Two blackbirds hopped along a twisted branch of an ancient oak. The quicker one, with her sooty-brown feathers, held worms and flies within her beak as she scurried on down to their nest of twigs and wool. Following along behind her was the slightly larger, and all black-covered male, who carried no food but more foliage to add to their home.
Underneath the autumn leaves, falling down like snowflakes around them, lay two lovers on a large bear pelt, with furs keeping them warm as the bitter wind blew. Pren and Morydd, on their journey to wed in the spiritual Glade, under the eyes of the Huntsman and every other spirit in the world and the other.
Never before had Pren been much of a bard, though the blood of his great ancestor Meillionydd the great battle bard did flow through his veins. And as he lay there with his lover under his arm, not once did he need to think of words, as his heart guided the words out into the wind:
Mae llawer o bethau yn y byd,
Wedi’u gwneud i’w gilydd.
Taran yn rhu a mellt claer,
A’r adar sy’n ddawns yn yr aer.
Mae dwrgwn yn wich a’r afon,
A’r tonnau sydd yn cario eu llong.
Fel y gwenyn prysur a’r blodau,
A mêl melys ar ein tafodau.
Mae’r cymylau uwch a’r glaw,
A hefyd, fy llaw yn eich llaw.
Chi yw fy nghynefin, a fy hiraeth.
Chi’n llenwi fy nghalon â gobaith.
I’m calon, i’m hoff, i’m gwên.
Dwi’n caru ti. Eich annwyl Pren.
Translation:
There’s lots of things in the world,
Made for each other.
Thunder that roars and lightning bright
And the birds that dance with the air.
The otters squeaking and the river,
And waves which carry their boat
Like the bees busy and the flowers.
And sweet honey on our tongues
The clouds above and the rain,
And also, my hand in your hand,
You are my cynefin and my hiraeth,
You fill my heart with hope.
To my heart, my favourite, my smile
I love you. Your dear Pren.
(A huge thank you to Morydd/Syaven for being the best muse and being my RPP.)
