[From “Folk Medicine from Around the World: Fruit and vegetables to harm and heal” by Hlothrig Faland-ashé (*)] “The mandrake is a perennial, herbaceous plant, with a rosette of ovate leaves and almost no stem. Some are covered in hairs, but others are less hairy. It produces bell-shaped flowers, followed by orange or yellow berries. Countryfolk have used the juice for centuries to ease rheumatic pains, or to relieve convulsions, mania, and melancholy, and some claim it can makes the sterile fertile. So, they brew it with pomegranate and spikni to make an intoxicating drink, and turn it into incense, and put it in good-luck talismans. Other names for it are mandragora and the Hand of Glory. The long, thick, root branches out so that it looks like a human form, and because of this it contains extraordinary power which allows one to control the forces of nature and see things usually hidden from mortal eyes. By eating it one can visit Elfan, the country of the Faery-folk, or summon the Sprites to appear on the Cruel Earth. However, ingesting too much of the mandrake fruit can cause delirium and madness.”

 

[Love, Loss, Coleoptera] That Fred hit on the ridiculous idea of trying to do it. He’d been having a go at reading one of the Old Books, but of course the old fool couldn’t understand half of what was in front of his eyes without me translating for him. Maybe he knows about onions and poisonous lizards, but not much else. I’ve often wondered how he passed the exam to become a full member of the Guild. I reckon he just learned his speech off by heart – long of tongue short on knowledge for sure. Yet then again, I had a lot of spare time while I waited to see my Otherworldly Princess. I couldn’t stop thinking about why they say “the Fair Folk,” that’s the thing. After all, every time I see them, they look like the ugliest creatures on the face of the Two Worlds. And what about “Mothers’ Blessing,” for Wezir’s sake? They don’t bless those mothers when they steal the unwashed baby and replace it with a changeling, do they? What are they talking about? And for that matter, why is washing a baby in front of everyone in those hateful Houses of Repentance forty days after he’s born so important?

 

[From “The Doctrine and Rituals of Transcendental Magic” by Dr Iancu Āter] “This is how to make a very powerful magic tool, using the mandragora. If you pull the mandrake from the ground, it will scream blue murder whilst you are cast headlong into the Fountain of Souls. So, you must purify yourself before getting it on a Mournday night (the day belonging to the Moon), a few days after the Vernal Equinox, using a dog with a rope attached to its collar to pull the vegetative creature from the soil, so that the hound will die in your place [**].”

 

[LLC] Fred and I put the stinky mongrel called Swt to do the job. We made sure we both showered with hot water and lots of special soap beforehand, just to be safe. But there was no shouting to be heard. None of us died, either, thankfully – or more’s the pity! The stupid dog ate half the plant before belting off. What old nonsense they write in those Grimoires. But because we’d started, well, there was no going back, we’d have to finish, come hell and high water!

 

[DRTM] “You must cut the root and bury it by night in a grave in an old, rural cemetery consecrated by a Member of the Guild of Secrets, such as the one outside the Temple of the Hidden Glory, where a wych elm grows, that is, the tree known as Ulmus to the Etruscans, with rough bark and serrated leaves. For forty days you need to water ‘the Beauty’ as if it were a hungry baby calling for its mother’s breast, with goat’s milk from a vessel containing lots of cumin and three drowned bats. On the forty-first day, you should dig the devilish root out at midnight, before pickling it in salt containing a woman’s blood, a man’s saliva, a dog’s sweat, a horse’s tears, and a mare’s urine. The mandrake prepared in this way will provide a potion that will grant exceptional strength to the Magus in soul, body, and mind, and the ability to open every door, including the Gate to Other Worlds. You can then use it to communicate with the frightful Telok-vovim, to find secrets, to rule people and events, and to satisfy your every desire.”

 

[LLC] As far as all that’s concerned, we succeeded, more or less, I think, thank goodness. We found the right tree in the Clinic grounds. We decided to use dried milk and mix it with water, and put loads of the disgusting beetles in it instead of bats. In terms of the bodily fluids, well, yuck, we ‘ad to dream something up on the spot. Needless to say, I did me very best at least, I promise, and I went to find things with the right colour, and smell, and all that, y'know? I was looking forward to possessing powers beyond my wildest dreams in due course, believe you me. If only I was so lucky, mun!

