In the Tale of Taliesin, Ceridwen visits the Druids to obtain the recipe for making the magical brew of Awen. The Druids she visits were in a crystal tower. This short story is a tale of that Tower.
For those who are interested, I’ve used places near Snowdon, north Wales as I felt these were appropriate to the tale; however there is no proof that these places existed, or how the Crystal Tower was actually built.
Aelron’s coracle finally touched the shoreline. With youth and vigour he swiftly jumped out, not heeding the cold water of Llyn Padam that seeped into his leather boots, or the icy drips that ran down his neck. He looked back out to the lake, to see his older comrades still working their way towards the shore. It was easy for him, being just a few years into puberty and the wisps of a beard starting to show. He also realised that when his friends did finally get here, they would be cold, tired and complaining – like always – and that perhaps a fire might warm their more aged bones. So he set to, gathering the firewood and arranging it on the beach.
After a little while, the small pyre stood proud. Aelron’s colleagues were still a little way from the shore, but he reckoned that if he got the fire going now it would be ready for them. He looked round – no-one else visible. So he turned back to the fire, held his palms and closed his eyes.
There was a crackle, then a fwoof! Aerlon opened his eyes and saw that the neat pile of wood was scattered around… but no fire. He sighed and started to gather the wood again. Once more the pyre was ready and once more he looked round – no-one else visible. Crackle… fwoof! Aerlon huffed aloud.
“Of course, it would work if I didn’t keep putting it out.”
Aerlon spun round, to see the long, grey beard, matted with ice and water. He knew who it was, even if he didn’t see the eyes, smiling kindly at him through deep wrinkles.
“Young Aerlon, you need to remember that your magic is not a shortcut and that learning the true art of fire lighting may actually save your life.”
“But master, surely as a Druid, a Fferyllt, I would be safe and respected?”
“It might have been thought so, but many are frightened of magic and you are still young; you don’t have the gravitas that we might think we have. That is why we stay into the shadows, out of the view of most people. Now, Maella is nearly upon the shore, so we must have the fire in readiness for him.”
Aerlon gathered the sticks once more, this time, using two stones to spark to get the fire going. Beneath that large mass of hair, the Master Druid smiled.
Later that evening, the four druids sat round the fire. Aerlon was ready to be dispatched to catch rabbits for the meal – but Bryn had delivered a massive fish that would feed them all (“It landed in my Coracle and refused to leave. It near drowned me thrashing about!”) As they all sat silently staring into the embers, looking for messages and meanings as the red and black colours danced seductively, Aerlon looked back out to the lake.
“Clouds are forming; she’s coming”
The three Druid masters turned back to also look out. Bryn looked to Gawain and to Maella, then to Aerlon. “Explain”, he asked.
Aerlon reached into the depths of his mind and recalled the information he had learned whilst in that dark hut two summers past.
“The big cloud – there – and that cloud – there – they are not in normal position. For their size and colour they should be lower to the ground with a flat base; the anvil shape is inverted. They are parted as a goddess would part water as she walks towards you; Ceridwen is coming as the bones told us.”
“Very good young Aerlon” said Maella. “Now, how far would you say she is?”
“Not hard sir; the first cloud just sits near Tal-y-bont; it is unlikely that Ceridwen would come straight over, more likely to come round as we had. Our crossing of the lake by coracle probably gave us an additional day’s grace.”
“Very good. So which direction should we aim for in the morning?”
Aerlon stood up. He looked to the mountain of Dinorwic to the north and to smaller Llanberis hills to the South – but then he saw the location. He raised his hand and pointed.
“There. The top.”
Bran looked at Maella and they both nodded and smiled. Bryn reached into his heavy coat and brought out a parchment. Carefully, he opened it up. Aerlon looked at it carefully; it was the first time he had seen this in his waking hour, but he was very familiar from his dreams. Bryn spoke
“Aerlon – I have been holding this parchment for many years. It was passed to me by my master and his master before him. We knew a time would come when this parchment would be read and understood by a Druid – I’d always assumed one with older years than you – and everything you have said has been described here. I show it to you now as I feel we are close. You have directed us to this place and without seeing this parchment you have exactly followed its directions. This is the time and you will lead us.”
Maella coughed. “All very exciting, but my bones are tired and they need to rest. Tomorrow this mountain goat will lead us and I will struggle to keep up – as will you Bran – So I must take my leave and rest now.”
Bran smiled. He was significantly older than Maella, but somehow he had never felt so old, perhaps it was the dreams he had. But it was time to sleep and dream.
In the morning they set off. Maella’s prophecy of Aerlon’s enthusiasm and energy (and his lack) proved true and it took them many hours to walk the constant uphill track to the top of the mountain. It was fortunate that the mountain had such a distinctive peak as the clouds had created a uniform grey which covered the sky in a blanket of nothingness. As they walked, the cloud level rose, always just a couple of yards above their heads so they could see false summits and turns on the path… and steep sides of the mountain either side. As they gathered at the top, they each looked out – to the North, to the South, the East and the West. Almost on command a small break in the grey sky appeared and a shaft of light illuminated a small clearing to the east.
“There!” cried Aerlon. The three other Druids nodded in agreement. They stood in a curved line, facing the lit ground. Maella raised his staff.
“To the spirits of the Earth, I ask that you part to allow the Crystal Tower to rise from the ground.”
He pointed his staff tip to the lit piece of ground – and a green spark shot from the staff and landed square on the mark. The ground started to move, to shake and vibrate and cracks started to appear.
Bran raised his staff.
“To the spirits of the sky, I thank you for showing us this location and we ask that you assist the earth guardians in softening the ground and splitting the rocks to build the Crystal Tower.”
He too pointed his staff. Two yellow sparks leapt from the staff – one towards the shaking earth, the other straight into the gap in the sky. A very concentrated bolt of lightning flew from the hole in the clouds, straight into the crack in the earth.
Bryn raised his staff.
“To the spirits of the water, I ask that you provide the building materials to construct our crystal tower, the particles becoming harder than diamond yet as soft as water”
As the three blue sparks left Bryn’s pointed stick, the Tower started to take shape. Bryn’s first spark hit the sky and the rain started to fall; the second spark hit the ground and the rocks started to rise through the fast softening earth; the third spark hovered between, creating a swirling vortex.
Maella called out.
“Now Aerlon – your turn!”
Aerlon raised his staff. His eyes closed and his thoughts became separate. He felt the Fire spirits enter his body – heating him, engaging him, warming the passion, an intense anger and strength – a focus of control. He felt himself shake uncontrollably and it was as much as he could do to stand up and hold his staff. His eyes burned red, his skin felt like it was melting from his burning bones – these Fire spirits were so intensive… and yet he knew that this was his turn and he pointed his staff to that spot. Immediately Aerlon felt the rush of the fire spirits as they seized their target in their sights and rushed headlong. Aerlon felt the energy drain from his body so very quickly, so very fast and he collapsed to the ground, the sense of cold flooding is body to fill the vacuum left by the fire spirits. The three other druids stood firm, rooted to the spot watching the fire spirits play amongst the water droplets and lightning bolts, building the Tower of Crystal before their eyes.
And yet in a small moment that lasted forever it was over. The tower was ready. Maella picked up the slumped body of Aerlon, the earth spirits filling Maella with the energy to carry their fourth colleague and they walked to the tower.
“I do hope we can light a fire in there” said Maella. “My bones feel cold.”
“What, again?” smiled Bryn.
To provide further inspiration, I also had a go at building my own Crystal tower:
Maella in readiness for Ceridwen's visit
The Crystal Tower
