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<\/a><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\nWhat to do? At times like this one went to the fair. But first to find it. He walked the long stone road that ran across the forest, a relic of the Romanians who liked things straight and true. But he did not find the fair. On the second day, pouring with rain, he went to the big clearing by the oak forest, water dripping from the coming acorns. On the third day he sought the deep dell in the beach forest, following the sunken lane where old trees leaned perilously over, waiting to slip down the bank and fall in the next white winter. There was the fair, he saw its smoke some distance off.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Wandering round the tatty stalls he found the tent of the fortune teller, opened the flap and went in.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He was walking down the sunken lane, drops of dew, drip, dripping.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
In the forest of Annwn nothing is simple.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Behind one of the painted caravans, where a dappled pony stood placidly cropping the meagre grass he found the bearded lady. \u201cWhen I try to enter the fortune tellers tent…\u201d \u201cYour end up somewhere else?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She stroked her beard absently. \u201cYou need a key, a pass\u201d She coughed and spat \u201cSomething hard with sharp edges, like a crystal. I know that sounds like a lot of hippy shit, but that\u2019s what you need. The crystal cuts the boundary.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Handing her some of the mushrooms he had been gathering on his wanderings, he set off. The beech woods were veined with channels, narrow stream drains that led, somewhere, to the lake. Searching along the banks he found what was needed. A sharp, white piece of quartz, detached by the frost from some ice age boulder. Gripping the quartz he returned to the fortune teller\u2019s tent and went in.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It was all a bit clich\u00e9d. She wore a paisley head scarf over her greying black hair and a long velvet dress. She had one of those long, straight pointed noses and very black eyes. Maybe a bit too black. She sat at a round table draped in a maroon crushed velvet cloth. At the centre of the table an eau de Nile silk cloth covered a crystal ball. A second, bent wood chair faced her, so he sat down.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cCross my palm with plastic\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cCome again?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cOh sorry, not a cashless economy here? Silver?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He handed her a denarius he had picked up on the straight road.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIt\u2019s about the black wall I suppose, legendary hero?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIt is\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI have seen it in the crystal. I\u2019ve also tried mirrors and psychic TV\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAlthough that\u2019s not so easy in the age of digital\u201d she added parenthetically.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAnd?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIt eludes me. Tell me what you saw?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He described the room, the cryptic text and the tower beyond.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIt could be the Otherworld\u201d She suggested, \u201cDid you see a field of reeds at all? No? Or maybe this<\/em> is the Otherworld?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n\u201cIt\u2019s all relative, isn\u2019t it? But whatever, I fear that wall, and legendary heroes do not know fear\u201d.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cTo heal yourself, you must venture again, and bring back a token, then we shall know more.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Next day he went into the conifer plantations again. It was a dull brooding day, the sky like the dead channel you would use for psychic TV scrying.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Eventually, stumbling between the spruce trunks and tripping in the gullies between them, he saw, far off, the black wall. He had to admit he was a little apprehensive. With trepidation he stepped through the wall.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And found himself staring at an ancient tower. It was surrounded by curtain walls set with bastions. The tower was white, and somehow he knew that, beneath the mound on which it sat, lay the head of Bran. Heading westward (it’s always best to head west) he came upon another tower of glass and steel whose shape seemed to make it loom ominously over the streets below.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
People, there was a vast throng of people rushing too and fro. Many seemed to be talking to themselves, holding small flat boxes to their ears. Clearly this was some kind of Bedlam. Or Babel, given the plethora of strange languages in which they spoke. Next, down a narrow side street, he saw a very tall tower, far in the distance. It was pointed, narrow, like a shard of glass. Wandering aimlessly now he saw two more towers, one a strange wedge shape and another like some impossible steel vegetable. A city of insane towers, full of insane people. He hurried on.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He came to an open space of statues and pillars, traffic roaring everywhere. (Somehow the traffic didn\u2019t bother him, though in the Forest of Annwn, everyone went on foot \u2013 it might as well have been the storm waves that struck the coast in the far west, for all he cared). He came to a solid building with a large dome, perhaps a sacred place, a grove of stone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Finally he came to a long straight street, passing a black building which he knew had once house the criminally insane, he came to a palace where they were judged. Finally he saw something promising, a huge plinth, surmounted by a dragon. Having been eaten by a dragon, he knew that what he sought was near here. In a gesture of mercy, the sun found a gap in the grey sky and shone on the street, and in the glint of the sun he spotted a glimmer, but hopefully not a glamour, in the gutter. Among the dust and litter lay a shard of green glass, a shard like the tall tower he had seen in the distance. This was what he had been seeking.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But how to get back to the forest? No ready door here. Having an inkling how these things worked; he was, after all, a legendary hero; he rummaged in his pocket and found a piece of chalk. At times he used it to blaze marks on trees in the forest, not wanting to damage them by cutting them. Nearby there was a water fountain set into the wall. It said on it \u201cGift of Sir James Duke Bart. MP, Alderman of this Ward\u201d. It didn\u2019t work, but retained the magic of flowing water. Though he wasn\u2019t much of an artist he drew a door round the fountain, with a nice round door knob and, gripping the knob, stepped through into the forest.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Back to the fair, the fortune teller\u2019s tent seemed to have acquired a glow. He parted the entrance and stepped in. The fortune teller regarded him with a smile, her eyes blacker, if possible, than ever.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou have the token, I sense it\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He placed the shard of glass on the crushed velvet and she snatched it up, caressing it, even though, he noticed, it had cut her palm and it bled on to the table.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThis will do perfectly\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cSo?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThe cause of your ailment resides in the other world, beyond the black wall. She is a powerful sorceress who means to claim this world for her own. You must pass the wall for a third time and, taking this shard, plunge it into her left eye. The you will be free and the wall will be gone.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAnd the forest will return to what it was.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cMake no mistake, strike her, or the crack you feel in your soul will widen, it will kill you, if the wall does not cover the land first.