One infant leaped like a fish into the water and disappeared, but Gwydion caught up with the other, and he became a father to the child. He saw to it that the boy was tenderly cared for, and he anxiously surrounded the frail life with protective charms, so that as the years passed, the child grew precociously strong and healthy. When the boy was four( Yet as tall as a child of eight), it came time for his naming; His birth had been strange as it was, and lacking a name, he would be nothing. In Gwynedd at that time, only a mother could name her child, so Gwydion set off with the boy for Arianrod's seagirt palace.

Arianrod welcomed her brother Gwydion civilly enough, but when she discovered that the child with him was her son living proof of her humiliation and exile she turned on the pair, sparkling with fury. "I will swear this fate on him." she said in her silvery voice, "that shall have no name until he obtains one from me. And I shall never give it." "That is wicked oath, and you are a wicked woman, "replied her brother grimly. "But the boy shall have a name all the same." And he turned on his heel and left the palace, taking the boy with him.

Some days later, a tidy little ship sailed into the harbor below Arianrod's castle and tied up at the wharf. The ship carried traveling shoemakers, and the shoes they made were gilded Spanish leather, wonders indeed, and fit for a Queen. Arianrod commaned shoes for herself when she heard of this, but the answer came that none could be made for her unless she went down to the shoemakers. She did that. On the deck of the ship she found only an old shoemaker and his yellow -haired apprentice, stitching away at the gleaming leather. As she gave them good day, a tiny wren lighted on the head of the mast. With a movement quicker than her eye could follow, the bot brought down the bird with a stone. It was beautifully done. Arianrod laughed and clapped her hands. She cried, "Oh well shot, Fair-haired Skillful Hand." At once the ship and shoes vanished. Where the ship had been, only seaweed floated, and on the wharf stood Gwydion and Arianrod's son. Gwydion smiled; " The boy has a name, and a good one. Lleu Llaw Gyffes he shall be" For those were the words she had spoken in Welsh. Ariarod stiffened as she recognized the trick. "Very well, " she said coldly, " here is another fate, then. The boy shall have no weapons until I arm him" But Gwydion only laughed, saluted his sister and left her. He took Lleu away to a fortress to the north called Dinas Dinlleu.

The years pasted quietly for Lleu. In the fields and woods around Dinas Dinlleu, her learned to handle the most fiery horses; he became a skillfull archer and swordsman. Under Gwydion's care, he grew tall and straight and golden, the image of a fine lord. But because of Arianrod's oath her could not bear arms and take his place as a man among men, and he drew away by himself. Gwydion saw this, and knew the time had come to act. One night, two bards appeared at Arianrod's palace by the sea. She welcomed them, as was proper treatment for bards, and feasted them handsomely. The evening passed peacefully, with songs and tales.

In the morning, however the palace was roused by trumpet calls. From the windows could be seen mighty fleet of war ships, their sails so full and crowding that they hid the surface of the sea. Terrified, Arianrod and her maidens ran to the room where the bards slept, seeking help (bards after all, were wise and powerful men.) These two carried no weapons, but Arianrod had weapons brought from her own strongrooms. Her maidens armed one of the men and she armed the other, strapping on his belt and scabbard, buckling his helment, handed him his shield. As soon as she had finished, the ships disappeared: Nothing was seen beyond the shore but gentle waves, nothing heard but the cries of the gulls. And the palace, too, a change had occurred. In place of the bards stood Gwydion and Arianrod's son, who bore the arms she herself had given him. Gwydion was smiling.

Then Arianrod swore her final oath: "This man will have no wife from my race on Earth at this time. " So Arianrod sealed the fate of Lieu Llaw Gyffes. It was a fearful oath, condemning Arianrod's son to a solitary bed and worse. Without a wife, Lleu would be set apart from the other men, without a wife, he would be torn from the pattern of nature, with no children to bear his name. This was a grave business, and what Gwydion did next was more solemn than conjuring illusions and shifting shape to trick an enemy. He needed stronger magic than even he controlled, and so he went to Math at Caer Dathyl. Math was Gwydion's uncle; he had taught Gwydion lovingly. When Gwydion arrived, Math was waiting : He heard every word whispered and he knew Gwydion needed his powers.

Almost nothing is known of how the two enchanters worked. They called for masses of flowers oak meadowsweet and broom. They retired to the inner recess of Caer Dathyl, and it is said that the spells and charms they conjured with were graver than most wizards dared to utter. When they emerged, the flowers had become the maiden. she sprang to life full grown, sweet and fragrant as April and May and more beautiful than any human woman. They named her Blodeuwedd, or "Flower Face" and gave her to Lleu. Thus Gwydion made the boy Lleu Llaw Gyffes into a man, who bore a proper man's arms and had better than a proper man's wife. Math gave Lleu the lands called Ardudwy in southern Gwynedd, with their fortress at Mur Castell, so Lleu also had a man's work to do. He went there with his flower wife, and Gwydion rested content. The factor that none of them reckoned with was Blodeuwedd.

Where was the heart in a woman made of flowers? Blodeuwedd had the form of a beautiful woman, and seemingly all the love of a good wife, but she was frail and, at the center, false. She had not been long married when Lleu left her at Mur Castell while he journeyed to the courts of Math, and on that same day, she saw a hunting party coursing a stag acrossher lands. All through the afternoon, while Blodeuwedd watched from her castle wall, the hunters appeared and disappeared among the trees, and at last at twilight, she heard the shouts that heralded the kill. In an hour, the hunters were at her gates. Blodeuwedd offered them shelter so that they would not have to ride to thier own lands in the dark. Their leader was Goronwy, Lord of Penllyn, whoose territory bordered her own. Goronwy was called the Handsome because of his dashing figure he cut, and his fine looks were her downfall. When Blodeuwedd saw him in her hall, she was filled with passion. She made Goronwy her lover that night, and afterward could not bear to be without him.

As for Goronwy, he was a man without honor. He wanted Blodeuwedd and he wanted the rich lands of Ardudwy as well. But he knew, as everyone in Gwynedd knew, that Lleu was under Gwydion's protection. He soon left Blodeuwedd for his own lands. Before Goronwy left her, however, he told her what she must do to have him again. Lleu returned from serving Math and Gwydion to find his pretty wife silent and pensive. In the night, she turned away from him to weep. "What is this?" he asked in surprise. She relpied, "When you were away, I thought of you, and feared you would die before me, leaving me here alone."This was touching and-considering the safequards Gwydion had placed on him in childhood-absurd. To calm his wife, Lleu said, "Unless God strikes me down, it would be a hard task for anyone to kill me."