Three Sisters of Plynlimon

The Tale | Chapter one

 

Our story begins long ago, high up in the black mountains, on the windswept slopes of Mount Plynlimon…

 

One glorious morning, as the sun cast its first light of day upon the grassy valleys below, and birds soared in spirals through the calm summer breeze, Plynlimon couldn’t help but think there was something missing. Settled upon the highest point of Mid Wales, he could see for miles and miles across the beautiful landscapes beneath him. Everything seemed perfect. And then it dawned on him — there was no life flowing through his veins — not a river or water in sight. 

 

Plynlimon pondered long and hard about how he could bring flowing waters to his beloved valleys but could not find the answer. Years went by as he searched for the solution and his eyes filled with sadness at what seemed an unfathomable task. He felt helpless and put his head in his hands for a little while, contemplating what he should do next. But as he raised his head, almost fully composed, he blinked, and with that, three giant teardrops spilled from his eyes, splashing directly into his two palms. 

 

What happened next was quite extraordinary.

 

Plynlimon stared at the drops of moisture that had settled into small puddles, cradled in the palms of his hands. Warily he slowly began opening his fingers up, wide enough to allow the tears to trickle to the ground. But just seconds after the water had landed, large puddles started to form — three to be precise. The puddles got larger and deeper, muddier and boggier. He stared at the three pools in front of him, bewildered at how his eyes created such masterpieces. 

 

At that moment, Plynlimon understood his fate. He was the source of water; he just hadn’t known it.

 

Plynlimon made the decision to nourish and care for these water sources with the hope that, one day, they could venture from the mountain in form of rivers and add a splash of life to his beloved land. He claimed the magically formed pools as his offspring and named them Ystwyth, Wye and Severn — three water spirits. 

 

The daughters brought such joy to their father during their lifetime, but eventually the day came when Plynlimon knew that it was time for them to flee the hills and create paths to the sea. 

 

 

But suddenly it dawned on him. The pools that Plynlimon’s daughters had grown from were drying up, and overjoyed by his daughters’ existence, Plynlimon found he had no more tears left to cry. 

 

There was simply not enough water to form the rivers. He had to think fast.

 

He gathered the last bit of water in his hand and sat upon his rock. For many days and many nights, the doting father worked tirelessly with a needle and thread, looping, weaving and pulling at the droplets of water until finally, exhausted, he collapsed into a heap — three shimmering bundles in his arms.

 

Plynlimon beckoned Ystwyth, Severn and Wye and asked them the question they had been longing to hear:

 

“My daughters… the time has come for you to join with the sea.”

 

One by one he presented his daughters with their cloaks, gently placing each one over their heads and tying a delicate knot under their chins.

 

“Armed with these water cloaks, you will create your own paths and fulfil your destiny as water spirits. How will you make the journey?”

 

Bursting with glee, Ystwyth, the boldest and most fearless water spirit of the three, answered first:

 

“Father, I have been longing to reach the sea to smell the salty air for so long. I will head west and use the shortest route possible to meet the wide waters.”

 

With a proud nod of approval from Plynlimon, Ystwyth shot forth from the mountain, gathering pace as her cloak billowed behind her, forming a fresh stream of water. She weaved in and out of the rugged landscapes, meeting rich wildlife on her way before reaching the coast of Cardigan Bay, settling in a little town — which she later named Aberystwyth. 

 

Next up to fulfil their destiny was Severn who was elated at the thought of the fair folk she would encounter on her journey: 

 

“I will not rush to the shore; I wish to take the long route to the sea. For many years I have yearned to experience Welsh charm and wander the people’s great cities, beautiful towns and quaint villages to learn their ways. On my journey, I will water the meadows of the people and nourish their land.”

 

Her father embraced her and told her that they would meet again. As she said she would, Severn took her time gliding through towns and villages, before she and her cloak eventually flowed into the Bristol Channel. 

 

Lastly, having watched her two sisters burst from the mountain top, creating silver streams in their paths, Wye stepped forward:

 

“While Ystwyth is wild and Severn seeks culture, I intend to seek beauty and tranquillity by meandering through lush countryside, woodland and forest to make harmony with nature. Creatures will thrive as I flow through the purple hills and golden valleys, creating sanctuaries for them along the way. Wildlife may wander with me, swimming in my path to the sea.”

 

Plynlimon kissed his daughter and said goodbye. She turned, a pool of water forming behind her as she and began her journey  down the mountain side. 

 

She flowed for 185 miles, at one with nature, before uniting with her sister, Severn. They recounted their magical adventures and epic experiences through the fair land.  

 

Satisfied that he’d raised his three daughters with such unique and admirable qualities, but saddened that they had fled, the mighty Plynlimon let out a heavy sigh which trembled through the towns below him. He wondered when they would return to repeat their water cycles again.

 

 

To be continued…