Genghis Cohen posted:

I'll be honest, I can't exactly remember how the story moves on from this bit. But in a sense the heroes can go back now and report success - the cauldron is beyond Arawn's grasp, with powers which I really don't think he could recover it from again.

That's not what happens, but I'm damned if I can recall why or how.

quote:

THE DOOR SLAMMED SHUT behind them and once again the companions found themselves outside the cottage.

"Well, I like that!" Eilonwy cried indignantly. "After all their talk of dear little Dallben and sweet little Dallben, they've turned us out!"

"Better turned out than into, if you take my meaning," said the bard. "A Fflam is always kind to animals, but somehow I can't bring myself to feel I should like to actually become one!"

"No, oh, no!" Gurgi cried fervently. "Gurgi, too, wants to stay as he is--- bold and clever!"

Taran turned back to the cottage and began pounding on the door. "They must listen to us!" he declared. "They didn't even take time to think it over." But the door did not open, and though he ran to the window and rapped long and loud, the enchantresses did not show themselves again.

"I'm afraid that's your answer," said Fflewddur. "They've said all they intend to say--- and perhaps it's for the best. And I have the uneasy feeling all that knocking and thumping might--- well, you don't know but what those, ah, ladies get upset at noises."

"We can't just go away," Taran replied. "The cauldron is in their hands and, friends of Dallben or not, there's no telling what they'll do with it. I fear them and I distrust them. You heard the way the one called Orgoch was talking. Yes, I can well imagine what she'd have done to Dallben." He shook his head gravely. "This is what Gwydion warned against. Whoever has the cauldron can be a mortal threat to Prydain, if they choose to be."

"At least Ellidyr hasn't found it," Eilonwy said. "That's something to be grateful for."

"If you want the advice of one who is, after all, the oldest of us here," said the bard, "I think we should do well to hurry home and let Dallben and Gwydion attend to the matter. After all, Dallben should know how to deal with those three."

"No," Taran answered, "that I will not do. We should lose precious days in travel. The Huntsmen failed to get the cauldron back. But who knows what Arawn will attempt next? No, we dare not leave the thing here."

"For once," declared Eilonwy, "I agree. We've come this far and we shall have to go on to the end. I don't trust those enchantresses either. They wouldn't sleep if they thought we had the cauldron? I shall certainly have nightmares if I think of them with it! Not to mention Arawn! I believe no one, human or otherwise, should have that much power." She shuddered. "Ugh! There go the ants on my back again!"

"Yes, well, it's true," Fflewddur began. "But the fact remains--- they have that wretched pot and we don't. They're there and we're here, and it looks very much as though it will stay that way."

Taran was thoughtful a moment. "When Arawn wouldn't give the cauldron back to them," he said, "they went and took it. Now, since they won't let us have the cauldron, I see only one way: we shall have to take it."

"Steal it?" cried the bard. His worried expression changed rapidly and his eyes brightened. "I mean," he dropped his voice to a whisper, "steal it? Now there's a thought," he went on eagerly. "Never occurred to me. Yes, yes, that's the way," he added with excitement. "Now, that has some style and flair to it!"

"One difficulty," Eilonwy said. "We don't know where they've hidden the cauldron, and they evidently aren't going to let us in to find out."

Taran frowned. "I wish Doli were here; we'd have no trouble at all. I don't know--- there must be some way. They told us we could stay the night," he continued. "That gives us from now until dawn. Come, let's not stand in front of their cottage or they'll know we're up to something. Orddu spoke of a shed."

The companions led their horses to the side of the hill where a low, dilapidated building tottered shakily on the turf. It was bare and bleak and the autumn wind whistled through the chinks in the earthen wall. The bard stamped his feet and beat his arms.

"Chilly spot to plan anything," he remarked. "Those enchantresses may have a lovely view of the Marshes, but it's a cold one."

"I wish we had some straw," Eilonwy said, "or anything to keep us warm. We'll freeze before we have a chance to think of anything at all."

"Gurgi will find straw," Gurgi suggested. He scurried out of the shed and ran toward the chicken roost.

Taran paced back and forth. "We'll have to get into the cottage as soon as they're asleep." He shook his head and fingered the brooch at his throat. "But how? Adaon's clasp has given me no idea. The dreams I had of the cauldron are without meaning to me. If I could only understand them..."

"Suppose you dozed off right now," said Fflewddur helpfully, "and slept as fast as you could? As hard as you could, I mean. You might find the answer."

"I'm not sure," replied Taran. "It doesn't quite work that way."

"It should be a lot easier than boring a hole through the hill," said the bard, "which was my next suggestion."

"We could block up their chimney and smoke them out," Eilonwy said. "Then one of us could sneak into the cottage. No," she added, "on second thought, I'm afraid anything we might put down their chimney ---well ---they could very likely put something worse up. Besides, they don't have a chimney, so we shall have to forget that idea." Gurgi, meantime, had returned with a huge armload of straw from the chicken roost, and the companions gratefully began heaping it on the clay floor. While Gurgi went off again to fetch another load, Taran looked dubiously at the straggly pile.

"I suppose I could try to dream," he said, without much hope. "I certainly haven't a better suggestion."

"We can bed you down very nicely," said Fflewddur, "and while you're dreaming, the rest of us will be thinking, too. That way, we can all be working after our own fashion. I don't mind telling you," he added, "I wish I had Adaon's brooch. Sleep? I wouldn't need to be asked twice, for I'm weary to my bones." Taran, still unsure, made ready to settle himself in the straw when Gurgi reappeared, wide-eyed and trembling. The creature was so upset he could only gasp and gesture. Taran sprang to his feet.

"What is it?" he cried. Gurgi beckoned them toward the chicken roost and the companions hurried after him.

The agitated Gurgi led them into the wattle-and-daub building, then slunk back, terrified. He pointed to the far corner. There, in the midst of the straw, stood a cauldron. It was squat and black, and half as tall as a man. Its ugly mouth gaped wide enough to hold a human body. The rim of the cauldron was crooked and battered, its sides dented and scarred; on its lips and on the curve of its belly lay dark brown flecks and stains which Taran knew were not rust. A long, thick handle was braced by a heavy bar; two heavy rings, like the links of a great chain, were set in either side. Though of iron, the cauldron seemed alive, grim and brooding with ancient evil. The empty mouth caught the chill breeze and a hushed muttering rose from the cauldron's depths, like the lost voices of the tormented dead.

