The tale of Rhiannon and Dewydd

Written by Wim Beunderman, posted on tuesday 13 february 2018

Mountain Pony by Tim Ball

Valentine’s Day Story

Longingly, Rhiannon looked over her shoulder in the direction of the village. When she failed to catch a glimpse of her beloved Dewydd on the treeless hillside, she let her head hang and solemnly observed her tears blending with the raindrops on her face and falling on to her muddied sheepskin boots. She swallowed her pride, wiped her emerald eyes and her nose clean with her woollen coat sleeve, and tried to force the painful event that had taken place only half an hour ago to the back of her mind.

Instead, she was overcome by a sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“Ah, my poor Dewydd, why did it have to come to this?” she cried out loud.

Yet, at the same moment, she knew all too well why, and she plunged into the memory of when she had arrived in the little Welsh village almost a year ago. At first, the villagers had not paid much attention to her. Although at the time, she seemed somewhat strange to them, they welcomed her into their midst like they would any stranger. Besides, it had been a long time since the village had had a wise woman to care for them, for Rhiannon’s predecessor had passed away a year before.

Suddenly, Rhiannon frowned and her eyes started to prick again as she remembered that terrifying moment just one hour ago, when the villagers had evicted her from her hut and scorned her while they ran her out of the village. Now she looked up from her feet treading the rain-sodden grass and stared into the distance. Nevertheless she failed to notice the dark grey sky before her and the driving rain that lashed out at her face and hair. Again she dewlled on the past; on her time spent in the village. In the beginning, she and the villagers had gotten along well. Rhiannon had healed the ill with her herbal potions and ointments, and with her hands, through which she conveyed the energy of life. With those hands she blessed all those around her.

It was a good life, she remembered with great fondness and she smiled joyously when Dewydd’s face appeared in all its greatness before her mind’s eye. At the same time, her heart seemed to melt as she recalled each detail of her lover: his enchanting smile, his long dark hair, his deep, husky voice and his strong but gentle hands. Her memory of it all was so intense that it felt like Dewydd was standing before her once more and like all those times before, she was overcome by his warm presence.

“Yes, my darling Dewydd, you knew as well as I did,” she whispered to herself as she remembered the passionate look in Dewydd’s eyes the first time they had met. From that moment on, the near fifty year old sorceress and the mere seventeen year old blacksmith’s son had struggled to keep their feelings in check, to prevent the villagers from discovering the love the two felt for each other. It was no ordinary love either; not only an emotional or a physical love, for Rhiannon and Dewydd had been united in love spiritually long before the dawn of time. This they both knew from that very moment of their earthly reconciliation. However, the more they avoided each other, the more their hearts longed to be together.

Fleetwood Mac Rhiannon  

Now Rhiannon looked back on that day in the forge of Dewydd’s father, when she had come to have her cauldron mended and looked into Dewydd’s eyes for the first time, she realized what she and Dewydd had known from the very start. That their bond, although eternal would not be accepted, not in this lifetime anyway. It struck her in the heart to think about this. She simply did not understand the villagers’ intolerance, their inability to accept the love that Dewydd and she felt for each other. In turn she was unable to condemn the villagers for this in the same way she could not accept her and Dewydd’s not being able to be together.

“You and I, Dewydd, we are one. We always have been and always shall,” she spoke softly while a faint smile appeared on her thin lips and she pondered a little longer on her fate. Was there such thing as fate? Rhiannon knew full well there wasn’t. Every soul must walk along the path of its own choosing; that is what she believed, what she knew to be true. Dewydd’s path and hers were destined to merge, and together Dewydd and Rhiannon would take every bend, climb and diversion in their stride.

In contemplation, Rhiannon noticed a slight change of heart. She tossed her long jet-black hair to one side and as she quickened her pace, she caught herself smiling abundantly. She knew it to be the sign of the change that had just taken place. The nature of this change she did not know and yet she was aware of its origin at the back of her mind; behind her, to be precise. At that very moment of awareness, Rhiannon’s heart began beating faster and intuitively she glanced over her shoulder.

Welsh Valleys by Nick Winchester

She could not believe her eyes as her heart began to swell and tears of joy trickled down her face. There in the distance, on the hillside by the brook, rode Dewydd on a grey pony mare he had been shoeing only minutes ago. He saw Rhiannon and their eyes met. Rhiannon shrugged the heavy pack off her shoulders and with it the weight of her troubled heart. Then she started running towards Dewydd, who had spurned his mount to a gallop. Within a few moments the two lovers were reunited and fell in each other’s arms. They laughed and cried with joy as they wildly caressed and kissed each other’s faces.

Then Rhiannon looked deeply into Dewydd’s eyes. It was then that they both noticed it had stopped raining. Rhiannon saw the sun slowly making its way across the sky behind Dewydd. It caused a twinkle in her eyes and her lips parted. Dewydd’s eyebrows arched and he turned his head to see what had struck his lovely Rhiannon with surprise. Then, as Dewydd slipped his hand into Rhiannon’s, Rhiannon was overcome with a sense of utmost tranquillity. A rainbow had come into view and it was there and then that Rhiannon caught a glimpse of what was to come.

Meanwhile the sun shone magnificently, and in what seemed like eternity she had a vision. It came to her within the blink of an eye. Subsequently she and Dewydd turned to each other once again. Their gazing eyes locked, and for Rhiannon and Dewydd it was as if they plunged into the depth of their very souls. Suddenly, a huge pulsating orb of bright golden light radiated from their coupled hearts. They only had a moment to experience the wave of love that engulfed everything in its path, when a flash of white light spread out across the sky. Rhiannon and Dewydd no longer existed. Their human shells lay in the lush knee-high grass and their souls returned to where they had once come from. That night, the villagers were struck with awe by a new star high above. A star that shone brighter than any other. It filled the villagers’ hearts with the warmth of unconditional love.

Bryan Adams Run To You


Rhiannon: Welsh for ‘Great Queen’

Dewydd: Welsh for ‘beloved’


‘Mountain Pony’ by Tim Ball on

‘Welsh Valleys’ by Nick Winchester on

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