Clywais fy mam yn adrođ chwedl am fab y Ffriđ, yr hwn wrth đychwelyd adref o ffair Beđgelert yn rhywle ođeutu Pen Cae’r Gors a welođ beth afrifed o’r Tylwyth Bach yn neidio a phrancio ar bennau y grug. Efe a eisteđođ i lawr i edrych arnynt, a daeth hun drosto; ymoỻyngođ i lawr a chysgođ yn drwm. A phan oeđ feỻy, ymosodođ yr hoỻ lu arno a rhwymasant ef mor dyn fel na aỻasai symud; yna hwy a’i cuđiasant ef a’r tuđed gwawn fel na aỻai neb ei weled os digwyđai iđo lefain am help. Yr oeđ ei deulu yn ei đisgwyl adref yn gynnar y nos honno, ac wrth ei weled yn oedi yn hwyr, aethant yn anesmwyth am dano ac aethpwyd i’w gyfarfod, eithr ni welent đim ođiwrtho, ac aed gan beỻed a’r pentref, ỻe en hyspyswyd ei fod wedi myned tuag adref yn gynnar gyda gwr Hafod Ruffyđ. Feỻy aed tua’r Hafod i edrych a oeđ yno; ond dywedođ gwr yr Hafod eu bod wedi ymwahanu ar Bont Glan y Gors, pawb tua’i fan ei hun. Yna chwiliwyd yn fanwl bob ochr i’r fforđ ođiyno i’r Ffriđ heb weled dim ođiwrtho. Buwyd yn chwilio yr hoỻ ardal drwy y dyđ drannoeth ond yn ofer. Fođ bynnag ođeutu yr un amser nos drannoeth daeth y Tylwyth ac a’i rhyđhasant, ac yn fuan efe a đeffrôđ wedi cysgu o hono drwy y nos a’r dyđ blaenorol. Ar ol iđo đeffro ni wyđai amcan daear yn mha le yr oeđ, a chrwydro y bu hyd ochrau y Gader a’r Gors Fawr hyd nes y canođ y ceiliog, pryd yr adnabu yn mha le yr oeđ, sef o fewn ỻai na chwarter miỻtir i’w gartref.
‘I have heard my mother relating a tale about the son of the farmer of the Ffriđ, who, while on his way home from Beđgelert Fair, saw, somewhere near Pen Cae’r Gors, an endless number of the diminutive family leaping and capering on the heather tops. He sat him down to look at them, and sleep came over him; he let himself down on the ground, and slept heavily. When he was so, the whole host attacked him, and they bound him so tightly that he could not have stirred; then they covered him with the gossamer sheet, so that nobody could see him in case he called for help. His people expected him home early that evening, and, as they found him delaying till late, they got uneasy about him. They went to meet him, but no trace of him was seen, and they went as far as the village, where they were informed that he had started home in good time with the farmer of Hafod Ruffyđ. So they went to the Hafod to see if he was there; but the farmer told them that they had parted on Glan y Gors Bridge to go to their respective homes. A minute search was then made on both sides of the road from there to the Ffriđ, but without finding any trace of him. They kept searching the whole neighbourhood during the whole of the next day, but in vain. However, about the same time the following night the Tylwyth came and liberated him, and he shortly woke up, after sleeping through the previous night and day. When he woke he had no idea where on earth he was; so he wandered about on the slopes of the Gader and near the Gors Fawr until the cock crew, when he found where he was, namely, less than a quarter of a mile from his home.’
The late Mr. Owen, of Cefn Meusyđ, has already been alluded to. I have not been able to get at much of the folklore with which he was familiar, but, in reply to some questions of mine, Mr. Robert Isaac Jones of Tremadoc, his biographer, and the publisher of the Brython, so long as it existed, has kindly ransacked his memory. He writes to me in Welsh to the following effect:—
‘I will tell you what I heard from Mr. Owen and my mother when I was a lad, about fifty-seven years ago. The former used to say that the people of Pennant in Eifionyđ had a nickname, to wit, that of Belsiaid y Pennant, “the Bellisians of the Pennant”; that, when he was a boy, if anybody called out Belsiaid y Pennant at the Penmorfa Fair, every man jack of them would come out, and fighting always ensued. The antiquary used to explain it thus. Some two or three hundred years ago, Sir Robert of the Nant, one of Sir Richard Bulkeley’s ancestors, had a son and heir who was extravagant and wild. He married a gipsy, and they had children born to them; but, as the family regarded this marriage as a disgrace to their ancient stem, it is said that the father, the next time the vagabonds came round, gave a large sum of money to the father of the girl for taking her away with him. This having been done, the rumour was spread abroad that it was one of the fairies the youth had married, and that she had gone with him to catch a pony, when he threw the bridle at the beast to prevent it passing, and the iron of the bridle touched the wife; then that she at once disappeared, as the fairies always do so when touched with iron. However, the two children were put out to nurse, and the one of them, who was a girl, was brought up at Plas y Pennant, and her name was Pelisha[7]; her descendants remain to this day in the Nant, and are called Bellis, who are believed there, to this day, to be derived from the Tylwyth Teg. Nothing offends them more than to be reminded of this.’
Mr. R. I. Jones goes on to relate another tale as follows:—
Dywedir fod ỻe a elwir yr Hafod Rugog mewn cwm anial yn y mynyđ ỻe y byđai y Tylwyth Teg yn arferol a mynychu; ac y byđent yn trwblio’r hen wraig am fenthyg rhywbeth neu gilyđ. Dywedođ hithau, ‘Cewch os caniatewch đau beth cyntaf—i’r peth cyntaf y cyffyrđaf ag ef wrth y drws dorri, a’r peth cyntaf y rhof fy ỻaw arno yn y ty estyn hanner ỻath.’ Yr oeđ carreg afael, fel ei gelwir, yn y mur wrth y drws ar ei fforđ, ac yr oeđ ganđi đefnyđ syrcyn gwlanen yn rhy fyr o hanner ỻath. Ond yn anffodus wrth đod a’i chaweỻad mawn i’r ty bu agos iđi a syrthio: rhoes ei ỻaw ar ben ei chlun i ymarbed a thorođ honno, a chan faint y boen cyffyrđođ yny ty a’i thrwyn yr hwn a estynnođ hanner ỻath.
‘It is said that there was a place called Hafod Rugog in a wild hollow among the mountains, where the fair family were in the habit of resorting, and that they used to trouble the old woman of Hafod for the loan of one thing and another. So she said, one day, “You shall have the loan if you will grant me two first things—that the first thing I touch at the door break, and that the first thing I put my hand on in the house be lengthened half a yard.” There was a grip stone (carreg afael), as it is called, in the wall near the door, which was in her way, and she had in the house a piece of flannel for a jerkin which was half a yard too short. But, unfortunately, as she came, with her kreel full of turf on her back, to the house, she nearly fell down: she put her hand, in order to save herself, to her knee-joint, which then broke; and, owing to the pain, when she had got into the house, she touched her nose with her hand, when her nose grew half a yard longer.’
Mr. Jones went on to notice how the old folks used to believe that the fairies were wont to appear in the marshes near Cweỻyn Lake, not far from Rhyd-Đu, to sing and dance, and that it was considered dangerous to approach them on those occasions lest one should be fascinated. As to the above-mentioned flannel and stone a folklorist asks me, why the old woman did not definitely mention them and say exactly what she wanted. The question is worth asking: I cannot answer it, but I mention it in the hope that somebody else will.