#féar gortach

[briefbestiary]

Sudden impossible hunger. After stepping upon the fairy's grass, no matter how much one might eat, all that is left for them is starvation.

Fear Gorta, in turn, may form from this phenomenon, or may form this phenomenon themselves.

[apilgrimpassingby]

I'm not doing Ireland (one, the books I have don't cover it, and if I can't do it justice it's not worth doing it, and two, it's not part of the island of Great Britain proper) but I do know some Irish folklore

My personal favourite is the féar gortach (hungry grass), a grass planted by faeries that will doom you to perpetual and insatiable hunger if you step on it

As part of being buried in British folklore, if you've got a connection to some part of the UK, reblog or reply to this post with that place and I'll share my favourite story from there.

Tagging @roses-red-and-pink, @rebelnurse, @miss-rogers-all-american, @thinkaboutthescience and @cactusflowerfemme, but absolutely anyone's free to respond.

[effulgentpoet]

mythology aesthetics

HUNGRY GRASS

In Irish folklore, hungry grass (féar gortach, also known as fairy grass) is a patch of cursed grass. Anyone walking on it was doomed to perpetual and insatiable hunger. Possibly connected beliefs include that the hungry grass is cursed by the proximity of an unshriven corpse, or that fairies plant the hungry grass. The belief may have its origins in the Great Famine of the 1840s. In Margaret McDougall's letters the phrase "hungry grass" is - by analogy to the myth - used to describe hunger pains.

[nailsofvecna]

Patches of féar gortach appear mysteriously, sometimes in the vicinity of an improperly buried corpse, but often seeming to have been planted by unseen faeries. Since you can never be sure when you might stumble into one, it is wise to ensure you always have some protection against curses... or at least, more rations than you think you should need.

[hydnellumpecky]

Personnel File: Dane Condor

Age: 32 | Height: 187cm | Weight: 402lbs | Hair: Brown | Eyes: Brown

Archival notes: Chief Condor has been with us in some capacity for 11-ish years, so needless to say this file is overdue. Sorry for the delay.

Regarding extranormal matters, a few years back she had a run-in with an improperly marked patch of féar gortach, just before I left for my one-year stint in Divination. I got shit for not recognizing her when I got transferred again, but in my defense she had put on ninety-seven pounds in my absence and buzzed off all her hair.

To put it bluntly, the grass does what it says on the tin. She's hungry all the damn time. In a pinch she can down an appetite-suppressing potion but we both know that’s a slippery slope- fortunately for us she’s got an assistant out there making snack runs like it’s her second job. (See Thorne’s file; I’m starting to think the little weirdo gets a kick out of it.)

Curses aside, she's one of our best Wardens. Definitely the most creative. Now do me a favor and don’t show her this note; I think I’d die of embarrassment.

[graveyardrabbit]

An Alphabet of Fae and Other Spirits

F –  Féar Gortach

[werebatz]

on all levels except physical i am dead in a field of féar gortach somewhere in the irish countryside with only a pocketful of totinos pizza rolls and a chuck e cheese member card as evidence of the life i once led

[lavendersam]

The Shortest Night of the Year

introduction, part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7

previous

On her journey with the Rusalka on midsummer’s eve, Rook was challenged to a game of riddles by a fae man known as the Nøkken.  She managed to win with a very, very poor riddle, and now she and Rusalka are following a dryad who has agreed to help them traverse the forest more quickly.

They didn’t walk too much farther into the woods before Aspen stopped by an unusually thick aspen tree.  “Here we are,” she said, and stepped into the tree, disappearing into the banded grey bark of the trunk and vanishing from sight.  Rook looked up at Rusalka in confusion, who smiled and disappeared into the tree as well.  Rook swallowed, steeled herself, and followed.

It felt weird.  Darkness pressed upon her, clogging her mouth and nose with the taste and scent of green wood as she was overwhelmed by the sensation of being rushed quickly down a stream and buried in the earth all at once.  And as quickly as it began, it ceased, and she was standing outside a different aspen tree, and Rusalka and Aspen were there waiting for her.

