Into the Unknown

We all serve him

We all serve him,but we perceive him differently. Sometimes he is tall, dark and solemn, sometimes his hair is silvery white, and his face reminds of the ancient Roman statues in their calm serenity. At times he is silent and reassuring, and at times- compassionate and soft spoken, but whichever guise he chooses, he is never distant. His heart beats close by, his voice echoes in our minds.

We serve the Lord of the ways, the Lord of the mists, the Lord of the Shadows, the Lord of the Blessed light. We all serve him,but we serve him differently.

We all serve him, but we call him differently: Gwyn ap Nudd, the Horned one, the Wild Herdsman, Herne the Hunter, Cernunnos, Arawn. Sometimes he chooses one name, and at times he is content with another – nobody knows what name appears next in the minds of a newcomer and a sage alike. He has many a name, and it is up to him to pick and choose.

We serve the Lord of the Hunt, the Master of Stars, the Prince of Dreams, the King of the Fair folk. We all serve him, but we call him differently.

We all serve him, but we serve him differently. Some write, some sing, some praise- and others take on vows, wage battles against their personal darkness and win. We all serve him with what we do best. We all serve him, but we serve him differently.

He comes to us all, but he comes differently. As a name in a song, as a sigh on the wind. In the tales of old, in the dreams of many, in love and loss, in joy and grief, in life and death. He comes in starlight, in the frailty of the moonlight and glory of the sun. He comes with the first mists of spring and departs with the last mist of autumn. He comes to us all, but he comes differently.

We serve and we wait, no matter how long – for he has promised to come, and Gwyn ap Nudd never breaks a promise.

Lleu my Lleu/ Gwydion’s lament

Lleu my Lleu,
Won’t you come down,
Won’t you come back?

Lleu, my Lleu,
Hear me sing,
Hear me sing to you.

Lleu my Lleu
Do you remember,
Do you remember me?

Lleu my Lleu
I have nurtured you,
I have brought you down.

Lleu my Lleu
My only son,
My golden boy, my all,

Lleu my Lleu
Let me mend you,
Let me tend to your wounds.

Lleu my Lleu
The flowers have thorns,
The flowers are no more.

Lleu my Lleu
Fly down to me,
Fly on the wind.

Lleu my Lleu
Hard is the way
Hard is the heart that grieves.

Lleu my Lleu
We learn the hard way
We learn how to love and lose.

Lleu my Lleu
Open your heart,
Open your mind once more.

Lleu my Lleu
Will the song be enough
Will the song mend a broken heart?

Lleu my Lleu
Blue is the sky
Blue are the eyes I love.

Lleu my Lleu
Will you ever forgive
Will you forgive me, boy?

Lleu my Lleu
Sharp are the thorns
Sharper than swords of war.

Lleu my Lleu
Here I’ll remain,
Here till you come back to me.

Lleu my Lleu
Hear how heart cries
Hear how weeps the soul.

Lleu my Lleu
You never knew
You never saw my pain.

Lleu my Lleu
My life in exchange
My life I would give to heal.

Lleu my Lleu
The healing is nigh,
The healing will come to you.

Lleu my Lleu
The winds of the North
The winds are howling your name.

Lleu my Lleu
Asleep in my arms,
Asleep in my arms you’ll be.

Patiently, I wait

For the Wild Hunt I wait, for the clouds are gathering. Patiently, I wait, for that is the hardest lesson of all.

For the Wild Hunt I wait, for my Lord if approaching fast, and I can hear him in the distance.

For the Wild Hunt I wait, for this day is the day he promised to come. Patiently I wait, for Calan Mai is gone, and the Fair folk returns to their keep.

For the Wild Hunt I wait, for the freedom of the ride, and the freedom of the wind in my hair.

For the Wild Hunt I wait, and the rain turns to storm right before my eyes. Patiently I wait, for nothing can rival the Hunt.

For the Wild Hunt I wait, for the changing of the seasons, for the turning of the Great wheel of life.

For the Wild Hunt I wait, for my Lord’s summons, for the feeling of flight. Patiently I wait, for great patience brings great rewards.

