From Thomas Crofton Croker's 'Fairy Legends of Wales', included in his third volume of Fairy Legends and Traditions of the South of Ireland, first published in 1828. The story was collected by a female correspondent in Glamorganshire and concerns an encounter between the fairy folk and Evan Sion Watkin, otherwise known as Ianto of Coedcae...
Some years ago, there lived among the hills a man named Evan Shone Watkin, commonly known as Yanto 'r Coetcae (Yanto or Ianto being the familiar term for Evan). It happened that this Evan was once invited to the house of a friend, on the borders of Glamorganshire, with several other relatives and neighbours, to celebrate a christening; and, as is usual on such occasions, the evening was passed with much conviviality. They drank the strongest ale — they quaffed the best old mead — they sang Pennilion to the harp; as near midnight before Evan Shone recollected that he had a great way to return home.
As he had urgent business to require his attendance at his own house early the next morning, he determined upon departing; and the better to qualify him for his journey, he plied the ale-cup with double diligence. Remembering the old adage, that a spur in the head is worth two on the heel, he took a parting draught of mead, and then set off for his home over the mountains of Carno. He had travelled some time, and proceeded a considerable way along the hills, when he thought he could hear at a great distance some sounds resembling music, nearly in the direction he was going.
And as he advanced, Evan Shone found himself approaching these sounds so near, that he could plainly distinguish them to proceed from a harp, and some voices singing to it. He could even make out the tune, which was that of Ar hyd y nos; but the night being dark, and the mist lying thick around him, he could not discover the persons who were thus amusing themselves. As he knew there was no house within a great distance of that spot, his curiosity was greatly excited by what he heard; and the music still continuing, and seemingly but a short distance from the path, he thought there could be no harm in deviating a little out of his way, in order to see what was going forward.
He, moreover, thought it would be a pity to pass so near such a merry party without stopping for a few minutes with them to partake their mirth. Accordingly he made an oblique cut in the direction of the music, and having gone full as far as the place from which he at first imagined the sounds proceeded, he was a little surprised to find that they were still at some distance from him. However, he very philosophically explained this to himself, by recollecting that sounds are heard at a much greater distance by night than by day, and as he had gone so far from his road, he was determined to discover the cause; but, somehow or other, the more he walked the less the probability seemed of his arriving at his object.
Sometimes the sounds would recede from him, and then he would quicken his pace lest he should lose them entirely; and through the darkness of the night, he more than once tumbled up to his neck in a turf bog. When he had struggled out, and got upon his legs again, he would form a resolution to give up the chase ; but just at that moment he would hear the sounds more lively and encouraging than ever, and not unfrequently his exertions would be stimulated by hearing his own name called — "Evan! Evan!"
This being the most respectful mode of addressing him, he concluded, that whoever they were he was in pursuit of, they must be well-bred people, and on that account he was the more desirous of joining them. At other times, as he followed, he would hear himself called by his less dignified appellation of "Yanto! Yanto!" which, though not so flattering to him as the other, he concluded must come from some intimate friend, and therefore the familiarity was excusable. Like the music, these salutations were sometimes so indistinct, that he could not always exactly distinguish whether or not they proceeded from the grouse or the lap- wings, which he was continually disturbing among the heather.
At length, chagrined and mortified at his repeated disappointments, and excessively fatigued, he was determined to lie down on the ground till morning; but he had scarcely laid himself down, when the harp struck up again more brilliantly than ever, and seemed so near, that he could even distinguish the words of the song. Upon this he started up, and commenced another chase, and again went through the same routine of tumbling into bogs, wading knee-deep through swamps, and scratching his legs in labouring through the heather, till both his patience and his strength had almost deserted him.
But before he was quite exhausted, what was his joy when he perceived, at a small distance before him, a number of lights, which, on a nearer approach, he found to proceed from a house, in which there appeared to be a large company assembled, enjoying a similar merry-making to the one he had left, with music and with drink, and other good cheer? At such a sight, he mustered up all his energies, walked in, sat himself down by the fire, and called for a cup of ale. But before the ale arrived, or he had time to make many observations on the persons about him, excepting that the people of the house were in a great bustle with attending on their guests, and every thing bore the marks of high conviviality, such was the effect of the fatigue he had undergone, and of the ale and mead he had before drank, that he fell fast asleep.
No doubt he slept long and soundly, for he was awoke the next morning by the sun-beams playing on his face. On opening his eyes, and looking around him, judge his astonishment at finding himself quite alone, and not a vestige remaining of what he had positively seen when he was going to sleep. Both the house and the company had completely vanished; and instead of being comfortably seated by a good fire, he found himself almost frozen with cold, and lying on a bare rock, on the point of one of the loftiest crags of Darren y Killai, a thousand feet in height, down a good part of which poor Yanto would have tumbled perpendicularly, had he moved but a foot or two more in that direction.
Here's a picture of Daren Cilau, famous for its cave system, from the Cambrian Caving Council's website:
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