 

[DRTM] “Furthermore, it is possible for the strongest and most accomplished Magus to achieve one other exceptional feat using the mandrake. Cut off the left hand off a hanged man’s corpse. Place it in an earthenware vessel with a fine powder of verdigris, natron, salt, mandragora, and long peppers for a fortnight. Then let it lie in bright sunlight throughout the Dog Days, before putting it in an oven with ferns, hay, aromatic herbs, vervain branches, and a mandrake root, until it is completely dry. Next hang it on the branch of an old oak in the grounds of a mansion like Challavas Manor for three consecutive nights.”

 

[LLC] Once again, there was no problem there, although Fred was so annoying all the time trying to tell me how to do everything, I almost walloped ‘im! That’s when things started to go wrong, because we got into a terrible row over the meaning of some of the words. Talk about turning the air blue, I learned a thing of two about bad language that afternoon!

 

[DRTM] “Make a candle using fat from the corpse, virgin wax, sesame, and the essential, secret ingredient, known only by the true Magus. Place in it a wick of the bad man’s hair, and set the candle in the hand as a candlestick. After that, take it to the top of one of the ancient barrows or cairns, and bury it there in the sacred ground, wrapped in the murderer’s shroud which has been steeped in mandrake-juice, with you, the Wizard, keeping vigil.”

 

[LLC] There was no corpse to be found, and Fred wasn’t keen to cut ‘is hand off. So, I half-inched a monkey’s paw (or maybe the fist of some old Viking Jarl) from the Museum of Prohibited Artefacts, and a brand-new shroud from the Wrapping Room in one of our Independent Tabernacles. Fred had discovered some relevant details using the Black Doctor’s Glyphs [***]. So, like the scarecrow in the story that was ashamed of its nakedness and begged passers-by for clothes, I had on a shirt full of huge holes woven from ginger dog-fur, and a kilt made of nets, so I wasn’t naked but wasn’t wearing clothes either. I’d necked a couple of onions the day before, so I wasn’t starving, but also not stuffed. And I brought that stupid dog, Swt, with me, so I wasn’t on me own,  although you couldn’t say there was any human being at my side. Fred was skulking at the bottom of the hillock and shouting instructions at me through a megaphone. To make sure that no blade would cut me, or to stop my wounds from bleeding in case that did happen, he was reciting one of my  fave stories, the tale of the Warlike Foster-mother. He was doing the best part about the murder when she’s poisoned, and stabbed with a spear, and burned, but comes back to life three times before exploding at last. (Exactly the same thing happens in every horror film worth paying money to watch, although such things aren’t to be had anymore, apart from on the black market, more’s the pity!)

 

[DRTM] “And for three days, you must not sleep for longer than the cuckoo’s song lasts. As the turbulent spirits rage, and swear, and tear, you must recite the mantras of the Old Masters, and if you survive your fear without running away, like a noble ash rising above the thorns, or like a young hind with his antlers sparkling, bellowing amidst the morning dew, you will be judged worthy of winning the greatest prize and deserving of possessing a Horror-scope.“

 

[LLC] By Swtach, if only Fred’d disappeared in a puff of wind from the Nw Yrth itself! So, there we were on top of the Glass Mountain, and the devils came to torture me, but Fred forgot the words or somethin’. The old mongrel started chanting some old nonsense he got from some half-baked course and I dunno what we conjured, nor how to banish it, although I understand from the Old Books that it comes from the Field of Rushes on the Nw Yrth. Everything went pear-shaped, with us legging it like trembling goats running from a wolf, or maybe like naughty kids who’ve broken an iridescent, hypnotic window in one of the accursed Houses of Worship belonging to the other side (well done everyone who manages to do that!). But the entity, whatever-it-is, has stuck to me, and now I keep on hearing it snuffling and howling as it goes around playing cruel tricks, causing accidents, spreading chaos, and sowing the seeds of fear.

 

[DRTM] “You will carry the Horror-scope with you wherever you go in a purse of lizard-skin next to your heart. Such a candle will illuminate only the Wizard, and stop everyone else from moving a joint, or muscle, or nerve.“

 

[LLC] Well, that disaster put paid to our hopes of creating a Horror-scope. Talk about a complete waste of time and effort! We went back the next day, in daylight. There was just a ridiculous sort of scrawny hand like the type of thing you’d buy in a joke-shop. Most of the ingredients had dissolved or turned into some kind of pitch-black mucus that was think and stinky. I almost threw up smelling it. But Fred insisted on collecting every drop of it, and putting it in a crystal vial, and carrying it around everywhere. The oddest thing was that more and more appeared as he mopped it up. When he’d got every particle, there was something left. A ring, I think, from the finger of the whatever-it-was, but the Fantastic One grabbed that, too.