For the Wild Hunt I wait, for I have heard the Call, and I will follow, whatever happens and whatever the price.

For the Wild Hunt I wait, for the mighty dead and the glorious ancestors to come and carry me away. Patiently I wait, for the vows are made, and I shall keep them.

For the Wild Hunt I wait, for the fragrance of heathered hills and seas without end.

For the Wild Hunt I wait, for I am the one to heed it and sing the praise when it comes.

My lady Sybil is pining away

My lady Sybil is pining away. Her face is all ashen, her fair hair – uncombed.

My lady Sybil is pining away. She scarcely sleeps, and she seldom speaks.

My lady Sybil is pining away. She spends all her days a-wandering the woods.

My lady Sybil is pining away. She’s no longer fairest, My Lord, she’s a shade.

My lady Sybil is pining away. She dreams of the Hunt, then she cries in her sleep.

My lady Sybil is pining away. The Lord of the shadows has taken her prime.

My lady Sybil is pining away. She is there, in her tower, all grief and despair.

My lady Sybil is pining away. She looks away, and she’s distant and frail.

My lady Sybil is pining away. She yearns for the one who will never be hers.

My lady Sybil is pining away. The Hunt is no joke, she has seen it, I fear.

My lady Sybil is pining away. She’s given her heart to the Lord of the ways.

My lady Sybil is pining away, I’m afraid. And Nos Calan Gaeaf is close.

My lady Sybil is pining away. It means that they will come again, so I fear.

My lady Sybil is pining away. The Lord of the mists always claims what is his.

My lady Sybil is pining away. Her days are all up, and she knows it for sure.

My lady Sybil is pining away. The Wild Hunt is here, and she’s taking her leave.

Farewell, lady Sybil

May Hunt take you home,

Wherever thy home may be.

Farewell, lady Sybil,

May he grant you joy,

That you’ve never known before.

Come away

Dance, dance with the trees
Let the world watch and listen.
Dance, dance with the trees-
Let them live, let them sing.

Breathe, breathe in the woodland,
Live through the tales,
That woodland spins,
Let them live, let them sing.

Praise, praise the Fair folk,
Who dwells deep within.
Praise, praise the Fair folk,
And dance to their tune.

Bow, bow to the King now,
Who dwells in the other world,
Bow, bow to the King now,
The king of the golden halls.

Come, come, come away, child,
Listen to trees that sing,
Come, come, come away, child,
Follow the bells that ring…

The boundary

Step into my forest, mortal child. Step boldly, for we do not harm wee ones.

Step lightly, o mortal child, for no one but you is welcome here. Step lively, dear child, for Gwyn ap Nudd never tricks the children.

Trust me, mortal child. The forest is safe, for the Fair folk never trap the wee ones.

Trust me, mortal child, for Gwyn ap Nudd ydw i, and I will never let evil close.

Trust me – yet trust not what you see, for this here is the faerie forest, and nothing here is what it seems.

Follow me, mortal child. Follow me into the green – and do not fret. Follow me into the green, mortal child – and trust me, you shall find the way back.

Trust me, follow me – into the green we venture, and nothing can hold us here. Follow me- and I will show you the glistening shores of Annwfn, where the magic dwells…

Gweddi y coed/ Prayer of the woods

As I enter your woods,
My Lord Gwyn,
White king of the mists,
I ask your forgiveness
For crossing the boundary
Unknowingly.

I ask your permission
To enter your realm
And leave it unharmed.
If it be your will,
My Lord Gwyn,
Let me cross the boundary.

Here I stand, My Lord,
On your threshold,
Waiting for a sign
Be kind, My Lord Gwyn,
Be merciful
And let me pass.

No harm I bring with me,
No evil is in me.
Be kind to me, blessed one.
Let me cross the boundary,
Let me pass,
Open the gates.

My Lord Gwyn,
King of the green,
Lord of the ways,
Prince of the mists,
Guardian of souls,
Let me pass.

