A book on the Patupaiarehe of NZ. An excerpt of which I placed in the Lounge thread too... They are often referred to as fairy folk, but their description is more like a demigod race of sorts, within the book are tales of encounters with them. These are not the only mythical beings spoken of in NZ, some seem to be 'just' peoples of early inhabitance of NZ, who could well have been ancestors of the Lemurian culture and others.
Fairy Folk Tales of the Maori
Fairy Folk Tales of the Maori — Introduction — Maori Legends of the “Patu-paiarehe.”
A New Zealand poet once lamented the dearth of fairy lore in these islands, and in his ignorance made complaint:
Why have we in these isles no fairy dell,
No haunted wood, nor wild enchanted mere?
He declared that this lack of faerie glamour must be filled by the imaginative writer—“The poet's art—as yet without avail—must weave the story.” It was unfortunate that a writer with so sympathetic a muse had never heard of the Maori's rich store of fairy legend and wonder-tale, of endless folk-talk about the supernatural, the sprites of the woods, the elusive Patu-paiarehe, the mysterious wild men of the mountains, the strange spirits that haunt great pools at river-sources, and streams and lakes. For all this in endless variety we have in New Zealand. There is not another country, not even Ireland or the fairy ridden Isle of Man, so full of folk-memories and primitive beliefs of this kind. The only reason that the pakeha does not know of it is that very, very few have gone to the trouble to delve into this class of myth and tradition and preserve while there is yet time the curious and poetic tales which crystallize for us the old Maori belief in unseen presences and the fairy folk that haunted many a lofty mountain and many a shadowy wood.
Fairies, giants, fabulous monsters, marvel-working magicians, strange apparitions of forest and alp, have ever been found in countries of such a mountainous, broken and generously-wooded character as New Zealand, and it would be strange indeed if so imaginative a race as the Maori-Polynesian had not peopled the land with all manner of curious extra-human beings.
Poetic above all the other myths of the strange and supernatural are the many stories which tell of that mystic race the Patu-paiarehe. This name Patu-paiarehe is the term applied by the Maori to the mysterious forest-dwelling people who for want of a more exact term may be described as the fairies of New Zealand. They are spoken of as an iwi-atua, a race of supernatural beings, and they are accredited with some of the marvellous powers attributed to the world of faerie in many other parts of the globe. Some folk-tales of the Maori describe them as little people, but the native fancy does not usually picture them the tiny elves common to the old-world fairydom. Most of the legends I have gathered give them the ordinary stature of mortals, while at the same time investing them with some of the characteristics of the enchanted tribes of other lands.
The Patu-paiarehe were for the most part of much lighter complexion than the Maori; their hair was of the dull golden or reddish hue “uru-kehu,” such as is sometimes seen among the Maoris of to-day. They inhabited the remote parts of the wooded ranges, preferring the highest peaks such as Hihikiwi, on Mount Pirongia, and the summit of Te Aroha. They ventured out only by night and on days of heavy clouds and fog. They lived on forest foods, but sometimes they resorted to the shores of sea and lake for fish.
They had a great aversion to the steam rising from the Maori cooking-ovens, and to the sight and smell of kokowai, the red ochre (hæmatite earth mixed with shark oil) with which the Maori bedaubed his dwelling and himself. They were greatly skilled in all manner of enchantments and magic, and they often employed these arts of gramarie to bewilder and terrify the iwi Maori. Nevertheless we find them at times living on good terms with their Maori neighbours, and indeed (see the Story of Tarapikau in “The Wars of the Fairies”) guarding the interests of their friends of the outer world and resenting any interference by Patu-paiarehe from another district.
The Patu-paiarehe, in a number of these fairy tales, constituted themselves the guardians of sacred places and visited their displeasure on those who neglected the rites for the propitiation of the forest deities.