 

[DRTM] “When this candle is alight in some particular location, those sleeping will not be able to awaken at all; nor will those awake be able to sleep so that they will become living zombies. By using it, one can open every lock, and no bolt, nor bar, nor band shall withstand it. The Horror-scope will give you strength to control minds and bodies, and it will be extinguished only with milk.“

 

[LLC] The only power the horrid stuff had was the ability to make everyone want to puke if Fred stayed in the same room as them for more than a minute or two. But for some reason, he was delighted. When he put on the ugly piece of jewellery, I dunno what happened, but I could barely see him. And then he put his thumb in the foul-smelling liquid and, yuck, rubbed it over me mouth, saying, “From this will come the words to finish the World, and create it afresh.” Whatever that means. And there was a strange sound like, well, like words, or voices, maybe, chanting:

 

“Li tha ru ha ho ha – si he ni sa a ra ze sa – la li tha the ra e – i lu a pi fi a – e si pa la thu ni – ha tha se nu na thi – thi ru fa ra – si thi ro pa li fi – le la ri la fi fu – pu u thi pu ha – si le ro he tha fe hu – u po lo ri fi the sa – la le se ha tha – fe u the hu li…”

 

Crying out loud, for the life of me I don’t understand anything, but on the other hand it feels like I should be able to make sense of it. It’s there all the time now, and I can hear it clearly if I tune in. And I’m sure the damned beetles are joining in with the chanting, too. To be honest it’s driving me crazy as I play with the syllables and arrange them to try and build words and sentences. Every time I go about it, I feel that everything around me goes soft, somehow, or melts. I’m worried that the more I think about this charm, the more some whirlpool will open up under me and suck me down. But the worst thing is that I’m sure, even then, that I’m not going to die.

 

*             *             *             *             *             *             *             *

 

[*] That is, Frederick Llwynlesg. — P.M.

 

[**] I present here some bilingual information (Ilknish / Kimbric) which might be useful as you read on. — P.M.

The Days of the Week: Mournday (Aflun-ddydd: “shapeless”); Truthsday (Mawroed-ddydd: “grief”); Woundsday (Erchyll-ddydd: “dread”); Thirstday (Euog-ddydd: “guilt”); Fireday (Gwendid-ddydd: “weakness”); Sadderday (Sobr-ddydd: “serious”); Sunderday (Sâl-ddydd: “despicable”).

The Months of the Year: Gelid-moon (Iaënnol-fis: “icy”); Febrile-moon (Coethi-fis: “purify”); Mardy-moon (Mawrair-fis: “brag”); Freshen-moon (Adfywio-fis: “freshen”); Mayhem-moon (Maethu-fis: “nourish”); Judicial-moon (Melen-fis: “yellow”); Jubilee-moon (Gorfoledd-fis: “jubilate”); Awesome-moon (Aruthrol-fis: “amazing”); Saltaway-moon (Cywain-fis: “gather”); Ochre-moon (Hurtio-fis: “stupefy”); Knifewind-moon (Tawch-fis: “mist”); Dogtired-moon (Rhagflas-fis: “foretaste”).

The Seasons {the ancient names are given in brackets}: spring / gwanwyn {landnaz / gwesantos}; summer / haf {swmraz / sawos}; autumn / hydref {harvstaz / sewrvos}; winter / gaeaf {wintruz / gyemos}.

The Major Feasts {the ancient names are given in brackets}: Candlefest / Gŵyl y Canhwyllau {Candlvrihyal / Kántwilwelos}; Vernal Equinox / Alban Eilir (Cyhydnos y Gwanwyn) {Vrihyal Langtínaz / Kalan Gwesantos}; Mayhemfest / Gŵyl Maethu {Byaltyunya / Bróytenwelos}; Estival Solstice (Midsummer Day) / Alban Hefin (Heulsaf yr Haf, Hirddydd Haf, Gŵyl Canol Haf ) {Vrihyal Swmraz/ Kalan Sawos}; Loavesfest / Gŵyl y Torthau {Hlavrihyal / Tórthwelos}; Autumnal Equinox / Alban Elfed (Cyhydnos yr Hydref) {Vrihyal Harvstaz / Kalan Sewrvos}; Knifewindfest / Gŵyl Hurtio {Sawhwena / Sámonwelos}; Hibernal Solsitice (Midwinter Day) / Alban Arthan (Heulsaf y Gaeaf, Byrddydd Gaeaf, Gŵyl Trymder Gaeaf) {Vrihyal Wintruz / Kalan Gyemos}.