"It is the Black Crochan," Taran whispered in fear and awe. He well understood Gurgi's terror, for the very sight of the cauldron was enough to make him feel an icy hand clutching his heart. He turned away, hardly daring to look at it any longer. Fflewddur's face was pale. Eilonwy put a hand to her mouth. In the corner, Gurgi shivered pitifully. Though he himself had found it, he gave no joyous yelps of triumph. Instead, he sank deeper into the straw and tried to make himself as small as possible.

"Yes, well, I suppose it is indeed," replied Fflewddur, swallowing hard. "On the other hand," he added hopefully, "perhaps it is not. They did say they had a number of other cauldrons and kettles lying about. I mean, we shouldn't want to make a mistake."

"It is the Crochan," Taran said. "I have dreamed of it. And even if I had not, I would know it still, for I can sense the evil in it."

"I, too," murmured Eilonwy. "It is full of death and suffering. I understand why Gwydion wants to destroy it." She turned to Taran. "You were right in seeking it without delay," Eilonwy added with a shudder. "I'll take back all the things I said. The Crochan must be destroyed as soon as possible."

"Yes," Fflewddur sighed, "I'm afraid this is the Crochan itself. Why couldn't it have been a nice little kettle instead of this ugly, hulking brute? However," he went on, taking a deep breath, "let's snatch it! A Fflam never hesitates!"

"No!" cried Taran, putting out a hand to restrain the bard. "We dare not take it in broad daylight; and we mustn't stay here or they'll know we've found it. We'll come back after nightfall with the horses and drag it away. For now, we'd better keep to the shed and act as if nothing has happened." The companions quickly returned to the shed. Once away from the Crochan, Gurgi regained some of his spirits.

"Crafty Gurgi found it!" he cried. "Oh, yes! He always finds what is lost! He has found piggies, and now he finds a great cauldron of wicked doings and brewings! Kind master will honor humble Gurgi!" Nevertheless, his face wrinkled with fear.Taran gave Gurgi a comforting pat on the shoulder.

"Yes, old friend," he said, "you have helped us more than once. But I never would have imagined they'd have hidden the Crochan in an empty chicken roost, under a pile of dirty straw." He shook his head. "I'd think they'd want to guard it better."

"Not at all," said the bard. "They were very clever. They put it in one of the first places anybody would look, knowing quite well it was so easy nobody would ever think of looking there."

"Perhaps," Taran said. He frowned. "Or perhaps," he added, unable to stifle the dread suddenly filling him, "they meant us to find it."

quote:

IN THE SHED the companions tried to sleep, knowing the night to come would be one of hard and dangerous labor. Fflewddur and Gurgi dozed briefly; Eilonwy huddled in her cloak with some straw piled around her. Taran was too restless and uneasy even to close his eyes. He sat silently, in his hands a long coil of rope he had taken from what little gear remained to the companions. They had decided to sling the cauldron between the two horses and make their way from the Marshes into the safe shelter of the forest, where they would destroy the Crochan. No sign of life came from the cottage. At nightfall, however, a candle suddenly glowed in the window. Taran rose quietly and moved stealthily out of the shed. Clinging to the shadows, he made his way to the low building and peered in. For a moment he stood there, amazed, unable to move. Then he turned and raced back to the others as quickly as he could.

"I saw them in there!" he whispered, rousing the bard and Gurgi. "They aren't the same ones at all!"

"What?" cried Eilonwy. "Are you sure you didn't stumble on a different cottage?"

"Of course I didn't," retorted Taran. "And if you don't believe me, go and look for yourself. They aren't the same. There are three of them, yes, but they're different. One of them was carding wool; one of them was spinning; and the third was weaving."

"I suppose, really," said the bard, "it passes the time for them. There's little enough to do in the middle of these dismal bogs."

"I shall indeed have to see for myself," Eilonwy declared. "There's nothing so strange about weaving, but beyond that I can't make any sense of what you say." With Taran leading, the companions stole cautiously to the window. It was as he had said. Inside the cottage three figures wentabout their tasks, but not one of them resembled Orddu, Orwen, or Orgoch.

"They're beautiful!" whispered Eilonwy.

"I've heard of hags trying to disguise themselves as beautiful maidens," murmured the bard, "but I've never heard of beautiful maidens wanting to disguise themselves as hags. It isn't natural, and I don't mind telling you it makes me edgy. I think we'd better seize the cauldron and be gone."

"I don't know who they are," said Taran, "but I fear they are more powerful than we could even guess. Somehow we've fallen on something--- I don't know what. It troubles me. Yes, we must take the cauldron as soon as we can, but we shall wait until they're asleep."

"If they sleep," said the bard. "Now that I've seen this, nothing would surprise me, not even if they hung by their toes all night, like bats." For a long time Taran feared the bard was right and that the enchantresses might not sleep at all. The companions took turns watching the cottage and it was not until almost dawn that the candle finally winked out. In an agony of waiting, Taran still delayed. Soon a loud snoring rose from within.

"They must have gone back to themselves again," remarked the bard. "I can't imagine beautiful ladies snoring like that. No, it's Orgoch. I'd recognize that snort anywhere." In the still shadows of the false dawn the companions hastened to the chicken roost where Eilonwy ventured to light her bauble. The Crochan squatted in its corner, black and baleful.

"Hurry now," Taran ordered, taking hold of the handle. "Fflewddur and Eilonwy, pick up those rings; and Gurgi, lift the other side. We'll haul it out and rope it to the horses. Ready? All lift together." The companions gave a mighty heave, then nearly fell to the ground. The cauldron had not moved.

"It's heavier than I thought," said Taran. "Try again." He made to shift his grip on the handle. But his hands would not come free. In a spurt of fear, he tried to pull away. It was in vain.

"I say," muttered the bard, "I seem to be caught on something."

"So am I!" Eilonwy cried, struggling to tear her hands loose.

"And Gurgi is caught!" howled the terrified Gurgi. "Oh, sorrow! He cannot move!" Desperately the companions flung themselves back and forth, fighting against the mute, iron enemy. Taran wrenched and tugged until he sobbed for lack of strength. Eilonwy had dropped in exhaustion, her hands still on the heavy ring. Once again, Taran strained to break free. The Black Crochan held him fast.

A figure in a long night robe appeared at the doorway.

