficient time and resources) seeing what correlations could be discovered between such place-name elements and faery traditions. Other examples of this are Yorkshire Elf Howe and Drake Howe (where a dragon guards gold, it seems) and Long Low and Cauldon Low in Staffordshire, where the faeries dance.
Curiously, the faeries aren’t always strict about their dwelling places. However much they may prefer sites with ancient associations, they are known to make do with any suitable mound. Both the aforementioned Pulborough and Burlow Castle in Sussex are, in fact, not prehistoric hills but the remnants of Norman motte and bailey castles. Humans having kindly piled up the earth- and then abandoned the sites, the faeries have moved in- and then will defend what they regard as their property. In County Durham, attempts to remove the old motte at Bishopston were met with a warning voice advising the locals to leave well alone.
Sometimes, the place-name evidence hints at a deeper and more complex story than that passed down to us. At the famous ancient oak wood on Dartmoor, Wistman’s Wood, faeries have been sighted. The name itself doesn’t indicate a wood owned by Mr Wistman, but something much more mysterious or sinister: the first element is the dialect word wisht meaning eerie or uncanny, so that the ‘wisht man’ linked to the spot would seem to be an elf, pixie, or perhaps a demon. Wisht also denotes the mental state of being pixie-led (known as ‘mazey’ in Cornwall) and the wood was identified in 1873 as a haunt of both pixies and derricks (the dwarves of the south-west).
At Horbury in West Yorkshire a hairy boggart with ice-cold skin and glowing eyes was said to attack unwary people. A ‘padfoot‘- a supernatural large dog (which was white instead of the usual black)- would appear as an omen of death, as well as simply scaring people to death. The apparent derivation of the town’s name is from horh-burg (the fort on dirty land) but linguistic expert Eilert Ekwall was reluctant to accept this, given the settlement’s hilltop site; he therefore speculated about its origin being hord-burg- the fort where treasure is concealed- which might well explain the ferocious behaviour of the local beings. Birstall in Leicestershire was named from another burg or fort; perhaps this is why the town is known for the shag dog with glowing mouth that has been sighted there. As we might very well anticipate, at the three Wambarrows in Somerset (it seems they were the ‘womb-like’ mounds) a black hound waylays travellers and protects the hill’s hoard from the greed of treasure hunters.
Other Place Name Evidence
Sometimes, a place name supplements a faery story associated with the place. In other words, rather than being the evidence of a faery connection, the name reinforces the impression that the locale of the account was a place with a genuine and persistent supernatural presence. Many readers may be familiar with the story of the faeries of Inkberrow in Worcestershire who moved away because of the noise from the new church bells. We might well have expected some faery dwelling thereabouts anyway, given that the name derives from an Anglo-Saxon name meaning ‘Inca’s Barrows.’ The ancient burial mounds were evidently a major feature in the landscape during the sixth or seventh centuries when Angles settled there; they very probably guessed too that these were the abode of elves. Rather similar is Harrow Hill near Angmering in Sussex. This is (allegedly) the last place in England where faeries were seen (a debatable claim) but, once again, we could have predicted a supernatural presence by the fact that the Saxon settlers named it after (and, presumably, set up) a hearg- a pagan shrine. They were recognising some numinous quality to the place.
From the Isle of Wight comes a story of a young man who joined a fairy dance on the beach at Puckaster Cove. After a while, he needed a rest and sat on something like a puffball mushroom. It burst under his weight and showered gold dust everywhere, some of which the faeries gave him before he left. Puckaster, as the name suggests, is indeed a faery place name, meaning the ‘tor’ (high rock or hill, as in Torberry) or the steort (a promontory or tail of land) associated with the puca or puckle (that is, with the goblin or puck). Not far away in the same parish is Puckwell Farm, pretty obviously the puca’s spring. It will be evident that Puck had a long association with this area of the Isle of Wight, apparently predating any dancing on the beach.
The Limits of Our Sources
Toponymy can’t answer all our questions, though, because of limitations to the evidence. On the River Teme in Worcestershire there is a spot very closely linked to the local faeries (the so-called farisees). They will mend any broken implements left for them at Osebury or Oseberrow Rock. There seems to be no record of the derivation of this name, although in this case the presence of either burg or beorg as the second element is pretty obvious and correlates with the supernatural connection recorded in folklore.
Another instance of this sometimes frustrating lack of evidence comes from Elbolton Hill in the Craven district of North Yorkshire. This is a very distinctive isolated, round and verdant hill where lights have been seen at night, luring people to join in with the faeries’ dancing. The name may very well not add anything to our knowledge of the spot: the second element is almost certainly botl-tun (village) but we can’t trace the name’s development back sufficiently far to know how it evolved. The earliest record is a tithe award of 1849- by which time the present form was settled. Generally medieval or earlier records are needed to see how a place-name used to be pronounced. The same’s the case on the Isle of Wight: there are several other ‘puck’ place-names, such as Puck Farm, but we can’t confirm their origins because of a lack of records.
British Fairies 
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