A Kinrowan Estate story: Bloodied Kings

There are stories of haunting here at the Kinrowan Estate going back centuries. Of patrons of our Pub who came back again and again at last call to hoist just one more pint of their favourite ale, of the gameskeeper (in those long ago days when we had such a post) who is spotted watching over the deer ias they eat grass in the late fall, of the piper heard playing in the distance as the dawn breaks over the hills where High Meadow farm is.

And any other of other tales passed down generation after generation ’till they past from being remembered to being part of our history into being simply stories…

There is one ghost, or rather a set of ghosts, that I See in my vision when I’m unable to sleep and leave Catherine sleeping soundly in our bed to roam around the Estate main building and nearby grounds in warmer weather. So it was that some decades back that I first encountered them.

At first all I noticed was the crickets chirping loud in the warm night air. Then I heard the Irish wolfhounds we have to keep the sheep and pigs safe from wolves and other predators growling lowly in their throats as if something beyond their ken. So I walked out to where they were and stopped awfully fast when I saw them.

They were I thought that they were just some waking dream I was having, not really there but I sound realised that they were really there. They were a King, stocky and red haired, bloodied but still standing, fucking war sword unsheathed and covered with blood and gore, and his foe, equally stocky and blond haired, obviously Viking, leaning on his bloodied sword. Dead men walking. As I watched, they resumed hacking at each other. Over and over again.

They went on, silently, never saying anything, cutting at each other ’til they were far past the point where they should have been dead, but they went one cutting at each other. They were still having at each other as they faded away.

I’ve seen them several times since, always on the same date. I’ve tried researching the old battles, the old kings of Scotland, but never found anything that matches up properly to what I saw. I do know that there are several barrow mounds on the Estate that may indeed be those of Kings lost now to even myth as they live and died so long ago that no one even remembers them as even that way.

About Hrafnfreistuor

I was hanged upon That Tree and I talk to My Ravens, Huginn and Muninn. Isn’t that enough to say about myself?

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