North Wales Folk Tales for Children

by Fiona Collins

  When King Arthur and his knights arrived, the cowardly giant gave up without a fight.

  King Arthur looked at the giant. ‘King Rhita,’ he said, ‘I can see just the beard you need to finish your cloak.’

  King Arthur called for his barber, and the barber came running in with a razor, a shaving brush, a bowl of warm soapy water … and a little ladder under his arm.

  The barber set up his ladder in front of the giant and climbed to the top. This made him high enough to put plenty of bubbles on the giant’s chin with his brush, and then to slice off the giant’s own beard with his razor.

  That made the giant mad! There was a bitter battle. At the end, it was the giant who lay dead on the ground.

  ‘We must bury the giant,’ said Arthur to his knights. ‘It would be too hard to dig a big enough hole, so I want each one of you to bring a great grey stone to pile up over the body.’

  The knights brought great stones and piled them up until the giant was covered, and there was a mountain of stones.

  A new mountain in the land. A high mountain. The highest mountain in the land.

  That mountain is still there. In English the mountain is called Mount Snowdon. In Welsh it is called Yr Wyddfa, which in English means ‘the burial place’.

  The highest mountain in the land.

  Hundreds of people go there every year. They walk on that mountain. They climb on it. They ride up to the top on the little train and have a cup of tea in the cafe.

  But how many of them know what you know, and I know?

  Under the grass …

  and the earth …

  and the rocks …

  and the stones …

  lie the long white bones of the giant.

  18

  KING ARTHUR’S HORSE

  Once upon a time, King Arthur had a castle at the top of one of Flintshire’s round-topped hills. The hill is still called Moel Arthur, which means Arthur’s round-topped hill, of course.

  From the top of his hill, King Arthur could see far across the land, and keep his people safe.

  In those days there was a lot of trouble from invaders, and Arthur had to be ready at any time to defend the land, with the help of his knights, the Knights of the Round Table.

  One day, a messenger brought bad news to Arthur: an enemy army was on its way to attack the kingdom.

  ‘Off we go, boys!’ said Arthur to the knights. ‘We must defend the land!’

  The two armies met on the Clwydian Hills. From sunrise to sunset there was nothing to hear except the clash of iron weapons.

  Suddenly, Arthur found himself in terrible trouble. His enemies were surrounding him and he could not see his own people anywhere. He was all alone in the middle of his enemies – all alone except for his wonderful horse, of course.

  ‘Llamrei,’ he said to his horse, ‘save us both!’

  Off went Llamrei like lightning, with enemies following close behind. Arthur could see death all around him, and most especially right in front of him, because Llamrei was galloping straight towards the edge of a high cliff.

  But Arthur trusted his marvellous horse, and he was right to trust him.

  Llamrei raced straight at the cliff and jumped off, into the wild white air, and then he and Arthur began to fall down … and down … and down …

  Llamrei jumped off the cliff.

  The enemies all screeched to a halt, just before they fell over the edge themselves. They looked down, expecting to see the dead bodies of the king and his horse. But instead they saw Arthur galloping away, waving goodbye to them with a big grin on his face! He was quite safe, and all ready for the next battle, wherever it might be.

  Llamrei had saved his royal rider, landing from that great height with such force that his two front hooves sank deep into a rock at the bottom of the cliff. That rock is still there, and it is now the marker stone showing where Flintshire begins.

  It is called Carreg Carn March Arthur, which means the Stone with the Footprint of Arthur’s Horse, because you can still see the marks that Llamrei made when he landed. People who live in Flintshire say that this is proof that Arthur lived there once, long ago.

  19

  BRANWEN’S BIRD

  Branwen had four brothers. One of them was a giant. His name was Bran. Bran was the king of the Island of the Mighty, and Branwen was the most beautiful maiden in the kingdom. Her name means ‘White Raven’, and she loved birds of all kinds.

