The Bard is one of the most revered positions in ancient myths and legends. It was not out of the question for many a hero to have one, or perhaps a minstrel traveling with them on their quests to compose the heroic tales as they happened. The hero may embark on the quest, the enchantress may cast a spell, and the creature may provide some necessary help along the way in acting as a scout, but the Bard was the one to retell the tale, granted with a few embellishments along the way, and in the process reveal deep truths and inspire others to their better angels.
In CS Lewis’ Till We Have Faces it was a Bard who appeared before Psyche’s sister Oreul and presented to her the account of Cupid and Psyche from the perspective to the gods and forced her to confront her jealousy and hubris that led her to plant seeds of doubt in her sister’s mind. In Return of the Jedi, C-3P0 took it upon himself to take on the role of a Bard and in relating the story of his friends and their struggle against the Empire, inspired the Ewoks to join their cause. In Andrew Peterson’s The Wingfeather Saga, a young girl named Leeli, the youngest child of the Wingfeather family, is designated the “Song-keeper” and it’s her job to preserve her family’s quest in the form of a song and make sure they are passed down from generation to generation. In fact, it could even be agreed that in composing their respective memoirs “There and Back Again: A Hobbits Tale” and “The Lord of the Rings” that Bilbo and Frodo Baggins essentially functioned as the Bardic role for Tolkien’s Middle-earth legendarium.
However, as with all artists there may be those who are not particularly good at the trade. In Monty Python and the Holy Grail for example, Sir Robin’s Minstrel not only annoys Sir Robin but the only thing he supplies to the Knights is a sustainable food source when Arthur and his knights are snowbound. This is naturally done more for comedic effect as typically in fantasies and myths, the heroes in question are supposed to represent the very best of our ideals, and to that end, the goal of the Bard is to relate not only the ideals but the truths of the myths and legends to those who may hear the tale.
In fact the final book in the Prydain chronicles, The High King, Lloyd Alexander even concludes his cycle by saying,
“Yet long afterward, when all had passed away into distant memory, there were many who wondered whether King Taran, Queen Eilonwy, and their companions had indeed walked the earth, or whether they had been no more than dreams in a tale set down to beguile children. And in time, only the bards know the truth of it.”
Now a days the term Bard, like many that hail from antiquity, has lost its meaning and impact due to misuse or misapplication as everyone from the lead singer of the latest flavor of the week pop band, to any anyone with a social media account is bestowed this appellation by their followers and fans. Jessica Ellis for MusicalExpert.org, surmised this cultural role within the Pre-Christian British isles, saying,
“A bard is a storyteller, poet, and usually musician, specifically from the Gaelic traditions of England, Scotland, and Ireland. The role is present in many cultures, however…(t)hroughout history, the bard has been associated with spiritual power and even magic, as well as with preserving the history of a culture and explaining the origins of the natural world…The term “bard” comes from an early Gaelic word that roughly translates as “to sing praise.” Originally, the term had a derogatory meaning, depicting a wastrel or transient singer. As bardic tradition in the Celtic world progressed, this person became a source of oral history as well as music and comedy. Some could also perform sleight of hand, and worked as all-around entertainers to nobility. Many of the Celtic bards were also the first writers; their few written compositions are most of what we authentically have from the ancient traditions that have not been altered over time…Bards put on the first one-man theater performances, in many respects. Unlike the Greek and Roman theater, which though highly evolved, needed a chorus and a great many characters and ceremonies, these individuals could captivate an audience with their voice, their story, and their music. In the tradition of all great storytellers, they could play their audience like a lute. Their capabilities as artists are probably what promoted the suggestions that they had supernatural ability; they were able to transport their audience within the story, something akin to magic in the thinking of that time.”
Among those who would know these “truth” in Alexander’s legendarium is the aspiring Bard, Fflewddur Fflam, or as he’s simply known in the books “Fflam”. His poetry featured in the story isn’t particularly good, and he doesn’t even appear to be particularly good at playing his instrument, as it mentions in narration of the Book of Three,
“Six harp strings broke at once, and the others strained so tautly they looked on the verge of snapping. While Taran saddled Melyngar, the bard set ruefully to work repairing his harp.”