"It's Orddu!" cried the bard. "We'll be toads for sure!"

quote:

ORDDU, BLINKING SLEEPILY and looking more disheveled than ever, stepped inside the chicken roost. Behind her followed the other two enchantresses, also in flapping night robes, their hair unbound and falling about their shoulders in a mass of snarls and tangles. They had again taken the shapes of crones, in no way resembling the maidens Taran had spied through the window. Orddu raised a sputtering candle above her head and peered at the companions.

"Oh, the poor lambs!" she cried. "What have they gone and done? We tried to warn them about the nasty Crochan, but the headstrong little goslings wouldn't listen! My, oh my," she clucked sorrowfully, "now they've got their little fingers caught!"

"Don't you think," said Orgoch in a croaking whisper, "we should start the fire?"

Orddu turned to her. "Do be silent, Orgoch," she cried. "What a dreadful thought. It's much too early for breakfast."

"Never too early," muttered Orgoch.

"Look at them," Orddu went on fondly. "They're so charming when they're frightened. Like birdlings without their feathers."

"You have tricked us, Orddu!" Taran cried. "You knew we'd find the cauldron and you knew what would happen!"

"Why, of course we did, my chicken," Orddu replied sweetly. "We were only curious to find out what you'd do when you did find it. And now you've found it, and now we know!" Taran struggled desperately to free himself. Despite his terror, he flung back his head and glared defiantly at Orddu.

"Kill us if you choose, you evil hags!" he cried. "Yes, we would have stolen the cauldron and destroyed it! And so shall I try again, as long as I live!" Taran threw himself furiously against the immovable Crochan and once again with all his strength tried vainly to wrest it from the ground.

"I love to see them get angry, don't you?" Orwen whispered happily to Orgoch.

"Do take care," Orddu advised Taran, "or you'll harm yourself with all that thrashing about. We forgive you for calling us hags," she added indulgently. "You're upset, poor chicken, and liable to say anything."

"You are evil creatures!" Taran cried. "Do with us what you will, but sooner or later you shall be overcome. Gwydion shall learn of our fate. And Dallben..."

"Yes, yes!" shouted Gurgi. "They will find you, oh, yes! With great fightings and smitings!"

"My dear pullets," replied Orddu, "you still don't understand, do you? Evil? Why, bless your little thumping hearts, we aren't evil."

"I should hardly call this 'good'," muttered the bard. "Not, at least, from a personal point of view."

"Of course not," agreed Orddu. "We're neither good nor evil. We're simply interested in things as they are. And things as they are, at the moment, seem to be that you're caught by the Crochan."

"And you don't care!" cried Eilonwy. "That's worse than being evil!"

"Certainly we care, my dear," Orwen said soothingly. "It's that we don't care in quite the same way you do, or rather care isn't really a feeling we can have."

"Come now," said Orddu, "don't trouble your thoughts with such matters. We've been talking and talking and we have some pleasant news for you. Bring the Crochan outdoors--- it's so stuffy and eggy in here--- and we shall tell you. Go ahead," she added, "you can lift it now." Taran cast Orddu a distrustful glance, but ventured to put his weight against the cauldron. It moved, and he discovered, too, his hands were free. With much labor the companions managed to raise the heavy Crochan and carry it from the chicken roost. Outside, the sun had already risen. As the companions set the cauldron on the ground and quickly drew away, the rays of dawn turned the black iron as red as blood.

"Yes, now as I was saying," Orddu continued, while Taran and his companions rubbed their aching arms and hands, "we've talked it over and we agree--- even Orgoch agrees--- that you shall have the Crochan if you truly want it."

quote:

"You'll let us take it?" cried Taran. "After all you've done?"

"Quite so," replied Orddu. "The Crochanis useless--- except for making Cauldron-Born. Arawn has spoiled it for anything else, as you might imagine. It's sad it should be so, but that's the way things are. Now, I assure you, Cauldron-Born are the last creatures in the world we should want around here. We've decided the Crochan is nothing but a bother to us. And, since you're friends of Dallben..."

"You're giving us the Crochan?" Taran began in astonishment.

"Delighted to oblige you ladies," said the bard.

"Gently, gently, my ducklings," Orddu interrupted. "Give you the Crochan? Oh, goodness no! We never give anything. Only what is worth earning is worth having. But we shall allow you the opportunity to buy it."

"We have no treasures to bargain with," Taran said in dismay. "Alas that we do not."

"We couldn't expect you to pay as much as Arawn did," replied Orddu, "but we're sure you can find something to offer in exchange. Oh, shall we say... the North Wind in a bag?"

"The North Wind!" Taran exclaimed. "Impossible! How could you ever dream...?"

"Very well," said Orddu, "we shan't be difficult. The South Wind, then. It's much gentler."

"You make sport of us," Taran cried angrily. "The price you ask is beyond what any of us can pay."

Orddu hesitated. "Possibly you're right," she admitted. "Well, then, something a little more personal. I have it!" she said, beaming at Taran. "Give us--- give us the nicest summer day you can remember! You can't say that's hard, since it belongs to you!"

"Yes," Orwen said eagerly. "A lovely summer afternoon full of sunlight and sleepy scents."

"There's nothing so sweet," murmured Orgoch, sucking a tooth, "as a tender young lamb's summer afternoon."

"How can I give you that?" protested Taran. "Or any other day, when they're--- they're inside of me somewhere? You can't get them out! I mean..."

"We could try," Orgoch muttered. Orddu sighed patiently. "Very well, my goslings. We've made our suggestions and we're willing to listen to yours. But mind you, if it's to be a fair exchange, it must be something you prize as much as the Crochan."

"I prize my sword," Taran said. "It is a gift from Dallben and the first blade that is truly mine. For the Crochan I would gladly part with it." He began quickly to unbuckle his belt, but Orddu waved an uninterested hand.

"A sword?" she answered, shaking herhead. "Goodness, no, my duck. We already have so many--- too many, in fact. And some of them famous weapons of mighty warriors."

"Then," said Taran, with hesitation, "I offer you Lluagor. She is a noble animal." He paused, seeing Orddu's frown. "Or," he added reluctantly in a low voice, "there is my horse, Melynlas, a colt of Melyngar, Prince Gwydion's own steed. None is faster or more surefooted. I treasure Melynlas beyond all others."

"Horses?" said Orddu. "No, that won't do at all. Such a bother feeding them and caring for them. Besides, with Orgoch it's difficult to keep pets about."

Taran was silent for a moment. His face paled as he thought of Adaon's brooch and his hand went protectively to it. "All that remains to me," he began slowly.

"No, no!" Gurgi cried, thrusting his way toward the enchantress and brandishing his wallet. "Take Gurgi's own great treasure! Take bag of crunchings and munchings!"

