Welsh
Myths and Magic :
Dragons
of Wales, a short story by Emma Maloney.
Chapter 1
The midnight sky was painted a misty blue and as it climbed further into
the distance it became a jet black. Scattered around this magnificent blanket
were thousands of glistening stars, all twinkling down on the earth below.
Griffle lay on his stomach, his eyes heavy and tired. He sighed and watched
the white steam roll out of his nostrils and travel up into the air. One
day the steam of his breath would become one of the soft clouds which floated
in the air above him.
Why should I be sighing? Griffle thought as he lay on the part of rock outside
his cave. The cave was some sixty feet up the cliff, secluded away amongst
rocks and boulders, high in the mountains of north Wales. It was Griffle’s
home, but of course he shared it with the others too.
It came to Griffle’s attention that he was sighing because he could
sense danger ahead. Something was telling him that something, or someone,
would be arriving soon and it would cause a stir amongst Griffle’s
friends and family.
Just before sunset, Griffle had sent off two of his most trustworthy messengers,
Meinirgwrth and Werinfan, to try and see if there was any danger around.
They had been puzzled, and tried to question with him, but Griffle had only
shook his head.
“I’m just sensing something,” he had told them. “It
could just be my mind playing tricks on me, but I’d like to be sure.”
And so they had left Gwrthein Rock. Griffle had watched them until they
had been nothing more than a speck against the sky. Now here he waited for
them to return, with the news he anxiously waited for.
There was a sound of rocks rolling on the ground and Griffle turned to see
Blodeuwedd beside him. Blodeuwedd was his wife and had been named after
a woman from a famous myth, which had been written by the Mabinogion, the
famous poets of Wales.
“They still have not returned?” Blodeuwedd asked him.
Griffle sighed again. “Not yet,” he replied. “To be honest,
I’m growing afraid. What if they’ve been captured?”
Blodeuwedd rested her head on his shoulder. “It’s not likely,”
she told him. “Meinirgwrth and Werinfan are cunning and clever; they’re
bound to be safe. I expect they’re making their way back.”
Griffle nodded. “I’m just worrying, aren’t I?”
Blodeuwedd turned to look deep into his eyes. “It was a good idea
for you to send them out, Griffle. What if there is danger and you hadn’t
sent them out? We wouldn’t have expected it.”
“Do you believe that there is danger?”
Blodeuwedd was silent for a while, as she gazed out at the scene below.
Gwrthein Rock was situated to the side of the village of Nantgwrthein. There
was also a famous Welsh story about this village also, of two young lovers,
Meinir and Rhys, who had been sadly died.
Blodeuwedd finally spoke. “If there is,” she said, “then
we must be well prepared for it. But we shall wait for the messengers to
come back first.”
Griffle nodded and looked into the sky. Was that them? He could see something,
but he wasn’t too positive that it could be Meinirgwrth and Werinfan.
“Come on, Carregion has prepared supper,” Blodeuwedd told him.
“It’ll do you good to have some of it.”
Reluctantly, Griffle agreed to go inside for supper. He and Blodeuwedd entered
the cave and moved to a quiet corner away from the hustle and bustle.
The cave was extremely large, yet it was warm and cosy. There was a small
fire burning in the centre of the cave, on which food was being cooked or
baked. All around the fire were ledges, on which Griffle’s friends
and relatives were either sleeping, eating or talking.
Carregion came to deliver Griffle his supper of fern soup and heather. Griffle
thanked her and she smiled and left him alone to eat with Blodeuwedd.
After supper, Griffle had a short sleep, before returning to his position
of waiting outside the cave. His heart beat against his ribs as he waited
for a sign that Meinirgwrth and Werinfan were home.
Then he saw them swiftly speeding through the sky, their pointed wings beating
wildly. They were breathing out fire from their mouths, and Griffle’s
heart sank. The sign of fire was not good news. He beat his tail and breathed
out a small fire himself, signalling to them.
Meinirgwrth and Werinfan landed on the side of the cliff beside him, and
their eyes were wild.
“Oh, Sir Griffle!” Meinirgwrth cried.
“What is it?” Griffle asked. “Is there danger?”
Werinfan nodded his head. “Oh, Sir Griffle. We travelled some miles
out from here, to the southern part of Wales, over the Black Mountains and
on to the land known as the Welsh Valleys. And there we encountered upon
the worst of our kind, the worst kind imaginable. At first we thought they
were perfectly normal and friendly, and we went down to talk. But things
changed, and suddenly we were captives, prisoners. They kept us locked up
and questioned us about our whereabouts, who we belonged to, what we were
doing. They told us they were planning on taking over our kind in Wales,
and possibly eventually the whole of Britain also.
‘In the only attempt to get out of that place, we told them that we
were on their side, and they let us free. Of course, we fought them and
flew straight back here.”
Griffle could now make out the cuts and brusies on Meinirgwrth’s and
Werinfan’s bodies.
“You were right, Griffle,” Meinirgwrth told him. “There
is danger ahead. Terrible danger.”
Griffle felt a shiver run down his spine, but he swallowed and said to them,
“Come inside to the warmth. I must let everyone know. But most importantly,
I want you two to rest now before the news is told to everyone tomorrow.
Come, now.”
And so the three dragons entered the cave of Gwrthein Rock, each carrying
the news of what was to come.
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