The Kelpie and the Hag

Maggie was cold. Her teeth clattered and her body shook in a feeble and involuntary attempt to keep her body temperature up. It really was no use. She only wore her spring dress with short sleeves, and had lost her shoes in the mud. She sat soaking wet on the stone floor of a cave, deep underground where the sun’s warmth would never reach. She stared into the eyes of the creature that brought her here, and it stared back. It had the devil’s eyes, fiendish, and dangerously intelligent. The haggard old woman had only just left and the creature began inching closer. Less than an hour ago, it had been a majestic stallion, with a sleek black coat, ankles deep in the water where the loch met the shore. Maggie was entranced by its beauty, and ecstatic when it seemed tame enough to let her onto its back. It even pranced along the shore long enough for Maggie to giggle gleefully, delighted in the midst of such a wondrous encounter. 

Until she realized she could not pull her hands away from its mane, and it started to feel slimy, and smell of dead fish, and then it made a sound between a bray and a cackle, and it galloped into the water with Maggie still astride. Water slammed into her face, filling her nostrils and lungs. She couldn’t see, she couldn’t breath, and what she could hear was muffled and distorted by the water rushing around her. 

It was the old woman who resuscitated her, and it was the old woman who wanted to cook her for dinner. The hag said as much before she left the cave to search for mushrooms. “Not a nibble.” she had waved a crooked finger at the creature. Of course, now the hag was gone and the creature didn’t seem keen to obey its master. With Maggie so feeble and afraid, it would be all too easy to take a bite. The creature, a kelpie, stepped with purpose towards her, its head hanging low. It never broke its gaze away from her. Maggie shuffled away without making any dramatic movements, and the kelpie bore its teeth, not dissimilar from a horse’s, but much more sinister, almost spadelike; bladed chisels made for carving flesh from bone. The display was enough to paralyze Maggie with terror. Suddenly with her heart beating rapidly, she didn’t feel as cold anymore. The kelpie snorted.

“Not a nibble.” Maggie said. Her voice was weak. The kelpie snarled in response as if to say I can do as I please. Now its muzzle was so close to Maggie’s face that she could feel its hot breath and smell the decay of its previous meal. Maggie wondered how long ago it had eaten, and whether or not it had been another unlucky kid. A loud CRACK along the kelpie’s head broke its fixed look on Maggie. The hag stood behind it, holding a switch in one hand, and a basket full of mushrooms in the other. 

“Now you foul beast, away!” She beat the kelpie again, and it shrunk away snarling. The hag muttered incoherently to herself, and she hobbled over to Maggie. She placed the basket on the floor, and grasped Maggie firmly by her upper arm, lifting the girl into a gibbet that hung from the ceiling with unnatural strength. Maggie cried out as the hag's fingers pinched her skin. Her small frame fit snugly inside, and she had room to sit down. She rubbed her arm where she had been grabbed, and the hag leered at the spot with glassy eyes. A small bruise had already formed. The hag whirled to the kelpie. 

“Oh you useless cow! The one you brought is too tender! And not nearly plump enough I may add. Her limbs are so bony! Is there nothing you can do right?” The hag stomped over to the kelpie as she berated it with her cruel words. She continued to shout insults as she began beating the kelpie with her switch again, griping and groaning about the poor supper she would be forced to endure because of its incompetence. The hag cackled between words, and Maggie discerened she enjoyed herself immensely as she abused her pet. “Now then,” The hag finally said. “She won’t make a good roast, but she could add substance to a fine stew.” She then hobbled back. The gibbet had no door, and though Maggie had no inclination to lower herself from it, she dangled her legs over the edge. She yelped as the hag swatted her legs with the switch in her hand, making her way to an iron cauldron nearby. “Keep those feet from dangling! Do not tempt the horrid thing!”  