“Good luck, Rusalka,” Aspen said with a smile, and then disappeared into the tree, leaving Rook and Rusalka alone in the woods.  Rusalka looked around, and then pointed into the forest.  “This way, I think,” she said.

They walked in silence for a while before Rook spoke.  “Rusalka,” she said.  “How did you lose your heart?”

Rusalka didn’t speak for some time.  Then she said, “Last year, I left my pool and wandered the forest to enjoy the midsummer night.  I found an old human ruin, and that is where I met the Red Woman.”  Her voice was breathless, and here eyes drifted into memory as they walked.  “We spent the night together.”  She was silent for a moment or two, then shook her head, returning to the present.  “I returned to my pool before dawn, but in the morning I discovered that I had left my heart behind.”

“Oh.”  Rook took this in.  “It wasn’t - you just - oh.”  Rusalka just smiled, a little sadly, and the two walked on.

At this point, Miranda broke character again.  “So, her heart wasn’t like, stolen? She just - metaphorically left it behind, and also literally left it behind?”

I smiled, and shrugged.  “Fairies.  Anyway, I need you to make me a Constitution saving throw.”

“What?  Um, okay...uh, oh that’s not good.”  She winced.  “Eight?”

“Alright, so -”

As Rook and Rusalka walked through a tangle of tall, thick grass choking the forest floor, Rook found herself becoming quickly, incredibly hungry.  It was certainly past midnight, and hours since she had eaten, but the sensation came upon her so quickly and painfully that she doubled over.  “Rusalka?” she called, panic in her voice.

Rusalka turned in surprise, and her eyes widened.  “Rook!”  She put her hand on Rook’s back as Rook clutched at her stomach.  “Rook, I am sorry - I forgot you were mortal, and what the féar gortach would do to you.”

“The what?” Rook gasped, before doubling over in hunger pains.

“Hungry grass,” Rusalka said.  “A spirit of chaos that carries a curse of hunger.  Look.”  She pointed through the trees, and Rook saw a shriveled corpse leaning up against a tree, half-hidden by the tall grass.

“What do I do?” Rook asked through gritted teeth.

Rusalka patted Rook’s back in what was probably meant to be a comforting gesture.  “Do you have any food? Enough to last you until we reach the edge of the grass?”

“I have the pomegranate the Nøkken gave me.”

Rusalka shook her head.  “No, not that.  You wouldn’t be able to stop eating, even once you were free of the féar gortach.”

“Could...could I give the pomegranate to it?” Rook said.  

Rusalka looked surprised.  “I - I had never considered that.”  She bit her pale lip.  “It’s worth a try?” she asked.

Rook nodded.  Reaching into her pocket she pulled out the pomegranate, but he sight of fresh food sent a shock through her.  Her hand involuntarily pulled the fruit towards her mouth, her jaws opening.  She strained her muscles, but couldn’t stop her arm from raising the pomegranate to her lips.  Finally, in order to keep herself from biting into the fruit, she used the last of her will to move her head and sink her teeth into the meaty flesh at the base of her thumb.

The piercing pain in her hand cut through the haze of hunger clouding her mind.  Quickly she dropped the pomegranate into her other hand and threw it at the shriveled corpse.  The féar gortach moved, its bony arm snapping out and catching it out of the air.  In two quick, sharp movements, the corpse tore open the pomegranate and started picking out out seeds, placing them into its mouth one by one with dagger-like precision almost faster than the eye could follow.  Instantly, Rook’s hunger disappeared, and Rusalka helped her stagger forward and out of the tall grass.

“How long will it be eating that?” Rook gasped as she caught her breath up against a chestnut tree.

Rusalka shook her head.  “I...I do not know.  Forever, I suppose.”

Rook looked up at Rusalka, staunching the blood from her bitten hand with her shirt, and could not help but smile.  Rusalka gave a small smile in return.