  One day she was watching the seagulls gliding over the sea, sitting on the cliff at Harlech with her four brothers. Beside Branwen was her brother Bran, the king. Next to him was Manawydan, their thoughtful brother. And next to him were Nisien and Efnisien, who were like day and night … or black and white … or wrong and right. Nisien was a peacemaker. He was easy to live with. Efnisien was a troublemaker. He was not easy to live with!

  ‘Look at the ships!’ said Branwen suddenly, pointing out to sea.

  They watched thirteen ships come to shore. The king of Ireland jumped out of the first one. He looked up at Branwen sitting on the cliffs, and called out, ‘Branwen, I have come to ask you to marry me! If you do, there will always be peace between Wales and Ireland. What do you say?’

  Branwen looked at her brothers. ‘I don’t even know him,’ she said, ‘but peace is a good thing. I’ll think about this.’

  Three of them looked pleased. They wanted peace. Only Efnisien was not pleased. He liked trouble best!

  Well, they had a wedding. And after the wedding, they had a feast.

  Everyone was happy. Everyone except for Efnisien. He only wanted trouble, so he made trouble. Big trouble. He went to the stables where the Irish king’s horses were kept, and he cut them with a sharp, cruel knife. He cut every single one of them.

  The king of Ireland was really upset. And angry. He was ready to go home to Ireland and leave Branwen behind, because of her troublesome brother. But Bran made peace. He gave the king of Ireland fine new horses, and gold and silver. And then he gave him something even more precious: he gave him the Cauldron of Rebirth.

  ‘It was brought to Wales from Ireland by two giants,’ Bran told the king. ‘Now I’ll give it back to you. If you put dead warriors into it, they will come back to life. You will never be beaten in battle now.’

  The king of Ireland was pleased by Bran’s generous gifts. So peace was made, and Branwen sailed to Ireland with her new husband.

  When she arrived, Branwen gave everyone presents and they all welcomed her as their new queen.

  For a year, she was happy.

  The next year, she was even happier. She had a baby boy. She named him Gwern.

  But after three years, things began to go wrong. It was as if Efnisien could make trouble even when he was far away. No-one could forget the trouble he had made at Branwen’s wedding. They couldn’t forgive him, and they put the blame on Branwen.

  ‘That troublemaker is far away,’ people said to the king, ‘but his sister is right here. You should not have married her. We don’t want her as our queen.’

  The king listened to them. He let them persuade him that what Efnisien had done was somehow Branwen’s fault.

  He gave his orders, ‘Take away her crown. Take away her throne. Take away her fine clothes. Take away our baby, Gwern. She will not be his mother anymore. She will not be the queen anymore.

  ‘Give her rags to wear. Give her scraps to eat. Send her to work in the kitchen. And tell the butcher to slap her face every night, on his way home from work. We will punish Branwen for the trouble her brother made.’

  So a bad time began for Branwen. The food was horrible. The work was hard. The butcher was cruel. She missed her baby very much. She was lonely: far from home, far from her brothers. She had nobody to be her friend.

  Until, one day, a little bird landed on the window sill of the kitchen, next to where she was making bread. It was a starling. It chirped as if it wanted to talk to her. She couldn’t understand what it was trying to say, but its song made her smile.
She talked to it, and put crumbs on the window sill for it to eat.

  The next day it came back. And the next day. And the day after that. Every day Branwen saved food for the starling. Every day she talked to it and it talked to her. Little by little, they began to understand each other.

  Branwen thought, ‘I have a friend. She is only a little bird, but she is my friend.’

  And then she thought, ‘Maybe the bird can help me!’

  Branwen could not leave the castle. She could not go to Wales and ask her giant brother Bran for help. ‘But the bird could go for me!’ she thought. ‘The bird could fly over the sea to Wales, and find Bran, and give him a letter from me!’

  It was hard to explain all this to the bird. But the bird chirped happily. She was ready to help.

  Branwen found a little scrap of paper. She wrote, ‘Bran, I need help. Come and rescue me. Your sister, Branwen.’

