Allt-y-Frenhines

In the days when schools were choc-a-block with scholars not scalawags, a little student called Owen was walking home from his classes at Gelligaer.

It was a pleasant January afternoon, the New Year still nodding, and the lad was crossing the mountain to Bargoed, when, in less than half-a-mo, a thick mist fell. Owen sat down awhile, waiting for the mist to clear because he didn’t have the foggiest idea where he was.

With that, a beautiful maiden appeared wearing a white gown fringed with pink. The boy was as bright as a button and soon fathomed his good fortune because only once in a blue moon is a fair queen seen.

The Brenhines beckoned Owen to follow, and being no more than the shadow of a snowflake, she floated through the forest until they came to her home in the back of beyond.

The court was formed from leaves and plants and the casements were curtained with the costliest silk. Circling the palace was a hedge of thorny briars to prickle meddlers (squirrels and snakes, badgers and bad children,) who poke their noses into fairy business. The little courtyard garden was snowed under with daisies, the day’s waking eye, to match the Brenhines’ gown.

Owen was thinking how lucky it was said to be, to see the first daisy of the year when he slipped on careless foot. The luckless lad tumbled topsy-turvy into the tiny fairy court, spilling it onto the four winds.

All that remains today is a scant patch of daisies, white tinged with pink, and for that reason the place is called Allt-y-Frenhines, the Queen’s Mountainside.

© copyright 2025 Your Tourism Community :: Design by Yvonne Tsang & Kate Watkiss. Powered by Your Tourism Community