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- Herausgeber: Firefly Press Ltd
- Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024
As the giant Idris travels across Wales on a quest to collect stories, we meet a vengeful house goblin, a ghost that steals life from the living, dwarves dwelling beneath a garden, a tea party of Lady ghosts and many other fascinating and devious fairy folk, reimagined from Welsh legend.
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For Hazel
Contents
Introduction
Stories change. Every time you hear or read a story and tell someone about it, you will change bits, and that’s a good thing. The stories we tell should say something about us and the world we live in, and so we should put our own imagination into them.
That’s what I’ve done in this collection. All the stories in this book come from old folktales and legends. But instead of simply retelling these old tales, I’ve used them as starting points. I’ve mixed them together, changed some of the characters, moved them into modern times, or used the original story as inspiration for something completely new.
If you want to find out more about where some of these stories come from, I’ve included a note at the back about the books and accounts that inspired me. I also spent a lot of time travelling around Wales and talking to people. To everyone who has told me stories – thank you! I’m sorry I didn’t have room to include all of them.
Readers, I hope you enjoy these stories. More than that, I hope they inspire you to write your own tales.
4
The Giant and the Stars
InNorthWalesyou’llfindamountainwiththestrangenameofCadairIdris,whichmeansIdris’chair.It’ssaidthatagiantoncesattheretowatchthestars,andthatthemountainhasmagical properties.
Thelegenddoesn’tsaymuchaboutIdris himself.Hewasaking,maybe,butwheredidhecomefromandwhydidhesitonthemountain?ThemoreIthoughtabouthim,themoreIwantedtotellthestoryofhisadventures.
WonderingwheretostartIdris’story,Icameacrossamysterioustower,calledRoseCastleTower,notfarfromPictonCastleinPembrokeshire.Nooneknowswhatitwasusedfor,andit’snotmentionedinmanyofficialrecords,soitseemstohavebeenlargelyforgotten.Whyshouldn’tithavebeenthehomeofgiants?6
Idris was hiding, which was quite an achievement as, even though he was only fourteen years old, he was eight metres tall with hair so red it was sometimes mistaken for a bonfire.
Music and laughter drifted to him across the night sky. The great hall of Rose Castle would be full of guests, feasting and dancing, but Idris didn’t care. He sat at the top of the bell tower, wrapped in his cloak, with the great, bronze bells swaying around him. There was a gap in the roof where some birds had built a nest last spring and, if he tipped his head back at just the right angle, he could see through the remaining jumble of twigs all the way to the stars.
One cluster of stars looked a bit like a bear and another one reminded Idris of a saucepan, with three bright stars forming the handle. He wondered what a bear might cook in a saucepan. Porridge, maybe. Only the porridge would always turn out lumpy, and so the bear would be in a bad temper, and…
His thoughts petered out.
That was the problem. Idris could think up the starts of stories but never where they should go next. Some people were said to be born under a lucky star, or even an unfortunate one. Whatever star Idris had been born under, it hadn’t been a storytelling star.
‘Idris!’
A shout startled him upright and he banged his 7head on the bells, setting them all clanging. Looking out of the window, he saw a woman standing in the courtyard outside. She was even taller than he was, her red hair piled on top of her head and a dark green cape wrapped around her long dress.
‘Idris,’ she shouted, looking up at him. ‘Whatever are you doing? Come down this minute.’
Idris sighed, his heart sinking. ‘Yes, Mother.’ He scrambled down the twisting staircase of the bell tower.
His mother wore an expression like the bad-tempered bear he’d just been thinking about.
‘What are you doing out here all by yourself?’ she snapped. ‘You should be at the party. And just look at the state of your clothes!’
Idris examined a patch of mud on his trousers and a rip in his sleeve where he’d caught it on a nail. ‘I don’t care what I look like,’ he said. ‘We’re always having parties and they’re boring. Why do I have to be at them all?’
His mother folded her arms across her chest. ‘Because,’ she said, ‘you are the king.’
Oh. That.
Idris felt all the air go out of him. He dropped his gaze to his feet, which were clad in gold boots with the royal crest sewn on in sapphires. He wriggled his toes and winced. Some of those sapphires had worked their way right through the boot lining and they were sharp.8
When he was a boy, Idris had thought that his father, the king, was in charge of the whole world. But his father had died last year and now Idris was the king, even though he didn’t want to be, and it seemed that kings weren’t in charge of anything at all.