"Not food," said Orddu. "That won't do either. The only one of us who has the slightest interest in food is Orgoch. And I'm sure your wallet holds nothing to tempt her." Gurgi looked at Orddu in dismay.

"But it is all poor Gurgi has to give." He held out the wallet once again. The enchantress smiled and shook her head. Gurgi's hands fell to his sides; his shoulders drooped; and he turned mournfully away.

"You must like jewelry," Eilonwy put in quickly. She pulled the ring from her finger and offered it to Orddu. "This is a lovely thing," Eilonwy said. "Prince Gwydion gave it to me. Do you see the stone? It was carved by the Fair Folk." Orddu took the ring, held it close to her eye, and squinted.

"Lovely, lovely," she said. "So pretty. Almost as pretty as you, my lamb. But so much older. No, I'm afraid not. We have a number of them, too. We really don't want any more. Keep it, my chick. One day you may find some use for it, but we surely won't." She gave back the ring to Eilonwy, who sadly replaced it on her finger.

"I do have something else I treasure," Eilonwy went on. She reached into the folds of her cloak and brought out the golden sphere. "Here," she said, turning it in her hands so that it shone with a bright glow. "It's much better than just a light," Eilonwy said. "You see things differently in it, clearer, somehow. It's very useful."

"How sweet of you to offer it to us," said Orddu. "But there again, it's something we don't really need."

"Ladies, ladies!" cried Fflewddur. "You've overlooked a most excellent bargain." He stepped forward and unslung his harp. "I quite understand that bags of food and all such couldn't possibly interest you. But I ask you to consider this harp. You're alone in this gloomy fen," he went on, "and a little music should be just the thing. The harp almost plays of itself," Fflewddur continued. He put the beautifully curved instrument to his shoulder, barely touched the strings, and a long, lovely melody filled the air. "You see?" cried the bard. "Nothing to it!"

"Oh, it is nice!" Orwen murmured wistfully. "And think of the songs we could sing to keep ourselves company."

Orddu peered closely at the harp. "I notice a good many of the strings are badly knotted. Has the weather got into them?"

"No, not exactly the weather," said the bard. "With me, they tend to break frequently. But only when I--- only when I color the facts a bit. I'm sure you ladies wouldn't have that kind of trouble."

"I can understand you should prize it," Orddu said. "But, if we want music we can always send for a few birds. No, all things considered, it would be a nuisance, keeping it in tune and so on."

"Are you certain you have nothing else?" Orwen asked hopefully.

"That's all," said the disappointed bard. "Absolutely everything. Unless you want the cloaks off our backs."

"Bless you, no!" said Orddu. "It wouldn't be proper in the least for you ducklings to go without them. You'd perish with the cold--- and what good would the Crochan be to you then? I'm terribly sorry, my chicks," Orddu went on. "It does indeed seem you have nothing to interest us. Very well, we shall keep the Crochan and you shall be on your way."

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FAREWELL, MY OWLETS," Orddu said, turning toward the cottage. "Unfortunate you couldn't strike a bargain with us. But that, too, is the way things are. Flutter home to your nest, and give all our love to little Dallben."

"Wait!" Taran called, and strode afterher. Eilonwy, realizing his intent, cried out in protest and caught his arm. Gently, Taran put her aside. Orddu stopped and looked back at him. "There is--- there is one thing more," Taran said in a low voice. He stiffened and took a deep breath. "The brooch I wear, the gift of Adaon Son of Taliesin."

"Brooch?" said Orddu, eyeing him curiously. "A brooch, indeed? Yes, that might be more interesting. Just the thing, perhaps. You should have mentioned it sooner." Taran lifted his head and his eyes met Orddu's. For that instant it seemed to him they were quite alone. He raised his hand slowly to his throat and felt the power of the brooch working within him.

"You have been toying with us, Orddu," he whispered. "You saw that I wore Adaon's clasp from the moment we came here. You knew it for what it was."

"Does that matter?" Orddu replied. "It is still your choice, whether you will bargain with it. Yes, we know the brooch well. Menwy Son of Teirgwaedd, first of the bards, fashioned it long ago."

"You could have slain us," Taran murmured, "and taken the clasp."

Orddu smiled sadly. "Do you not understand, poor chicken? Like knowledge, truth, and love themselves, the clasp must be given willingly or its power is broken. And it is, indeed, filled with power. This, too, you must understand. For Menwy the bard cast a mighty spell on it and filled it with dreams, wisdom, and vision. With such a clasp, a duckling could win much glory and honor. Who can tell? He might rival all the heroes of Prydain, even Gwydion Prince of Don.

"Think carefully, duckling," Orddu said. "Once given up, it shall not come to you again. Will you exchange it for an evil cauldron you intend only to destroy?"

As he held the brooch, Taran recalled with bitter clarity the joys of sight and scent, of dewdrops on a spider web, his rescue of the companions from the rock fall, of Gurgi praising his wisdom, the admiring eyes of Eilonwy, and Adaon who had entrusted the brooch to him. Once more there came to him the pride of strength and knowledge. At his feet, the ugly cauldron seemed to mock him. Taran nodded, barely able to speak.

"Yes," he said heavily. "This shall be my bargain." Slowly he undid the clasp at his throat. As he dropped the bit of iron into Orddu's outstretched hand, it was as though a light flickered and died in his heart, and he nearly cried out with the anguish of it.

"Done, my chicken!" Orddu cried. "The brooch for the Crochan!" About him the companions stood insilence and dismay. Taran's hands clenched.

"The Crochan is ours," he said, looking Orddu full in the face. "Is this not so? It is ours, to do with as we please?"

"Why, of course, dear fledgling," Orddu said. "We never break a bargain. It's yours entirely, no question of it."

"In your stables," Taran said, "I saw hammers and iron bars. Will you grant us the use of them? Or," he added bitterly, "must we pay still another price?"

"Use them by all means," replied Orddu. "We'll count that as part of the bargain, for you are a bold chicken, we must admit."

Taran led the companions to the stable and there he paused. "I understand what you were all trying to do," he said quietly, taking their hands in turn. "Each of you would have given up what you treasured most, for my sake. I'm glad Orddu didn't take your harp, Fflewddur," he added. "I know how unhappy you'd be without your music, even more than I without my brooch. And Gurgi, you should never have tried to sacrifice your food on my account. And Eilonwy, your ring and your bauble are much too useful and beautiful to exchange for an ugly Crochan. All of these things," Taran said, "are doubly precious now. And so are you, the best of true comrades." He seized a heavy hammer that was leaning against the wall. "Come now, friends, we have a task to finish."

