Dick The Fiddler and the Crown-Piece of the Tylwyth Teg, Fairies in Welsh folklore and mythology, a tale from Llanidloes Wales
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Category: Fairies
Sub Category: Fairy money turned to Dross
Title: Dick The Fiddler and the Crown-Piece of the Tylwyth Teg

Dick the Fiddler was in the habit of going about the country to play at merry-makings, fairs and so forth.  After a week’s fuddle at Darowen, wending his way homeward, had to walk down ‘Fairy Green Lane,’ just above the farmstead of Cefn Cloddiau, and to banish fear, which he felt was gradually obtaining the mastery over him, instead of whistling, drew out from the skirt pocket of his long-tailed great coat his favourite instrument.  After tuning it, be commenced elbowing his way through his favourite air, Aden Ddu’r Fran (the Crow’s Black Wing).| When he passed over the green sward where the Tylwyth Têg, or Fairies, held their merry meetings, he heard something rattle in his fiddle and this something continued rattling and tinkling until he reached Llwybr Scriw Riw, his home, almost out of his senses at the fright caused by that everlasting ‘tink, rink, jink,’ which was ever sounding in his ears.  Having entered the cottage he soon heard music of a different kind, in the harsh angry voice of his better half who, justly incensed at his absence, began lecturing him in a style, which unfortunately, Dick, from habit, could not wholly appreciate.  He was called a worthless fool, a regular drunkard and idler.| ‘How is it possible for me to beg enough for myself and half a house-full of children nearly naked, while you go about the country and bring me nothing home?’ asked his wife.  ‘Hush, hush, my good woman,’ said Dick, ‘see what’s in the blessed old fiddle.’  She obeyed, shook it and out tumbled, to their great surprise, a five-shilling piece.  The wife looked up into her husband’s face, saw that it was ‘as pale as a sheet’ with fright. Noting that he had such an unusually large sum in his possession, she came to the conclusion that he could not live long and accordingly changed her style saying, ‘Good man go to Llanidloes tomorrow, it is market-day and buy some shirting for yourself, for it may never be your good fortune to have such a sum of money again.’| The following day, according to his wife’s wishes, Dick wended his way to Llanidloes, musing, as he went along, upon his extraordinary luck and unable to account for it.  Arriving in the town, he entered Richard Evans’s shop and called for shirting linen to the value of five shillings, for which he gave the shopkeeper the crown piece taken out of the fiddle.  Mr. Evans placed it in the till and our worthy Dick took himself to Betty Brunt’s public-house (now known as the Unicorn) in high glee with the capital piece of linen in the skirt pocket of his long-tailed top coat.  He had not, however, been long seated before Mr. Evans came in and made sharp enquiries as to how and where he obtained possession of the crown piece with which he had paid for the linen.  Dick assumed a solemn look, and then briefly related where and how he had received the coin.  ‘Say you so,’ said Evans, ‘I thought as much, for when I looked into the till, shortly after you left the shop, to my great surprise it was changed into a heap of musty horse dung.’

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