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| Celtic folklore takes complicated paths through historic and pre-historic times. With the amount of stories available it would be impossible to tell them all. I will only attempt to tell a variety of tales I know personally, and will try and mix some with the odd historical fact or two. There are also different versions of some tales, but the basic storyline will stay true. Similarities to persons living or dead are usually coincidental. |
| The Well of St Elian It is said that during the 5th century St Elian was travelling over the hills above the coast where Colwyn Bay stands today. He was very tired and very thirsty, but there were no settlements in sight. He decided to trust in God, and so sat on the ground and prayed for a warm night and some fresh water to quench his parched throat. As he prayed a spring bubbled up from the ground at his feet, and the saint drank gratefully. In later years the well became famous for its powers. But the powers were normally used for negative purposes. The majority of people using the well did so to issue curses on others who had offended them. Victims soon learned they had been cursed and visited the well themselves to ask the custodian to remove it. The custodian was only too glad to do so, for a bigger fee than that charged for the original curse. The well was filled in during the 19th century when the cursing got out of hand. |
| Llangelynnin Old Church Standing 927 feet above sea leavel and overlooking the Conwy Valley, this secluded Church was built in the 7th Century by St Celynnin. In the south-west corner of the churchyard is a tree shaded well. Many years ago the parents of sick children would come here to throw items of their childs clothing into the water. If the cloths floated their child would live. If they sank the child was destined to die of their illness. |
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| Barclodiad y Gawres (The Giantess` Apronful) The Roman road between Ro Wen and Aber is a source of many storys. One of these is about two giants, husband and wife, who were travelling to Anglesey to start a new house. The husband was carrying two large stones, one under each arm, intended for the doorframe. His wife held a quantity of smaller rocks in her apron. As they walked along a pass now known as Bwlch y Ddeufaen (Pass of the Two Stones) they met a cobbler going in the opposite direction. The giants were not too sure of their way, so asked the cobbler, who pointed the correct way to get to Anglesey. "And how far is it" asked the giantess who had aching feet. The cobbler, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, looked down at the dozen or so shoes he was carrying to be repaired, and said, " I have worn out all these shoes walking from there!" The giant moaned and dropped his two boulders. The giantess threw up her arms in horror, thus emptying the contents of her apron onto the ground. That is why the rocks, which are still there to this day are called Barclodiad y Gawres (The Giantess` Apronful). |
| Carreg Lleidr (The Robbers Stone) In the 17th century a market town was established at Llanerchymedd, Anglesey. St Seriol and St Cybi were in the habit of meeting outside the town. St Seriol travelled from Penmon and always had the sun to his back - he became known as Seriol the fair. St Cybi came from Holyhead, and always had the sun in his face and was known as Cybi the dark. In a field a few miles east of this spot is a stone shaped like a man carrying something on his back. A thief is said to have stolen a bible from a local church, and because of the areas saintly connections, was turned to stone as he fled. According to the locals, every Christmas eve on the stroke of midnight, the stone leaps from the ground and runs around the field three times. |
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| Maentwrog (St Twrog`s Stone) The village of Maentwrog is a few miles south of the slate town of Blaenau Ffestiniog. In the churchyard, standing next to the porch, is a stone of unknown origin. According to legend, pagan rites being held on the land where the church now stands disgusted a giant called Twrog. After watching from a nearby hill he threw a large stone, which hit the altar the pagans were using and destroyed it. His thumb and finger mark can still be seen in the rock. Afterwards Twrog settled in the area and his followers erected a church where the boulder was embedded in the ground. Footnote; After hours looking through reference books, and scouring the web I could only find one mention of this creature. Click the pic if you wish to read it. |
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| Maen y Bardd (The Poets Stone) High above the village of Rowen in the Conwy valley stands the Maen y Bardd burial chamber. Locally called Cwt y Filuast (The greyhoundbitch`s Kennel). A short distance away stands a tall stone of about 7feet, which together with the chamber is the subject of myth. Many years ago a giant who was also a shepherd sent his dog to gather some stray sheep from below the ridge of Tal y Fan. The dog was disobedient and rested inside the burial chamber. In a rage the giant threw a huge stick, which struck the ground not far from the chamber, which woke the dog, who rushed out to collect the sheep. The stick turned to stone and is there for anyone to see. It is also sometimes called Arthur’s Spear, which if I looked would no doubt refer to yet another story. |