This class of folk-tales no doubt originated in the actual existence of numerous tribes of aborigines who dwelt for safety in the more inaccessible parts of these islands. Many of them were reddish-haired, with fairer complexions than those of the Maori; the remnants of an immeasurably ancient fair-haired people who have left a strain of uru-kehu in most Maori tribes. As in the case of the ancient Picts (whence the word “pixy”), who were driven to take refuge in the caves and mountains of Scotland and Wales and the Peak of Derbyshire, the forest-dwelling refugees of New Zealand gradually became to the more powerful race an enchanted wizardly tribe, possessed of powers of transformation and of becoming invisible at will. The Patu-paiarehe were, as a rule, shy and peace-loving. The fiercer foresters, the Maero of legend, were not unlike the Fynnoderee of Manx country tales who played malevolent tricks on the farmer folk.
The dense and thickly-matted character of the New Zealand forest, with a closely-woven roof of foliage through which the sunshine was filtered to a twilight, in the inner sanctuaries of the Wao-tapu-nui-a-Tane, made strong impression on the imaginative Maori mind, and it was natural to people the heart of the bush with unseen presences and supernatural creatures. The conjecture-provoking sounds heard in the forest in the quiet of the night, noises known to those who have bivouacked much in the high woods, heightened the popular belief in the existence of fairy folk.
Patu-paiarehe legendry in the North Island, so far as my enquiries go, is associated chiefly with the forested peaks of the Waikato-Waipa basin, the Cape Colville-Te Aroha range, and the hills about Lake Rotorua. That beautiful mountain Kake-puku, in the Waipa Valley, was a fairy resort; there is a deep wooded valley on the western side beloved of the Patu-paiarehe from Pirongia mountain. They did not venture to other parts of the mountain because they sometimes saw the Maori fires burning on the summit and on the eastern and northern sides. Their path was in the drifting clouds and low-lying banks of fog like the Irish fairy king in William Allingham's old song:
“With a bridge of white mist
Columbkill he crosses,
On his stately journeys
From Slieveleague to Rosses.”
In the South Island the sterner character of the landscapes, the tremendous craggy heights that wall Lake Wakatipu about, the vast white chain of the Alps, the solitudes of the tussock prairie, the silent forests, the deep, dark blue alpine lakes, tended to provide grim legends of the Maeroero, the Patu-paiarehe legendry in the North Island, so far as my enquiries go, is associated chiefly with the forested peaks of the Waikato-Waipa basin, the Cape Colville-Te Aroha range, and the hills about Lake Rotorua. That beautiful mountain Kake-puku, in the Waipa Valley, was a fairy resort; there is a deep wooded valley on the western side beloved of the Patu-paiarehe from Pirongia mountain. They did not venture to other parts of the mountain because they sometimes saw the Maori fires burning on the summit and on the eastern and northern sides. Their path was in the drifting clouds and low-lying banks of fog like the Irish fairy king in William Allingham's old song:
“With a bridge of white mist
Columbkill he crosses,
On his stately journeys
From Slieveleague to Rosses.”
In the South Island the sterner character of the landscapes, the tremendous craggy heights that wall Lake Wakatipu about, the vast white chain of the Alps, the solitudes of the tussock prairie, the silent forests, the deep, dark blue alpine lakes, tended to provide grim legends of the Maeroero, the wild men and giants of the mountains, rather than folk-talk of the Patu-paiarehe. There was also a basis of fact in the historical tradition of the Ngati-Mamoe fugitives driven into the trackless forests of the great south-west, there to disappear, to vanish like the moa. “They still haunt the western forests,” said an old man of mingled Ngati-Mamoe and Ngai-Tahu blood, when we discussed the mystery of the vanished clan of his people. “They are an iwi-atua, gifted with supernatural powers. The reason they are not seen by pakeha explorers is that they can call down the mists and clouds of the mountains to conceal them, as they did long ago when they were pursued into the wilderness beyond Lake Te Anau. Na te kohu i whakaora—the fog is their salvation.”*
....