The Giant's Well

Here lies a small spring known locally as the Giant's Well. The water here rises from the sandstone and once provided a vital supply for people living in the nearby cave dwellings.

Accounts of life at Holy Austin Rock explain that residents had to carry water up from this well or from other nearby springs, often in heavy buckets or pitchers. Over time, the hard work of hauling water and wider health concerns about sanitation were among the reasons the rock houses were gradually abandoned as permanent homes.

Although the flow is now modest, the Giant’s Well still trickles from the rock and is remembered in local stories as the source that kept both ordinary villagers and more legendary residents of Kinver Edge supplied with water.

Long ago, when Kinver Edge was said to be home to giants, a great sandstone cave above the village was the dwelling of a Kinver giant and his wife. They were no ordinary couple: some stories say they scratched their home out of the soft red rock with their bare hands, carving halls and chambers where they could look out across the woods and fields.

Every day, the Kinver giant walked down from his cave to a small spring at the foot of the Edge. This was the Giant’s Well, a deep, clear source of water that never seemed to run dry. For a giant, one drink was like a whole bucket to an ordinary man, so he would be away some time, carrying great stone pitchers that he filled to the brim before climbing back up the steep slope.

In a village beyond the hills, near Enville, lived another giant. He had heard tales of the Kinver giant’s wife: strong as an oak, graceful as a deer, and as striking as the crimson cliffs she called home. Curiosity soon turned into desire, and he began to cross the countryside whenever he knew the Kinver giant had gone down to the well.

The first time he came, he did no more than watch from the trees as the giantess worked about the cave mouth. The second time, he stepped closer, offering flattery and gifts – a fallen tree dragged from the valley, a boulder he claimed to have carried in one hand. The giantess laughed off his boasting, but she did not send him away at once. So began a dangerous game of visits and whispers while her husband trudged to and from the Giant’s Well with his heavy jars.

Below the Edge, tucked into another rock shelter, lived a solitary woman the locals called Meg o’ Fox Holes, or simply Meg. Some said she was a wise-woman who knew the ways of herbs and healing; others called her a witch. People went to her for charms, cures and quiet curses, and in return she took payment in coin, bread or favours.

Meg knew every path on the Edge and every secret of its springs, and she soon learned of the Enville giant’s visits. Sensing mischief – and perhaps an opportunity – she began to meddle. In some tellings, she promises the Enville giant a charm that will make the Kinver giantess fall truly in love with him; in others, she warns the giantess that her husband will take a new bride if she ever turns him away thirsty from the well. Whatever the words, Meg’s whispers stirred jealousy on all sides.

One hot, dry day, the Kinver giant set off as usual for the Giant’s Well. The spring was low, and the water oozed out only in a slow dribble, so he had to wait as his great pitchers filled. A giant’s sup is a drunkard’s draught, and he needed a great deal of water; he was gone longer than ever before.

Up at the cave, Meg appeared at the threshold. She told the giantess that her husband had grown weary of their high home and was down at the well making promises to a human woman, planning to bring her up to share the cave. Whether out of mischief or malice, the witch’s tale did its work. The giantess, stung with doubt, hesitated just long enough for the Enville giant to arrive once more, bold from Meg’s muttered charms.

At that moment the Kinver giant came striding back up the slope, shoulders bent beneath the weight of brimming stone jars. He saw the Enville giant at his doorway, his wife caught between fear and fascination, and Meg’s crooked shadow slipping away into the trees. In a heartbeat he understood. With a roar that shook the heather, he hurled the pitchers aside; water from the Giant’s Well cascaded over the path, turning it to a glittering stream.

The Enville giant fled, crashing through gorse and bracken as he ran along the ridge. The Kinver giant clambered to the very top of the rock, his anger boiling. Seizing a massive boulder, he heaved it into the sky with all his strength. The stone flew across the valley like a thunderbolt, aimed straight at the fleeing rival. The Enville giant dodged it by the breadth of a hair, and the rock slammed into the earth behind him, biting so deep that it stood on end like a great stone tooth. This upright stone, locals said, was the Bolt Stone, a lasting mark of the giant’s rage and of the day the Giant’s Well flooded the hillside.

As for the witch, some say Meg watched all this from the mouth of her cave, cackling as giants and humans alike tangled themselves in jealousy. Others say she was horrified when her mischief turned to fury and vowed thereafter only to heal, not to harm. In both versions, her rock house beneath the Edge remained the place people spoke of in whispers – a witch’s den within earshot of the Giant’s Well.

Over the centuries, the Bolt Stone was broken up by farmers, and the rock houses became quiet, then were restored for visitors. But the names remain: the Giant’s Well, the witch’s cave, and the stories of giants on Kinver Edge. Today, walkers still pass the little spring and the cave mouths, and local guides will tell you that, on hot days when the water runs low, you can almost hear the giant’s footsteps on the path and Meg’s low laughter in the trees.