This is not the first or only occurrence in the book, and in fact many times does a string snap or is the instrument so poorly out of tune it isn’t good for much else. Bards were not only revered as wordsmiths, but as court musicians. Thus, like any instrumentalist, being able to well care for and maintain one’s instrument is paramount to their trade.
He even admits in The Book of Three that when it comes to his skill,
“Yes, that was one of the problems…I studied; I did quite well in the examinations…I did quite poorly…and the Council of Bards wouldn’t admit me. Really, they want you to know so much these days. Volumes and volumes of poetry, and chants and music and calculating the seasons, and history; and all kinds of alphabets you spell out on your fingers, and secret signs— a man couldn’t hope to cram it all into his skull…The Council were very nice to me,…Taliesin, the Chief Bard himself, presented me with this harp. He said it was exactly what I needed. I sometimes wonder if he was really doing me a favor. It’s a very nice harp, but I have such trouble with the strings. I’d throw it away and get another, but it has a beautiful tone; I should never find one as good. If only the beastly strings…”
However, his inability to compose a good poem, perform a great ballad or properly care for his instrument go beyond something much more then mere talent, and tie deeper back to Fflam’s literary roots within Welsh legend. In the Welsh epics, Fflam’s harp and his lack of talents came as a cruse from one of the greatest Bards in the British Isles, the famed Taliesin.
Through his connection to Taliesin the aspiring bard has a deep connection to other bards, seers, and even wizards throughout the British Isles, including the fabled Merlin of Arthurian lore. In fact, in the final book of the saga Taliesin himself appears to provide council to the heroes of Prydain, and meeting him is treated with the same level of reverence and awe that Bilbo, Frodo and the other Hobbits have upon meeting Elrond in the Lord of the Rings or that Edmund, Lucy, Eustace and Caspian have in meeting Ramandu the star in Voyage of the Dawn Treader. Here is a person of great power and skill, a leader in their world and more importantly a wise and revered counselor who can give them advice for the next stage of their journey. This appearance, and indeed the references to Taliesin come as a surprise to many readers, not only because of the relative obscurity of Welsh mythical figures compared to the likes of Hercules, Thor, King Arthur and Robin Hood that still appear in pop-culture, but because save for the appearance of say, Father Christmas or Bacchus in The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe and Prince Caspian respectively, most fantasy writers tend to populate their imaginary worlds with characters of their own creation save for the occasional appearance of stock figures like elves, dwarves, centaurs and unicorns.
Llyod Alexander even admitted as much in his Author’s note from the book The High King,
“As for Prydain itself, part Wales as it is, but more as it never was: at first, I thought it a small land existing only in my imagination. Since then, for me it has become much larger. While it grew from Welsh legend, it has boarded it my attempt to make a land of fantasy relevant to a world of reality…The first friends of the Companions are as steadfast today’s they were in the beginning; many I thought were new have turned out to be old friends all along.”
Taliesin is one of these many “old friends”, and in fact, in the myths of British isles he was one of the most revered figures in the lore, on par with the likes of King Arthur and Merlin. Even his challenges to the other bards throughout the Welsh sagas feel more like Gandalf facing off against Saruman the White, or Harry Potter engaging in a duel against Voldemort then a pair of college students in poetry slam at a coffee house.
Of the poems attributed to this legendary bard, chief among them is “The Battle of the Trees”, in which Gwydion the wizard summons an army of trees to battle Arawn. Not only was this poem within the backbone of the Prydain Chronicles, it is believed that this was the basis for the Ents in Tolkien’s Middle-earth and served as inspiration for the song “Duel of the Fates” from Star Wars: Episode I: The Phantom Menace.
The opening stanzas of this poem read,
“I have been in a multitude of shapes,
Before I assumed a consistent form.
I have been a sword, narrow, variegated,
I will believe when it is apparent.
I have been a tear in the air,
I have been the dullest of stars.
I have been a word among letters,
I have been a book in the origin.
I have been the light of lanterns,
A year and a half.