Armed with iron bars and sledges, the companions hurried back to the cottage and, while the enchantresses looked on curiously, Taran raised his hammer. With all his strength he brought it down on the Crochan. The hammer rebounded. The cauldron rang like a deep bell of doom, but remained undented. With a cry of anger, Taran struck again. The bard and Eilonwy added a fury of blows, while Gurgi belabored the cauldron with an iron bar. Despite their efforts, the cauldron showed not the slightest damage. Drenched and exhausted, Taran leaned on his hammer and wiped his streaming face.

"You should have told us, my goslings, what you intended," Orddu called. "You can't do that to the Crochan, you know."

"The cauldron belongs to us," retorted Eilonwy. "Taran has paid more than enough. It's our business if we want to smash it!"

"Naturally," replied Orddu, "and you're quite welcome to hammer and kick it from now until the birds start nesting again. But, my silly goslings, you'll never destroy the Crochan that way. Goodness no, you're going at it all wrong!" Gurgi, about to crawl inside the Crochan and attack it from within, stopped to listen while Orddu continued. "Since the Crochan is yours," she said, "you're entitled to know how to dispose of it. There's only one way, though very simple and neat it is."

"Then tell us!" Taran cried. "So that we may put an end to the evil thing!"

"A living person must climb into it," Orddu said. "When he does, the Crochan will shatter. But," she added, "there's only one disagreeable thing about that, the poor duckling who climbs in will never climb out again alive." With a yelp of terror, Gurgi sprang from the cauldron and scuttled to a safe distance, where he furiously brandished his iron bar and shook his fist at the Crochan.

"Yes," said Orddu with a smile, "that's the way of it. The Crochan only cost you a brooch, but it will cost a life to destroy it. Not only that, but whoever gives up his life to the Crochan must give it willingly, knowing full well what he does. And now, my chickens," she went on, "we must really say farewell. Orgoch is dreadfully sleepy. You had us up so early, you know. Farewell, farewell." She waved a hand and, with the other enchantresses, turned to enter the cottage.

"Stop!" Taran shouted. "Tell us, is there no other way?" He ran to the doorway. Orddu's head popped out for an instant.

"None whatever, my chicken," she said, and for the first time there was a hint of pity in her voice. The door snapped shut in Taran's face. He pounded in vain; no further reply came from the enchantresses, and even the window suddenly darkened with an impenetrable black fog.

quote:

"When Orddu and her friends say farewell," remarked the bard, "they mean it. I doubt we shall see them again." He brightened. "And that's the most cheerful piece of news I've had this morning."

Taran wearily dropped his hammer to the ground. "Surely there must be something else we can do. Though we cannot destroy the Crochan, we dare not part with it."

"Hide it," suggested Fflewddur. "Bury it. And I should say, as soon as possible. You can be quite certain we won't find anyone eager to jump into the thing and break it for us."

Taran shook his head. "No, we cannot hide it. Sooner or later Arawn would find it, and all our efforts would have been useless. Dallben will know," he went on. "He alone has the wisdom to deal with the cauldron. Gwydion himself planned to bring the Crochan to Caer Dallben. Now that must be our task."

Fflewddur nodded. "I suppose that's the only safe thing. But it's a cumbersome beast. I don't see the four of us lugging it along some of those mountain trails."

In front of the silent cottage, the companions led out Lluagor and Melynlas and lashed the cauldron between the two steeds. Gurgi and Eilonwy guided the heavily laden horses, while Taran and the bard walked, one in front, one behind, to steady the Crochan. Though eager to be gone from Orddu's cottage, Taran did not dare venture across the Marshes of Morva again. Instead, he determined the companions would travel some distance from the edges of the swamp, keeping to solid ground and following a path half-circling the bog until they reached the moors.

"It's longer," Taran said, "but the Marshes are too treacherous. Last time, Adaon's brooch guided me. Now," he added with a sigh, "I'm afraid I'd lead us to the same fate as the Huntsmen."

"That's rather a good idea!" cried the bard. "Not for us," he added quickly, "for the Crochan. Sink the beastly pot in the quicksand!"

"No thank you!" answered Eilonwy. "By the time we found quicksand, we'd be sinking along with the Crochan. If you're tired, we can change off and you lead Melynlas."

"Not at all, not at all," grunted Fflewddur. "It's not as heavy as all that. In fact, I find the exercise bracing, quite invigorating. A Fflam never flags!"

At this, a harp string broke, but the bard gave it no heed, busy as he was in holding his side of the swaying cauldron. Taran trudged in silence, speaking only to call directions to Eilonwy and Gurgi. They continued with few moments of rest throughout the day. Nevertheless by sunset Taran realized they had covered only a little distance and had barely reached the broad moorlands. He was aware, too, of his own fatigue, heavy as the Crochan itself, a weariness he had never noticed while he had worn Adaon's brooch. They camped on an open heath, cold and barren, shrouded with mist drifting from the Marshes of Morva. There they unroped the Crochan from the tired horses and Gurgi brought out food from the wallet. After the meal, Fflewddur's spirits revived. Although shivering in the chill and dampness, the bard put his harp to his shoulder and attempted to cheer the companions with a merry song. Taran, usually eager to listen to the bard's music, sat apart, gloomily watching the cauldron. After a time Eilonwy drew near and put her hand on his shoulder.

"I realize it's no consolation to you," she said, "but if you look at it in one way, you didn't give up a thing to the enchantresses, not really. You did exchange the clasp and everything that went along with it. But, don't you see, all those things came from the clasp itself; they weren't inside of you. I think," she added, "it would have been much worse giving up a summer day. That's part of you, I mean. I know I shouldn't want to give up a single one of mine. Or even a winter day, for the matter of that. So, when you come right down to it, Orddu didn't take anything from you; why, you're still yourself and you can't deny that!"

"Yes," Taran answered. "I am still only an Assistant Pig Keeper. I should have known that anything else was too good to last."

"That may be true," said Eilonwy, "but as far as being an Assistant Pig-Keeper is concerned, I think you're a perfectly marvelous one. Believe me, there's no question in my mind you're the best Assistant Pig-Keeper in all Prydain. How many others there are, I'm sure I don't know, but that's beside the point. And I doubt a single one of them would have done what you did."

