The Story of Bing, Bang & Bong

This story, like all the best stories, begins once upon a time, in the far north of Wales. There was a warrior prince called Bryn who married a beautiful princess called Rhonwen. Although there were great celebrations at the wedding, time passed, and no children came to bless their union. So one day, Bryn and Rhonwen went out into the woods to seek the assistance of the Derwen, Drynan, who listened carefully as they told their story. Then the Derwen grabbed a thick length of oak branch, and walloped Bryn on the shoulders, and Rhonwen, too.
"You shall have three sons!' prophesied the Derwen with a grin.
And sure enough, just nine months later, Rhonwen gave birth to three fine strapping boy babies.
'What shall we call them?' she asked Bryn, who scratched his head thoughtfully.
'I don't know,' he said helpfully.
'Pshaw!' said Rhonwen. 'A fat lot of help you are,' she muttered. Then she raised her head. 'Listen -- what's that?'
'It's the bard, playing a bodhran left behind by the Irish invaders,' said Bryn.
And he listened, too ...
Bing, bang, bong, went the drum. Bing, bang, bong. Slowly, then faster and faster -- bong-bang-bong, bing-bang-bong ...

'There you are!' cried Rhonwen. 'That's what we shall call the boys: Bing, Bang and Bong, after the sound of the bodhran!'

And so Bing, Bang and Bong were what they were called.

Bing and Bang grew tall and strong and very clever. Bong was small and slight and although he was clever, he never got a chance to show it. Whenever Bing and Bang played with the others in their clan, Bong was left out. He got sadder and sadder.

One day, when Bing and Bang were racing in their coracles along a stream, Bong went into the woods to find the fabled Derwen. The Derwen was waiting for him.

'Thought you'd be along sooner or later,' said the Derwen. "What's up?'
Bong told his story.
The Derwen shook his head. 'Size doesn't mean strength,' he sighed. 'When will those humans learn?' He grabbed his length of oak branch and walloped Bong on each shoulder. 'Go on, young feller,' he told the boy. 'You're as strong as a dozen men now. But use your strength carefully! Be gentle. Learn wisdom. Right?'

'Right!' agreed Bong happily. He went back to the stream where his brothers were lifting their coracles onto the bank.

"Can I sail with you in the coracles?' asked Bong.
'No,' said Bing.
'Silly idea,' said Bang.
'Oh,' said Bong. 'We'll see about that.' He reached out and picked Bing up in one hand, and Bang up in the other hand, and carried them over to the edge of the stream.
Bing and Bang were yelling with surprise and shock, and of course they allowed Bong to sail in their coracles. In fact, they fought hard about whose coracle Bong would sail in most! They each wanted him so much now that he seemed to be so strong.

Next, Bong went into the village where the student bards were gathering. Bing picked up a harp, and twanged a few strings, and sang a short verse of praise to the High King. Then Bang picked up a harp, and played a few notes, and sang another verse.

'May I play the harp, please?' said Bong.

All the other boys laughed at the weak little Bong trying to play a harp, which he couldn't even lift.

But Bong smiled and picked up the harp effortlessly and ran his fingers over the strings. Notes came flying out so fast and furiously, and in such magnificent melodies, that everyone was shocked. Not only that, but Bong sang such difficult rhymes and metres that his command of the language caused everyone to applaud.

"I do declare he'll be the chief bard, one day!' the villagers said.

And one day, Bong did. He was chief bard, and he presided over the biggest warband in Wales. But he advised his High King to keep the peace. 'Size does not mean strength,' he said, echoing the Derwen of long ago. Bong was known for his gentleness and wisdom, and Bing and Bang were always in awe of him and very proud of their brother. They too had learned that size does not mean strength ... and that strength does not mean violence but self-control.

And as for Bryn and Rhonwen, they lived long and happily, seeing all three of their boys growing to manhood and becoming wise and gentle men.

And the Derwen? Well, he's still there ... out in the woods, with his branch of oak, waiting to wallop the next person who comes along feeling out of sorts.