As the king, his food was made for him and nobody thought to ask him what he might like to eat. His clothes were laid out ready for him to wear each morning. The sapphires on the royal boots hurt his feet and the royal cloak was a hundred years old and made of kingfisher feathers which were supposed to be magical but smelled like socks.
And don’t even get me started on the royal crown, he thought. He’d managed to leave it behind in the castle tonight, but he’d have to put it on the moment he went back. It was made of diamonds and looked ridiculous.
A fanfare of trumpets sounded from the castle. That would be another guest arriving. Idris looked up at the sky. The bear and the saucepan glittered brighter than any diamonds. A sudden memory flashed into his mind. His father waking him at night, the two of them creeping up the castle steps onto the roof where they’d sit and watch the stars. How often had they done it? Hundreds of times, perhaps, and now Idris would never look at the stars with his father again.
‘You’re dreaming again,’ his mother said. ‘Stop it.’9
Idris lowered his gaze slowly. ‘Why shouldn’t I dream?’
His mother opened and shut her mouth a few times. ‘Why? Why? Because you are…’
‘The king,’ Idris shouted. ‘I know. I AM THE KING!’ Something seemed to snap inside him. His voice bellowed up to the stars. ‘And, because I am the king, I am passing a new law. The king can dream. The king can look at the stars. The king does not have to go to every party in the castle.’
His mother looked as if she were about to start shouting again, and Idris surprised himself by holding up a hand to stop her.
‘In fact,’ he said, ‘the king is going on holiday. Everyone else in the kingdom gets holidays. The children in the school have holidays, the cooks in the castle have holidays, even the man who cleans the royal boots goes on holiday. It’s about time I had a holiday too. You can be in charge while I’m away. You’ll be good at it.’
His mother’s face turned red. ‘Idris, stop this nonsense. You can’t just go on holiday. You’ve never been out in the world. How will you manage without your royal coach to take you places and your royal cooks to make your meals? You don’t even know where you’re going!’
Idris looked up at the stars. The cluster that looked 10like a bear seemed to wink at him. He’d manage just fine, he thought. He was a giant; he could look after himself.
‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘I don’t know where I’m going. But I know what I’m looking for.’
‘And what’s that?’ his mother asked.
She wouldn’t understand, but Idris answered anyway.
‘Stories,’ he said.
And, with that, Idris the giant turned his back on the bright lights of the castle and strode with big, eager steps into the night.
11
12
A Game of Goblins
Icouldn’twriteabookaboutWelshfairycreatureswithoutmentioningtheTylwythTeg(tul-withteg).Theirname means the Fair Folk, or Fair Family, andtheyarethebestknownofWelshfairyfolk.YoucanfindtheminallpartsofWales:incaves,woodlandsandmarshes.Theyaremastersofillusionandoftenposeas humans, so it’s hard to know what they really looklike,butyoucantellthembytheirbrightlycolouredclothing,theirlaughterandgames.Sometimesthey’llbefriendlytowardshumansandwillgivemagicalgiftstothepeopletheymeet.
Onefamousstorytellsofadoctorwhowascalledouttoagrandmansiontohelpasickwoman and, whileshewasthere,shefoundapotofstrangeointmentandaccidentallygotsomeinherrighteye.Straightaway,shefoundthatwithherlefteye,shestillsawthemansion,theexpensivefurnishingsandtherichlady, 14butwithherrighteyeshesawahutwithleavesonthefloor,andtheladyshewastendingwaspale,withalong,inhumanfaceandsilverhair.
Thedoctorrealisedatoncewhathadhappened.Thiswasnotahumanhome,butthehomeoftheTylwythTeg,andtheointmentallowedhertoseethroughtheirenchantments.
I’veusedsomeoftheseideasinthisstory,butwithaverydifferentsetting.
Dylan was late. He shifted Bethan’s birthday gift from hand to hand as he walked. It was only some socks from the supermarket because money was tight this month, but Mam had helped him wrap them in shiny red paper and tie a ribbon around to make them look more exciting.
He knew Bethan wouldn’t mind, it was just that he’d really wanted to get her something nice this year. The two of them had been friends for ages and all he ever gave her was socks or shower gel.