  There wasn’t room to write more. The paper had to be very small, because the bird couldn’t carry much. Branwen folded the scrap of paper. She tied it under the bird’s wing with one of her long red-gold hairs. She stood by the open window with the bird in her hands.

  ‘Go safely, little friend,’ she whispered. ‘Cross the sea and find my brother. Thank you for helping me.’

  She lifted her hands and launched the bird into the sky.

  The little bird chirped and flew away towards the seashore. She was not a sea bird. She had never flown over the waves. But now she did. She did it for Branwen.

  It was a hard journey. The wind was strong. The air was cold. The sea raged below her, rain and hail beat down on her and fish leapt up towards her into the air. But she kept going. At last she saw misty mountains and heard the sound of waves breaking on the shore.

  She launched the bird into the sky.

  She flew over the waves, over the beach. She landed on the first tree she found, and she rested. But not for long.

  Soon she was flying again, searching for the giant king. She found him on the island of Anglesey. He was there with his court, but he was not in a castle. There was no castle in Wales big enough for Branwen’s giant brother, so he was sitting on a small hill in the open air, with people all around him.

  The bird flew down and fluttered round his huge head. She perched on his massive shoulder. She pecked at his enormous ear.

  She was so small and he was so big that the giant didn’t notice her at first. He didn’t notice her until she landed on his hand and jumped up and down, squawking and chirping and making as much noise as she could.

  Bran lifted his hand to his face and peered at the little dot. She flapped her wings hard, to show him the letter that Branwen had tied under one of them.

  Someone with smaller hands had to untie the letter and unfold it. Someone with smaller eyes had to read it out to Bran. ‘Bran, I need help. Come and rescue me. Your sister, Branwen.’

  When he heard that, Bran shouted, ‘Get ships ready! Get soldiers ready! We have to rescue my sister!’

  The little bird knew she could rest now. She had done what Branwen had asked her to do.

  The ships were ready. Soldiers went on board. Sailors pulled up the anchors.

  The bird watched. She was too tired to fly across the sea again, but she wished she could see Branwen.

  She saw that Bran was still on land. He was too big to travel in a ship. He waded into the sea. He shouted, ‘We won’t wait for the wind. Throw me the ropes!’

  From each ship a long rope was thrown to Bran. He began to walk towards Ireland, pulling the ships behind him.

  Suddenly, the little bird took off. She flew to Bran and perched on his shoulder. ‘Are you coming too, little bird?’ asked Bran. ‘Well, I can easily carry you. Let’s go to Ireland!’

  Bran walked across the sea to Ireland, pulling his ships.

  The king of Ireland heard people shouting. He asked, ‘What’s the matter?’

  A man said, ‘Your Majesty, something very strange is happening. A mountain is coming across the sea. It has a long ridge with two big lakes, one on each side of the ridge. There is a forest all around it.’

  ‘A mountain? A forest? Coming over the sea? That doesn’t make sense,’ said the king.

  ‘If you knew my brother, it would make sense,’ shouted Branwen from the kitchen. ‘That forest is the masts of his ships. The mountain is my brother Bran. The long ridge is his nose and the two big lakes are his eyes. He is coming to set me free, and when he gets here you will be sorry!’

  The king of Ireland knew he had been wrong to treat Branwen so badly, and he was afraid. ‘We don’t want to fight,’ he said. ‘We’ll leave the castle and cross the river. Break down all the bridges after we cross, so that Bran and his army cannot follow us.’

  When Bran reached the castle, there was no-one there. The little bird chirped, and flew away to find Branwen. Bran and his army followed her. When they reached the river, the bird flew over, but the soldiers could not cross.

  So Bran said, ‘The one who is a leader should be a bridge.’

  He lay down across the river, and all the warriors with all the weapons marched across his back.

  When the king of Ireland heard this, he said, ‘We can’t fight them. We must make peace. Peace is better than trouble.’

  He sent a messenger to Bran to ask for peace.

  As Bran listened to the messenger, the little bird flew from his shoulder. Branwen reached out her hands, and the bird landed.

