The Brecon Elves
On the side of the hills known as the Brecon beacons lived some merry Elves. They were happy busy little folk, always ready to help human beings. A poor old shepherd lived on the hillside. One morning he returned to his little hut after being busy in the sheepfold all night. He found his kitchen neat and tidy, and a nice breakfast prepared. He wondered who could have come there to help him, since his hut was a lonely one, many miles from the nearest farm. Hearing a sweet voice singing, he turned and saw a little elf dancing. The little elf looked so small and poor, that the shepherd said: “ Come seat yourself down, by my cosy fire. I will get you some breakfast. The elf did not answer, but sat on the fender as the shepherd had bidden, and when he was given the food, he ate it, bowed his thanks, and disappeared. The shepherd thought for a moment, then said: “It was that little elf that cleaned my house and made me breakfast. How I wish I had money to repay him.”
He had hardly finishes speaking when he felt a sharp pain on the sole of his right foot. “There must be a stone in my shoe,” he said, and so took off his shoe. Within the shoe, he found a gold coin. Every morning after that he found a gold coin in his shoe.
The shepherd told the people of the neighbourhood about his strange experience. After that everyone was anxious to do something for the elfin people, hoping for some sort of reward.
Non was the wife of Morgan, the farmer at Cwm. She was kind and loving to everyone. One day she saw an elfin lady carrying a little baby. They looked so poor that Non was very sorry for them. “Come into the house,” said Non, “I will give you some food.” But the elfin lady shook her head. “Stay a moment,” said Non, “I will give you a little woollen shawl to wrap round the little baby.” She ran into the house and returned. The elfin lady took the shawl, tore it into small shreds and let them blow away in the wind. Then picking up her baby, she stamped her tiny foot and said, “Non, you have insulted the Queen of the elves. We shall pay you for this.” She thought that Non was being kind and gentle only to get a reward. In this, she was misjudging Non, who was generous and kind by nature, who was always doing her utmost to help those in distress.
Non hurried back to the house weeping. Morgan her husband tried to comfort her.
“I did not know she was the queen of the elves,” cried Non, “She seemed to think that I was after a fairy reward. I only meant to help her. Now all the elves will curse us.” “I don’t think that there is anything to worry about,” said Morgan soothingly. “I expect they will forget all about us. Cwm is far away from everywhere.”
But the elves did not forget about the farm at Cwm. It seemed as though all the elves had come there to do as much mischief as they could. They upset the milk churns, they led the cows astray; they stole the horses shoes and drove the sheep far down into the valley. They broke the crockery, stole the farming tools, removed the furniture, hid the clothes and locked the doors, so that it became difficult for Morgan and his family to continue living at Cwm.
The old cowman at the farm told Morgan, “Go and see the witch on the beacon, she’s an old hag, but if you pay her, she will tell you how to get rid of the evil little people.” Morgan looked at Non, “What shall I do?” he asked.
“I do not like your going to the witch on the beacon,” answered Non, “but we cannot go on like this.”
“I will come with you,” said the cowman, “I’m not afraid of the Beacon witch.” His words decided Morgan’s move. So one day when it was cold, they climbed up to the top of the highest beacon. “She isn’t here!” said the cowman disappointedly. There was a loud wailing noise, the beacon witch was travelling towards them at a terrific speed on her broom handle. She alighted some distance from the two men. Catching sight of them, she sat down upon a sheep’s back, and the frightened animal scurried towards them. The witch listened to the men’s complaint.
“I’ll rid you of the elves,” she said, “I’ve a bone to pick with them this long day!” she stroked her long nose, thinking about a remedy. “Go back,” she said, “pack up all your belongings. You must pretend that you are leaving Cwm. Go down by the long paths as far as Pont-Neath-Vaughan. Cross the bridge. Then you can turn back. You will have deceived the elves. They will think you have gone to live in another part of the country.”
The men returned to Cwm, and told Non all that the witch had said. The witch’s advice was carried out. The furniture was heaped onto carts, the sheep and cattle were herded together, and Morgan heading the procession led the way down into the next valley. On the bridge at Pont-Neath-Vaughan, Morgan stopped to speak to an old friend. “Ah! Morgan, you are leaving the farm on the side of the Brecon beacons?” he said in surprise. “Yes, Yes, we are leaving to live in the next valley,” little voices chorused together, before Morgan had a chance to answer. Elves were crowded into every nook and cranny of the furniture. They were huddled together between the horse’s ears, they were swinging from the wheels of the carts. They were trailing behind the dogs and the sheep. Non raised her hands in despair, she was too disappointed to speak. The cowman broke the silence, “The Beacon witch has deceived us. Her spell has failed.” “Let us turn back,” said Morgan, and they all returned to Cwm.
The elves were more mischievous than ever. Morgan and Non suffered their tricks without complaining until the elves stole the baby for three days, carrying her away and hiding her in a nook in the mountainside. “We must try again,” said Non, “to see if there is a way that we can make our peace with the elves”.
A new vicar had come to live in the neighbourhood. He was an old friend of Morgan’s. “I will walk to the church this evening. Perhaps Ifan can advise me.”
It was the time of the hay harvest. Non came out into the farm-garth. She called in aloud voice, “Morgan! How many men are expected to help in the harvest today?” she spoke clearly, for she knew that the elves would be listening. “There will be twenty extra men,” called Morgan. “I will prepare feast in readiness,” answered Non. Non and the maid busied themselves in the farm kitchen. They prepared the table, setting places for the extra twenty men. “We must roast a frog for the feast,” called Non clearly to the maid, “If we boil a handful of daisy petals they will serve as vegetables.”
She looked around the room. A group of elves were seated on the mantelpiece. They stopped swinging their legs when they heard Non’s strange words. They had been looking forward to stealing some of the good food from the table before the men arrived to eat it. “We can put the food in thimbles,” Non said, following the maid out of the room. In the doorway, she stood behind the curtain and peeped out, and listened. The elves were clustering together and speaking shrilly, quickly:
“Did you ever hear the like?”
“Daisy petals for food!”
“A frog as a feast for twenty men and more?
“We can’t put up with this!”
“Surely we shall starve”
“Must we stay here?”
They chatted together, each taking no heed of what the other had to say. One elf got up and balanced himself on the fender rail. “Why should we stay?” he said. “We will go, we know our way to the bridge at Pont-Neath-Vaughan. We will cross the bridge and go to the rich farms in the valleys beyond. “Who will come with me?” The elves clustered round him, each declaring he would join him. Non hid more deeply in the folds of the curtains as the army of elves marched past her. When the tramp of the tiny footsteps had died away, Non picked up the baby and carried her out into the hayfield. “Morgan! Morgan!” she cried, “They are gone, they are gone!” she called happily. Morgan tossed the baby into the hay. “They won’t come back again,” he said. And time proved that he was right.
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