"I could not have done otherwise," Taran said, "not if we were to gain the cauldron. Orddu said they were interested in things as they are," he went on. "I believe now they are concerned with things as they must be. "Adaon knew there was a destiny laid on him," Taran continued, turning to Eilonwy, his voice growing firmer, "and he did not turn from it, though it cost him his life.

"Very well," he declared. "If there is a destiny laid on me, I shall face it. I hope only that I may face it as well as Adaon did his."

"But don't forget," added Eilonwy, "no matter what else happens, you won the cauldron for Gwydion and Dallben and all of us. That's one thing nobody can take away from you. Why, for that alone you have every reason to be proud."

Taran nodded. "Yes, this much have I done." He said no more and Eilonwy quietly left him there. For long after the others had gone to sleep, Taran sat staring at the Crochan. He thought carefully over all Eilonwy had told him; his despair lightened a little and pride stirred within him. Soon the cauldron would be in Gwydion's hands and the long task ended.

"This much have I done," Taran repeated to himself, and new strength budded in his heart. Nevertheless, as the wind moaned across the heath and the Crochan loomed before him like an iron shadow, he thought once again of the brooch, and he buried his face in his hands and wept.

quote:

HIS NIGHT'S SLEEP refreshed Taran but little and hardly blunted the edge of his weariness. Nevertheless, at dawn he roused the companions and with much effort they began roping the Crochan to Lluagor and Melynlas. When they finished, Taran glanced around him uneasily.

"There is no concealment for us on these moors," he said. "I had hoped we might keep to the flatlands where our journey would be easier. But I fear that Arawn will have his gwythaints seeking the Crochan. Sooner or later they will find us, and here they could fall on us like hawks on chickens."

"Please don't mention chickens," said the bard with a sour grimace. "I had quite enough of that from Orddu."

"Gurgi will protect kind master!" shouted Gurgi.

Taran smiled and put a hand on Gurgi's shoulder. "I know you'll do your best," he said. "But all of us together are no match for even one gwythaint." Taran shook his head. "No," he said reluctantly, "I think we had better turn north to the Forest of Idris. It's the longest way around, but at least it would give us some cover."

Eilonwy agreed. "It's not usually wise to go in the direction opposite to where you want to be," she said. "But you can be sure I'd rather not fight gwythaints."

"Lead on, then," said Fflewddur. "A Fflam never falters! Though what my aching bones might do is another matter!"

Crossing the moorlands, the companions journeyed without difficulties, but once within the Forest of Idris the Crochan grew more burdensome. Although the trees and bushes offered concealment and protection, the paths were narrow. Lluagor and Melynlas stumbled often and, despite their most valiant efforts, they could barely drag the cauldron through the brush. Taran called a halt.

"Our horses have borne all they can," he said, patting the lathered neck of Melynlas. "Now it is our turn to help them. I wish Doli were here." He sighed. "I'm sure he'd find an easier way of carrying the Crochan. He'd think of something clever. Like making a sling out of branches and vines."

"There!" cried Eilonwy. "You've just said it yourself! You're doing amazingly well without Adaon's brooch!" With their swords Taran and the bard cut stout branches, while Eilonwy and Gurgi stripped vines from the tree trunks. Taran's spirits lifted when he saw the sling take shape according to his plan. The companions hoisted up the Crochan and set off again. But even with the sling, and all their strength, their progress was slow and painful.

"Oh, poor weary arms!" moaned Gurgi. "Oh, moilings and toilings! This evil pot is a cruel and wicked master to us all! Oh, sorrow! Fainting Gurgi will never leave Caer Dallben again unbidden!"

Taran gritted his teeth, as the rough branches bit into his shoulders. To him, too, it seemed as if the ugly, heavy cauldron had gained some strange life of its own. The Crochan, squat and blood-darkened, lurched behind him as he stumbled through the brush. It caught on jutting tree limbs, as though eagerly clutching them to itself. Often, at these sudden checks, the companions lost their footing and went sprawling. Then, laboriously, they were obliged to set the Crochan back in its sling once again. Though the weather was chill enough to turn their breath white, their clothing was drenched with sweat and nearlyripped to shreds by the grasping brambles.

The trees had begun to grow more dense, and the ground rose toward the comb of a hill. For Taran, the Crochan seemed to gain weight with every pace. Its leering, gaping mouth taunted him, and the cauldron dragged at his strength as he heaved and struggled along the ascending trail. The companions had nearly reached the crest of the hill when one of the carrier branches snapped. The Crochan plunged to the ground and Taran fell headlong. Painfully picking himself up and rubbing his shoulder, he stared at the spiteful cauldron and shook his head.

"No use," Taran gasped. "We'll never get it through the forest. No sense trying."

"You sound like Gwystyl," Eilonwy remarked. "If I didn't have my eyes open, I could barely tell the difference."

"Gwystyl!" cried the bard, looking ruefully at his blistered hands. "I envy that fellow in his rabbit warren! Sometimes I think he had quite the right idea."

"We are too few to carry such a burden," Taran said hopelessly. "With another horse or another pair of hands there might be a chance. We are only deceiving ourselves if we think we can bring the Crochan to Caer Dallben."

"That may be true," Eilonwy sighed wearily. "But I don't know what else we can do, except keep on deceiving ourselves. And perhaps by that time we'll be home." Taran cut a new branch for the sling, but his heart was as heavy as the Crochan itself. And, as the companions wrestled their burden over the hill and descended into a deep valley, Taran nearly sank to the ground in despair. Before them, like a brown, menacing serpent, stretched a turbulent river.

Taran stared grimly at the choppy waters for a moment, then turned away. "There is a destiny laid on us that the Crochan shall never reach Caer Dallben."

"Nonsense!" cried Eilonwy. "If you stop now, then you've given up Adaon's brooch for nothing! That's worse than putting a necklace on an owl and letting it fly away!"

"If I'm not mistaken," said Fflewddur helpfully, "that must be the River Tevvyn. I've crossed it farther to the north, where it takes its source. Surprising, the bits of information you pick up as a wandering bard."

"Alas, it does us no good, my friend," Taran said, "unless we could turn north again and cross where the river is less wide."

"Afraid that wouldn't answer," said Fflewddur. "We'd have the mountains to go over, that way. If we're to cross at all, we shall have to do it here."

"It seems a little shallower down that way," said Eilonwy, pointing to a spot where the river curved around a sedge covered bank. "Very well, Taran of Caer Dallben," she said, "what shall it be? We can't just sit here until gwythaints or something even more disagreeable find us, and we certainly can't go back to Orddu and offer to exchange the Crochan again."