The quickest route to Bethan’s house was through the park – really just a patch of wild ground with a pond in the middle. Dylan got as far as the pond and paused, turning the parcel over in his hands and frowning at it. He imagined Bethan tearing off the paper and their friends laughing at the fluffy pink socks inside. 15
No, hold on, that was real laughter, music too, coming from behind him. Turning, he saw a whole group of people.
How had he not noticed them before? On one side, a pair of long-haired girls in green dresses played guitars, while a strange-looking old man banged on a drum. Nearby, three very tall women and one very short one handed out drinks. Other people, all dressed in blue and red, either danced or sat in the grass, talking and playing games. Some of them looked very young, others very old, and there was nobody in between.
Odd. They must be visiting, Dylan thought. Maybe they were from another school, and that was their uniform. It was a funny kind of uniform, though, especially for a Sunday, and why would anyone want to visit a muddy pool in Porthmadog?
He turned to walk away when a girl danced straight into him, knocking Bethan’s birthday present out of his hands.
‘Hey,’ the girl said. ‘Watch where you’re walking.’
She looked a bit older than Dylan. Her dark hair was tied into a ponytail, and her eyes were a surprising bright green, like new leaves.
‘You watch where you’re dancing,’ Dylan said. ‘I’m late for my friend’s birthday. What are you doing here?’16
‘This is the goblin party,’ the girl said. ‘We come here every Sunday.’
Dylan wondered what ‘goblin’ stood for. She couldn’t mean actual goblins, obviously. ‘I live here and I’ve never seen you before,’ he said.
‘That’s because we’re good at hiding.’ The girl grinned, her gaze falling on the parcel in the grass. ‘What’s that?’
Dylan snatched it up. ‘It’s a birthday present for my friend. It’s just some socks.’
‘I love socks!’ The girl lifted a foot and waggled it, and Dylan saw that her feet were bare. He wrapped his arms around Bethan’s present, suddenly afraid the strange girl might try to snatch it.
She studied him, her head tilted slightly to one side. ‘Tell you what, why don’t you give me the socks and I’ll give you something else for your friend. What does she like?’
The sound of the guitars twanged. Dylan shook his head irritably. He was already late for Bethan’s party, and this girl was making him even later. ‘Games,’ he said. ‘She likes playing games.’
‘That’s easy.’ The girl ran to one of the groups sitting in the grass. They whispered together, then she came back, carrying something.
‘Here,’ she said.
It was a games console. Dylan didn’t recognise the 17brand, but it looked expensive and it lit up as soon as he pressed the buttons. A title flowed across the screen: AGameofGoblins.
Why would someone trade a games console for a pair of socks? ‘Is this stolen?’ he asked, trying to hand it back.
The girl put her hands behind her back and grinned at him. ‘It’s ours. It’s only got one game on it and we’ve all played it, so we don’t want it anymore. Swap?’
Dylan’s vision danced. This was much better than socks: Bethan would love it.
‘All right,’ he said quickly, before he could change his mind. He thrust the brightly wrapped socks into the girl’s hands. Then he was off, running across the rough grass to Bethan’s house.
The party had already started when he got there. Dylan heard music and laughing when Bethan opened the door.
‘Sorry I’m late,’ he said, shoving the console at her. ‘I got you a present.’
Bethan stared at him. ‘Where did you get this from?’
‘A girl in the park. She…’ Dylan’s voice tailed off. The whole thing felt like a dream now. ‘We did a swap,’ he said. ‘I hope you like it.’
Bethan put it on the hall table. ‘It’s great. I’ll play it later. We’re about to eat now.’18
Dylan followed her into the kitchen, feeling oddly deflated. Bethan had barely looked at the console. He could have just given her the socks after all!
The two friends usually caught the bus to school together, but Bethan wasn’t at the stop the next morning and Dylan had to leave without her. She finally arrived halfway through their first class.
‘Where were you?’ Dylan whispered.
Bethan grinned. ‘A Game of Goblins! I’m up to level twenty already.’
‘You mean the console I gave you? Can I have a go later?’
Bethan’s smile faded. ‘When I’ve finished,’ she said, suddenly sounding unfriendly.
She was late to school again the next day, and she went home straight afterwards, even though she and Dylan had swimming club.
Dylan went round to her house after swimming and Bethan opened the door with the console in her hand.
‘Where were you?’ Dylan asked.