| St Beuno and the Curlew Boys who go bird nesting often wonder why it is so hard to find the nest of the curlew. As a matter of fact it is the fault, as they would consider it, of St. Beuno. When he lived at Clynnog he used to go regularly on Sunday to preach at Llanddwyn, off the coast of Anglesey, walking on the sea with the book of sermons, which he used to carry about with him. One Sunday, as he was coming back from Llanddwyn to Clynnog, treading the surface of the sea as if it had been dry land, he dropped his precious writings into the water, and failed to recover them. The saint was much worried, because even for saints the task of writing sermons is a troublesome one. When he reached dry land he was much relieved to find his book on a stone out of the reach of the tide, with a curlew mounting guard over it. The pious bird had picked it up, and brought it to safety. Thereupon the holy man knelt down and prayed for the protection and favour of the Creator for the curlew. His prayer was heard, and ever since it has been extremely difficult to discover where the long-beaked bird lays its eggs. |
| Grace's Well At the southeast corner of Glasfryn lake, in the parish of Llangybi, is a well called, Ffynnon Grassi, or Grace’s Well. In the olden time it was a fairy well, and Grassi was in charge of it. Her duty was to keep the cover always on the well, except when water was being drawn. One evening she forgot to close the well, and the water gushed out. It flowed strongly and ceaselessly, but so noiselessly was the flow that the fairies did not notice it. At last it overwhelmed one of their dancing rings, and they perceived and stopped the overflow, not, however, before Glasfryn lake had been formed. When she saw the result of her negligence, Grassi, overcome with remorse, walked to and fro on the piece of ground, which is now called Cae’r Ladi, "the Lady’s Field," wringing her hands and weeping and moaning. The fairies seized her and changed her into a swan. In this form she haunted the lake, which her forgetfulness had caused, for six score years, after which time the fairies allowed her to resume her human shape. At any rate, there is to be seen about two hours after midnight, on certain nights in the year, a tall lady with lovely features and large bright eyes, dressed in white silk and a white velvet bonnet, wandering up and down the high ground of Cae’r Lath, weeping and wailing. |
| Why the Robin's Breast is Red A Welsh boy was throwing stones one day at a robin redbreast. "My poor boy," said his grandmother to him, "have you not heard of the fiery pit and how this merciful bird takes cool dew on his little bill and lets it fall on sinful souls in torment? The marks of the fire that scorches him as he drops the water are to be seen on his red breast. Never throw a stone at a robin. |
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| Rowli Pugh and the ellyllon On a certain farm in Glamorganshire lived Rowli Pugh, who was known far and wide for his evil luck. Nothing prospered that he turned his hand to; his crops proved poor, though his neighbours' might be good; his roof leaked in spite of all his mending; his walls remained damp when every one else's walls were dry and above all, his wife was so feeble she could do no work. His fortunes at last seemed so hard that he resolved to sell out and clear out, no matter at what loss, and try to better himself in another country--not by going to America, for there was no America in those days. Well, and if there was, the poor Welshman didn't know it. So as Rowli was sitting on his wall one day, hard by his cottage, musing over his sad lot, he was accosted by a little man who asked him what was the matter. Rowli looked around in surprise, but before he could answer the ellyll said to him with a grin, 'There, there, hold your tongue, I know more about you than. you ever dreamed of knowing. You're in trouble, and you're going away. But you may stay, now I've spoken to you. Only bid your good wife leave the candle burning when she goes to bed, and say no more about it.' With this the ellyll kicked up his heels and disappeared. Of course the farmer did as he was bid, and from that day he prospered. Every night Catti Jones, his wife, [Until recently, Welsh women retained their maiden names even after marriage] set the candle out, swept the hearth, and went to bed; and every night the fairies would come and do her baking and brewing, her washing and mending. sometimes even furnishing their own tools and materials. The farmer was now always clean of linen and whole of garb; he had good bread and good beer.; he felt like a new man, and worked like one. Everything prospered with him now as nothing had before. His crops were good, his barns were tidy, his cattle were sleek, his pigs the fattest in the parish. So things went on for three years. One night Catti Jones took it into her head that she must have a peep at the fair family who did her work for her; and curiosity conquering prudence, she arose while Rowli Pugh lay snoring, and peeped through a crack in the door. There they were, a jolly company of ellyllon, working away like mad, and laughing and dancing as madly as they worked. Catti was so amused that in spite of herself she fell to laughing too; and at sound of her voice the ellyllon scattered like mist before the wind, leaving the room empty. They never came back any more; but the farmer was now prosperous, and his bad luck never returned to plague him. The EllylIdan is a species of elf exactly corresponding to the English Will-o'-wisp, the Scandinavian Lyktgubhe, and the Breton Sand Yan y Tad. The Welsh word dan means fire; dan also means a lure; the compound word suggests a luring elf-fire. |