Taran took a deep breath. "If you are all willing," he said, "we shall try to cross."

quote:

SLOWLY, STRUGGLING under the cruel weight, the companions brought the Crochan to the riverbank. While Gurgi, leading the horses, cautiously set one foot, then the other, into the stream, Taran and the bard shouldered the sling. Eilonwy followed beside them to steady the swaying cauldron. The icy water slashed at Taran's legs like a knife. He dug his heels into the river bed, seeking a firmer foothold. He plunged deeper; behind him, the straining, grunting Fflewddur did his best to avoid dropping his end of the sling. The chill of the river took Taran's breath away. His head spun, the branches nearly slipped from his numb fingers. For one moment of terror he felt himself falling. His foot found a rock and he braced himself on it. The vines creaked and tensed as the weight of the cauldron shifted. The companions were in midstream now and the water rose only to their waists. Taran raised his streaming face. The opposite bank was not far; the ground appeared smoother, the forest not as dense.

"Soon there!" he cried, taking heart anew. Gurgi, he saw, had already led the horses from the water and was turning back to help the toiling companions. Closer to the bank the river bottom turned stony. Blindly, Taran picked his way through the treacherous rocks. Ahead rose a number of high boulders and he warily guided the Crochan past them. Gurgi was reaching out his hands when Taran heard a sharp cry from the bard. The cauldron lurched. With all his strength Taran heaved forward. Eilonwy seized the cauldron by its handle and tugged desperately. Taran flung himself to dry ground. The Crochan rolled to its side and sank in the muddy shallows. Taran turned back to help Fflewddur. The bard, who had fallen heavily against the boulders, was struggling to shore. His face was white with pain; his right arm hung uselessly at his side.

"Is it broken? Is it broken?" Fflewddur moaned as Taran and Eilonwy hurried to lead him up the bank.

"I'll be able to tell in a moment," Taran said, helping the stumbling bard to sit down and prop his back against an alder. He opened Fflewddur's cloak, slit the sleeve of the jacket, and carefully examined the damaged arm. Taran saw quickly that the bard's fall had not only been severe but that one of the cauldron's legs had given him a deep gash in his side. "Yes," Taran said gravely, "I'm afraid it is." At this the bard set up a loud lament and bowed his head.

"Terrible, terrible," he groaned. "A Fflam is always cheerful, but this is too much to bear."

"It was a bad accident," Eilonwy said, trying to hide her concern, "but you mustn't take on so. It can be fixed. We'll bind it up."

"Useless!" cried Fflewddur in despair. "It will never be the same! Oh, it is the fault of that beastly Crochan! The wretched thing struck at me deliberately, I'm sure!"

"You'll be all right, I promise you," Taran reassured the sorrowful bard. He tore several wide strips from his cloak. "Good as new in a little while," he added. "Of course, you won't be able to move your arm until it's healed."

"Arm?" cried Fflewddur. "It's not my arm that worries me! It's my harp!"

"Your harp is in a better state than you are," said Eilonwy, taking the bard's instrument from his shoulder and putting it in his lap.

"Great Belin, but you gave me a shock!" Fflewddur said, caressing the harp with his free hand. "Arms? Naturally, they heal themselves with no trouble at all. I've had a dozen broken--- yes, well, that is to say I snapped my wrist once during a little sword play--- in any case, I have two arms. But only one harp!" The bard heaved an immense sigh of relief. "Indeed, I feel better already." Despite Fflewddur's brave grin, Taran saw the bard was suffering more than he chose to admit. Quickly and gently Taran finished making a splint and winding the strips about it, then brought herbs from Lluagor's saddlebag.

"Chew these," he told Fflewddur. "They will ease your pain. And you'd better stay perfectly still for a while."

"Lie still?" cried the bard. "Not now, of all times! We must fish that vile pot out of the river!"

Taran shook his head. "The three of us will try to raise it. With a broken arm even a Fflam wouldn't be much help."

"By no means!" cried Fflewddur. "A Fflam is always helpful!" He struggled to raise himself from the ground, winced, and fell back again. Gasping with the pain of his exertion, he looked dolefully at his injury.

Taran uncoiled the ropes and, with Gurgi and Eilonwy following, made his way to the shallows. The Crochan lay half submerged in the water. The current eddied around its gaping mouth and the cauldron seemed to be muttering defiance. The sling, Taran saw, was undamaged, but the cauldron was caught firmly between the boulders. He looped a rope and cast it over a jutting leg, directing Gurgi and Eilonwy to pull when he signaled. He waded into the river, bent, and tried to thrust his shoulder under the cauldron. Gurgi and Eilonwy hauled with all their strength. The Crochan did not move. Soaked to the skin, his hands numb, Taran wrestled vainly with the cauldron. Breathless, he staggered back to shore where he attached ropes to Lluagor and Melynlas. Once again Taran returned to the icy stream. He shouted to Eilonwy, who led the horses away from the river. The ropes tightened; the steeds labored; Taran heaved and tugged at the immovable cauldron. The bard had managed to regain his feet and lent what effort he could. Gurgi and Eilonwy took their places in the water beside Taran, but the Crochan resisted the force of all their muscles. In despair Taran signaled for them to stop. Heavy-hearted, the companions returned to shore.

"We shall camp here for the rest of the day," Taran said. "Tomorrow, when we have our strength back, we can try again. There may be some other way of getting it out, I don't know. It is tightly wedged and everything we do seems to make it worse." He looked toward the river, where the cauldron crouched like a glowering beast of prey.

"It is a thing of evil," Taran said, "and has brought nothing but evil. Now, at the last, I fear it has defeated us." He turned away. Behind him the bushes rustled. Taran spun around, his hand on his sword. A figure stepped from the edge of the forest.

Darthemed posted:

What a cliffhanger!

Wahad posted:

Sorry everyone. I should note I'm not, in fact, dead, or ill or anything of the sort, but real life did get in the way a bit. Chapters return on Wednesday.

silvergoose posted:

That's really good to hear, seriously, in this day and age.

nine-gear crow posted:

Yeah, by all means take your time, please. It's just good to hear that you're okay and doing well

Bilirubin posted:

also I probably should have checked the activity level of the thread before alerting all of the forums to it in the monthly announcement

quote:

IT WAS ELLIDYR. With Islimach following, he strode to the riverbank. Dry mud caked his tawny hair and grimed his face. His cheeks and hands had been cruelly slashed; his bloodstained jacket was half ripped from his shoulders, and he wore no cloak. Dark-ringed, his eyes glittered feverishly. Ellidyr halted before the speechless companions, threw back his head, and glanced scornfully at them.