Bethan gave him a blank look. ‘I was here, of course. I’m on level two hundred.’
That must have taken her ages. ‘What’s the game about?’ Dylan asked.
‘You know. Stuff.’ Bethan shrugged. ‘I better go. I 19want to get to level two hundred and one. Then I’ll get to play the game for an extra hour as a reward.’
‘But you’re already playing it,’ Dylan said. ‘That’s a stupid reward.’ He tried to take the console out of her hand. ‘How many levels are there?’
Bethan shrugged again and shut the door in his face.
Another week went by and Bethan was late for school every single day. She didn’t answer the phone either. Dylan knocked on her door that Sunday and her mother opened it and told him Bethan wasn’t feeling well.
‘Do you know if there’s any problem in school?’ she asked with a worried frown.
Dylan thought of the strange girl with leaf-green eyes. There wasn’t a problem at school, he thought, but there was a different problem, and he’d caused it – him and the girl from the park. He needed to talk to her.
He left Bethan’s house and walked through the park until he reached the pond. There, he sat down.
We’rehereeverySunday, the girl with green eyes had said.
Either she’d been lying or she was invisible, because the only person Dylan could see was one of the neighbours walking his dog. He sat and waited until 20his watch showed five o’clock, which was when Mam was due home from work.
He went back the next Sunday and the one after that. Bethan had stopped coming to school altogether by then and he hadn’t seen her for what felt like ages.
He sat down by the pond. ‘I don’t care if you’re hiding,’ he called. ‘I’m not giving up. I’ll come here every single Sunday until you talk to me.’
He felt silly talking to empty air. He sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. The wind stirred the leaves of the trees, sounding like distant music. Dylan heard a thud. It could have been someone kicking a football on the other side of the park, or maybe the sound of a drum.
The footsteps, when they came, were soft, but unmistakeable. Dylan sprang to his feet.
The girl was wearing the same red and blue dress but she had a red ribbon in her hair – the ribbon that Dylan had tied around Bethan’s parcel. A bracelet made of red wrapping paper shone on her wrist, and she wore a pair of fluffy pink socks.
‘What do you want?’ the girl asked. ‘You’re ruining our parties, sitting there looking miserable when we’re trying to have fun.’
Dylan couldn’t see any parties. He turned slowly. A quick flurry of music died almost as soon as he noticed it.21
‘Who are you?’ he asked.
The girl laughed. ‘Don’t they teach you fairy tales at school?’
‘No. Normally we do maths and science and stuff.’
‘Well, maybe you should read some stories.’ She spun around, making her dress swirl. ‘We are the fairy folk,’ she said. ‘Goblins, sprites, imps, the Tylwyth Teg. We were here before you and we’ll be here long after all you humans have gone. We’re all around you. You just can’t see us – unless we want to be seen.’
Dylan felt a cold shiver go through him. ‘Are you saying you wanted me to see you the other week? Why?’ He hadn’t been doing anything special, just walking through the park holding Bethan’s birthday present.
His gaze fell on the girl’s paper bracelet and the bright ribbon in her hair and he knew the answer. She was like a magpie: she liked anything that glittered.
‘You tricked me,’ he said. ‘I gave that games console to my friend and now she won’t stop playing it. It’s like she’s hypnotised by it or something. What have you done to her?’
The girl rolled her eyes. ‘You accepted the game in return for the socks. It’s not my fault your friend likes it so much. Maybe when she finishes it she’ll get tired of it.’
‘How long will that take?’ asked Dylan. ‘Bethan 22keeps talking about levels. How many levels are there?’
‘A million or so,’ the girl said carelessly.
And Bethan had finished around two hundred levels in a week. Dylan tried to work out how long it would take her to finish a million levels. She could be playing the game for the rest of her life!
‘You have to take it back,’ he said.
The girl shook her head. ‘Once we give a gift, it can’t be ungiven.’
That couldn’t be true. Dylan might not have read many fairy stories but he knew that if you made a bargain with a fairy there was always a way out of it.
He took a deep breath. ‘Wait here,’ he said. ‘Please.’
He raced home as fast as he could. Mam wasn’t home, which was good because Dylan didn’t think he’d be able to explain this. He opened the cupboard under the stairs where Mam kept all the wrapping paper and Christmas decorations and he scooped out baubles and tinsel, filling a carrier bag until he couldn’t fit any more in.