I have been a continuing bridge,
Over three score Abers.2
I have been a course, I have been an eagle.
I have been a coracle in the seas:
I have been compliant in the banquet.
I have been a drop in a shower;
I have been a sword in the grasp of the hand
I have been a shield in battle.
I have been a string in a harp,
Disguised for nine years.
in water, in foam.
I have been sponge in the fire,
I have been wood in the covert.
I am not he who will not sing of
A combat though small,
The conflict in the battle of Godeu of sprigs.
Against the Guledig of Prydain,3
There passed central horses,
Fleets full of riches.”
As Dianne Evanochko notes in the article “Taliesin” for the Robbins Library at The University of Rochester’s Camelot Project,
` “Taliesin “of the shining brow” is a mytho-historical character generally associated with early Wales and North Western Britain in the 6th century AD. He is a figure belonging to both history, as an important Old Welsh court poet, and to mythology, as a magician and seer in both Celtic and Arthurian legend. The fictive and quasi-fictive literature that uses Taliesin, as either a significant or minor character, often combines these two aspects to varying degrees: he is depicted as both a poet (though rarely in the historically accurate court) and as a seer in possession of magical or seemingly magical powers and knowledge. However, historians and literary scholars are careful to keep the two figures separate…Taliesin Ben Beirdd (chief of the bards), as Taliesin the poet is also known, is considered one of the most significant Old Welsh bards. The poems associated with him are perhaps the oldest surviving Old Welsh poems and because of this some scholars of Welsh literary tradition, such as Saunder’s Lewis, have referred to the Welsh poetic tradition that followed.”
Unbeknownst to many, the figure of “Ffewddur Fflam” actually appears within Welsh mythology. Due to the complexities of the language these works, and the limited number of translations due to those aforementioned complexities, are often difficult to read at great leisure. Further, there appears to have been no Homer, or Sophocles like there with Greek myths and Legends nor was there a poet like Snorri Sturluson with the Nordic sagas who sought preserved the legends of the Scandinavians countries as the old language eventually died out.
Many of these stories have been lost to time and as Dimitra Fimi notes in Lloyd Alexander’s The Chronicles of Prydain: Building Fantasy Upon Forgery” from the book Celtic Myth in Contemporary Children’s Literature,
“Unfortunately, though, many of the names and plot-lines preserved in the Triads remain frustratingly obscure. Once the story they refer to is lost, scholars are left only with names and allusions to a tale that cannot be reconstructed with certainty. And that makes them ideal material or Lloyd Alexander to engage with and imaginatively “fill in the gaps”…The Welsh triads provided Lloyd Alexander with another important name: Flewddur Fflam, the bard with the magic harp that keeps him in check when he tries to elaborate upon the truth. This is another character that appears in name only ( twice) in The Mabingion, but Triad 9 provides further information. In that triad Flewdur Fflam is listed as the third of “the Three Chieftains of Arthur’s Court.”…(t)he triad fleshes out Fflewdur Fflam a little more. He is a sovereign, who prefers to serves a knight in Arthur’s court rather than be a King in his Own Kingdom. Llyod Alexanders Fflewddur Fflam is also not just a bard, but a king….Alexander then seems to have found an inventive way to explain Fflewdddur Fflam’s double status, which largely agrees with the triad.”
However, despite his apparent lack of skills, due to his initial training as a bard, Fflam soon assumes the role of acting as Taran’s councilor on the journey. Further, like other great mentor figures, he doesn’t just instruct his young charges in matters pertaining exclusively to their quest, but also regarding affairs of the heart. He is more than aware of Taran and Elionwy’s true feelings for each other. One cannot accompany two young people like them and not see the chemistry and the sparks that fly and see that they are in fact a mask for something much deeper. As a bard he has heard his share of stories and songs of true love and recognizes all the hallmarks between his young charges. These are not star-crossed lovers whose love has been forbidden my societal constraints, but two people who deeply care about each other.
