Macgregor was enamoured by the world of spirits. From his home on the banks of the River Dulnan, he studied the ways of the fairies, and all the manner of ways that they could be controlled. He was a familiar face in the community, oftentimes spotted walking in the evenings, talking to himself or, as many thought , the fairies.

On one such evening he took a lonely walk by the shore of Loch-an-dorbe. Macgregor was wise in many ways, and he knew much about omens. On this particular night, the sun set in a bloody hue, and he stopped to ponder the meaning of this until long after the sun had gone down. A great deed was to be achieved, he decided. All he had to do was wait for it to befall him.

As if on cue, the loch started to churn. The waves thrashed, the water sprayed, though the evening was still. Suddenly, an enormous black horse leapt from the churning waves and landed on the shore, not far from Macgregor. He was a magnificent beast;  with a great, curving neck, and a proud gait, he paced towards Macgregor, letting deep snorts out of his muzzle. Macgregor, being as learned as he was, knew instantly that he had come face to face with a kelpie. He’d studied the kelpies, knew that the only way to tame one was to steal its bridle,  so Macgregor cast a spell to conceal him in the growing shadows, readied his Claymore, and lay in wait. When the kelpie passed his hiding spot, Macgregor launched himself at the beast, seized hold of his bridle, and struck it clean off his face with his trusty claymore. Instantly, the kelpie transformed in a strong man.

‘Give me back my bridle!’ The man cried.

But Macgregor grinned and lifted the bridle in victory. ‘No! I have won it, it is rightfully mine.’

The Kelpie was enraged, but there was truly nothing the kelpie  could do, other than use his otherworldly powers to place a curse on his assailant. ‘If you do not return to me my bridle, you shan’t be able to enter your house with it.’

Macgregor knew that even though the kelpie had been forced to transform, he could still be dangerous, so Macgregor took off at a run, the bridle seemingly granting him speed unlike anything he had had before. He had walked a very long way to get to the loch, and now his home lay many miles away, but Macgregor flew across the land in no time at all. Hot on his heels was the kelpie, whose speed was hampered by his human form.

When at last the light of Macgregor’s house came into view, he picked up the pace, hefted the bridle high in his arms and shouted through the open window to his wife.

‘Come to the window! Catch this!’ He cried, and hurled the bridle through the window into his house. His wife caught it, and Macgregor hurried inside and slammed the door moments before the kelpie caught up to him.

The kelpie shrieked, realising that he had been outwitted. He had underestimated Macgregor, whose knowledge of the spirits and their ways protected him from the kelpie’s deceit. Ashamed, angered, and powerless, the kelpie slunk off into the night and was never seen again. Macgregor kept his bridle until the end of his days, and it has passed ever since down through the children of his bloodline — a testament to their family’s magical knowledge.

Adapted from Legendary Tales of the Highlands vol 1 by Sir Thomas Dick Lauder