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He left the tent and wandered off into the forest, thinking of the fortune teller\u2019s black eyes and the black wall, of the shard, the city of towers and the shard. He had no choice to return for a third time, he knew no other magic path to stem the advance of the wall, legendary hero or not.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Next morning, a darker day than ever, Pwyll strode out into the conifers, determined to do what was needed. This time he didn\u2019t hesitate at the wall, but stepped through, come what may.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He found himself in a room almost identical to the first. Through the window stood an identical tower, and somehow he knew that the room opposite was where he had originally stood, and that it now regarded him with its lidless eye. On a worn leather sofa sat a fat dark woman in a cotton print dress. Her hair was braided like a nest of snakes and he thought \u201chere is the sorceress\u201d. She was watching daytime TV on a large flat screen.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWelcome Pwyll, Lord of Dyfed\u201d she said, turning off the TV with what we<\/em> know to be a remote. \u201cI have been expecting you, take a seat\u201d She gestured to a wide armchair of the same scuffed brown leather, the colour of old shoes in second hand shops.<\/p>\n\n\n\nNot wishing to rush things, he sat, fingering the glass shard in his pocket.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI know why you have come, and who sent you\u201d Raising another remote like a wand, she started a CD.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWelcome to my world<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Won’t you come on in?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Sang Jim Reeves<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cMiracles, I guess<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Still happen now and then\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Pwyll was a little nonplussed, not being a Jim Reeves fan. But it relaxed him and he withdrew his hand from his pocket.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cShe has deceived you, luv, like she deceives us all\u201d The woman regarded him with calm brown eyes, there was almost a laugh in them. \u201cDo you know who she is, your fortune teller\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Pywll knew that he didn\u2019t, the fair was just the fair, it was always there, though the booths came and went. \u201cI\u2019m sure you will tell me.\u201d He suggested.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cDoes the name Cerridwen mean anything to you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThe White Goddess? She seems a but dark for a white goddess?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIn some places Death comes in white, in others she comes in black\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Pwyll guessed, \u201cAnd it is she who has made the black wall?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cLike you said\u201d The woman shifted her bulk, leaning towards him, \u201cShe wants to claim your forest of Annwn and absorb it into this world of greed and madness. Death is everywhere here, and takes many shapes\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cBut you live here?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cSomeone has to.\u201d She smiled, a little sadly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cand I suppose I should kill her? In the same manner she decreed for you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou must do what you think is right, I can only advise\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cKnock and the door will open<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Seek and you will find<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Ask and you’ll be given<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The key to this world of mine\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Said Jim Reeves.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Brown eyes or black, he rose and turned back to the door. \u201cThank you\u201d he said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cCome again, if you can find the road\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Back in the forest he dawdled, still uncertain. But walking the rides in the confers, he saw that the wall had almost reached the oaks, and that was enough.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Returning to the fair, and the now almost incandescent fortune tellers tent, he stepped in again and confronted the black eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIs it done\u201d she smirked, grinned, showing uneven, yellowed teeth. Her black eyes were as matte and cold as the wall, almost absorbing him with their gaze.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cNot yet\u201d he said and, leaping forward, as only a legendary hero can, he drove the shard into her left eye.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He had expected blood, or at least the vile jelly of her bursting eyeball. But what he got was a blast of bright light, brighter than spring fireworks, and a booming roar louder and longer than the August thunder.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He came too in the sunken lane, his clothes seeming to smoke slightly and his face glowing as if he had got too close to the fire. Out in the conifer woods, the black wall had gone, the coils of ground mist retreating into the normal dark. When he returned to the fair, the site of the fortune tellers tent was marked by a perfect blackened circle in the grass. It smelled of burned plastic.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He wandered over to where the bearded lady sat poking at the fire under her kettle.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201ctea?\u201d she offered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI could do with one,\u201d he answered \u201cfor I have just killed Death\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
by Pwyll ap Douglas He was eaten by a dragon, but as it was a mythical creature, it didn\u2019t do him much harm. He lived in a shack, in a clearing in the forest. The forest is so far from here that, what ever direction you set out in, it\u2019s …<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":682,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[108,107,8],"tags":[110,109],"class_list":["post-678","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-fiction","category-pwyll-story","category-verse-and-worse","tag-fairy-story","tag-fiction","has-thumbnail"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/slightlymuddy.com\/kuriosum\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/12\/fforest-20221218121803-scaled.jpg?fit=1920%2C2560","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p7sHEp-aW","jetpack-related-posts":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/slightlymuddy.com\/kuriosum\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/678"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/slightlymuddy.com\/kuriosum\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/slightlymuddy.com\/kuriosum\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/slightlymuddy.com\/kuriosum\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/slightlymuddy.com\/kuriosum\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=678"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"http:\/\/slightlymuddy.com\/kuriosum\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/678\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":733,"href":"http:\/\/slightlymuddy.com\/kuriosum\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/678\/revisions\/733"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/slightlymuddy.com\/kuriosum\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/682"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/slightlymuddy.com\/kuriosum\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=678"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/slightlymuddy.com\/kuriosum\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=678"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/slightlymuddy.com\/kuriosum\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=678"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
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<\/a><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n