Fellowship & Fairydust

Our tale begins in the Land of the Dragon, otherwise known as Wales, on a small farm some years ago. Across the rolling valleys and green fields dotted with sheep, sprinkled with flowers and crossed by bubbling streams, there was a girl playing on her father’s farm.

The summer was hot and the grass tickled her knees as she rolled about playing with the farm cats. One, a big fluffy lad – a house pet and not a mouser – swiped playfully at her nose. Giggling and shrieking in pretend fright the girl gave up the game knowing her kitty had had enough. Sure enough, Dafydd rose, stretched and swaggered off, his tail flicking in the contented manner of a cat who knew he was in charge and well-loved.
Unwilling to return quite yet, the girl decided to explore a nearby field. It would be empty as her father had taken the sheep further out today. He always left this particular field empty at this time of the year, warning his children away from the pasture for three days and nights. The girl did not understand why and, when questioned, her father simply muttered something about a…tithe?

However, the curiosity of children is great and in the bloom of youth their courage is high and unchecked by the concerns of adults. Perhaps, if her father had not guarded the old tales so carefully, leery of being mocked for foolish fancies, his daughter would never have wandered off? And so, the girl scampered off to discover the reason for her father’s actions. Off she ran, down a lane of tall trees, their lofty boughs leaning over the path and offering shade against the bright sun.

The smell of earth, of growing grass and the wonderful scent of flowers filled her being as she neared her destination. Panting softly, the girl slowed and stopped at the end of the lane. Turning to her right she approached the stile in the hedge when she suddenly became aware of a most enchanting music accompanied by many voices singing.

Wondering who could be in the field playing such beautiful music and singing in such jolly voices, the girl climbed onto the stile and froze. There, in the field, was a flattened circle of grass and frolicking nearby were fair folk dancing. Their bright clothing, gay shining eyes and merry voices were a splendour to behold. The odd-looking people were smaller than the adults in her life, yet even as a child, she understood that these dancers were adults and not children. Fascinated, the girl climbed over the stile and stood a few paces into the field, peering at them.

Once in the field, she monetarily luxuriated in the green grass tickling her ankles while enjoying being surrounded by her favourite flowers: yellow buttercups and white daisies. Yet these were brief distractions and the scene in front of her seized her attention once more. As the unearthly chords wound about her the girl stood as still as a statue, desperately listening in an attempt to understand what the music and words meant and who these people were. Gradually the girl fell into the song, her soul swept along by the tale these people were weaving. Before her eyes, danced images of an unknown land: water that gushed along a twisting riverbed and glistened in a bright sun. A deep blue sky stretched above, while the grass was greener and more vibrant than in her father’s fields. She glimpsed stern mountains capped with snow which raced by as the music and signing swelled then plummeted, becoming deep and solemn. Down she tumbled into dark caves, dragged by the powerful currents of the song.

“Aggh!” The deep night of the caves exploded as she entered a cavern full of crystal formations that caught on unseen light sources and sparkled, dazzling her. The girl blinked, but otherwise her body was silent and unmoving in her father’s field, even as she somehow travelled further in this distant land, with the bewitching music and singing of the dancers.

Then, as voices buoyed her up a long shaft and into a meadow the singing and music abruptly stopped. The girl staggered, as if released from an enchantment. Blinking once more to clear her vision she saw that the strange, fair folk had paused in their dancing and now one of the dancers was gazing at her.

In that awful moment she realised these dancers were not human, for the face staring curiously at her was too beautiful and too alien for any human face.

The…person…offered her a wide smile and spoke in beguiling voice.
“Come join us little girl! You have seen our land in a waking dream, surely you would like to see it in the flesh?” The girl trembled for while the voice was pleasant and, indeed, charming beyond compare, her senses were alert to danger. There was a spark in those gleaming eyes and a twist to those red lips that encouraged mistrust.

“My parents will be expecting me,” she whispered, surprised to be able to speak.

The fair man smiled. “This is your father’s field then? You are the farmer’s daughter?” The girl nodded meekly. The fair man scrutinised her closely then laughed. His laughter was fairer than anything in the world! Indeed, the girl nearly came closer, but with a last shred of strength and preservation, instead pressed her feet more firmly into the grass.

The fair man tossed his head, hair flowing in a rippling wave.

