Fall under her spell
It’s not the Big Bad Wolf who’s waiting for us at Little Red Riding Hood’s lake (l’étang du Chaperon rouge) but DamEnora, a storyteller by trade. She who goes “where there are ears to hear” invites our little group to follow her into the land of the ‘korrigans’ – Breton leprechauns – who are very mischievous. “If you keep your eyes wide open, you may find something you weren’t expecting,” she murmurs. But will we find our way back? “I have no sense of direction,” confides DamEnora, with a wicked smile.
We plunge into the empty forest, bathed in supernatural light. The storyteller with large hazel eyes delicately unfolds a white linen cloth. From it, she takes a gilded pewter bowl, and makes it sing with a simple bit of wood. And that’s it, I am completely enthralled. Ready to listen to her stories which “are not just stories for children”. I hear suspicious rustlings… What was that I just saw in the bushes?
As we walk through the forest, we pause from time to time to listen to DamEnora. Her marvellous tales are peopled with animals, witches, fairies and humans trapped by the mischievous leprechauns. “Banead, a poor hunch-backed peasant-farmer, did not have enough land to keep himself in food. One evening, a rich farmer came to see him and offered him work in one of his fields. No-one wanted to go there because it was said that the leprechauns lived there. But Banead needed the money. The next morning, he took down his pitchfork and went to the field…”