The Wrekin Giant: How a cobbler saved Shrewsbury

A long time ago, before we puny humans took up quite so much space, a giant named Gwendol Wrekin ap Shenkin ap Mynyddmawr hated Shrewsbury as much as he hated nicknames.

It was just too nice, he thought. Look at all those tiny, boring people in their tiny houses. He couldn’t have even fit his foot into one of those!

And they always looked like they were having such fun, too. When was Gwendol Wrekin ap Shenkin ap Mynyddmawr’s turn at happiness?

You know what would make him happy? Damming up the Severn so the town would have to move. And if he stopped having to see all the happy tiny people swimming, that was just a pleasant bonus.

He made his way around the countryside, a great sack of stones on his back, trying to decide where the best place would be for his dam.

On the way, he nearly squashed a tiny man under his foot.

“You from Shrewsbury?” Gwendol Wrekin ap Shenkin ap Mynyddmawr asked him, holding his foot threateningly near the man’s head.

“No, no! In fact, I’m just leaving Shrewsbury for my shop in Wellington.”

“And you live above that shop?”

“Yes, sir?” The man hoped the giant didn’t want to come over. He was normally happy to make shoes for anyone, but he didn’t think he’d give up his own house to give the giant one shoe.

Gwendol Wrekin ap Shenkin ap Mynyddmawr sat down on the ground, a little earthquake shaking the road and the cobbler. Now that he was a little closer, he saw the tiny man held a lumpen bag that was about the same size as the little man himself.

“You won’t be able to ram the Severn with so few rocks,” he laughed.

“What? Oh,” the cobbler said, realising the giant was looking at the bag he carried on his back. “These aren’t rocks, sir. They’re shoes. Why would I want to dam the Severn?”

“I’m glad you didn’t intend to do it, because that wouldn’t be enough,” the giant said. He laughed again, a little roll of thunder that made a passing dog bark. “I’ve come along this road to find the best spot to dam, but I’ve made it all this way and haven’t yet decided. Where do you think is the spot? You will go along this road more often than I, to your tiny markets and such. You may know best.”

“Well, sir,” the cobbler started. He tilted his head, considering. “What is it you’re trying to do?”

“I plan to dry the river and kill the town of Shrewsbury,” Gwendol Wrekin ap Shenkin ap Mynyddmawr said. The cobbler gulped. “Don’t be a bigot, I won’t kill its people. I’m not a monster. I will just decimate the town’s water source until Shrewsbury can no longer support tiny human lives.”

The cobbler gulped again.

“Oh, now what is it?” said the giant.

“I was just - admiring the size of your shoes, sir,” the cobbler said, thinking fast. “Do you have a good cobbler?”

“He lives in London. Why?”

“Well, see all these shoes,” the cobbler said. He took the pack down off his back and dumped it onto the ground.  “Shrewsbury doesn’t look far off, but it’s such a long walk, and the roads are so bad, these are all the shoes I’ve worn through since I started my walk.”

The giant picked up a shoe smaller than his thumbnail, looking questioningly at the cobbler.

“I began the walk so long ago,” the cobbler explained. “If you had to walk all the way to London and all the way back to Shrewsbury? I think you’d be an old man by that time. An old giant,” he corrected politely.

Gwendol Wrekin ap Shenkin ap Mynyddmawr thought a while. He sighed, and thanked the little cobbler for letting him know. There wasn’t a point in a dead Shrewsbury if he was dead, too!

He stood up and told the cobbler he should maybe run away because, after he ate his gargantuan sandwich, he was going to dump all the stones he’d been hefting around and walk back home.

The cobbler asked if he could pick up all his old shoes first. And the giant shrugged and said "Yes," then scooped all the little shoes into his palm and waited for the cobbler to open his pack.

The cobbler politely thanked Gwendol Wrekin ap Shenkin ap Mynyddmawr – and started running. He ran so quick, in fact, that when he got home he told his wife he'd beaten his personal best!! She nearly rolled her eyes, but then she heard the noise. Felt the house shaking - twice in one day now - and looked at her husband with concern.

“Wait a moment,” he wanted to say, but was still too out of breath to manage. He grabbed his wife’s arm and grabbed their baby from its chair and took them all outside, pointing to the horizon.

There, before their eyes, the start of a hill began to emerge. The hill grew and grew, like a loaf of bread rising in the oven.

“What is that?” She asked. The baby in her husband’s arms began to cry.

“No, hush,” he told the child. “It’s from the giant Wrekin.”

“Will he live there now?”

“No, it's where he’s dropping all he carried. He was going to dam the Severn with stones,” the cobbler told his wife. “To dry up the town of Shrewsbury.”

She gasped. “But they’re your best customers!”

“That’s why I talked him around. Now, he’s making that hill instead.”

"Well," she looked at it appraisingly, and thought for a moment. “I suppose it’ll be quite pretty one day.”