~ Gweddi y coed/ Prayer of the woods

I’ve lived through many ages

I’ve lived through many ages; I’ve seen men cry, and wail, and crumble. I’ve seen men swear, curse and lie. I’ve seen men lose, gain and take by force.

Through the eyes of the Wild woods I watched them struggle. Through the eyes of the white stag I watched them run and hide. Through the eyes of the pearly hounds I watched them haunt and chase. Through the eyes of the boar and the bear I watched them tremble and regain strength.

I’ve lived many a lifetime, and nothing was hidden from me. I’ve lived many a lifetime, and people never changed; older they grew, trustworthy – never. I’ve lived many a lifetime, and people never changed; more audacious,more free they became in their dreams, yet never bold enough to realize them.

I’ve seen grief under the sun, and joy under the moon, I’ve seen hope shining in starlight. I’ve seen human hearts open up to each other and freeze shut towards the hearts of other men. I’ve seen faith where there could be none, I’ve seen glory in smallest things, and despair in greatest of people.

Everything and more I’ve seen, and I never looked back. Everything and more I’ve seen, and I never left your side.

Cernunnos they called me, the Horned one, the Wild Herdsman, the Forest shepherd. In the land of daffodils and rivers they called me Gwyn ap Nudd, the Lord of the ways, the King of Annwfn.

Many names have I. Many faces. Many lives I’ve lived, and many more will come. Many names have I, and many lives I’ve seen, and many more will come.

Call me when troubled, call me when restless,call me when the mind races and heart trembles. Call me when no one else answers- and it will be me who soothes you.

Blodeuwedd

Why are you troubled, flower-face? Do you not know how men’s hearts quicken at your approach?

Why do you sigh, flower-child? Do you not see how his eyes turn stormy grey when yours are filled with sorrow?

Why do you worry, stardust maiden? Do you not hear his heart break each time you look away?

Why do you grieve, fy mlodyn bach? Do you not know how fast the flowers wilt? What was golden, turns pale, what was white becomes grey. Nothing is forever, rhosyn, no flower stays young and fresh for good.

Do you not know, blodyn derw, how fast death catches up with flowers?..Enchantments cannot hold it off, rhosyn. Nothing can.

Hear my voice, erwain, bloom – bloom and remain fragrant, for mine is the will and mine is the magic

Blodeuwedd, Blodeuwedd, flower faced child of wonder, it is not him who is enchanted- it is you…

Where love runs dry and the words turn bitter, spring succumbs to cold. Where hatred rules, no magic dwells.

Blodeuwedd, Blodeuwedd, do not turn the tide against yourself – be true.

Be true.

Y Bryn gwyn/ The white hill

I close my eyes and drift away to a place I feel as keenly as I would any place i know.

Covered in mists, surrounded by waters, somewhere far up ahead of me, I see it. The white hill.

Shining as a diamond in the sun, whiter than swans gliding on the Llyn Tegid, it stands, proud and ancient, a temple on its very top.

White stones on white stones, unharmed by time, preserved in time. Candles of white burn inside, the air is full of forest greens and wild flowers, and ivy climbs up its walls.

This is his temple. Y Bryn gwyn. The white hill of Gwyn, son of Nudd, the king of the Fair folk, the master of the blessed hunt, the carrier of souls, the king of mists, the Prince of shades.

This is his temple. His fortress. His domain. Nine white hounds lie on its steps, their ears bright red, their eyes narrowed. They are Cwn Annwfn, the hounds of Annwfn, the faery hounds. And they are waiting for their master.

Nobody comes to the temple save for nine maidens, the priestesses of the Cauldron, that boils deep inside the white temple. Nine maidens clad in white are the only ones who see him, the merciful, the wise, the ever shining, the son of the mists, the Lord of Annwfn.

When he comes, the great hill trembles. When he comes, the Cauldron sparks and shakes, and the candies flare white and gold.

When he comes, white lights dance in the skies, and the northern wind blows and howls. White stars dance in the sky, and the Hunt gathers at Cadair Idris.

To Glastonbury their way lies, and they are ready to follow their leader anywhere. Wherever and whenever they go, y Bryn gwyn, the White hill, will always be there to welcome them.