evenings, when their udders are dripping milk.)
‘Please let me come to your Birthday party my sweet, best friend; it’s my Birthday soon, but I won’t be at home and will miss it. Please!’ implores Myfanwy, ‘…let me come…’ Myfanwy breaks into song: ‘I just want to be with the dirty faced, common scruffy people…live with the filthy, lazy, skiving, common people. Dance, sing, drink, eat and puke with dirty, greedy, common people, common people like you like youuuu…’
‘Very funny Myfanwy,’ answers Blodwyn hands on hips; she was not afraid of the Queen of the Fairies changing into something frightening in order to get her own way. For Blodwyn knew a secret: a special secret that would stop the Queen of the Changelings transforming into something dangerous like a tiger, python or harpy eagle.
‘And for the last time stop calling me your little cariad,’ continues Blodwyn, ‘you are not my great aunt – besides I am a day older than you. You are still not coming to my birthday party and that’s final.’
‘Please my sweetest cariad…I shall just die…kill myself…or maybe have a nervous breakdown and need counseling if I am not invited. Now what dress can I wear?’ says Myfanwy again totally ignoring Blodwyn’s re-buffs.
‘Listen cloth-ears,’ says Blodwyn, ‘you…are…not…coming, you will just embarrass and annoy me.’
Myfanwy places her hands on her hips and huffs and puffs.
‘You are such a drama Queen – you are still not invited.’ Repeats Blodwyn. She could see her friend getting up steam, as if to acquire the right pressure to force out a few tears. She studied her once best friend and nearly burst out laughing – how Myfanwy Jenkins had changed. There was a time that this rebuff would have sent the old Myfanwy into a genuine streaming veil of tears. That is before she had been chosen by the Lings and Fairies to be their new Queen; now she was as bold as brass and as common as muck.
‘Look,’ says Blodwyn, beginning to feel sorry for her best friend. ‘You would not be able to come anyway – there can’t be two Myfanwy’s Jenkins in Tala Pandy or at my birthday party – don’t forget the Silky Changeling masquerading as you is now accepted by your parents as the real Myfanwy – she will have to be invited.’
Myfanwy smiles sweetly; she knew Blodwyn was weakening.
‘I am Queen of the Fairies and the Lings – all Silky Changelings are kin and take commands from me. I have already instructed the Silky posing as me. We are to meet by the river bank under the willow’s leafy weeps. The Silky will undress,’ continues Myfanwy working herself into a high state of excitement at the thought of the party. ‘I will put on the Silky’s clothes, chosen by me in advance and come to your birthday party. The naked Silky will slip into the River Pandy and swim underwater out to sea to meet up with her own kind for the evening.’
Suddenly a possible solution to Blodwyn’s other dilemma came to her. She thought about the Sillian. Perhaps, just perhaps, the Queen of Fairies could help?
Blodwyn relents. ‘Ok, you can come to my seventeenth Birthday party, but on certain conditions.’
‘Anything – anything, I will even kill myself if you asked me to,’ answers Myfanwy skipping and hopping with excitement. ‘I will always be grateful…unless I forget of course.’
‘Now,’ says Blodwyn, ‘I want you to promise you are not going to swear, threaten to gob on anyone or bite anyone – especially my male cousins. You are not to have wind, eat or drink too much. You are not to shove a drumstick down anyone’s throat while they are speaking to you and lastly, none of your childish sayings – I mean it Myfanwy or I will murder you myself! … Understand?’
‘Bloody-hell…oops sorry,’ interrupts Myfanwy. ‘I can’t’ remember all those rules and conditions!’
‘Yes or no?’ demands Blodwyn.
‘Yes – yes my dearest friend – I will do everything you
‘Please let me come to your Birthday party my sweet, best friend; it’s my Birthday soon, but I won’t be at home and will miss it. Please!’ implores Myfanwy, ‘…let me come…’ Myfanwy breaks into song: ‘I just want to be with the dirty faced, common scruffy people…live with the filthy, lazy, skiving, common people. Dance, sing, drink, eat and puke with dirty, greedy, common people, common people like you like youuuu…’
‘Very funny Myfanwy,’ answers Blodwyn hands on hips; she was not afraid of the Queen of the Fairies changing into something frightening in order to get her own way. For Blodwyn knew a secret: a special secret that would stop the Queen of the Changelings transforming into something dangerous like a tiger, python or harpy eagle.
‘And for the last time stop calling me your little cariad,’ continues Blodwyn, ‘you are not my great aunt – besides I am a day older than you. You are still not coming to my birthday party and that’s final.’
‘Please my sweetest cariad…I shall just die…kill myself…or maybe have a nervous breakdown and need counseling if I am not invited. Now what dress can I wear?’ says Myfanwy again totally ignoring Blodwyn’s re-buffs.
‘Listen cloth-ears,’ says Blodwyn, ‘you…are…not…coming, you will just embarrass and annoy me.’
Myfanwy places her hands on her hips and huffs and puffs.
‘You are such a drama Queen – you are still not invited.’ Repeats Blodwyn. She could see her friend getting up steam, as if to acquire the right pressure to force out a few tears. She studied her once best friend and nearly burst out laughing – how Myfanwy Jenkins had changed. There was a time that this rebuff would have sent the old Myfanwy into a genuine streaming veil of tears. That is before she had been chosen by the Lings and Fairies to be their new Queen; now she was as bold as brass and as common as muck.
‘Look,’ says Blodwyn, beginning to feel sorry for her best friend. ‘You would not be able to come anyway – there can’t be two Myfanwy’s Jenkins in Tala Pandy or at my birthday party – don’t forget the Silky Changeling masquerading as you is now accepted by your parents as the real Myfanwy – she will have to be invited.’
Myfanwy smiles sweetly; she knew Blodwyn was weakening.
‘I am Queen of the Fairies and the Lings – all Silky Changelings are kin and take commands from me. I have already instructed the Silky posing as me. We are to meet by the river bank under the willow’s leafy weeps. The Silky will undress,’ continues Myfanwy working herself into a high state of excitement at the thought of the party. ‘I will put on the Silky’s clothes, chosen by me in advance and come to your birthday party. The naked Silky will slip into the River Pandy and swim underwater out to sea to meet up with her own kind for the evening.’
Suddenly a possible solution to Blodwyn’s other dilemma came to her. She thought about the Sillian. Perhaps, just perhaps, the Queen of Fairies could help?
Blodwyn relents. ‘Ok, you can come to my seventeenth Birthday party, but on certain conditions.’
‘Anything – anything, I will even kill myself if you asked me to,’ answers Myfanwy skipping and hopping with excitement. ‘I will always be grateful…unless I forget of course.’
‘Now,’ says Blodwyn, ‘I want you to promise you are not going to swear, threaten to gob on anyone or bite anyone – especially my male cousins. You are not to have wind, eat or drink too much. You are not to shove a drumstick down anyone’s throat while they are speaking to you and lastly, none of your childish sayings – I mean it Myfanwy or I will murder you myself! … Understand?’
‘Bloody-hell…oops sorry,’ interrupts Myfanwy. ‘I can’t’ remember all those rules and conditions!’
‘Yes or no?’ demands Blodwyn.
‘Yes – yes my dearest friend – I will do everything you
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