Din Dryfol is one of the lesser-known cromlechi of Ynys Môn — a Neolithic burial chamber on a rough farm track inland of Aberffraw, on the parish edge of Bodorgan. The capstone has slumped sideways at a worrying angle. The supporting orthostats lean. From a distance it looks almost casual, as if the stones were resting there only for the afternoon. They have, in fact, been resting there for about five thousand years.
The folklore attached to Din Dryfol is older than anyone now remembers and stranger than its size suggests. The people of Bodorgan, well into the nineteenth century, told a story that the cromlech was not a tomb at all but the cap on something living. Coiled directly beneath the great fallen slab, they said, was a red wyrm — a dragon — and the stones were the seal placed on its mouth by a saint long ago to keep it down.
The proof, if you were inclined to look for it, was supposed to be the heat. On winter mornings, when every other stone on Ynys Môn was white with frost, the capstone of Din Dryfol was bare and dry, as though something underneath it were breathing slowly out. Farmhands who took shelter against it during November storms swore they felt the rock pulse very faintly under their hands, in a rhythm that was not their own.
The story is plainly a cousin of the famous tale of the Red Dragon of Dinas Emrys, the wyrm that Lludd buried at the navel of Britain. Anglesey has always borrowed the dragons of Eryri and given them local addresses. Din Dryfol's wyrm is the island's own quiet version: smaller, older, asleep, and best left that way.
Practically nobody visits Din Dryfol. It is on private land, it is not signposted, and the cromlech itself is so unassuming that walkers often pass within fifty yards of it without noticing. That, the old people of Bodorgan would have said, is exactly how the saint wanted it.
Wear something inspired by Din Dryfol and you wear the Anglesey rumour that not every dragon was killed at Dinas Emrys — that one of them was simply lidded with stone, on a quiet ridge above Aberffraw, where the frost still refuses to settle.