The Signs of the Zodiac: Hustwr (the Irrigator / y Dyfrhäwr); Tzluktnakhu (the Fisherman / y Pysgotwr); amb-Mbakré (the Darkwalker / y Tywyll-Rodiwr); Zeydva (the Man-bull / y Dyn-darw); Knayho-ov-Vlahlo (the Lovers / y Carwyr); Thoahatha (the Hero / yr Arwr); Lakhmw (the Cat / y Gath); Nathuruli (the Goddess / y Dduwies); Xlotlringku (the Trickster / y Castiwr); Ak·rabw (the Arachnid / yr Arachnid); Mor·dwnom (the Wizard / y Dewin); Lehenefa (the Maiden / y Forwyn).

 

[***] That is, Iancu Āter. The title is "Atrōx Doctor" in Etruscan. — P.M.

 

[O “Meddygaeth Werin o Bedwar Ban Byd: Ffrwythau a llysiau i andwyo ac iacháu” gan Hlothrig Faland-ashé (*)] “Mae’r mandraglysieuyn yn blanhigyn llysieuol, lluosflwydd, gyda rhosglwm o ddail wylun a bron ddim coesyn. Mae rhai’n flew i gyd ond eraill yn flewog i raddau llai. Mae’n magu blodau ar lun cloch, ac wedyn aeron oren neu felyn. Mae pobl y wlad yn defnyddio’r sudd ers canrifoedd i liniaru poen y gwynegon, neu i leddfu confylsiynau, mania, a’r felan, ac mae rhai’n honni y gall wneud y diffrwyth yn ffrwythlon. Felly maen nhw’n ei fragu gyda phomgranad a spikni i neud diod feddwol, a’i droi’n arogldarth, a’i roi mewn swyndlysau ar gyfer ffawd dda. Mandragora a Llaw Gogoniant yw enwau eraill arno. Mae’r gwraidd trwchus, hir yn ceincio nes ei fod yn ymddangos fel ffurf ddynol, ac oherwydd hyn mae’n cynnwys nerth eithriadol o ran rheoli grymoedd natur a gweld pethau wedi’u cuddio fel arfer rhag llygaid meidrol. Trwy ei fwyta mae’n bosibl ymweld ag Elfan, gwlad y Tylwyth Teg, neu alw ar i Fendith y Mamau ymddangos ar y Ddaear Greulon. Fodd bynnag, fe all llyncu gormod o ffrwythau’r mandrag beri deliriwm a gwallgofrwydd.”

 

[Cariad, Colled, Chwilod] Y Ffred ‘na naeth daro ar y syniad gwrthun o drio neud y peth. Roedd e wedi bod yn ceisio darllen un o’r Hen Lyfrau, ond wrth gwrs doedd yr hen ffŵl ddim yn gallu deall hanner o beth oedd o flaen ei lygaid heb i fi gyfieithu iddo. Falle fod e’n gwbod am wynwyn a madfallod gwenwynig, ond ddim am lawer arall. Dw i ‘di meddwl droeon tybed sut pasiodd e’r arholiad i ddod yn aelod llawd o’r Urdd. Dw i’n credu taw dim ond dysgu’i araith ar ei go’ a wnaeth e – hir ei dafod, byr ei wybod yn wir, te. Ond eto i gyd, roedd llawer o amser sbâr di fi wrth aros am weld ‘y Nhywysoges Arallfydol. Do’n i’m yn gallu rhoi gorau i feddwl am pam bod nhw’n dweud “y Tylwyth Teg,” dyna’r peth. Wedi’r cwbl, bob tro mod i’n gweld nhw, maen nhw’n edrych fel y creaduriaid mwya hyll ar wyneb y Ddau Fyd. A beth am “Bendith y Mamau,” ‘neno Wezir? Dyn nhw ddim yn bendithio’r mamau ‘na pan maen nhw’n dwyn y babi heb ei olchi a rhoi crimbil yn ei le, dyn nhw? Am be maen nhw’n sôn? Ac o ran ‘ny, pam mae golchi baban o flaen pawb yn y Tai Edifeirwch atgas ‘na ddeugain niwrnod ar ôl iddo gael ei geni mor bwysig?

