In despair, she wandered the mountainsides in search of new herbs or some special remedy.  Finally, she came upon the three pools of strange water.  The first was of salt water—such a thing to find in the middle of the mountains.  The second tasted of sulfur and the third of iron.  So she gathered up flasks of the strange waters, brought them to Pengrych’s sickbed, and administered them to him.

Pengrych’s recovery began that very day.  Soon he was fully recovered: The maiden had saved his life.  But now, her debt paid, she no longer felt bound by obligation.  Her heart was free to love.  And she loved Pengrych as he loved her.  So the two became one, and the earl’s son found peace in the beauty of another.

The disputed border county

Retelling the legend of Pengrych has been my “party piece” since I first encountered it twenty-five years ago on the dusty shelves of a little-used library in my hometown, the Victorian spa Llandrindod Wells in mid-Wales.  The story explains the origin of Llandrindod’s healing pools, and its setting, the secluded lake Llyn Gwyn, is particularly significant in Randnorshire folk and fairy lore.

Sir Faesyfydd (Radnoshire) was the most sparsely populated county in Britain before it and neighboring Welsh counties were incorporated into the new “super-county” administrative structure of Powys in the 1980s.  The crossroads of all Welsh traffic between north and south, east and west, Radnor’s mountainous Welsh borders were bleakly inhospitable, yet the eastern lowland border to England was relatively open.  Historically the most disputed of border territories, Radnor is the site of innumerable Celtic and Roman earthern forts, the center of Welsh Arthurian legend, and the scene of many battles between Celts and Romans, Welsh and English.  It is also noteworthy as a rich source of legends, folklore, and superstition.

The origins of Pengrych’s legend are unclear, but the tale is unlikely to be a Victorian fancy or contrivance.  It contains many of the key elements associated with Welsh fairy lore: abduction of a child, disappearance into a fairy ring, dancing through eternity, and a desperate rescue.  Its location adds to its authenticity; Llyn Gwyn lies in the very heart of Radnor and plays a role in a variety of mid-Welsh lore.  I have heard locals describe the lake as “bottomless” and its fish as “magic.”  Saint Patrick, who is claimed to have conducted his ministry for twenty years in the neighboring villages of Capel Curig and St. Harmon before receiving his commission to Ireland, is said to have turned unbelievers into trout and cast them into Llyn Gwyn.