  ‘Welcome back, little friend,’ said Branwen. ‘Thank you. Thank you for bringing my brother. Thank you for helping me. Now we can all be together again.’

  And the two kings made peace.

  20

  THE TALE

  OF TALIESIN

  Once upon a time a man called Tegid lived by a lake with his wife and their two children. In English, the lake is called Bala Lake, and it has the same name as the little town beside it. In Welsh, it is called Llyn Tegid, named for the Tegid in this story.

  Tegid’s wife’s name was Ceridwen, and she was a Woman of Power.

  Their daughter was beautiful, very beautiful. In fact, she was so beautiful that she falls right out of the story, and I can’t tell you anything else about her at all. Sorry.

  But their son was so mean and moany, so grumpy and groany, that even his mother could see that life was going to be hard for him. Because Ceridwen was a Woman of Power, she decided to use her magic to do something about this.

  She looked in all her books of magic until she found the spell she wanted. It was a spell to make her son wise and inspiring.

  ‘If he is wise,’ she thought, ‘who will mind if he is moany? If he is inspiring, who will care if he is groany?’

  The spell was to make a magic potion. It needed to cook for a year and a day. At the end of that time, there would be three magic drops in the potion. Whoever drank the three drops would know everything!

  Ceridwen started to make the spell.

  She took her iron cauldron down to the lake and filled it with water. She made a fire and put the cauldron on the fire to boil and bubble, for a year and a day. She found an old man to put wood on the fire, to keep it burning for a year and a day. And she found a little boy to stir the pot and keep it from sticking and burning, for a year and a day.

  The boy’s name was Gwion. Gwion’s work was hard, hot and boring. His job was to stir the pot, while Ceridwen collected the ingredients for the spell: roots and shoots, berries and fruits … each one picked at the right time of year, the right time of day …

  The more she put in the pot, the thicker the mixture got. It was hard for Gwion to turn the spoon and stir the pot. But he knew he must not let it stick and burn. Ceridwen would be angry with him. It was not a good idea to make her angry!

  Spring turned to summer while Gwion stirred the pot.

  Summer turned to autumn while Gwion stirred the pot.

  Autumn turned to winter while Gwion stirred the pot.

  Finally, winter turned to spring again. G
wion was still stirring the pot.

  A whole year had passed, and only one day was needed for the three magic drops to be ready.

  That day was the day when the trouble started. I don’t know why Ceridwen wasn’t there when it happened.

  This is what happened: a giant bubble floated up to the top of the pot. It burst with a loud ‘pop!’ on the top of the mixture. Big hot drops splashed everywhere. Three drops splashed on Gwion’s hand, where he held the spoon and stirred the pot. Those three drops were hot! Hot with the boiling of a year and a day.

  Gwion yelped, and jumped back. He put his cool tongue on his poor burnt hand. When he did that, he licked up the three magic drops that Ceridwen had been cooking all year for her son.

  Suddenly, Gwion knew everything. He knew that Ceridwen would be angry with him, and that she would come after him. He dropped the spoon that he had held for a whole year, and he ran away as fast as he could.

  Wherever she was, Ceridwen did know. She knew that Gwion had the magic she had been making for her son. She was angry. Very angry. She came after him at full speed.

  He ran and she ran.

  She ran and he ran.

  Soon he could hear her getting closer.

  He could see her running, when he looked over his shoulder: getting closer.

  He could hear her feet slapping against the ground: getting closer.

  He knew he couldn’t outrun her. But he could use his new magic power … he changed his shape, and became the fastest animal he could think of.

  He became a hare, with long ears and strong legs, racing away over the hill.

  But Ceridwen had magic power too. She changed her shape too. She became a greyhound, a racing dog, just as long and strong as the hare: running after him, getting closer.

  He became a hare and she became a hound.

  The hare that was Gwion looked back along his grey, furry side. He knew that, even as a hare, he could not escape from her.

  So he changed again. The hare jumped up, and splashed down in the water of Bala Lake. As he went in, he became a fish, with silver scales and a strong tail, flashing through the water.