Tales of Angharad

Tales of Angharad


Angharad has been oftentimes a sickly child, but has from birth been much loved by her parents and her uncle, Sir Brychan. There follow a few recollections from her as yet short life.

First Moments

Thank all the gods, the birth had been an easy enough one.
His wife was a young woman, but childbed was a dangerous time and claimed many. But such a wonder when it was done! Iwan gazed down at the tiny child securely wrapped in blankets and nestled in his arms. Perched in a rough chair beside his wifes bed, he cradled the precious bundle which was his first child as his love rested and regained her strength.

Crooning softly to his sleeping child in a deep and resonant voice, Iwan felt his heart swell as the wonder of his baby touched him.

Cysga di fy mhlentyn tlws
Cysga di fy mhlentyn tlws
Cysga di fy mhlentyn tlws
Cei gysgu tan y bore
Cei gysgu tan y bore.
__
Hwian hwi fy mhlentyn tlws
Wedi cau a chloi y drws
Hwian hwi fy mhlentyn tlws
Cei gysgu tan y bore
Cei gysgu tan y bore.
__
Hwian hwi fy mychan glân
Cysgu mae yr adar mân
Hwian hwi fy mychan glân
Cei gysgu tan y bore
Cei gysgu tan y bore.
__
Hwian hwi fy nghariad i
Ceffyl pren yn d’ymyl di
Hwian hwi fy nghariad i
Cei gysgu tan y bore
Cei gysgu tan y bore.

494, age 8
Angharad tore across the courtyard, whooping and yelling as she spurred her hobbyhorse after her young brother. He shouted and hollered, brandishing his stick-sword as his older sister rode in and swiped at him. The swords clashed, the clack of wood on wood drowned out as the young girl cried out “Take that, saxon dog! Sir Brychan is here to slay you! Ha ha!”

A sharper swing, and her sword caught the young Garreth across the knuckles. With a shrill cry his sword flew loose and he sat down suddenly, looking in pained shock at his hands before bawling and crying, tears running down his face as Angharad ceased to dance on her stick horse in victory at the realisation she had truly hurt him. “Garreth, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hit you that hard! I’m sorry, Garreth, really I am!”

The young lad continued to blubber and the tears poured over his face as she pleaded with him to stop crying. Hurried footsteps approached and her mother Teleri appeared, drawn by her sons wails. As Angharad looked on pale faced, her mother scooped up the boy and with some clucking and shushing calmed his tears. Red eyed and solemn, Garreth presented his hand, swollen knuckles much in evidence for his mothers ministrations. With care, the healing kiss was delivered and the boy sent on his way while the erring daughter regarded her feet.

“Angharad. What have I told you about playing with swords?” Angharad attempted to duck more, a feat not possible from her already ashamed stance. Her murmured reponse was barely heard in the quiet court " ‘m sorry. d’nt mean to hit ’im" Teleri sighed, and swooped in to hug her firstborn tightly. A muffled “I’m really sorry” emerged from the folds of her dress, and thin arms wrapped around her middle. “Angharad, whatever will I do with you? Swords and such are not girls toys, they are weapons, to be carried by big strong men; knights and soldiers who use them to protect us.” She eased the hug and looked down into the pale face of her child.

“Like Uncle Brychan? If I asked nicely, would he play knights and saxons, do you think? He’s met real ones, father says. And he’s too brave to cry at all, ever. Then you wouldn’t have to be mad at me.” Teleri looked off over her daughters head, feeling a tear enter her eye as well. “He might, my pet, when he next visits. And I’m not mad at you. I just wish you’d be a little careful when you play such rough games”.

It had been some time since word had reached their home about her well-to-do older brother, when he had set off northward after a missing wife and father-in-law. In truth she feared for him, after so long and with so many things unfolding in court he might return to a very different Salisbury, if he ever returned at all. Angharads plaintive question tugged at her heart, and she had to swallow a lump in her throat. “Is Uncle Brychan going to visit this year? I miss him.” With a watery smile Teleri hugged her daughter once more before rising and steering her toward the house, swords and hobby horses abandoned for now. “I miss him too, sweetling. I do hope we see him soon.”

497, age 12
At an excited cry from her mother, Angharad was up and racing through the house. All elbows and knees and coltish awkwardness, she hopped haphazardly over the benches in the hall before barrelling to a halt on the threshold. Wide eyed, she stared at the man and woman holding her mothers hands. Tears ran down Teleri’s face but the wide smile didn’t falter between glad sobs.

The girl managed a whisper as she recognised the pair: faces she hadn’t seen since she was a tiny child of five. “Uncle Brychan ?” The knight hardly seemed to have changed a day, setting Angharad’s head spinning. “Ah, Angharad. I’ve missed seeing you child. Look at you!” There was a note almost of fear in Brychans voice. Years had passed him by, and weighed heavily upon the family and the few friends he had left behind. It was a disconcerting moment all around, but one that didn’t last. With a glad cry, the young lady threw herself at her favourite uncle, overwhelmingly glad to see him, at last, safely home.

His tight embrace was just as she remembered, and the remembering brought tears to her eyes. Suddenly she pulled back and stared up at him, dashing more tears aside with one hand as she demanded “Where have you been?! Its been so boring without you!” The knight laughed and glanced across at his wife, barely apart from his side since their reuniting on his long quest. “Its a long tale, neice. But one worth the telling.”

Main Page

Tales of Angharad

The Great Pendragon stealthH NikMak