Based on an actual Scottish legend.
"The Haggis," wherein is told a tale of the early days of the reign of Peter the High King, and Susan and Edmund and Lucy his beloved royal brother and sisters.
'Twas a fine spring morn, in a fine part of the realm of Narnia. I shall not tell you where, for the inhabitants of that region are not overly fond of curious tourists. Suffice it to say that it was a hilly land, dotted with heather and mossy rocks, with nary a house in sight. And that fine morning came the monarchs four with horns at their sides and a pack of dogs following. They were a-hunting for game, not the talking kind of course, but that does not enter into this story.
"I say, this terrain looks familiar," exclaimed the High King as he pulled back on his reins. The others, surprised by this, rode beside him. "What do you think, Susan?"
A suggestion of a frown formed on the fair lass's face as she looked about her. "We've never been here…but of course! It looks like Scotland!"
Peter nodded. "If I was to wake up here, I should think we were in the Highlands," quoteth he.
"I've never seen anything like this," piped up the younger king.
"Of course you haven't! You weren't there!" Peter laughed at this with Susan. "You were too young," the Gentle Queen made quick to add. "Dad and Mum took us to the Highlands for a couple weeks one summer."
"Ah, the Highlands," said Peter. "That little village with the cobblestone streets by the lake, and that glorious hike into the hills! I say, even the air was like here—fresher, and younger, and without that confounded factory soot."
"And the old shepherd with his absurd story of the haggis…"
Edmund snorted. "A story about a sausage? Did he try to sell it to you, too?"
"No, it's a foolish…" began Susan, but Peter held his hand for silence. "The haggis really is a Scottish animal," quoteth he, with a twinkle in his eye. "A wee little creature, with a small pointed face like a rat, large round ears, and a round fat body. Their legs are scrawny and spindly, but powerful…they can run at great speeds on them. The unique thing is that the legs on one side are shorter than the ones on the other. It's very handy for balance on the slopes, except they can only run one way, in circles. Therefore, they live only on one hill their entire lives. But because of their speed, they aren't easy to catch, mind you. Dogs are useless for this…"
"I object very strongly to that statement," one of the hounds sniffed.
"Dogs are useless for this because the haggis can't be caught by chasing it in the usual way. You have to know when and where they're coming from and chase them the opposite direction, because once they turn around they're horribly off-balance and roll down the hill. Voila! Haggis, best served with tatties and neeps—turnips, that is—though some sell an imitation version in sausages. A real Scottish haggis, though, laddie…" The elder king smacked his lips.
The younger king said but little. "That's just a story," remarketh he.
"One I spent three minutes of my time telling! You could show a little more appreciation by at least…joking about it!"
"Impressive. Did I ever tell you about the fountain of youth?"
A sigh escaped Peter's lips. "You're right; it's only a story for tourists."
And so they went on their way, monarchs and steads and hounds, till Lucy remarked, "What if it isn't just a story?"
"But of course it is," replied Edmund. "Can't you tell how foolish it is? It's for gullible people like…"
"But shouldn't all this land be just a story? There are centaurs and unicorns, and fauns and satyrs, and minotaurs and dwarves and all sorts of creatures that shouldn't exist, that were just foolish stories in our world. Why not this haggis?"
Edmund looked at Susan and Susan looked at Peter and Peter looked at the sky. Clear it was, with nary a cloud in sight, speaking of a long spring and summer after a long winter. All about were the bonnie smells of wildflowers wet with dew. He pondered whether there was a lake nearby, and if fish or game roasted on coals would have a better taste. But I wander, as did Peter's thoughts.
"You're not paying any attention!" exclaimed Lucy. "Can you give a reason why shouldn't it exist here?"
"Its size," Peter finally said. "All the legendary creatures we've met here have been great creatures. They are legends that have come true in this world, and they were legends exactly because they were great fighters, or great beauties like the dryads, or—just something great. Like Narnia."
"So?"
"So logically something so small and insignificant shouldn't exist here," concluded Susan.
And here something completely out of the ordinary happened. A little blur came a-running round the hill and through the legs of Peter's mount, causing the stallion to rear. The High King, I regret to relate, was deposited most unceremoniously on his backside. And then amidst a cloud of dust and flying hairs, the culprit was gone over the arm of the hill.
"What could that…" Susan never was able to finish the thought. To the astonishment of all, the creature had reappeared from whence it came, and with an unsightly shout the elder queen was thrown off her horse as well. The hounds had made to chase after the creature, and now they slunk back with their tails between their legs, rendered speechless by their inability to keep pace with it.
"Was that the insignificant haggis?" smirked Edmund.
"Or was it a sausage?" added Lucy, causing a grimace from Edmund.
They jested, but then were quick to pull back when they realized the creature was coming again. Now they could take a better look at it, there was no doubt—it was the haggis.
"But…but…" was all Peter and Susan could say from where they lay sprawled on the ground. "It…shouldn't exist."
The haggis's mouth was pinched back, though one could not tell whether it was from anger or mirth. Each time it passed by, it shouted a word that carried on the breeze back to the stunned monarchs.
"Never…underestimate…the…wee…little..haggis."