Little Adventures

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Fable

August 5, 1990 - Tucked away on a back shelf in the Chester-le-Street library we found a tattered box labeled The Lambton Worm. Inside were photostats from many old books, each with a slightly different version of the worm legend. The author of one thought that the basic story dated from pre-Roman times, and that worm was just a local word for dragon.

We had a good time comparing the various versions and speculating on whether the worm story might not have gotten started when the fossilized bones of an ichthyosaurus were found near here in the far distant past.

After this adventure with the worm, I became interested in the origins of fairy tales and legends. With just a little searching, you can see that the Disney versions of Snow White, and Rumpelstiltskin are very much tamer than the original Brothers Grimm stories. The rhymes of Mother Goose also have a very interesting history, much different than you might expect. Now when we travel, we keep an eye out for places that are linked to fairy tales and legends, and we visit these places in hopes of gaining some interesting insight into the stories. So far we have visited two such places in Germany, the Pied Piper town of Hamelin and the Baron Munchhausen Museum in Bodenwerder. Both were curious and educational, but neither compared with that time in England, when we discovered the story of the Lambton Worm.

The Lambton Worm

Many centuries ago there lived a nobleman named Lord Lambton. As a boy, Lambton skipped church one Sunday and went fishing in the Wear River, which ran near to his home. He caught no fish, and so he started swearing at his bad luck. Suddenly there came an immense tug on his line. Pulling with all his might, the boy was just able to drag his catch out of the water. He gazed in horror at what he had landed. It was just six inches long, and shaped like a worm, but this worm had four spindly legs, two feathery wings, and nine holes in its head. Lambton dragged the awful creature to a nearby well, where he threw it in, resolving to lead a much better life henceforth. Lambton suddenly believed in hell.

Years passed and Lambton grew into a fine and honorable man. He went away to the crusades and did not return home for many a year. Meanwhile, the worm in the well grew and grew. Finally it was of such a size that it could escape from its cold, wet, circular prison. It crawled through the fields and chased the cows. The farmers tried to kill it, but could not, so they began bringing milk to it just to keep it from wandering about. The worm continued to grow and soon required the milk of ten cows each day. If milk was not given to it, the beast would devour the cows and any farmers it could catch. The worm was now immense and spent most of its time on a large rock in the middle of the river Wear. In the afternoons though, it would wrap itself nine times around the highest hill in that area, to drink its milk and bask in the sun.

After many a long year away, Lambton returned home and was met joyously by his aged father, who immediately told his son of the terrible worm that had four legs, feathery wings, and nine holes in its head. When Lambton heard, he grabbed his sword and hurried to do battle with the beast. He found the loathsome thing curled around its hill and immediately set about destroying it. As the worm tried to curl itself around him, Lambton swung his sword and struck the thing again and again… trying to cut it into a thousand pieces. Then he saw, with horror, that each time his blade cut the worm in two, the two parts would wriggle to meet each other, and in an instant, the worm would be whole once again. Lambton fought the worm all day, but nothing he could do hurt the beast, and so he finally became discouraged and made his weary way home.

The next day, Lambton sought out the oldest white witch in that country, and that aged woman told him how the worm might be destroyed. First, Lambton must have his armor covered all over with very sharp blades of steel, then he must wrestle the worm on its rock in the middle of the river Wear. As Lambton was about to hurry away, the witch added one more instruction. Once the worm was dead, Lambton must kill the first living creature that he met, or the death of the worm would be avenged. Nodding in agreement, Lambton went away to make his preparations.

All that night the blacksmiths were busy and the next morning Lambton and his father made their way down to the river Wear. Along with them came Bull, the oldest of their hunting dogs. If the worm was slaughtered, Lambton's father would release Bull, and the son would swiftly kill the old dog, thus fulfilling the last of the witch's instructions. Donning his razor armor, Lambton waded out to the island, and into the coils of the hissing worm. The body of the beast strained as it tried to smash Lambton's armor. Instead, the sharp blades cut the worm into pieces, and these fell into the fast flowing river, and were washed away before they could rejoin. Thus the worm grew smaller and smaller, until at last it was gone forever.

Lambton rejoiced that he had finally destroyed this evil remnant of his youth. As he waded ashore, his father came running to him… forgetful of the old dog, and the last of the witch's instructions. As they hugged, it suddenly came to both men that now Lambton must slay his own father. This he would not do, and so from that time forward, for seven generations, no one who bore the name of Lambton ever died in bed. That was the curse of the terrible Lambton Worm.