Llwyn-y-betws is the sort of house you might find in a welsh village, or perhaps at the end of a bumpy farm track. A house of fair proportions, a two up, two down. But Llwyn-y-betws sits in the middle of a moorland hill, with no road running to it or near it. It's as if one night it had decided it'd had enough of man and his noisy roads and had, like Baba Yaga's house stood up on two strong legs and marched itself up into the hills to sit quietly amongst the reeds and the sheep and slowly rot away. Perhaps the fabulous view of the Nantlle ridge reflected in it's windows gave the house a sense of deep satisfaction. It could settle here. It'd had brought Hawthorn Tree with with it, they had been friends forever, and they would murmur to each other in low voices of their past life in the village and how this was what they had always dreamed of for their retirement together and wasn't it fine!
Here's a wee film to show you how remote Llwyn-y-Betws, or as the maps call it Llwyn-y-bettws, which I reckon is a silly English spelling, so I'll stick with Llwyn-y-betws. Those lines you can see are not roads... they are walls. There are a great many really ancient soil covered walls, possibly Medieval or earlier. The house looks late 19th century... I may be wrong. It's all a mystery. If anyone knows the history of this house please, please comment!