“Go then child, for your father has always been kind to us. We, therefore, shall be generous today! Yet do not forget us, for next time – if we meet again – we shall take you with us.”

Terrified by the promise, the girl gasped a thank you and fled. She did not stop until she reached her mother’s kitchen and could cradle Dafydd. The big cat meowed, licked her face and for once remained still, as if sensing her deep fright.

The girl never spoke of her experience and it wasn’t until she had thumbed through a book of Welsh fairy tales that she came across the Tylwyth Teg – The fairy folk.

She understood her danger then and how close she had come to never seeing her home again. She swore never to walk in her father’s field again and to heed her path in the dells and valleys, and to be careful where the other world may touch ours: in the openings of streams, in the deep places: hidden cervices and caves and the crossroads or fairy rings and at high midsummer. The girl held the book close and knew also that care must be taken to never inadvertently invite or anger them.

As soon as possible after reading about the fairy folk, the farmer’s daughter pocketed an old horse shoe and kept this piece of cold iron on her at all times.

And so the years passed…

Years tumbled by and the girl grew into a young woman, who moved away from her father’s farm. She travelled far, until at last the father’s daughter returned to her homeland and chose to dwell in a coastal town. Our tale picks up once more in this coastal town, where the farmer’s daughter has chosen to live.

At one time Barry, was the largest coal exporting port in the world. Now quieter, the docks remain busy, not as frantic naturally, but busy all the same. The neighbouring island attracts many to it for various reasons. Whether for the beach and busting shops fronting it, full of the smell of fish and chips, the sharp cries of children and their parents, or the brightly coloured spinning fans and swimming boards, with the fun fair taking its share of busy town life. Others come for solitude and peace when the children and parents are gone, walking their pets or simply strolling and admiring the natural beauties of the shore and the green pathways nearby. Now, not quite the place you might expect to see the Tylwyth Teg, perhaps? Too industrious and now still too full of people and modernisation? Ah, well, how wrong one would be! For the ways of the fairy folk are beyond human understanding and we should not constrain them to our narrow ideas. Where were we? Ah yes…

Into this town, autumn had crept slowly upon the land, transforming from a blazing hot summer to cool breezes and fresh rain falling. Upon this fateful day the sea was grey and placid under a slate coloured sky.

Standing on the edge of the beach, shoes sinking slightly in the sand and observing the little ripples as the waves met the shore, is Delyth Thomas, the young girl of our tale fully grown. She had come to the beach for peace after a restless night. Strange dreams had plagued her, of a midsummer day and the singing dancing fair folk. Delyth shivered as she gazed at the impassive sea. Ever since childhood she had been so cautious, heeding every advice in the old fairy tales and now it was all for naught! She had seen the Tylwyth Teg twice in her life and the third time was close at hand. Once she had stumbled upon them as a child and a second time two days ago…

Believing herself safe in a town full of steel and iron, Delyth had agreed to take a walk with her friend on the Island, strolling up the slope next to the beach, over the grass and amid the trees, (risky but surely safe so close to a busy tourist destination?).

They had walked some distance and were returning when her friend needed to rest. Pausing, the duo sat until, oddly restless, Delyth had risen and walked further on. She had desired to go to the edge to overlook the sea, but as she walked by a huddle of trees, she heard music and a voice singing. Seldom had any human heard this type of music or heard such a voice. Frozen in fright, Delyth groped for the cold iron in her pocket. Seizing it, she glanced about, the breeze cold on her face. There! A few yards away, in-between the trees was a figure perched on a stone and playing what appeared to be a violin.

He seemed tall and fair and he glanced up as she foolishly continued to watch instead of fleeing. It was not the same man as from her childhood but another. He shone with an inner light and his eyes were as bright as that fair folk in her childhood. He put down his violin and spoke. His voice was beautiful and serious.

“A child of ours is hurt and we cannot free him. You have the sight and can see us. Will you not help us?” Delyth remembered the promise of the fair man in her youth. The Tylwyth Teg do not forget yet…how could she leave a child in danger? Revulsion at the mere thought of leaving a child to suffer rose within her breast and Delyth pushed aside her fear of her own fate. What would be would be. The misstep of youth must be paid at some point.

Inhaling deeply Delyth pulled the horse shoe out of her pocket and dropped it on the ground. “Yes, I will. Where is the child?” The fairy man grinned and there was wonder in his eyes. “This way, most courageous of humans!”