“Come,” she said.  “We are very nearly there.”

next

[dwollsadventures]

Fairies and elves, in their never-ending desire to harass humans encroaching on their perceived territory, have many ways of keeping people out of certain areas. One of their methods is creating small, magic organisms to infect people with small charms. Because of their incredible skill in magic, these constructs often function beyond their original intent, becoming a species in their own right. While the Aos sidhe are nowhere near the skill level of the dwarfs at making creatures, it's a marvel that they've almost single handedly stocked the fields of Ireland and Britain. Notes about the specific creatures are taken from the journal of noted natural philosopher Dwoll: Ignis fatuus - Larva related to the stray sod, but instead of magic grass it's magic fire. Has a similar effect as the will o' the wisp's flame. Generally stay on the ground. Faster than most other insects. Birds and other insectivores stay away from them, as eating them results in extreme nausea and mild vertigo. Stray Sod - A small maggot-like creature with tiny limbs, only able to move so fast. Has a patch of grass on its back that causes disorientation when stepped on. Ambles along slowly, unable to be squished. Created relatively easily, as they're basically just a lump of sod and a portion of animal bits, only enough to make  it move around. -Hungry Grass: aka Féar gortach, it's a relative of stray sods. Like the sods they're planted by Aos si to confuse mortals. Unlike sods they're immobile, more like anemones or coral polyps. When trodden on they cause hunger pains. If left to their own device they can get out of hand, reproducing massively, and clumping together like coral, making huge patches of grass unsafe for people to be near, due to the intensity of their effect increasing with the number of creatures. -- The journal background is Book 1 by Snowys-stock.

[house-haunter]

My favourite bit of Irish folklore is An Fear Gorta/Féar Gortach (The Hungry Man/Hungry Grass).

A Fear Gorta is a creature that looks like an emaciated human that walks the land when famine strikes, begging for food. To help him is supposed to be good luck.

Alongside that, wherever the Fear Gorta is buried, you'll find Féar Gortach growing.

(Fear [man] is pronounced "Farr", and Féar [grass] sounds more like "Fair".)

If you mistakenly walk on a patch of Hungry Grass, you'll be cursed with a hunger that never goes away.

I think it's neat because the whole legend emphasizes compassion for others when times are hard. Share what you can, and don't leave a corpse unshriven or else you'll prolong the misery.

little folklore things

in some english folklore there is a belief that the first soul buried in a new burying ground will be tasked to haunt the cemetery forever helping souls move on to heaven and help them to avoid the devil and witches, to avoid this fate there is some customs of burying a dog or some other animal in a new cemetery, it is called a church grim, and unlike other black dogs, which are often harbingers of death, it is a benevolent spirit meanwhile in scottish folklore there is the belief that a person will haunt a cemetery until another is buried there to take their place and so on

in breton folklore it’s believed that if you find yourself on the sea on halloween or all soul’s day that the spirits of the dead lost at sea will try and call your name  to get you to carry them back to land so they can be put to rest properly

among the numerous beliefs of the origins of the selkies, one in shetland and orcadian tradtion is that selkies are the souls of drowned sailors who can return to human form once a year to visit their families

it is believed that the seventh son of a seventh son (or seventh daughter of a seventh daughter) who has red hair will be born with the sight to see the fairies

it is believed unwise to wear too much green as it is a fairy colour and might attract them to you

that’s all i got for now, feel free to add ur own fave little folklore things

[themonsterblogofmonsters]

Hungry Grass also called Féar Gortach also called Fairy Grass

A withered and often silvery grass that, if its grain or the flour of its grain is consumed, can cause an insatiable hunger in the one who ate it. It can also have this effect on children, who simply run over it. It is used in some nutrition potions to encourage further eating, but is usually only grown in strictly controlled areas, as an infestation of the plant has been known to cause widespread famine in the past.

Hungry grass is also capable of one particularly striking and terrifying phenomenon, only at night, or when someone has recently died on it. During this time those who have died on the grass, or whose bones remain on the land will be reanimated, almost in a manner akin to Inferi, by the grass. These remains can often seem far more emaciated than they ever were in life, and have been known to shock people into heart attacks.

(Image Source)

(Read more about the mythical Féar Gortach Here and Here. I hate that I have to include this but PLEASE DO NOT DELETE THE IMAGE SOURCE OR MY CAPTION.)