The Wee Mermannie – A Retelling of Love, Identity, and the Magic of Self-Acceptance

Once upon a time, in an age when the Earth was almost entirely draped in vast oceans, there lived a people unlike any other — the mermaids and mermen. The world was then dominated by one colossal landmass called Pangaea, embraced by the endless super-ocean of Panthalassa. The merfolk ruled these waters with grace, frolicking like playful otters, carefree and joyful in their aquatic paradise.

But time, like the relentless tides, brings change. During the early-middle Jurassic period, the great landmass began to crack and shift. Pangaea broke apart, the oceans boiled with seismic fury, and many of the gentle merfolk vanished. The few survivors swam desperately towards the cooler, safer waters of the poles, but even this refuge did not last. Eventually, they found themselves trapped within an isolated, land-locked loch in the far north — a place of biting cold and melancholy beauty.

In this lonely loch lived The Wee Mermannie, a small merman with a heart as vast as the ocean he longed for. Despite the chill that stung the waters and the sadness that weighed on his kin, The Wee Mermannie remained cheerful. He had a remarkable friend, the shy but gentle plesiosaur named Nessie, and together they splashed, sang, and played beneath the grey skies.

One morning, as thin sunlight danced weakly over the water, The Wee Mermannie called out for Nessie.

“Whaur are ye, Nessie? Come oot and play!”

Instead of Nessie, there came a curious and elegant creature — a sleek, black sea-horse. But not a tiny, delicate seahorse as you might imagine. This was a full-sized horse that lived in the depths of the loch, her mane dark and flowing, her eyes gleaming like obsidian.

“Hullo,” said The Wee Mermannie, his curiosity piqued. “Who might you be?”

“I’m Karen,” replied the majestic sea-horse. “Would ye like to be friends?”

Of course, The Wee Mermannie, ever friendly and naive, agreed at once. Karen, pleased, told him of the most beautiful creature she had ever seen — a landmaid, with flowing dark hair, wise eyes, and the most fascinating feature of all: feet. The Wee Mermannie had never seen feet before and was instantly captivated.

To his amazement, Karen shifted her shape right before his eyes, transforming from a horse into the form of the very landmaid she described. But the transformation was fleeting. Karen, now a kelpie — a mythical shapeshifter — warned that changing forms was draining and dangerous for her.

Still, she planted a seed of longing in The Wee Mermannie’s heart.

“You should go up on the surface,” Karen suggested slyly. “Bask in the sun, walk on the land, and live a life far longer than we do underwater.”

The Wee Mermannie, swept up in dreams of life on land, begged Karen to help him change his form. After much pleading, Karen agreed — but only if The Wee Mermannie would one day do her a favour.

“Anythin’ ye ask!” he promised eagerly.

Thus, Karen pulled him onto the pebbled shore, where The Wee Mermannie shed his shimmering scales and powerful tail — a painful, torturous metamorphosis that left him gasping and unconscious. When he awoke, his tail was gone, replaced by two strong legs, and his gills had sealed into smooth skin. Karen watched with pride as he stumbled to his feet, marveling at his newfound limbs.

“Legs are magical,” Karen said, “but four would’ve been better!” she joked, tossing her mane.

Then she offered him a ride southwards to find the enchanting landmaid of his dreams. She even conjured handsome clothes so he might blend among humans.

They journeyed together until they reached the bustling Big City, where The Wee Mermannie wandered, searching for the landmaid with dark hair and delicate feet. Yet the people spoke in strange accents, their words jumbled and indecipherable. The Wee Mermannie’s ears ached from the cacophony, until they started to bleed.

That’s when he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder. A soft voice asked:

“Excuse me, but do you know your ears are bleeding? Is there anything I can do?”

He turned — and there she was: the landmaid of his dreams. Princess Ethel, with her wise eyes, kind smile, and long, graceful legs. Yet they could barely understand each other. The Wee Mermannie’s thick accent and underwater speech garbled his words, but Ethel took pity, embracing him warmly and leading him to her palace.

Days passed. They drew pictures and mimed their thoughts, forming a bond deeper than words. Still, The Wee Mermannie ached to express his true feelings. He sought out Karen, who revealed that she could help him once more — by taking his accent and replacing it with the voice of a land prince.

“Just blow into this ball of kelp,” Karen instructed, “and I’ll absorb your tongue’s burdens.”

Desperate to communicate, he did as told, and when he returned to the palace, he spoke fluently and clearly.

“Ethel! I can speak properly now! Listen, my love!”

But Princess Ethel recoiled.

“Who are you? That’s not the voice of my dear sea friend! He had a unique, melodic speech, even if I couldn’t always understand. You… you are a stranger!”

Heartbroken, The Wee Mermannie watched as Ethel dismissed him. Then entered The Noble Kieran — a dark-haired man who looked suspiciously familiar. Kieran escorted The Wee Mermannie away, but once out of sight, transformed back into Karen the kelpie.

Karen confessed her scheme: she had deceived Ethel, winning her hand as Kieran, but now dreaded marrying the princess, finding her far too dull.

“Help me, Mermannie,” Karen proposed, “kill her for me, and I’ll return you to the loch where you can forget this misery.”

Defeated and despairing, The Wee Mermannie accepted the dagger Karen fashioned from her mane. Yet when he stood before Ethel, ready to strike, he faltered. She looked at him with recognition and regret. They talked — truly talked — through eyes and gestures, finally understanding each other’s hearts.

Kieran/Karen, growing impatient, stormed in. But The Wee Mermannie stood his ground, the dagger in hand.

“Not another step!” he warned.

Karen laughed mockingly.

“You’ll lose everything if I die — your speech, your form! You’ll be a fish out of water!”

But Princess Ethel, rising with regal defiance, declared:

“It’s not how we speak, nor how we look, but what lies within our hearts that matters. I’ll live by the lochside if I must, and we’ll swim together if words fail us.”

In that moment of truth, Karen lunged, but impaled herself upon the dagger. The magic shattered, the dagger vanished, and with it, Karen’s treachery.

And so, The Wee Mermannie and Princess Ethel returned north to the loch. There they reunited with Nessie, whose wisdom had reminded The Wee Mermannie to always be himself. Ethel adapted joyfully to the water, and together they raised a playful family — splashing, laughing, and living more like otters than royals.

They lived happily ever after, their love transcending accents, appearances, and even kingdoms.

Moral of the Story

True connection is not forged by appearance, speech, or form, but by the sincerity and warmth of the heart. Being oneself, without masks or deceit, is the only path to lasting love and happiness.