Behold Arawn, Lord of Annwn, the most glorious and graceful of men ever known. He is not smaller in sizethan two of the men of this world, his skin as white as the purest of milk and silken to the touch. His hair thoughslightly longer than mortal men wear, is the colour of the richest and most fertile soil of the Mother. His body leanand well formed for his size, with muscles easily capable of wielding his mighty and bejewelled sword, set with themost magnificent of oval cut black obsidian, as dark as blackest night, as though a small piece of the abyss itself. Yetthis is the only piece of beauty or opulence for which Arawn owns, for his clothes are plain and simple, as though thatworn by a peasant. His boots are old and many paths worn, cacked with mud and dirt from many rhealms travelled,and about him billows a heavy cloak, grey and unassumed for his position as Ruler of the Mighty Underworld, Lord ofthe Rhealm of Œlve, and Leader of the Wild Hunt.

Arawn speaks: “In the distance, not too far from here, stands a forest wild, thicker than you have ever seen, itsgrowth unmatched and grand. Within it stands the mightiest of oaks, making those of your world look like meresaplings. The ground cover, although thick and difficult to traverse by mortal feet, is scattered throughout by the mostwondrous of wildflowers, in the most glorious bejewelled colours the eye has ever seen. Delicately they poke throughthe thick bladed grass, a miraculous achievement in itself for something so fine not to be torn to shreds by the jaggedweed-grass as they reach for small rays of sunlight squeezing through the lush-green canopy above. The wildwood,although silent and still at first hearing, contains within a myriad of sound from its enchanted occupants. Beyond thesweet song of bird and insect, never before seen before mortal, thus yet to be named, inhabits the most magnificent andwondrous creature amidst those known, thus named. Wild young buck on the heels of a glorious stag, eager to learnthe ways of his divine father, hare as white as the purest unwalked snow, flitting in and out of crevice of tree andburrow of earth, as though fleeing for their lives, yet simply engaged in the chase of youth and laughter. Butterfly’sdance the most graceful of ballet, their wings beholding nature’s divine composition of intricate colour and pattern,even the most noble of artesian could naught match.

This enchanted forest, said place of glory and wonder, standing upon the edge of world and rhealm, is knownby name of which cannot be pronounced by mortal tongue, and thus is simply known as that of Elven-wood. Itslocation unfixed and unknown, no matter where ye be in mortal rhealm, lose your wits and direction known, cansuddenly and unawaredly, find yourself within its thicket, and unable to neither see sun nor star above, through itsheavy cover, ye wilt be unable to find your way out again. Yet do naught delay by the beauty wild and the glory beforeunbeheld, as soon, with naught knowing, the pull of the unseen and enchanted shall have you within its deepest, itsthickest, its most wondrous and divine, though also, its darkest reaches and most centre of centres. As there stands agate, a doorway between rhealm of mortal and magick. Here at the heart of the wood be that of a well, a simple well,not unlike that of a thousand before seen, and its guardian, its keeper, its enchanted mistress, is She known only as the“Black Lady of the Fountain”. And it is through She that you must persuade to get to Me, as step beyond, through,down, direction ye wilt naught tell, and you will find yourself in the Rhealm of Œlve, a mystical rhealm of glory,enchantment and magick, called also that of the Rhealm of Færie, Annwn, Dyfed, and the Great Underworld, wherereside the immortal, the divine, the most graceful and beautiful of peoples known, and in our keeping and care are alsothose of whom you have named “the dead”, and these are our beloved children.

In a time long ago, before many centuries gone, the magickal creatures of my world were stolen byunknown foe. This therein led to a series of events which spiralled far and beyond out of control, and ashamed of

behaviour of those involved of position. Said war occurred within the sacred boarders of the Œlve, of my belovedAnnwn, and though Her land has faded the blood-soaked stains, the birds have ceased their screaming, and thewoodland creatures have returned from their places of hiding, these said events wilt naught be forgotten andtheir memory remains a wound upon our land. So great and horrendous was thus war, that word of suchreached the far off rhealm of man, yet though through kindness of time, of favour of distance for which the talehad to travel, it is now simply a shadow of events, a story of prose, a wondrous myth, told naught known if oftruth, by that of the Great Bard Taliesin, in which to spare the honour of those ashamedly involved, named

them by their sacred associations of the grand and ancient. The horrific events which occurredwithin Annwn are now as the “Cad Goddeau”, or “Battle of the Trees”, and Gwydion; Bran;

Dagda; Artemis, all those involved, including myself, have blessed him, that no man nor Godshalt be known in higher-esteem of prose than he for such kindness.

