Between the Trees: A Festival Worthy of the Shire

Into the woods...

We weren't entirely sure what to expect when we set off for a long weekend camping at Between the Trees festival. We've done our time at mud-to-dust covered, indie-rock music festivals before, but this felt like something else - a smaller gathering in the woods; a promise of music, storytelling, crafts, and nature.

Nestled in the serene Candleston Woods at Merthyr Mawr, South Wales, Between The Trees is now in its eighth year. Spread across a hundred acres of coastal woodland, this four-day celebration blends indie-folk, acoustic roots, and nature workshops with storytelling and environmental science under one leafy canopy. Held annually over the August Bank Holiday, the festival champions sustainability, creativity, and community. You can dip into biodiversity talks, crafts, recharge with yoga and massage, or just lose yourself in the music that drifts constantly through the trees - from intimate acoustic sessions to full-band performances that turn the woodland clearings into dance floors.

When we first left our beautifully prepared bell tent and wandered through the woods towards the festival ground, the trees opened, and we found ourselves looking upon what felt like Bilbo Baggins’ 111^th birthday party. Bunting strung between branches, the smell of food drifting across a woodland clearing, children darting about with wild glee, and a bar piled with boxes of cider. The only thing missing was the dragon-shaped firework. From that moment, we knew we'd stepped into a different kind of festival - one with a touch of storybook magic.

The festival unfolds across two woodland stages. One buzzed with high-energy sets that felt less like folk gigs and more like woodland raves. The other offered quieter acoustic moments, music you could lean into. Acts such as Ye Vagabonds, Sheelanagig, and Blair Dunlop brought depth and variety to the lineup. Blair Dunlop, the son of folk legend Ashley Hutchings, released his latest album Out of the Rain this year. On stage, he blends poetic folk songwriting with bursts of energy - voice rising, guitar ringing, and emotion simmering beneath. From the very start, everyone was here to be a little more free, a little more wild and a little more themselves. The atmosphere was open and unforced, the kind of place where strangers quickly become friends. Almost everyone we met was a volunteer, some dressed as elves looking after kids, first aiders, support and security, people giving their time, their skills, their passion, to make sure the festival felt safe, welcoming, and alive.

One early evening we gathered in a creaky old barn for a round of horror folk tales, strictly for adults. The late sun crept through the cracks in the wooden walls, casting thin blades of light across the room as Daniel Morden took the floor. Widely regarded as one of the finest storytellers in the UK, Morden has spent decades retelling myths, legends, and folktales, from Welsh epics to Greek classics, with appearances at the Hay Festival and on BBC Radio. That night, though, it was the darker tales that gripped us.

He has a gift for stillness, for letting silence carry weight before breaking it with a sudden laugh or sharp turn of phrase. His delivery felt almost like music – rises and falls - and he knew exactly how to work the room. The audience leaned closer, caught between shivers and bursts of laughter, as his voice shifted from hushed whispers to wicked cackles. It was one of the standout moments of the festival, proof that sometimes a single voice in a darkening room can be as powerful as any headline band.

In between events we met Dave and Lynn, a couple who had travelled up from Devon, who’ve been to countless festivals but now seek out those with more meaning. “We picked this because it’s billed as a science and nature festival,” Lynn told us. “We’ve done the heavy music ones, but here you see the same people year after year and really get to know them.” They spoke about how safe it felt, how children could run wild without worry, and how refreshing it was to see young people engaging with talks about the environment, herbalism, and crafts.

And then, as the sun finally went to sleep, there was Elephant Sessions, the Highland folk-fusion powerhouse, who lit up the forest with a set that was nothing short of breathtaking. Their sound sits between traditional Scottish folk and modern festival energy and live it’s impossible to resist. At times it felt like a ceilidh, at others more like a woodland rave - fiddle and mandolin cutting through the night while bass and drums drove the crowd into a frenzy. What struck us most was how naturally their music seemed to belong here: earthy, joyful, full of life. If Bilbo’s birthday needed a soundtrack, this would have been it - wild, exuberant, and unforgettable.

As the evening wound down, we sat outside our bell tent with hot chocolate on the go, around us conversations drifted - people swapping stories about crafts they’d tried, talks they’d heard, music that had moved them. That was the real magic of Between the Trees: not just the bands or the food (or the cider), but the way the place itself encouraged connection - to each other, to the land, to something deeper.

This was a place where the masks of everyday life could be set aside. People danced barefoot, wore costumes in bright colours, and joined strangers along benches as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

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