Step into May’s Magic


Hey Reader. It's time for another short story, this time set on the 1st of May, also known as Beltane, and one of the main four in the Pagan calendar.

In Welsh, Beltane is known as Calan Mai or Calan Haf. These both mean 'first day of May' or 'first day of summer.' Calan Mai specifically refers to the first day of May, while Calan Haf marks the beginning of summer, which coincides with May Day in Wales.

Beltane marks the turning: a time of passion, creation, and bold beginnings. In that spirit, I'm thrilled to share a few exciting updates with you in the monthly newsletter, coming this Sunday.

Thank you, as ever, for walking this path with me. I hope you enjoy my short story, set in Wales, of course! 😁

The Beltane Ride of Gwyn ap Nudd

In the green, folded hills of North Wales, where mists cling to stone and sheep graze under the ancient gaze of the mountains, there lies a forgotten valley, Cwm Nudd, said to be the secret domain of Gwyn ap Nudd, lord of the Otherworld.

It was Beltane, the day when the veil between worlds thins like breath on a mirror. Fires were lit on the hilltops, and songs rose into the evening air. The people of the valley danced in circles, hand in hand, their faces bright with joy and fear, for they knew that this was also the night the Tylwyth Teg, the Fair Folk, roamed freely — and their king, Gwyn ap Nudd, might come seeking souls for his hunt.

That year, a young woman named Elen, known for her cleverness and her voice as clear as the river glass, dared to stay behind after the last dance. She lingered by the old standing stones at the valley’s edge, weaving a garland of rowan berries and primroses, charms against faerie mischief.

As the moon rose full and white, a low horn sounded across the moor — a sound both beautiful and terrible. Out of the mist rode Gwyn ap Nudd himself, mounted on a horse as pale as snow, his hair like woven starlight, and a silver hunting horn at his belt. Behind him came his wild court: shadowed riders with hounds whose red ears burned like coals.

Gwyn's eyes, cold and bright, fixed on Elen.

"You have called me," he said, though Elen had not spoken a word. "Tonight, mortal, you may ride with me, or forever remain earthbound, never touching the stars again."

Elen, though trembling, met his gaze. She knew the old tales: to refuse the Fair Folk's king was perilous, yet to ride with him could mean never returning.

"I will ride with you," she said, but she set one condition: "Only until the first fire of dawn is lit."

Gwyn, intrigued, agreed. He lifted her onto his horse before him, and with a cry that split the night, the Wild Hunt thundered across the hills.

They rode through rivers that turned to silver streams, over hills that shifted into towers of mist. Stars spun above them, and the world below seemed to vanish. Elen sang as they rode, songs of earth and fire and growing things — songs of Beltane.

Her voice, human and warm, softened even Gwyn’s wild court, and for a moment, the Wild Hunt slowed. The horses’ hooves no longer struck sparks; the hounds lapped at pools of starlight instead of chasing lost souls.

At last, on a faraway hill, Elen saw the first glimmer of fire — the Beltane flame lit by her people. She pointed, and Gwyn, bound by his word, drew his horse to a halt.

"You are brave, mortal," he said, his voice like the wind in winter branches. "Few have ridden with me and returned."

He took from his belt a brooch shaped like a crescent moon and pinned it to her cloak. "Remember this night. You will walk between worlds all your life, a singer of the old ways."

Then Gwyn and his host whirled away into mist and shadow, leaving Elen standing alone by the fire, her hair shining with starlight and her heart forever touched by the Otherworld.

And so it was that Elen of Cwm Nudd became a wise woman, a keeper of stories and songs. Each Beltane night, it’s said, if you listen at the standing stones, you might hear her singing — and if you are brave enough, Gwyn ap Nudd may offer you the ride of your life.

I hope you enjoyed my short story. You'll also be able to find this on my website very soon.

May your Beltane be blessed with joy, abundance, and a touch of wild magic. 💙

Kröfteler Str. 12, Glashutten-Schlossborn, Hessen 61479
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Morgan Sheppard, Author

Originally from the United Kingdom, Morgan Sheppard now resides in Germany, although she freely admits to having left part of her heart in Wales. Whilst a writer mainly in the fantasy genre, Morgan is more than happy to share her love of reading amongst the many different genres out there, and can always be found with a book close by.

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