 

[O “Athrawiaeth a Defodau Hud Trosgynnol” gan y Dr Ieuan Ddu] “Dyma sut i wneud teclyn hud grymus iawn, gan ddefnyddio’r mandrag. Os byddwch chi’n tynnu’r mandrag ma’s o’r ddaear, fe fydd yn gweiddi mwrdwr tra cewch chi’ch taflu wysg eich pen i Ffynnon Eneidiau. Felly bydd yn rhaid i chi’ch puro’ch hun cyn ei gael nos Aflun-ddydd (y dydd yn perthyn i’r Lloer), ychydig ddyddiau wedi Alban Eilir, gan ddefnyddio ci â rhaff yn sownd yn ei goler i dynnu’r creadur llystyfol o’r pridd fel bydd farw yr helgi yn eich lle chi [**].”

 

[CCCh] Naeth Ffred a fi roi’r brithgi drewllyd ‘na o’r enw Swt i gyflawni’r dasg. Naethon ni’n siŵr i ni’n dau gael cawod gyda dŵr poeth a llawer o sebon sbesial o flaen llaw, jyst i fod yn saff. Ond doedd dim bloeddio i’w glywed. Fuodd yr un ohonon ni farw, chwaith, diolch byth – neu waetha’r modd! Naeth y ci gwirion fwyta hanner y planhigyn cyn ei heglu hi. Am hen rwtsh maen nhw’n sgrifennu yn y Llyfrau Hud a Lledrith ‘na. Ond am ein bod ni wedi dechrau, wel, doedd dim mynd yn ôl, ac fe fydden ni’n gorfod gorffen, drwy ddŵr a thân!

 

[ADHT] “Rhaid i chi dorri’r gwraidd a’i gladdu gyda’r nos mewn bedd mewn hen fynwent wledig wedi’i chysegru gan Aelod Urdd Cyfrinachau, fel yr un tu fa’s i Deml y Gogoniant Cuddiedig, ble mae llwyfen lydanddail yn tyfu, hynny yw, y goeden a adwaenid gan yr Etrwsgiaid fel Ulmus ac iddi risgl garw a dail danheddog. Am ddeuddeng niwrnod dych chi angen dyfrhau ‘y Feinir’ fel petai’n faban newynog yn galw am fron ei mam, â llaeth gafr o lestr ac ynddo lawer o gwmin, a thri ystlum wedi’u boddi. Ar yr unfed dydd ar ddeugain, fe ddylech geibio'r gwreiddyn dieflig ma’s ganol nos, cyn ei biclo mewn halen yn cynnwys gwaed menyw, poer dyn, chwys ci, dagrau ceffyl, a throeth caseg. Fe fydd y mandrag a baratowyd fel hyn yn darparu dogn fydd yn rhoi nerth eithriadol i’r Dewin o ran enaid, corff, a meddwl, a’r gallu i agor pob drws, yn cynnwys y Porth i Fydoedd Eraill. Wedyn fe allwch ei ddefnyddio i gyfathrebu â’r Telok-vovim anaele, i gael hyd i gyfrinachau, i reoli pobl a digwyddiadau, ac i fodloni’ch chwantau i gyd.”

 

[CCCh] O ran hynny oll naethon ni lwyddo, mwy neu lai, dw i’n credu, diolch byth. Daethon ni o hyd i’r goeden gywir yn nhiroedd y Clinig. Naethon ni benderfynu defnyddio llaeth sych a’i gymysgu â dŵr, a rhoi llawr o’r chwilod ffiaidd ‘na ynddo yn lle ystlumod. O ran yr hylifau corfforol, wel, ach a fi, roedd gofyn i ni ddyfeisio rhywbeth yn y fan a’r lle. Does angen gweud, nes i ‘ngorau glas o leia, dw i’n addo, ac es i i ffeindio pethau gyda’r lliw a'r oglau cywir, ac ati, ch'mod? Ro’n i’n edrych ‘mlaen at feddu ar bwerau tu hwnt i ddychymyg maes o law, creda di fi. Sen i ond mor lwcus, w!

 

[ADHT] “Heblaw hynny mae’n bosib i’r Dewin cryfaf a mwyaf dawnus gyflawni un gamp eithriadol arall gan ddefnyddio’r mandrag. Torrwch ymaith law chwith celain dyn wedi’i grogi. Rhowch hi mewn priddlestr gyda phowdr mân o ferdigris, natron, halen, mandragora, a phupurau hir am bythefnos. Wedyn gadewch iddi orwedd yn llygaid yr haul drwy Ddyddiau’r Cŵn, cyn ei rhoi mewn ffwrn gyda rhedyn, gwair, perlysiau aroglus, canghennau’r ferfaen a gwraidd mandrag, nes iddi sychu drwyddi. Nesaf hongiwch hi ar gangen hen dderwen yn nhir plasty fel Maenordy Challavas am dair nos yn olynol.”

