The curse of the Wyvern lay like a pestilence upon the people of Coed-y-Moch. The monster hunted human being and beast alike, destroyed every living creature which it caught. Neither strength nor cunning availed against it, until there came one Meredydd, a youth renowned for his prowess. In a coat of steel, and armed with an axe that men said had fallen from Heaven, he set forth on his quest. He found the Wyvern asleep beside a hedge of white hawthorn, drugged by the sweet scent. Meredydd gripped his axe, and struck as he had never struck before - and the Wyvern's head rolled at his feet.