That term at school, Peter and Sarah were unsettled. Everyone noticed it. Then just before Christmas, Mother came into their rooms to tell them that Aunt Myf was going to be married.
“To that nice Inspector?” asked Sarah.
“Yes. And then they will go to live in Newport.”
“What will happen to the cottage?” said Peter.
“Well, your Father and I have a surprise for you.”
By this time they were all sitting on Sarah’s bed. She called Father in.
“You tell,” he said.
“Father applied to work for the University of Wales at Aberystwyth, so we shall need somewhere to live, not too far from there as they have given him a Professorship.”
“Great!” said Peter.
“Fantastic!” said Sarah.
The wedding was set for the week after Christmas. They all went to Aunt Myf’s for the celebration and to help with the wedding preparations. It was the best Christmas ever.
Then the day of the wedding approached, the Saturday after Christmas. It was cold, but not bitterly cold. Father was to give Aunt Myf away, Peter and Sarah were page and bridesmaid and Mother was, naturally, maid of honour.
As Sarah looked in her jewel case, for something to match the deep blue of the velvet bridesmaid’s dress, she fumbled about and discovered:
“The ring!” she gasped, “The ring of concealment.”
She ran to find Peter. They had not spoken much of the events of the preceding summer, as there had been far too much to think about in the present.
“Anir’s ring!” she said, “What shall I do with it.”
“Let’s wait and see,” said Peter, straightening his tie.
“You look funny,” Sarah giggled.
Peter sighed.
“So do you. No, I don’t mean that. You look fine.”
Sarah replaced the ring among her jewelry and they left for the church.
Later, as the official photographer was posing them all: Aunt Myf resplendent in oyster satin and Tomos in his topper and tails, Peter and Sarah found themselves momentarily standing by an old yew.
“I’m freezing, Peter.”
“So am I. Let’s go back in the church.”
They were just about to do so, when someone cleared his throat behind them, someone standing behind the tree.
“Anir!” they gasped.
“Yes! And it’s good to see you two again.”
“We’ve got so much to ask,” whispered Peter.
“Well, I may one day have the time to tell you all the answers,” said Anir “but not now. Come to the ruins of the Bishop’s Palace at St. David’s at twilight on May the first, next year.”
“Is it your wedding?” asked Sarah.
“It is!” replied Anir, grinning from ear to ear, “But you had better get back to this one. It wouldn’t do for you to be seen talking to a tramp, now would it? Go on!”
Anir winked at them.
“Remember! May first, twilight.”
And he disappeared silently. Aunt Myf and her new husband were getting into their limousine and Mother and Father were waving at Peter and Sarah to ‘come on’.
The wedding feast passed merrily. The weeks passed and the months. Peter and Sarah went to a new school, locally. Peter began a coin collection. No more stones for him!
Father’s new job went very well and he said that his new book was to be about Ancient Greece and that they would all be going there in the summer.
“We’ve learnt our lesson,” he said.
And Mother joined in:
“Yes, as far as possible in the future, all our holidays will be family holidays. We shall be keeping a strict eye on both of you from now on.”
In April Aunt Myf began a bump that was to turn into Catrin. She did not go back to the study of Ancient Celtic history, but joined the horticultural society instead.
Mother spent her time, after she had done the cottage over, typing up Fathers books on the computer.
“Got to keep up with the new technology, haven’t I?” she said.
Then came the end of April and Peter and Sarah took Father on one side and told him about Anir and the invitation.
“Please! Oh please let us go!” they said, “Just this once!”
Father agreed, if it was ‘just this once’. But he had his suspicions. At any rate, 6 p.m. on May Ist found the four of them, for Mother had been persuaded to come also, parking the car just outside the Cathedral at St. David’s.
They went to the ruins and under the glimmer of the first stars, saw a grand procession of the most beautiful people.
“Ellyllon, Elves, The Family of Beauty,” muttered Father, as he held Mother tightly by the hand.
The ceremony had obviously taken place at Arx Emain. This was the procession to the honeymoon. The family followed. Aneryn was radiant in a white and silver gauze gown, studded with jewels. Anir wore cloth of gold and golden armour nearly as bright as that of Gwyn-ap-Nudd and his brother, Ederyn, who was now recovered from his wounds.
As they passed Sarah and Peter, Anir paused momentarily.
“We meet again, my friends! Our thanks to you on this most joyous occasion,” he said.
“Why do you thank us?” Peter asked, in great surprise.
“Because,” replied Aneryn, “if you had not found the Stone of Gardar, Arddu might not have been defeated and it would not have been safe for us to marry.”
“And I would not have passed the test!” said Anir, “I had to prove myself worthy of Aneryn before Gwyn and all his people.”
Here Gwyn, who was standing to one side of the happy couple, bowed low and smiled.
“So you see,” continued Aneryn, “all has come right as would not have done, had you not found the Stone. But come, dearest Anir, we are delaying the celebrations. Our ship awaits. Farewell friends!”
“Farewell friends!” Anir called, “Until we meet again!”
Then he and Aneryn waved and smiled and then passed on and down to the beach. There they went aboard a ship shaped like a silver swan.
Gwyn and the rest of the wedding party went aboard also. But as the ship made ready to sail, Aneryn leaned over the bow and threw her bouquet to – Sarah!. The rest of the Elves waved and cheered and then departed homewards, singing. Their song was one of homage to Anir and Aneryn.
The trees were bare, the year was old, When fate found Anir wandering. His cloak was grey, his brooch was gold, The snow lay thick and glistening.
As he walked on, he heard a sound, The trees too, they were listening, He crossed a stream and on a mound Anir saw moonlight glimmering.
Upon the mound a maiden lay, All Elvish beauty mirroring. The many stars above her gaze Soft light in her hair shimmering.
A cold wind blew, Aneryn woke. For it was she who was sleeping. Anir came close and softly spoke, The love within him leaping.
They left the mound and forest glade. The frosty woods were shivering. And doom fell on Aneryn then, As with Anir she went journeying.
Hard and long was the way they trod, ‘Til at last one fate remaining Bore them across ever widening seas, In a ship, all joys containing.
The Elves passed back through the Bishop’s Palace ruins.
“Farewell Anir, Farewell Aneryn! Joy to you!” they called.
“Farewell, Anir and Aneryn,” whispered Peter and Sarah.
Then they too turned their faces homewards, Mother and Father leading the way back to the car park.
As they sat in the back of the car, Sarah said, quietly,
“He has joined the Elves for ever now. I don’t think we will see him again.”
A tear dropped into Aneryn’s bouquet of ferns and lilies of the valley.
“Let’s wait and see,” said Peter, and squeezed his sister’s hand “Remember, you still have the Ring of Concealment.”
“So I do,” whispered Sarah, and her face brightened.
The two of them then remained silent for the rest of the journey, pondering much on all that they had seen.
The End
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