She pointed a finger at the base of the cauldron and a fire blazed to life. She threw the mushrooms into the cauldron, already filled with broth, and muttered to herself. The kelpie remained pressed against the wall on the other side of the cave, staring now at the hag. As the hag stirred the cauldron, she needed to lean over it rather precariously to reach all the way around. After some time, she dipped a finger into the soup and tasted the sample. She smacked her lips and winced. “Needs more greens.” She proclaimed to herself. She glanced up at Maggie as one regards a chicken strung up to be butchered, then turned towards the cave mouth. She pointed her switch at the kelpie. “I’m warning you.” She spoke through the few gritted teeth she had. When she was gone, Maggie leaned as far over towards the bubbling cauldron as she could. The smell of the stew was nauseating, but some token of heat rose from the fire, and the steam from the boiling broth was pseudo warm. The kelpie began pacing the cave, braying angrily. Maggie looked upon it, with its head hung low, and from this vantage point she could make out just how neglected the creature was. She could see ribs jutting out its sides, with wet leathery skin stretched thinly over them. Maggie felt pity in her heart. There were some dead fish drying on a rack above the cauldron. Maggie stretched her arm as far as she could, catching the tail of one with her finger tips. She was able to knock it to the floor. It bounced off the lip of the cauldron as it fell, and landed near the fire. 

The kelpie glanced up at her, then at the fish. “Well, go on.” Maggie said in a hushed tone. The kelpie appeared to understand, and it trotted over to the morsel, grasped it in its teeth, and devoured it greedily. Maggie's stomach churned. That might have been her hand in the kelpie’s mouth before. 

“It seems strange,” Maggie said. “That you obey that witch. Everything my uncle has told me about kelpies says that you are free spirits. Dangerous, but free. And very powerful. You know some believe you control the very elements, or are even elemental spirits yourselves. Why do you let her treat you so?” The kelpie looked up at her with a mournful look in its eyes. Maggie knew in her gut that it understood her. “I think we can help each other,” She said. “We just need to cooperate. I think I can kick her head as she leans over to reach the far side of the cauldron. That should knock her off balance. When she’s wobbling, you can knock her into the stew, and then-” Maggie paused. The kelpie stared up at her with its unsettling eyes, its head cocked to one side listening curiously. “Well, then I suppose if I agree to help you, you mustn’t try to eat me.” The kelpie snorted, then bowed its head. “Good.”

The hag returned a short time later. She raised her switch at the kelpie, which flinched in response, and the hag cackled. She poured a basketful of seaweed and bladderworts into the stew, and began stirring it again. Maggie locked eyes with the Kelpie, and it shrunk back slightly, appearing as docile as possible. The hag muttered, focused on her task, and Maggie carefully let her feet dangle again. She held the bars of the gibbet firmly, then began to lightly swing the hanging cage. She would need to be swift and forceful. Timing was everything. The chains creaked, and the Kelpie whinnied to cover the sound. 

“Quiet!” The hag shouted. Maggie watched her cadence stirring the pot, then, at the next precise moment she was leaning as far forward as possible. Maggie kicked hard with both her feet. She struck the hag square in the side of the head, and she gasped as one foot lifted and her arms shot out to either side to balance herself. The kelpie lunged and butted its head into the witch’s backside. She screamed, and with a splash, fell headfirst into the boiling stew. She thrashed, and the kelpie quickly reared up on hind legs, bringing its front hooves down into the cauldron, pinning the hag inside. The boiling water seemed to affect the kelpie very little, and in a few horrible moments, the hag ceased struggling. The kelpie stepped out of the cauldron, and Maggie slid down from the gibbet. She looked at the kelpie, still uneasy of the creature. Now without its master, she trusted it even less. Still as she looked, she thought she caught a glimpse of gratitude in its eyes. The kelpie kneeled to the ground near her. It almost appeared charming, and Maggie felt compelled to trust it. After all, I owe you one. It seemed to say. Maggie climbed on the kelpie’s back, and it galloped out of the cave. Too late, Maggie remembered the kelpie had promised nothing about drowning her, and the last sight she knew was its fiendish gaze as it dragged her into the depths of the loch.