The Eternal Dance: My Purpose and the Rituals That Bind Us

The wind howls across the frozen moors as I ride, my spectral hounds at my heels. It is the longest night of the year, the veil between worlds at its thinnest, and I, Gwyn ap Nudd, must lead the Wild Hunt once more. But why, you may ask, do I undertake this perilous journey every Yule? It is not merely tradition, nor a cruel whim - it is the very essence of my existence, the purpose for which I was born. *Pam y gwnaiff hyn?* - Why do I do this? Because the balance of the world depends upon it.

Long ago, when the first snows fell upon Cymru, I was chosen to be the guardian of the threshold between life and death. My role is to ensure that the souls of the departed do not linger among the living, for their presence can only bring misfortune and chaos. The rituals of Yule, the fires that burn bright against the darkness, the feasts that sustain both the living and the dead - these are not mere superstitions. They are the threads that weave the fabric of our reality, the offerings that appease the restless spirits and keep them at bay.

But there is another reason for my eternal vigil, one that is tied to the very seasons themselves. For I am locked in an ancient rivalry with Gwythyr ap Greidawl, the lord of summer. Each year, as the wheel turns, we clash on the battlefield of Calan Mai, fighting for dominion over the land. But during the winter months, it is I who holds sway, and my Hunt is the manifestation of that power. The rivalry between us is not one of hatred, but of necessity - for without the struggle between summer and winter, life itself would wither and die.

The rituals that mortals perform during Yule are a reflection of this cosmic dance. When you light the Yule log, you are not merely keeping warm - you are kindling the fire that will guide the lost souls to their final rest. When you set out food and drink, you are not just sharing with your kin - you are offering sustenance to the spirits who ride with me. And when you remain silent and still as the Hunt passes overhead, you are showing respect for the ancient powers that govern the turning of the year.

There are those who fear me, who see only the terror in my eyes and the howling of my hounds. But they do not understand the weight of my duty, the burden that I bear. I am not a monster, but a guardian - a protector of the natural order. Without my Hunt, the boundary between the living and the dead would blur, and chaos would reign. The rituals that you perform are not just for my benefit, but for your own. They are the keys that keep the gates of Annwn closed, the wards that prevent the restless dead from walking among you.

So as I ride through the night, my spear gleaming in the moonlight, I ask you to remember this: my existence, and the rituals that surround it, are not arbitrary. They are the threads that hold the tapestry of your world together. Honor them, and you will be safe. Neglect them, and you will feel the full force of my wrath. *Cofiwch hyn* - remember this, and the balance will be maintained. For I am Gwyn ap Nudd, and I will ride until the end of time itself.