“Decent I hope. Courageous I think not.”

“As you wish.” He darted over and seemed to grow in size until he was taller than her. His warm hand clutched her arm and as he did the world opened around them. Delyth gasped as she saw through the trees into another place: the Brecon Beacons!

The fair man drew her forth and, in a moment, they were standing on the steep side of one of the mountains. Delyth breathed in fresh frosty air and gazed about in awe.

“There are many pathways if only one would look,” remarked her companion as he began walking. Delyth nodded and followed.

He led her to a tangled bush and crying out in distress Delyth ran forward to the child lying still and quiet. Two fair women were kneeling beside him, eyes wet with anguish and anger.

The man waved them back as they reached for her. Delyth ignored them and smiled comfortingly at the child.

“Do not move, love, I will have this cruel wire off you!”

Someone – and Delyth suspected someone who knew of the fair folk and meant to entrap one – had callously left a pile of colourful objects: brightly wrapped sweets, building bricks and fake precious stones. Under them Delyth could see was iron that had been carefully concealed until the objects above had been disturbed. Iron nails, iron horse shoes and worse, wire which threaded through the fake precious stones. The child had been lured close and when picking up the stones had become panicked, and in its panic entangled itself in the wire.

The fair folk could not help their child and so had sought help. How they had found her Delyth did not know or care. Terrified for the child whose features were drawn in pain and washed a deathly white pallor, Delyth hoped the perpetrator was caught by the Tylwyth Teg.

Carefully she began to unwind the iron from the child’s hands. The child whimpered and blinked grey-blue eyes full of torment at her. Delyth smiled in reassurance and began to whisper all sorts of things about her childhood, especially about her beloved cat Dafydd. The child actually relaxed a little at her tales, allowing her to more easily pluck the cord away.

The damage was bad, deep red welts criss-crossing the delicate tiny hands. Finally, however, the horrid thing was undone and Delyth put it to one side. On impulse she hugged the whimpering child before gently passing the little one to the two quiet women. One fair lady looked at her with a searching gaze then nodded in gratitude.

Delyth just bowed her head in return and gathered all the rubbish, filling her pockets so they could be destroyed safely. The fair lady observed her actions as a ring appeared beside them. The child she had saved was now in the arms of the other fair lady. He waved at her happily even though the deathly pallor lingered. Then the child and mother (was it his mother?) stepped into the circle and vanished. The remaining fair lady exchanged one final glance with Delyth, which indicated that Delyth had impressed her and been deemed acceptable. Then she too, was gone.

The tall fair man laughed merrily and silently led her away back down the steep incline. Once they had reached their arrival point, the fair man opened the pathway again and before long they were stepping amid the trees in Barry.

Dazed, Delyth sat down on the ground, uncaring of how cold it was until the man spoke.

“Thank you for your help. You must go now however, as humans catch ill so easily. We shall meet again.” Delyth recalled her childhood and said nothing beyond, “You’re welcome, safe journey home.” The man grinned and then he vanished.

Delyth returned to her friend and discovered only a few minutes had passed. She did not answer her friend’s questions on where she had been and instead suggested they go home. So they had, where Delyth had disposed of her stolen treasures.

Now, two days later she stood waiting by the sea. Her dreams had led her here and Delyth knew her time was up. The Tylwyth Teg do not forget and it was past time for them to fulfil their promise.

So, she waited, observing the quiet lapping of the waves at her feet and the grey sky overhead. The salt air was refreshing. It was a peaceful picture, but Delyth couldn’t enjoy the peace.

“You did not forget us, nor did you stay away when we needed help,” said her companion who had just appeared beside her. Delyth turned to meet his gaze, which was full of the joy and solemn nature of the fairy folk.
He continued, “I have come to take you away. Are you ready?”

Delyth picked up her bag. “Yes, I am. My parents and brothers have a letter and will not mourn me. I am ready.” The fair man did not smile, appreciating her truthful and serious reply, but simply took her hand.

“Then follow me.” Delyth did as bid and walked into the circle, reappearing into their world of unspoilt beauty. In the distance she espied distant mountains and she gripped her companion’s hand tighter and laughed merrily, for there were buttercups and daisies here in this strange land.