But this has long since past, and peace and magick have returned tomy land. And the rhealm of man have forgotten us naught, though to most we are now

but mere story, a whispered shadow of a time when they knew us to be truth, a tale of the Fey,now come to be a Faerie Tale. Yet are still those of the true, the ways of ancient and old, magick

and mystery, those still are under our Blessed care, as they know not only that we are still here, yet also pay usdue honour and worth. To these do I extend our care and protection, love and aid, enchantment and embrace.

Yet when ye Yule Tide winds blow, be ye mortal ancient, or naught, be ye beast wild or tame, be yeman; bird; flower; or tree, know that there is a hunt afoot. As deep within the Elven-wood, the wind begins tobuild and howl, the leaves rustle and the trees bend, and wood-homed within rush forth to their burrows, caverns,

and places of safe-haven. Even the Black Lady of the Fountain Herself seeks shelter, as She knows what is to comeonce the magickal storm reaches its zenith. As from the Gate and through Rhealms Veil, comes Me, Arawn, Lord ofAnnwn, and the Hunt is on. As once in the Wheel, when the yule-log burns, ye sing of holly and evergreen, thoughthere is a tradition naught ye wish to forget, and that is the one of Me.

Mounted upon a mighty steed, of pure muscle and majesty,More white and pure than ye’ve seen, a creature of unmatched esteem.And upon him I ride in pride and glory, with naught to protect save my cloak,As this is a story with only one end, I am the victor over all folk.

And at steeds heels race mine hounds of nine, wound tight with the excitement of chase,Naught have ye seen such as them before, as they were born of a magickal place.Their hair is white, their bodies lean, their ears the colour of blood-red,And wondrous companion they be of their Lord, the “Cwn Annwn” foretell coming dread.

We ride in magick, we ride in might,We ride each year upon Yule-Tide night.And those not locked tightly indoors are nigh safe,We ride this night to seek mortal of face.

This is a hunt for companion and friend,A hunt to collect those to be of Annwn.And do naught forget, those in rhealm occupied,Are those crossed-beyond, are those whom have died.

Gather and collect whomever we meet,To take back to Œlve and live in beauty.Yet for thee to achieve, an once we find,My sweet mortal-friend, ye must thus therein die.

And the hunt it last till Twelfth-Day night,From Yule till then, we hunt and we blight.Then hence-forth we all return to the wood,With all souls gathered of Lord of Grey-Hood.

Then magickal-storm wilt slowly ease,And again to find Me, ye must Lady appease.As this is the hunt, this is the chase,The Wild-Hunt of Annwn, to gather soul mortal-face.

It was upon such a hunt that I first encountered the man I now hold dear to my heart. Yet the prey wasnaught man upon said day, yet that of the Stag. The greatest of beast proved a noble foe, and led us on a mighty

chase. Yet near to capture, our opponent stolen from us, intercepted by he of another party, firstly though angered,we since became friend. Yet that of King Pwyll and I be another tale.

Though once in a year ye hide from me save eminent fate, do naught forget me, for I art thy beloved. Whenage and time weary thee, we wilt be united. Or wander off course of road built of men, and find ye in wood of Œlve,

come to me and know magick and love unimagined, as though path to me matter naught, ye destination be true. Iwill ease thy weariness, revive thy strength and remove the burdens carried of mortal life with thine cauldronenchanted. And to Me then come of embrace, and live ye in peace and glory amongst my children, as I am thyfather, thy lover, thy consort known, and yet to be beheld, I am Arawn, Lord of Annwn, I am the Grey-King of

Dyfed, I am Y Brehin Llwyd, I am Leader of the Wild Hunt, Lord of the Dead, God of the Underworld, andKing of the Œlve, I am yours.”