 

[CCCh] Unwaith ‘to, doedd dim problem ‘na, er bod Ffred mor blagus drwy’r amser gan geisio gweud wrtha i sut i neud popeth, bu bron i fi’i wado fe! Dyna pan ddechreuodd pethau mynd o chwith, am i ni fynd i ffraeo’n enbyd dros ystyr rhai o’r geiriau. A sôn am regi i’r cymylau, fe ddysges i beth neu ddau am iaith fras b’nawn ‘na!

 

[ADHT] “Gwnewch gannwyll gan ddefnyddio braster o’r gelain, cwyr gwyryf, sesame, a’r elfen ddirgel, hanfodol, a adwaenir dim ond gan y gwir Ddewin. Rhowch ynddi wic o wallt y dyn drwg, a dodi’r gannwyll yn y llaw fel canhwyllbren. Ar ôl hynny, dewch â fe i ben un o’r crugiau neu’r gwyddfeydd hynafol, a’i gladdu yno yn y tir glân, wedi’i lapio yn amdo’r llofrudd a drwythwyd yn sudd y mandrag, a chi’r Dewin yn cadw gwylnos.”

 

[CCCh] Doedd dim celain i’w chael, a doedd Ffred ddim yn awyddus i dorri’i law bant. Felly, nes i ddwyn palf mwnci wedi’i biclo (neu falle dwrn ryw hen Jarl y Ficingiaid) o Amgueddfa Arteffactau Gwaharddedig, ac amdo newydd sbon o’r Stafell Lapio yn un o’n Tabernaclau Annibynnol ni. Roedd Ffred wedi darganfod ychydig o fanylion priodol trwy ddefnyddio Glyffiau’r Doethur Du [***]. Felly fel y bwgan brain yn y stori a gywilyddiai am ei noethder ac erfyn ar bobl yn mynd heibio am ddillad, ro’n i’n gwisgo crys llawn tyllau enfawr wedi’i wau o ffwr cŵn, coch, a chilt o rwyd amdana i fel do’n i’m yn noeth nac yn ‘y nillad chwaith. Ro’n i wedi llyncu cwpl o wynwyn y dydd o’r blaen fel do’n i’m yn llwglyd, ond ar y llaw arall do’n i’m yn borthiannus. Ac fe des i â’r ci twp na, Swt, gyda fi, fel do’n i’m ar ‘mhen ‘yn hunan er fyddech chi’m yn gallu dweud bod unrhyw fod dynol ar ‘yn ochr i. Roedd Ffred yn stelcian ar waelod y bryncyn a gweiddi cyfarwyddiadau arna i drwy gorn siarad. I neud yn sicr fyddai dim llafn yn ‘mrathu i, neu i stopio ‘nghlwyfau rhag gwaedu rhag ofn i ‘ny ddigwydd, roedd e’n adrodd un o’n hoff storïau i, hanes y Famfaeth Ryfelgar. Roedd e’n neud y rhan orau am y llofruddiaeth, ble mae hi’n cael ei gwenwyno, a’i thrywanu â gwaywffon, a’i llosgi, ond yn dod yn ôl yn fyw deirgwaith cyn ffrwydro o’r diwedd.  (Mae’r un peth yn union yn digwydd ym mhob ffilm arswyd werth talu arian i’w gwylio, er dyw’r fath bethau ddim ar gael mwyach heblaw am ar y farchnad ddu, gwaetha’r modd!)

 

[ADHT] “Ac am dridiau, rhaid i chi beidio â chysgu’n hirach na chân y gog yn parhau. Wrth i’r ysbrydion cythryblus ffromi, a rhegi, a rhwygo, rhaid i chi adrodd mantras yr Hen Feistri, ac os byddwch yn goroesi’ch ofn heb redeg i ffwrdd, fel onnen nobl yn codi uwchben y drain, neu hydd ifanc a’i gyrn yn tywynnu, yn rhuo ymhlith gwlith y bore, fe fernir eich bod yn deilwng o ennill y wobr fwyaf ac yn haeddu meddu ar Arswyd-sgôp.”

