With heaving ragged breaths, fingers clenched tightly into the soft moss of an ancient oak tree, bloodied dried lips spoke loudly to his new companion, Morydd:
Noswaith wanwyn bu brwydr fawr
O’r adeg pan fachlud yr haul hyd pan gyfyd.
Amddiffynnodd y Forgoil yn bedwar llu.
Roedd Dunland ac Isengard yn ffurfio’n rhengoedd
O’r argoed hyd arfynydd.
Galwodd Forgoil Brenin, fawr ei fost:
“A daeth fy ngwystlon, a ydynt barod?”
Iddo ef, atebodd Pren, trallod y bryniau.
“Ni ddaethant, nid ydynt, ni fyddant barod:
A disgynnydd o Llew, byddai’n rhyfelwr gofidus
Cyn y talai neb yn wystl.”
Gwaeddodd Tân Brenin, arglwydd y dreigiau,
“Os bydd cyfarfod ynghyd ynghylch cynghrair,
Dyrchafwn amddiffynfa darianau ar fynydd
A chodwn wyneb uwch yr ymyl
A dyrchafwn waywffyn bennau, wŷr
A rhuthrwn ar Forgoil Brenin yn ei lu
A thrawn ef a’i gwmni.”
O flaen y Llaw Wyn
Bu llawer celain.
Cochai brain oherwydd rhyfelwyr.
A firm nod was given from the Warlord to his saviour before slumping down against the tree near her.
Translation -
On a spring evening there will be a great battle
From the time when the sun sets until when it rises.
The forgoil defended in three armies.
Dunland and Isengard had formed legions
From the woodlands to the mountains,
Not having any rest all day.
The Forgoil King led foward, great in his boast,
“Come have my hostages, are you ready?”
To him, answered Pren, pain of the hills.
“They’ve not come, they are not, they’ll not be ready.
As a descendant of Llew, I’ll be a regrettable warrior
Before paying anybody in hostages.”
Tân Brenin shouted, Lord of the Dragons,
“If it’ll be a meeting together regarding alliances,
Burrow a fortress of shields into the mountain
And raise your face above the brim,
And lift spears above the heads of the men
And charge at the Forgoil King in his host
And kill him and his company.”
Ahead of the White Hand,
There’ll be lots dead.
Crows turned red because of the warriors.
(Based on the work of Taliesin)
