In the rock-hewn caves outside Edinburgh lived a dwarf whose skills with an ax were unmatched in all the land.
But the dwarf was not happy.
Because he could not shoot an arrow as well as the elf in the forests nearby.
So he strove to develop a new shooting style that would surpass the performance of the elf, so that all the other Scots could marvel at this amazing feat. For six years he worked hard - very hard indeed, for dwarves are industrious when they put their mind to it - but for all his efforts, though his skill with the bow improved, he could not shoot as effortlessly or as well as the elf.
So he grew unhappy, angry and then sad. Not realising all the while that his ax had rusted through lack of use.
Years later, he grew to realise his folly, jumped off his stone bench, polished up his ax, and together with his new friend, the elf, protected Scotland for many years.