| The Bwbach and the Preacher There was a Bwbach belonging to a certain estate in Cardiganshire, which took great umbrage at a Baptist preacher who was a guest in the house, and who was much fonder of prayers than of good ale. Now the Bwbach had a weakness in favor of people who sat around the hearth with their mugs of cwrw da and their pipes, and it took to pestering the preacher. One night it jerked the stool from under the good man's elbows, as he knelt pouring forth prayer, so that he fell down Hat on his face. Another time it interrupted the devotions by jangling the fire-irons on the hearth and it was continually making the dogs fall a-howling during prayers, or frightening the farm boy by grinning at him through the window, or throwing the maid into fits. At last it had the audacity to attack the preacher as he was crossing a field. The minister told the story in this wise 'I was reading busily in my hymn-book as I walked on, when a sudden fear came over me and my legs began to tremble. A shadow crept upon me from behind, and when I turned round--it was myself!--my person, my dress, and even my hymn-book. I looked in its face a moment, and then fell insensible to the ground.' And there, insensible still, they found him. This encounter proved too much for the good man, who considered it a warning to him to leave those parts. He accordingly mounted his horse next day and rode away. A boy of the neighborhood, whose veracity was, like that of all boys, unimpeachable, afterwards said that lie saw the Bwbach jump up behind the preacher, on the horse's back. And the horse went like lightning, with eyes like balls of fire, and the preacher looking back over his shoulder at the Bwbach, that grinned from ear to ear. The Bwbach, or Boobach, is the good-natured goblin which does good turns for the tidy Welsh maid who wins its favour by a certain course of behaviour recommended by long tradition.The Bwbach does not approve of dissenters and their ways, and especially strong is its aversion to total abstainers. |
| This is the legend of the origin of the Welsh black cattle In times of old there was a band of elfin ladies who used to haunt the neighbourhood of Llyn Barfog, a lake among the hills just back of Aberdovey. It was their habit to make their appearance at dusk clad all in green, accompanied by their milk-white hounds. Besides their hounds, the green ladies of Llyn Barfog were peculiar in the possession of droves of beautiful milk-white kine, called Gwartheg y Llyn, or kine of the lake. One day an old farmer, who lived near Dyssyrnant, had the good luck to catch one of these mystic cows, which had fallen in love with the cattle of his herd. From that day the farmer's fortune was made. Such calves, such milk, such butter and cheese, as came from the milk-white cow never had been seen in Wales before, nor ever will be seen again. The fame of the Fuwch Gyfeiliorn (which was what they called the cow) spread through the country round. The farmer, who had been poor, became rich; the owner of vast herds, like the patriarchs of old. But one day he took it into his silly noddle that the elfin cow was getting old, and that he had better fatten her for the market. His nefarious purpose thrived amazingly. Never, since beef steaks were invented, was seen such a fat cow as this cow grew to be. Killing day came, and the neighbours arrived from all about to witness the taking-off of this monstrously fat beast. The farmer had already counted up the gains from the sale of her, and the butcher had bared his red right arm. The cow was tethered, regardless of her mournful lowing and her pleading eyes; the butcher raised his bludgeon and struck fair and hard between the eyes; when lo! a shriek resounded through the air, awakening the echoes of the hills, as the butcher's bludgeon went through the goblin head of the elfin cow, and knocked over nine adjoining men, while the butcher himself went frantically whirling around trying to catch hold of something permanent. Then the astonished assemblage beheld a green lady standing on a crag high up over the lake, and crying with a loud voice: Dere di felen Emion, Cyrn Cyfeiliorn-braith y Llyn, A'r foci Dodin, Codwch, dewch adre. Come yellow Anvil, stray horns, Speckled one of the lake, And of the hornless Dodlin, Arise, come home. Whereupon not only did the elfin cow arise and go home, but all her progeny to the third and fourth generations went home with her, disappearing in the air over the hill tops and returning nevermore. Only one cow remained of all the farmer's herds, and she had turned from milky white to raven black. Whereupon the farmer in despair drowned himself in the lake of the green ladies, and the black cow became the progenitor of the existing race of Welsh black cattle |