As their mentor he has vested interest not only in them as heroes of Prydain but as people. To that end he is more than willing to guide them in becoming better people, the kind worthy of being sung about in great songs and tales. For it is Taran and Eilonwy who will shape the fortunes of Prydain for the future, one that he can only hope is better than the one in which they currently dwell. Thus, he can only help but urge them to heed the warnings from other great stories, and to be honest with themselves and each other.
For this reason alone, in The Castle of Llyr he is actually surprised to find out that Eilonwy has been promised to Prince Rhun, telling Taran,
“Oho…so that’s the way the wind blows! Strange…I had always hoped that if Eilonwy were betrothed to anyone it would be— yes, well, what I mean to say is that despite all the squabbling and bickering between the two of you, I had rather expected… Look closer into your heart. You may find your opinion to be somewhat different.”
Of Taran’s small company he also is the most well-traveled. While up until his journey in The Book of Three Taran had not travelled beyond the forest, and Eilonwy remained in the castle of her wicked aunt, Fflam at least traveled the wide world of Prydain, trying his best to gather and collect stories and compose new epic tales to tell around the fire.
This is a point well acknowledged after they have retrieved the eponymous Cauldron in The Black Cauldron. They have reached an immensely choppy body of water, and it is feeling as if there is no way for them to cross, especially with the cauldron. Taran wonders if it was worth it, and Elionwy hopes the sacrifice her friend made are not in vain.
To this end, Fflam informs them,
“If I’m not mistaken…that must be the River Tevvyn. I’ve crossed it farther to the north, where it takes its source. Surprising, the bits of information you pick up as a wandering bard…Alas, it does us no good, my friend…unless we could turn north again and cross where the river is less wide. Afraid that wouldn’t answer…We’d have the mountains to go over, that way.If we’re to cross at all, we shall have to do it here.”
He’s also aware that should someone take or steal the artifact sought by the Death Lord, that Taran and Elionwy will be safe. He assures them of as much when Prince steals the cauldron rom them on the quest in hopes of destroying it and the young duo believes they are in danger when he builds a fire to keep them warm,
“It was either build a fire or let you freeze to death…so of course we decided on the first. At this point…I doubt it can make too much difference. Since the cauldron is out of our hands, I don’t believe Arawn will have quite the same interest in us. Happily, I might say…Where is the Crochan?…And if you ask where he is…we can answer you very quickly: we do not know….Good riddance to them…I don’t know which is worse, the Crochan or Ellidyr. Now, at least, they’re both together.”
Later in The Castle of Lyr, Taran and his friends encounter a giant mountain cat, Llyan, in their quest to save Elionwy from her wicked aunt. There appears to be no way to pass the great beast until Fflam literally uses his music to calm the savage beast. While Taran is overjoyed, Fflam understands the gravity of the situation.
Quickly, he orders them,
“That’s the answer! Fly friends, while she’s quiet!…I doubt the rest of you will have trouble. Alas..I fear I’m the one she wants to keep!…Fly from here!…Begone! I’ve no idea how long she’ll want to listen-or how long I can keep playing!…Begone!…I’ll play as long as I can. By then, if she’s decided not to gobble me, she my go hunting. Don’t worry if the harp fails, I’ll think of something else.”
Luckily for Fflam he is not forced to remaining the clutches of the Llyan forever, playing his enchanted Harp until his death. Having played every song he knew, and told every tale, he managed to lull the cat to sleep, and then seizing an opportunity slew the beast and quickly reunited with Taran and the company, an act both he and Taran admitted was regrettable as the Llyan was a very a magnificent and beautiful beast. However, it is later revealed to be nothing more than an exaggeration on his part, as he did not kill the beast but rather, tamed it into submission with his songs finding or them a worthy ally in the great cat.
Further when it comes to their interactions with the three Enchantresses who guard the Cauldron, in The Black Cauldron, he demonstrates some knowledge based on lore in regards to one of their illusions. Returning to the cottage, Taran and Elionwy assume that the stunningly beautiful forms they see in the window are their true forms. These maidens, as it is revealed, are the Welsh equivalent of the Fates from Greek myth, and the Norns from the Nordic Sagas, and as such will often appear as withered old crones, spinning their threads of destiny. However, like those threads of destiny and fate itself, it can be both terrifying and beautiful at the same time. Further, this may also allude to how in some of the earliest telling of the old legends, the old soothsayers may have started out ugly but over time, they gradually grew more beautiful and more beguiling in the telling.
