Carwen and the Red Dragon

The Land They Once Knew

‘Those days in the beginning were simple. Long before there was such a thing as Welsh we lived together not really defining who we were. We made our way in life. It was hard but bearable. We lived for the land and shared what we had. It’s hard to think that those were the easy days. We filled our lives with laughter and happiness while we worked. Then one day the lands cried with songs of the dead. The life we made burned in front of our very eyes. Families were torn apart; homes were burned to the ground; our world as we knew it changed for the worst. As we worked under the gruelling sun a great beast tore through our land claiming our villages. First all anyone could hear was the thunder of his voice. It was harsh and terrifying; as the sound grew louder the light in the sky blink out of existence. White scales and red eyes eclipsed the sun from the village below. But nothing was more terrifying then the bone chilling silence. The villagers cowered in fear of what was to happen next. The warmth was the first thing I felt, I saw the houses glowing in colours of red, orange and yellow dancing to the heartbeat of the great White Dragon. Mothers, fathers and children sang in pain as they twirled around bathed in the heat of the dragon. He was a tyrant that no man could defeat. Life was cruel under the power of the White Dragon. For years he tormented villagers, killed children and destroyed our crops claiming himself as a God among men. There was no reason for what he had done to us except that he was a cruel being who craved power.

 One day while out working the fields trying to salvage what was left of our crops a little girl heard a roar from up in the sky. Believing that it was the White Dragon searching for someone to take his wrath upon she hid in the patch of trees on the outskirt of the crops. She lifted her head to look upon the tyrant and saw a blur of red sailed past fanning her hair across her face. Out of fear she ran home to her mother and told her of what she saw. Her mother didn’t believe her of course but as she stepped out of her home the blur sailed past her as well. It was a great Red Dragon swooped over the village. People cowered in doorways believing there were two terrifying dragons that would destroy our villages, although we didn’t have anything to be fearful of. The Red Dragon was unlike the White, he had heard of the way the White Dragon treated his land and found it unjust. The tyrant heard of the dragon that entered his lands and flew from his place atop of the highest hill to cast the wanderer out. The dragons sped across the sky to one another; the Red from the east, the White from the west. They collided in a flurry of colour high above the village, it sounded as If the ground was erupting beneath our feet. The battle commenced as fire illuminated the world above. It carried on for three days; we hid waiting for the destruction to be over. Soon enough when the sun was high enough to call it midday the Red Dragon roared one final time and the White Dragon fell from the sky. When we ran to see if he was dead the tyrant had vanished; they say he fled the land waiting for a day when the Red Dragon would be no more. The villagers gathered to thank the Red Dragon hoping for freedom from the harsh lives they once lived.

            “I am Ddraig Goch, and I shall protect this land forever more. From now on it shall be called Wales and we shall be a proud people.” The red dragon said. It was a glorious day. Laughter rang free through the fields and the towns and the forests.”

“But mam, where is Ddraig Goch now?” Little Carwen asked poking her head out from underneath the blanket. She sat up eager to know more about her brave hero. Her blonde hair was a mess around her face. Her cheeks flushed crimson, and her excitement grew as she listened to her favourite story of the great Red Dragon. Her mother had told her the story many of times throughout the years even though it was illegal. To talk blasphemously against the White Dragon was punishable by death but Carwen could keep a secret. Her mother always grew so wistful when she talked of Ddraig Goch. The sadness that had set in her eyes from years of gruelling work dimmed slightly with talk of the white dragon’s downfall. Her mother looked at her with her ever-changing eyes so much like her own. That day they were a swirling grey like the storm in winter.