Lucy Ryan was the winning Bard at this year's Eisteddfod with "How the Welsh Dragon became red". This is her winning piece:

Once on a blistering, sunny and dazzling day in a compact and silent village called Castell there was a strong sense of festive celebration in this unnoticed Welsh countryside.

"All hail!" chanted Llewelyn, mayor of Castell village.

"We are gathered here to joyfully celebrate the hanging of the great   Welsh flag."

The Welsh flag was a piece of art; it hung there, proud and vigorous. This masterpiece had a colossal bottle-green dragon on it with lordly red eyes like fiery lava. The villagers believed that this represented power and leadership for such a minute and dominated country. The crowd cheered as Llewelyn read out his speech with honourable tears glittering in his sea blue eyes. Suddenly there was a ferocious roar from the mountain above them. "Ahh, its just a wolf disturbed by our noise!" shouted a villager quite unsurely.

The next day, all the citizens of Castell were indoors, making hot food to warm themselves up on this certainly chilling day. Without warning, there was a sudden swoosh of artic air as a terrifying beast came racing over the village. But this was no ordinary beast, this was a dragon! The creature sat on a building fiercely with his slender, scaly, long tail wrapped around his blood-red body. The dragon's eyes were the size of over fed goblins (which isn't pleasant). One swing of his monstrous tail would kill you instantly. This monster, called Draig was the worst dragon you could ever come across. Draig looked in disgust at this flag as it blew around madly in the bitter, damp wind. The flag angered Draig because the villagers thought it stronger than him.  He let out an infuriated roar, baring his pearl white teeth, as sharp as knives hanging in a butcher's shop.

Suddenly, it was too much for Draig to bear so he burned the flag in rage. Fire blew everywhere, golden, sparkly and scorching hot. After a while, Draig retreated back to his dark, damp and terrifying lair in the rocky mountain of St. David. Draig's lair was an awful place, it had a number of ancient and smelly corpses, rotting in deep pits of mud, and around them there were boxes of weapons from sticks to jewel studded swords, which sparkled from the candles flickering in the corner of the lair.  "Ahh!" screamed Llewelyn as he noticed the charred and burnt remains of the beloved Welsh flag. It was easy to see that this was the dirty work of a dragon. Llewelyn immediately called for a meeting to be held about this horrible tragedy.

          The crowd gasped and cried in shock as they heard the dreadful news.

"But we can't slay the dragon!" cried a resident who was crying hysterically. "We just can't because if we kill it, it will be like killing our country!" he finished.

This irritated Llewelyn, so he announced, " We are going to slay the dragon and that's final!" The group hesitated but then they agreed that it was the right thing to do.

Before very long the people of Castell village had made a cunning and yet dangerous plan. They would put up a new flag and when the dragon came they would slay him.

Eventually Draig came storming into Castell village but then he noticed the group of furious villagers running towards him as he tried to set the new flag ablaze. " Get him!" screamed a villager in relief that they were finally going to kill the beast that ruined their priceless flag - something so special to them. With this the dragon flew off, shortly followed by the whole village. They ran and ran until they had Draig cornered in a vast and grassy field. Llewelyn drew his sword from his leather belt and pierced it into Draig's muscular, powerful and scaly leg. But it wasn't enough to kill him instantly so he had a chance for revenge. Draig bared his dagger-like teeth and bit into Llewelyn savagely, Draig howled, roared in pain and collapsed - dead!

There was a short silence. No one spoke. No one whispered. All you could hear were the haunting squawking vultures hovering over a very dead Llewelyn.

The next day, a thick and depressing fog hung over Castell village. There were cries of despair as Llewelyn, the mighty mayor was buried in a coffin of solid gold and encrusted with precious diamonds - but they didn't sparkle.

"All hail Mayor Llewellyn," mumbled the crowd in sadness at the loss. When the service ended, surprisingly the people of Castell village held the funeral of the jealous, angry dragon.

"We shall burn the dragon, just like he burnt our priceless flag!" boomed the new mayor (Llewelyn's son, Arthur) So Draig was burnt, not in the royal, proud way that Llewelyn was laid to rest.

          The villagers went flagless for a few weeks until loud and excited cheers were heard from miles around the tiny village as Arthur unveiled a new flag! But there was one difference, the dragon was bright and blood - red. The dragon had rough scales and a slender tail; its limbs were so muscular, so powerful. But why red? Why red? The answer was that the new dragon was red because of the cold blood Draig had shed in the brutal battle that took two lives, one pleasant, one nasty. All hail Draig!