Fflam appears surprised by this, telling his young friends,
“I’ve heard of hags trying to disguise themselves as beautiful maidens… but I’ve never heard of beautiful maidens wanting to disguise themselves as hags. It isn’t natural, and I don’t mind telling you it makes me edgy. I think we’d better seize the cauldron and be gone… If they sleep…Now that I’ve seen this, nothing would surprise me, not even if they hung by their toes all night, like bats.”
From this encounter he learned that there can be more to things that meet the eye, and a simple hut by the wayside may point the way to destiny, but that destiny may come at a cost and with great peril. Because of this encounter, in The Castle of Lyr as he Taran and Gurgi accompany Prince Rhun to rescue Elionwy he informs the foolhardy prince,
“And I advise you to stay away from strange huts…last time I was in one, I almost got changed into a toad…Shun them-huts that is…You never know what disagreeable thing you’ll run into-and by the time you find out, it’s too late.”
However, despite how much he may love being a bard, and as much as he’s willing to try his best and claim it as his calling, eve his friends seem to understand that despite his best efforts, Fflam’s skills are not truly as a bard. He may be good at running messages, but as a warrior he is highly respected, much to his own surprise. When one refers to Shakespeare as the Brad of Avon, few imagine him fighting in the battle of Agincourt alongside King Henry V but rather recall the inspiration felt in the kings “St. Crispins Day speech “as he martials his army to war. Fflam does not have that ability, despite his best efforts.
He even offers his skills as a bard in the Black Cauldron when Gwydion chooses him to be part of their quest for the eponymous Black Cauldron saying,
“Of course!..I saw the whole thing immediately! You’ll need warriors, naturally,to fetch out that disgusting cauldron. But you’ll need a bard to compose the heroic chants of victory. I accept! Delighted!”
To his dismay, he learns that his old friend has not chosen him for his skills as a Bard, but for his reputation with a sword. Taran even acknowledged in the previous novel that it was Fflam and Gurgi who proved to be the better fighters and swordsmen then he, and Gwydion is in need of that skill more than his skill as a mediocre Bard.
This is a truth of which Flam is more then aware, as he admits,
“How’s that?…Oh, I see…Yes, well, I don’t deny a certain reputation along those lines. A Fflam is always valiant! I’ve slashed my way through thousands”— he glanced uneasily at the harp— “well, ah, shall we say numerous enemies.”
Further his arcane knowledge of enchanted artifacts is incredibly limited. It was expected of Bards to know how to use every talisman, relic and artifact heroes came across in their journeys, but Fflam is just as befuddled as Taran. This is best seen in The Castle of Llyr, when they wield the magical bauble that Elionwy possesses. Taran is baffled just by why writing appears only when the bauble shines and just why it lit for him and Prince Rhun.
Fflam informs him, as his own magical harp breaks yet another string, as according to legend should he ever be caught in a lie, the stings of his harp would snap,
“(T)he fact is: I know very little about them. Eilonwy of course has the gift of making light when she pleases. She’s half enchantress, you know, and the bauble does belong to her. For someone else, I wonder-and I’m only guessing, mind you-I wonder if it might have to do with-how shall I put it-not even thinking about it. Or about yourself.”
If anything, his knowledge tends to be more practical in its application than magical. Thus, in The Book of Three, aware of the fact he had bungled more than his share along the journey thus far, and with Elionwy and Gurgi already along for the ride, Taran does not wish to involve anyone else any more than necessary, especially a Bard who is not as skilled as he seems. He believes that it was his mistake that led to Gwydion’s apparent demise, as he figured he was in the dungeon.
However, Fllam has a different outlook, telling the boy,
“As I grasp the situation…I think you’re taking too much blame on yourself. You had no way of knowing Gwydion wasn’t in the dungeon.”