 

[CCCh] ‘Neno Swtach, o na bai’r Ffred ‘na wedi diflannu mewn pwff o wynt o’r Nw Yrth ei hunan! Dyna o’n ni wedyn ar ben y Mynydd Gwydr, ac fe ddaeth y diawliaid i’n arteithio i, ond anghofiodd Ffred y geiriau neu rwbeth. Fe ddechreuodd yr hen frithgi siantio rhyw hen lol gaeth e ar ryw gwrs bondigrybwyll a dw i’m yn nabod beth naethon ni  gonsurio na sut i’w ddeol, er mod i’n deall o’r Hen Lyfrau ei fod yn dod o Faes Brwyn ar y Nw Yrth. Aeth popeth yn draed moch, a ninnau’n ei heglu hi fel geifr crynedig yn ffoi rhag blaidd, neu falle fel plantos drwg wedi torri ffenest symudliw, hypnotaidd yn un o'r Tai Addoli melltigedig 'na'n perthyn i'r ochr arall (da iawn i bawb sy'n llwyddo i 'neud 'ny!). Ond mae’r endid, y beth-bynnag-yw-e, wedi glynu wrtha i, a bellach dw i’n dal i’w glywed yn snwffian ac udo wrth iddo fynd o gwmpas gan chwarae castiau creulon, achosi damweiniau, lledaenu caos, a hau hadau ofn.

 

[ADHT] “Byddwch i gario’r Arswyd-sgôp gyda chi ble bynnag yr eloch mewn pwrs o groen madfall yn nesaf at eich calon. Bydd y fath gannwyll yn goleuo dim ond y Dewin, a stopio pawb arall rhag symud yr un cymal, neu gyhyr, neu nerf.”

 

[CCCh] Wel, roes y drychineb ‘na ben ar ein gobeithion o greu Arswyd-scôp. A sôn am “Golchi traed yr alarch yn wyn”! Aethon ni ‘nol y dydd nesa, yng ngolau dydd. Doedd yno ond rhyw fath chwerthinllyd ar law esgyrnog fel y fath o beth fyddech chi’n brynu mewn siop jôcs. Roedd y rhan fwya o’r cynhwysion wedi toddi neu droi’n rhyw fath o lysnafedd purddu oedd yn drwchus a drewllyd. Ro’n i bron â chwydu lan o’i wynto. Ond mynnodd Ffred gasglu pob diferyn ohono a’i roi mewn costrel o grisial, a’i gario o gwmpas i bobman. Y peth mwya od oedd taw mwy a mwy ymddangosai wrth iddo’i fopio lan. Pan oedd e wedi cael pob gronyn, roedd rhywbeth ar ôl. Modrwy, dw i’n credu o bys y beth-bynnag-oedd-e, ond fe gipiodd yr Un Ffantastig hwnnw ‘fyd.

 

[ADHT] “Pan fydd y gannwyll hon ynghyn mewn rhyw le penodol, ni fydd y rhai’n cysgu’n medru deffro o gwbl; na’r rhai ar effro’n medru cysgu nes iddyn nhw ddod yn sombis byw. Trwy ei defnyddio, fe all dyn agor pob clo, ac ni all unrhyw follt, na bar, na band ei wrthsefyll. Fe roi’r Arswyd-sgôp y nerth i chwi reoli meddyliau a chyrff, ac fe gaiff ei diffodd dim ond â llaeth.”

 

[CCCh] Yr unig bŵer gyda’r stwff atgas oedd y gallu i neud i bawb eisiau cyfogi os arhosai Ffred yn yr un stafell â nhw am fwy na munud neu ddwy. Ond am ryw reswm, roedd e wrth ei fodd. Pan wisgai fe’r darn o emwaith hyll, dwn i’m be ddigwyddai, ond o’r braidd y gallwn i’i weld e. Ac wedyn fe roes e’i fawd yn yr hylif drycsawrus ac, ach a fi, rhwbio fe dros ‘ngheg i, gan ddweud, “O hon ddaw’r geiriau i orffen y Byd, a’i greu o’r newydd.” Beth bynnag yw ystyr hynny. Ac roedd sain ryfedd fel, wel, fel geiriau, neu leisiau, falle, yn siantio:

 

“Li tha ru ha ho ha – si he ni sa a ra ze sa – la li tha the ra e – i lu a pi fi a – e si pa la thu ni – ha tha se nu na thi – thi ru fa ra – si thi ro pa li fi – le la ri la fi fu – pu u thi pu ha – si le ro he tha fe hu – u po lo ri fi the sa – la le se ha tha – fe u the hu li…”

 

Bois bach, dros ‘nghrogi dw i’m yn deall dim byd, ond ar y llaw arall mae’n teimlo fel dylen i allu neud synnwyr ohoni. Mae yna drwy’r amser bellach, a dw i’n gallu’i chlywed yn glir os dw i’n tiwnio i mewn. Dw i’n siŵr bod y chwilod gythraul yn ymuno â’r siantio ‘fyd. A bod yn onest mae’n ‘ngyrru i o ‘ngho wrth i fi chwarae gyda’r sillafau a’u trefnu nhw i drio adeiladu geiriau a brawddegau. Bob tro dw i’n mynd ati, dw i’n teimlo bod popeth o ‘nghwmpas yn mynd yn feddal, rywsut, neu’n toddi. Dw i’n poeni taw mwya’n y byd mod i’n meddwl am y swyn ‘ma, mwya’n y byd bydd rhyw drobwll yn agor oddi danna i a’n sugno i i lawr. Ond y gwaetha peth yw mod i’n siŵr, hyd yn oed wedyn, fydda i’m yn mynd i farw.

