There are pleasant pastures in the vale of Llangollen, and there Gareth used to like to graze his master’s sheep. One evening while Gareth was driving the sheep back to their fold he amused himself by playing his flute. When he reached the wood at the foot of Dinas Bran he stopped suddenly. Before him on the roadway stood a little man. He wore a pointed cap and a jerkin of brown, his trousers were of green moss, and in his hand he carried a fiddle. In his amazement Gareth dropped his flute on the road, but the little man raised his fiddle and continued to play the tune Gareth had been whistling. "I wish you good evening," said the little man, bowing with a flourish. "I wish you the same," said Gareth through dry lips. The little man saw that the shepherd boy was afraid, so he tried to console him, saying: "My fine lad, you need not be afraid of a man so small as I. Tell me, do you like to dance?" "Yes," said Gareth. He was afraid to say more to the merry Dwarf, but he dearly liked to dance. The little man came very close to Gareth and stood on tiptoe. "Stop a moment and I will show you the finest dancing there is to be seen" he said. Gareth turned the flock aside into a field nearby. When he had done so, the little man beckoned him to return. The light had faded, and in the after glow of sunset Gareth saw hundreds and hundreds of fairy folk approaching. They were dressed as flowers, in many colours. Each fairy carried a blazing torch, and in passing Gareth each fairy curtseyed. He acknowledged their greeting and taking off his cap he bowed with a flourish as he had seen the little man do when he had greeted him. The dwarf by this time had seated himself on an old tree stump, and had raised his fiddle in readiness to play. The fairies began to dance and the dwarf played a merry tune. Gareth longed to join in the dance. He hesitated. Had he not heard that evil things befell those that danced with the fairies? "Come and dance, Gareth." Said the little man, pausing for breath. Gareth took one backward glance at the flock of sheep they were all safe and quiet. There could be no harm in joining in one dance. He would drive the flock home after he had finished. "Yes I will dance," Gareth called to the little musician. "Play on merry fiddler!" as soon as Gareth had finished speaking everything changed. The fairies became weird looking animals the like of which Gareth had never seen before. Yet the strangest thing of all was the change that came over the fiddler. His cap fell off, leaving his ugly face in view. Two horns grew out of his head, his feet were changed into hooves, and he had along tail. His face and hands were blacker than soot, and his eyes shone like red-hot coals. When the fiddler began to play, Gareth began to dance. Nor could he stop, though he called on the musician to break the spell by playing another tune. All through the night Gareth danced, and the gaunt and hungry animals danced around him. In vain Gareth called for mercy. When the sun had climbed high into the heavens he was still dancing. When the master found that Gareth had not brought the sheep down from the hill, he went out in search of him, fearing that some accident had befallen him. He was all the more annoyed therefore when he found Gareth dancing wildly in the wood near Dinas Bran. "O master!, O master" cried Gareth "stop me, stop me!" "Stop yourself," growled the farmer, "Enough of this foolish nonsense!" "O stop me master!" begged Gareth. "In the name of heaven, what can the matter be?" asked the farmer. No sooner had he said those words than Gareth stopped dancing and fell down as though dead. The little fiddler disappeared and with him went the stricken animals, but Gareth’s flock of sheep remained safe and secure in the wood. Gareth recovered from his faint, but though he often tried hard to do so, he could never fully explain the strange adventure that had befallen him. My name is Gareth Morgan, I live at Llangollen, The vale of St David, the flower of North Wales. My father and mother, too, live in Llangollen Good truth I was born in the sweetest of vales. Yes, indeed, and all countries so foreign and beautiful. That little valley I prize above all. For indeed in my heart I do love that Llangollen, And sweet Jenny Jones, too, in truth I do love.
