The Dwarf's Revenge

On a farm called Ty-Gwyn in Monmouthshire there lived an old farmer. He had worked hard all his life, and now hoped to retire, having saved up much money. “One thing I must do before we leave Ty-Gwyn,” Lloyd the farmer said. “I will rid the farm of the fairies.” “You will never be able to do that,” answered his wife. “You have tried all your life. You will never succeed.” “I will go and consult the Witch of Skirrid,” Lloyd answered. “She will help me.” The old witch cackled when Lloyd came to see her. “You must pay me first,” she said. “Bring me this day week three bucketful’s of the best cream. I will have the cream for my supper.” When Lloyd brought the cream the witch rubbed her gnarled hands as she explained to him how to get rid his land of the fairies. “Wherever you see the fairy circles on your land, sow there some corn.” Lloyd hastened home and carried out the advice of the witch of Skirrid. “Aha! They are gone!” cried Lloyd. “The fairies have all gone from the farm.” Lloyd and Cristin sat in the farmhouse kitchen. “We will remain here this year at Ty-Gwyn,” they said, “and we will then move away to a new house.” In the spring, when his men were ploughing the fields, Lloyd met a little man in the lane. He wore scarlet and carried a great sword. “I am a herald,” he cried in a high voice. “I am sent to tell you that revenge will follow.” “Ha! Ha!” laughed Lloyd. “Who will take revenge on me?” “The fairies,” answered the little man angrily. In the summer the corn grew tall and strong. Lloyd walked about his fields and thought about the rich harvest that was to be his. There was a sudden noise. “An earthquake!” cried Lloyd, and shuddered. But the sun shone and there was peace once more. “All is well,” said Lloyd to Cristin. Harvest time came. “It is time to gather the corn,” said Lloyd. “Tomorrow we will begin to reap.” That night Lloyd and Cristin were wakened from their sleep. “The corn, Lloyd!” exclaimed Cristin. “Ring the great bell! Cry for help! The corn is on fire!” On the farm-garth, Lloyd met the little man in scarlet. In one hand he carried his great sword, in the other he bore a flaming torch. “It is the fairies!” cries Lloyd. “The fairies have burnt the corn.” “Revenge!” cried the little man. “I told you that revenge would come. You have consulted the witch, but beware, further revenge is to follow.” Lloyd grew pale. He shuddered, and begged for mercy. “I can give you no mercy,” answered the little man. “I carry out the king’s command.” Lloyd asked him to beg the fairy king to be merciful. “Meet me here seven days hence,” said the dwarf. When the time came the Dwarf said: “The King has seen that you are sorry. The curse will therefore not fall on you, but on your descendants. Lloyd and Cristin comforted each other. “It is well,” they said. The curse will pass, the fairies will forget. When the old couple passed away, their descendants lived at Ty-Gwyn. “Revenge! Revenge!” the farmers of Ty-Gwyn heard whispered as they sowed corn, and as they reaped it. “What can it mean?” they asked one another. Lloyd and Cristin had told no-one about the little dwarf and the revenge that would fall on their descendants. A hundred years had passed since Lloyd had heard the dwarf’s message. Sieffre, son of Rhisiart lived with his father at Ty-Gwyn. Sieffre was to marry Eluned, the heiress of Ystrad. As he walked home with her on Christmas Eve, there was the sound of thunder and the earth shook. From the stream came a voice: “The time of revenge has come” “What can that mean?” cried Eluned in terror. Sieffre comforted her. “We have imagined words,” he said. “We will forget them. Let us hasten to Ty-Gwyn, my mother has summoned many guests, they await our coming. When they were seated at the table at Ty-Gwyn there was a sudden thunderclap. All were silent. An old witch entered the room, Sieffre and Eluned clasped each other in fear. Rhisiart was the first to recover from his fright. “What do you want, you old hag?” he demanded. “Silence!” snapped the witch. “I have come to tell you that the time of revenge upon this house has come.” She disappeared. The host and the hostess did their best to comfort their guests, but the feast was ruined. All hurried homeward to tell of the strange sight they had seen, and the stranger words they had heard. “I will take Eluned home to Ystrad,” said Sieffre. He bade goodbye to Eluned at the entrance to her home. His parents awaited his coming that night, but Sieffre never returned. For days and weeks men and women searched for him on the hills and moorlands. They sought to comfort his parents, but they could find no trace of Sieffre’s wanderings. “We will go and consult the hermit of the Fenni,” said Rhisiart and his wife. The hermit shook his head sorrowfully when he heard their tale. “The fairies have taken Sieffre,” he said “He may return, it is true, but not in your lifetime.” The farmer and his wife returned to Ty-Gwyn. “We shall never see Sieffre again,” they mourned. But Eluned kept faith. “He will come, I feel sure” she said. “He will return as mysteriously as he disappeared. All who heard smiled. Eluned felt quite sure that her lover would return. At sunrise and at sunset each day, she climbed to a hill behind the Ystrad and shading her eyes, she searched the moorlands for some sign of Sieffre. “I do not see him,” she said, when she had grown very old. “I do not see him, but I still believe he will come.” Years later Eluned died, still believing that Sieffre would return. When Sieffre had said goodbye to Eluned on the eve of Christmas so long ago, he had turned homeward. Hearing sweet voices carolling, he had followed in the direction of the music and met some goblin fiddlers who had led him into a great cave. He had watched the fairies dance. “I will go home now,” at length said Sieffre, after what had seemed like a few hours, and made his way to the mouth of the cave. He looked across the moor. The sun was high overhead. “It is late,” muttered Sieffre, “I have been out all night. I must hasten home to Ty-Gwyn.” He entered the house. An old man was seated on a settle in the kitchen. “What brings you here?” asked the old man, astonished that Sieffre should enter his house uninvited. Sieffre was bewildered. “I am Sieffre,” was all that he could say. “You must be a stranger in these parts, I know of no-one by that name. But wait- yes, I have heard the name before, a man called Sieffre disappeared from this house more than a hundred years ago. I heard my grandfather speak of him when I was a child. “I am he.” Sieffre began to sob. “Comfort yourself.” Said the old man. “You shall be welcome at Ty-Gwyn. I will summon my granddaughter. She will bring you food; pray be seated. He helped Sieffre to the ingle-nook, but at the touch of his hand Sieffre sank to the hearth, and a small heap of dust was all that remained of him.

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