In fact, Fflam ends up more often than none coming across as more of an accidental hero in Taran’s quest. As he admits to Taran and Eilonwy in The Book of Three as they make their way out of the barrow,
“Ordinarily…I prefer to be in charge of this type of expedition myself. But…since you are acting for Lord Gwydion, I accept your authority as I would accept his…A Fflam is yours to command!…Forward, then!…And if we must give battle, so be it! Why, I’ve carved my way through walls of spearmen…”
However, no act he performs is more heroic then when Taran and his friends are stuck in a blinding snow storm and sure to catch their death. Tarna tries his best to keep Eilonwy awake, and even Gurgi is freezing. With no other choice Fflam becomes willing to make the ultimate personal sacrifice…it is at this moment that Fflam picks up his harp, plucks at it as if to make music and then breaks it upon his knee in order for them to build a fire from the wood.
His actions horrify Taran. For a Brad to break their harp, it is tantamount to a wizard having their staff broken, effectively robbing them of their power and skill. However, Fflam encourages him to think nothing of it, telling him,
“Don’t give it a second thought, the truth of the matter is that I’m delighted to be rid of it. I could never really play the thing, and it was am more a burden then anything else. Great Belin, I feel light as a feather with out it, believe me, I was never meant to be a bard in the first place so, all is for the best.”
Despite his claims to the contrary for Fflam it is a heart-breaking loss. His harp, and his stories were everything to him, as they are for any storyteller. In burning the harp, he gave up something precious to him so that he might save his friends so they could vanquish evil. This allowed him to have more than just the typical passive role favored by many bards, but rather become part of their journey. However, the next morning, he finds a small gift among the ashes, one that serves as a reminder to readers of just why we love stories like Llyod Alexander’s The Chronicles of Prydain.
As the book’ s narrator describes,
“Wordless and wondering the companions left their shelter. Fflewder lingered behind for a moment. Of the harp nothing remained but a single string, the one unbreakable string which Gwydion had given the bard long ago. Fflewdur knelt and drew it from the ashes… In the heat of the fire the harp string had twisted and coiled around itself, but it glittered like pure gold.”
No matter the twists and turns it may take, no matter the exaggerations, through it all there is a golden nugget of truth that permeates all great stories and makes us long not only for their consolation, but for their comfort and warmth they provide the heart and soul.
More importantly, like the great fantasy epics of the 20th Century from the likes of Tolkien, Lewis, L’Engle and Cooper, Alexander’s The Chronicles of Prydain not only provides consolation to readers in a world desperately needing it, but a world they seem to lack in the daily twenty-four hour news cycle. One in which virtue, honesty, bravery, courage, goodness, compassion and mercy are rewarded, and one in which good can triumph over evil. A world, ultimately, filled with a sense of hope amidst the darkness.
As Mary Lou Colbath concludes in “Worlds as They Should Be: Middle-earth, Narnia, and Prydain” from the December 1971 issue of Elementary English, citing both Llyod’ Alexander’s essay the Flat-healed Muse and Tolkien’s concept of the “Eucastrophe” from Tolkien’s “On Fairie Stories” that spoke of the joy and consolation children receive from fantasy epics,
“It would not seem to be inappropriate in this age that children be given the opportunity to find such Joy in their reading. Adults might do well to remember that in the mind of a twelve-year-old reader, certain acts are irrevocably fixed. Grim facts they are-that a long war is even now being waged; that there are ever present rumors of new war; that men discuss peace while building more guns and bombs, that violence and racial hatred are as near as his city street…Surely this young reader might be allowed’ the world as it should be’-a world ‘in which good is ultimately stronger than evil’ where courage, justice, love and mercy actually function.’ If the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts, so too, are the dreams-they must not be without hope.”
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PHOTO CREDIT:
1990. Dell Yearling. Jody Lee.
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This Blog is not authorized, endorsed, or approved by any entities involved the creation, development, distribution or ownership of the Chronicles of Prydain franchise. The views and opinions contained in this blog reflect those of the author and do not represent the views or ownership of the Lloyd Alexander Estate, Penguin Random House, Walt Disney Studios, and any other parties involved in the creation or ownership of The Chronicles of Prydain.
Jonathon D. Svendsen 