' "Beware, I am not so easily killed as you might think."

'Angered by the youth's indifference, the Black Giant gave a roar that curdled the marrow of all who heard it for twelve hides around. He raised the iron axe high above his head and brought it down with such a vicious chop that everyone looked away lest they see something they devoutly wished later to forget. When the axe made no sound, they opened their eyes and turned once more to where the youth stood – expecting, no doubt, to see his body halved like a carcass for the spit.

'But no! The young man was still standing. What is more, he appeared more hale than before. Indeed, he seemed to have grown a handspan taller, and his slender limbs were thicker. The giant gaped in amazement, and looked at the axe in his fist as if he expected it to offer an explanation. Rage bubbled up like molten lead within him, and he roared again, shaking the ground with the blast. Up swept the axe blade, and down. The youth, effortless as a willow in spring, stepped lightly aside as the wicked blade shaved the empty air.

' "My father always taught me that war is a bane, and the chief of man's afflictions," the youth intoned mildly. His voice had deepened and his arms, well muscled now, raised the blade and held it steadily before him. "Perhaps it is a lesson you should have learned."

'Glowering murderously, his black face growing blacker in its fury, the giant screamed, "How dare you condemn me! Just you stand still, and we will see who is the master here."

'The giant lunged wildly at the youth, who met his charge with a swift kick which stopped the black enemy in his tracks. The giant, stunned by the blow, doubled over in pain. The youth stood leaning on his sword a few paces away as his adversary heaved his dinner onto the ground. "It is a shame to waste a good meal," taunted the youth, "but then you were always a wastrel and a destroyer. Tell me, how does your victory taste now? Is it still as sweet in your mouth – or has it all gone sour?"

'With a cry to crack the sky, the Black Oppressor heaved up the iron axe. The cruel weapon seemed much heavier now, and it took all his strength just to raise it and balance it above his head. The blade hung in the air, its honed edge glinting sharp in the sunlight.

'The youth, head and shoulders rising level with those of the Black Oppressor's, raised the king's sword and flicked the axe blade away as if it had been a feather. The ease with which he had been disarmed inflamed the giant beyond all restraint or reason. Lowering his head, he threw wide his arms and ran at the young man, intent on crushing the youth in his all-encircling grasp.

'The giant made but three paces before his legs gave out and he toppled face-first onto the ground. The collision drove the breath from the wicked foeman's lungs, and caused the earth to tremble and shake as if to draw the mountains down. But the young man, towering over the giant now, stepped to the Vile Enemy and lopped off his head with an easy stroke of Manawyddan's sword, saying, "Never more will you trouble the good people of this realm."

'The king and all his tribe stood blinking in astonishment at what they had seen. For the space of six heartbeats, not a sound was to be heard in all the world, and then, with a great shout of relief, they all rushed forward to acclaim the wonderful youth and his astounding triumph over the Black Oppressor.

'Manawyddan was first to laud the youth, and led his people in a song of praise in the young man's honour. The Grey Lady threw off her hood, ran to the youth, and put her arms around his neck – for, as soon as the giant was dead, the lad had assumed his former shape and size. The lady kissed him, and declared loudly for all to hear: "Truly, you are a champion among men. This day you have won your kingdom, and your queen."

'Abashed by the tumult, the young man blushed crimson from top to toe. Taking the lady's arms from around his neck, he said, "Though your offer is kindness itself, I must ask your pardon and decline. My course is set before me, for I am directed by another hand."

'Lord Manawyddan was saddened to hear these words. "What?" he cried. "Will you not stay with us? My champion is slain, and I have need of another. You, I think, more than deserve that place."

'The youth only smiled, and begged to be excused the honour. "Alas, I cannot stay even a moment longer," he said, and explained how it was his geas to roam the width and breadth of the world and offer his aid wherever it was needed.

' "Leave if you must," said Manawyddan, "but please do not go away empty-handed. You have but to name your reward and, to the half of my kingdom, it is yours."

'Smiling still, the young man declined once more. "I have what is needful, and more would avail me nothing." Looking at the warriors gathered close around, the young man said, "Good king, honour me instead in these who have been given you. Do not hold their fright against them – men are only dust, after all."

'The king marvelled the more at these words. "Go, then," said Manawyddan, "and with my blessing. Yet, I would not have you leave us before I learned your name."

'The young man smiled at this. "Do you not know me yet?" he asked.

The king answered, "Son, I never laid eyes on you before this day. Who are you, lad?"

'To which the stranger replied, "I am the Youth of a Thousand Summers." He then bade everyone farewell and, passing among them, disappeared in much the same way as he had arrived: unseen and unguessed.

'When he had gone, the Grey Lady threw open the gates of her stronghold and invited Manawyddan and his warrior host to feast with her and her people in celebration of their deliverance. The king, though still less than elated with the fainthearted behaviour of his warband, accepted. They all went into the queen's hall and feasted for three days and three nights in the most pleasant fellowship they had ever known. Men and women sat down together and soon found themselves sharing the feast with the one they loved best. One by one, each couple came before their ruler to beg the boon of marriage. All were duly married, and the celebration continued as a wedding feast, and their joy was made complete.

'Gazing out upon all the feasting couples, the queen observed, "It is right and good that our people should unite our kingdoms in this way. I only wish that I could share their happiness and increase it with my own."

To this Lord Manawyddan replied, "God knows I am setting a poor example for my people if all of them are married and I myself have no queen." Turning to the lady beside him, he said, "I may not be a giant-slayer, but I know I would be a better king than I have ever been if you would be my wife. Lady," he said, taking her hand in his, "will you marry me?"

The Grey Lady smiled easily and said, "And here was I thinking you would never ask. Yes, my king, I will marry you."

This pleased the king greatly. "Here we are to be married," he declared, "and I do not even know your name."

' "My name is Rhiannon," the Grey Lady answered. So saying, the queen threw off her grey hood and cloak to reveal a dress all of gold, with jewels – each more costly than the last -and tiny pearls sewn with thread of braided silver. Her hair was red-gold and braided fine, her skin white as milk, her flesh supple, and her smooth-cheeked face lovely to look upon. The sight of her pleased Manawyddan well, and he married her at once lest she somehow slip from his grasp.

'The king then presented his new queen to the people, and the noble couple made their way through the hall, giving gifts to one and all. The celebration was renewed to the delight of every creature, high or low, living in the realm.

'Behold! When they rose from the table, three hundred years had passed them unawares. Nor had they suffered the predations of age, for every man and woman was as hale as the moment he or she had first sat down. Indeed, not so much as a single silver hair was to be seen on any head, and even those whose brows had been creased by care were seen to be as smooth and cheerful as the day each was born.