There’s a good story about when they built those houses. They were building them along Heol y Gwern, and they started to build little short streets off it, into the bog, with new houses, because they wanted a proper estate for people to live. The problem was that the bog didn’t want the houses. The real story, which I had from Grampar who remembers when it happened, is that they’d built the foundations for a house and they left it on the Thursday before Good Friday, and when they went back on the Tuesday after Easter Monday, they had completely sunk. The way I heard the story though, is that they’d built the whole house and when they came back after the weekend only the chimneys were sticking up above the bog. Ha! They stopped building up there after that and built the new estate in Penywaun instead, and I’m glad. I like the way the bog is, with the little stunted trees and the long grasses and rushes and sudden unexpected flowers and moorhens on the standing water and lapwings slow-flapping to guide you away from their nests.
What I wanted today was a fairy, and there are often fairies on Croggin. I didn’t see a sign of one, and even when I came out of the bog by the river and into Ithilien I couldn’t find any. I checked Osgiliath and the other fairy ruins in the cwm on my way back to town, the long way around, on the dramroad. There’s an old smelter there, and some fallen cottages, or I think that’s what they are. It’s so hard to imagine them bustling and industrial. I did spot the occasional fairy out of the corner of my eye, but none of them would stop or speak to me. I remembered how Glorfindel wasn’t findable after Halloween. There have been other times like that, times we couldn’t find them, times when they don’t want to be found. They always found us. I tried calling for him, but I knew that was pointless. They don’t use names the way we do. I might wish it worked the way it does in Earthsea where names have summoning power, but it doesn’t, names don’t count, only things do. I do know, I think, how to call him with magic, but that wouldn’t be magic to prevent harm, so I didn’t really consider it for more than a second.
I tried sitting down, though it was very chilly, and waiting for the pain in my leg to ease off, in case that was keeping them away. It wasn’t very bad today though. It shouldn’t have been that, I don’t think. It was too uncomfortable to sit for long, and there was a bit of rain in the wind. Going through town was miserable, all the shops boarded up that I can remember as active places, more all the time. The Rex is shutting down, there won’t be anywhere to watch films in Aberdare any more. There are tattered “for sale” signs everywhere. There’s litter lying on the streets and even the Christmas tree outside the library looks forlorn. I caught the bus back to Cardiff in time for dinner with Auntie Teg.
I don’t know what I’m going to do if I can’t find them. I really need to talk to them.
TUESDAY 1ST JANUARY 1980
Happy New Year.
Nice to wake up this morning in Grampar’s house, and on my own.
Auntie Teg has gone off somewhere with Him for New Year, which she pretty much always does. I could have gone too, she asked me, but I didn’t want to. I’d only be in the way. Yesterday morning we drove up to Aberdare and saw Grampar, and then she went off and I was promptly grabbed by Auntie Flossie. I had wanted to go to find the fairies, but instead I found myself enacting “Three French Hens” in Auntie Flossie’s New Year Party. The cheer was a little forced, and I found myself aching for bed long before midnight, but I’ve had worse days. I’ve collected another four pounds fifty in clenigs, and six chocolate coins. And I had half a glass of champagne at midnight. It was nicer than Daniel’s champagne, or maybe it’s one of those things that grows on you.
I’m going to get up and cook myself breakfast and then have another try at finding the fairies. It’s a new year, maybe I’ll have better luck.
WEDNESDAY 2ND JANUARY 1980