 

 

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[*] Hynny yw, Ffredrig Llwynlesg. — P.M.

 

[**] Rwy’n crynhoi yma wybodaeth ddwyieithog (Kimbreg / Ilkneg) a allai fod yn ddefnyddiol wrth ddarllen ymlaen. — P.M.

Dyddiau’r Wythnos: Aflun-ddydd (Mournday: “galaru”); Mawroed-ddydd (Truthsday: “gwirionedd”); Erchyll-ddydd (Woundsday: “gloes”); Euog-ddydd (Thirstday: “syched”); Gwendid-ddydd (Fireday: “tân”); Sobr-ddydd (Sadderday: “trist”); Sâl-ddydd (Sunderday: “gwahanu”).

Misoedd y Flwyddyn: Iaënnol-fis (Gelid-moon: “iaënnol”); Coethi-fis (Febrile-moon: “gwyllt”); Mawrair-fis (Mardy-moon: “pigog”); Adfywio-fis (Freshen-moon: “dadflino”); Maethu-fis (Mayhem-moon: “hafog”); Melen-fis (Judicial-moon: “barnwrol”); Gorfoledd-fis (Jubilee-moon: “gŵyl”); Aruthrol-fis (Awesome-moon: “aruthrol”); Cywain-fis (Saltaway-moon: “storio”); Hurtio-fis (Ochre-moon: “ocr”); Tawch-fis (Knifewind-moon: “noethwynt”); Rhagflas-fis (Dogtired-moon: “blinderog”).

Y Tymhorau {dangosir yr enwau hynafol mewn bachau cyrliog}: gwanwyn / spring {gwesantos / landnaz }; haf / summer {sawos / swmraz}; hydref / autumn {sewrvos / harvstaz}; gaeaf / winter {gyemos / wintruz}.

Y Prif Wyliau {dangosir yr enwau hynafol mewn bachau cyrliog}: Gŵyl y Canhwyllau / Candlefest {Kántwilwelos / Candlvrihyal}; Alban Eilir (Cyhydnos y Gwanwyn) / Vernal Equinox {Kalan Gwesantos / Vrihyal Langtínaz }; Gŵyl Maethu / Mayhemfest {Bróytenwelos / Byaltyunya}; Alban Hefin (Heulsaf yr Haf, Hirddydd Haf, Gŵyl Canol Haf ) / Estival Solstice (Midsummer Day) {Kalan Sawos / Vrihyal Swmraz}; Gŵyl y Torthau / Loavesfest {Tórthwelos / Hlavrihyal}; Alban Elfed (Cyhydnos yr Hydref) / Autumnal Equinox {Kalan Sewrvos / Vrihyal Harvstaz}; Gŵyl Hurtio / Knifewindfest {Sámonwelos / Sawhwena}; Alban Arthan (Heulsaf y Gaeaf, Byrddydd Gaeaf, Gŵyl Trymder Gaeaf) / Hibernal Solsitice (Midwinter Day) {Kalan Gyemos / Vrihyal Wintruz).

Arwyddion y Sidydd: Hustwr (y Dyfrhäwr / the Irrigator); Tzluktnakhu (y Pysgotwr / the Fisherman); amb-Mbakré (y Tywyll-Rodiwr / the Darkwalker); Zeydva (y Dyn-darw / the Man-bull ); Knayho-huv-Vlahlo (y Carwyr / the Lovers); Thoahatha (yr Arwr / the Hero); Lakhmw (y Gath / the Cat); Nathuruli (y Dduwies / the Goddess); Xlotlringku (y Castiwr / the Trickster); Ak·rabw (yr Arachnid / the Arachnid); Mor·dwnom (y Dewin / the Wizard ); Lehenefa (y Forwyn / the Maiden).

 

[***] Hynny yw, Ieuan Ddu. Y teitl yw "Atrōx Doctor" yn yr Etrwsgeg. — P.M.