Once, a very long time ago in the far reaches of the western marshes, a daughter was born to a young woman who lived with her husband's clan of fisherfolk. The woman's name was Llefrith and she called her daughter Teg, for the child was truly fair. This frightened the clan members, for they knew too well the ways of y Tylwyth Teg, whom the marsh folk also called Bendith y Mamau.
"'Tis a dangerous thing to be mocking the subjects of Gwyn ap Nudd," said her husband's mother to Llefrith. "Sure they be called Bendith y Mamau, but they be not ones for young mothers to trifle with." She spat in the four directions. "Only the fairies may be called Teg. Ye'll have them comin' for yourself and the bairn both, if you're not more respectful." She spit again, a charm of protection, at Llefrith's feet. "They're a true Mother's Blessing is what they are," she said, hoping flattery might avert disaster . . . |