"Well met," he said in a hoarse voice, "brave company of scarecrows." His lips drew back in a taut, bitter grin. "The pig-boy, the scullery maid--- I do not see the dreamer."

"What do you here?" Taran cried, facing him angrily. "You dare speak of Adaon? He is slain and lies beneath his burial mound. You have betrayed us, Son of Pen-Llarcau! Where were you when the Huntsmen set upon us? When another sword would have turned the balance? The price was Adaon's life, a better man than you shall ever be!" Ellidyr did not reply, but moved stiffly past Taran and squatted down near the pile of saddlebags.

"Give me food," he said sharply. "Roots and rain water have been my meat and drink."

"Evil traitor!" shouted Gurgi, leaping to his feet. "There are no crunchings and munchings for wicked villain, no, no!"

"Hold your tongue," said Ellidyr, "or you shall hold your head."

"Give him food, as he asks," Taran ordered. Muttering furiously, Gurgi obeyed and opened the wallet.

"And just because we're feeding you," cried Eilonwy, "don't think you're welcome to it!"

"The scullery maid is not pleased to see me," said Ellidyr. "She shows temper."

"Can't say I really blame her," rejoined Fflewddur. "And I don't see that you should expect anything else. You've done us a bad turn. Would you have us hold a festival?"

"The harp-scraper is still with you, at least," Ellidyr said, seizing the food from Gurgi. "But I see he is a bird with the wing down."

"Birds again," murmured the bard with a shudder. "Shall I never be allowed to forget Orddu?"

"Why do you seek us?" Taran demanded. "You were content to leave us once. What brings you here now?"

"Seek you?" Ellidyr laughed harshly. "I seek the Marshes of Morva." "Well, you're a long way from them," Eilonwy cried. "But if you're in a hurry to get there--- as I hope you are--- I'll be glad to give you directions. And while you're there, I suggest you find Orddu, Orwen, and Orgoch.They'll be happier to see you than we are."

Ellidyr wolfed down his food and settled himself against the saddlebags. "That is better," he said. "Now there is a bit more life in me."

"Enough to take you wherever you happen to be going," snapped Eilonwy.

"And wherever you happen to be going," replied Ellidyr, "I wish you the joy of your journey. You shall find Huntsmen enough to satisfy you."

"What," cried Taran, "are the Huntsmen still abroad?"

"Yes, pig-boy," Ellidyr answered. "All Annuvin is astir. The Huntsmen I have outrun, a noble game of hare and hounds. The gwythaints have had their sport of me," he added with a contemptuous laugh, "though it cost them two of their number. But enough remain to offer you good hunting, if that is your pleasure."

"I hope you didn't lead them to us," Eilonwy began.

"I led them nowhere," said Ellidyr, "least of all to you, since I did not know you were here. When the gwythaints and I parted company, I assure you I gave little heed to the path I chose."

"You can still choose your path," said Eilonwy, "so long as it leads you from us. And I hope you follow it as swiftly as you didwhen you sneaked away."

"Sneaked away?" laughed Ellidyr. "A Son of Pen-Llarcau does not sneak. You were too slow-footed for me. There were matters of urgency to attend to."

"Your own glory!" Taran replied sharply. "You thought of nothing else. At least, Ellidyr, speak the truth."

"It is true enough I meant to go to the Marshes of Morva," Ellidyr said with a bitter smile. "And true enough I did not find them. Though I should, had the Huntsmen not barred my way. From the scullery maid's words," Ellidyr went on, "I gather you have been to Morva."

Taran nodded. "Yes, we have been there. Now we return to Caer Dallben."

Ellidyr laughed again. "And you, too, have failed. But, since your journey was the longer, I ask you which of us wasted more of his labor and pains?"

"Failed?" cried Taran. "We did not fail! The cauldron is ours! There it lies," he added, pointing past the riverbank to the black hump of the Crochan. Ellidyr sprang to his feet and looked across the water.

"How, then!" he shouted wrathfully. "Have you cheated me once more?" His face darkened with rage. "Do I risk my life again so that a pig-boy may rob me of my prize?" His eyes were frenzied and he made to seize Taran by the throat.

Taran struck away his hand. "I have never cheated you, Son of Pen-Llarcau!" he cried. "Your prize? Risk your life? We have lost life and shed blood for the cauldron. Yes, a heavy price has been paid, heavier than you know, Prince of Pen Llarcau." Ellidyr seemed to strangle on his rage. He stood without moving, his face working and twitching. But he soon forced himself to seem again cold and haughty, though his hands still trembled.

"So, pig-boy," he said in a low, rasping voice, "you have found the cauldron after all. Yet, indeed, it would seem to belong more to the river than to you. Who but a pig-boy would leave it stranded thus? Did you not have wits enough or strength enough to smash it, that you must bear it with you?"

"The Crochan cannot be destroyed unless a man give up his life in it," Taran answered. "We have wits enough to know it must be put safely in Dallben's hands."

"Would you be a hero, pig-boy?" asked Ellidyr. "Why do you not climb into it yourself? Surely you are bold enough. Or are you a coward at heart, when the test is put upon you?"

Taran disregarded Ellidyr's taunt. "We need your help," he said urgently. "Our strength fails us. Help us bring the Crochan to Caer Dallben. Or at least aid us to move it to the riverbank."

"Help you?" Ellidyr threw back his head and laughed wildly. "Help you? So that a pigboy may strut before Gwydion and boast of his deeds? And a Prince of Pen-Llarcau play the churl? No, you shall have no help from me! I warned you to take your own part! Do it now, pig-boy!"

Eilonwy screamed and pointed to the sky. "Gwythaints!"

A flight of three gwythaints soared high above the trees. Racing with the wind-driven clouds, the gigantic birds sped closer. Taran and Eilonwy caught up Fflewddur between them and stumbled into the bushes. Gurgi, almost witless with fear, pulled on the horses' bridles, leading them to the safety of the trees. While Ellidyr followed, the gwythaints swooped downward, the wind rattling in their flashing feathers. With harsh and fearsome shrieking, the gwythaints circled around the cauldron, blotting out the sun with their black wings. One of the ferocious birds came to rest on the Crochan and for an instant remained poised there, beating its wings. The gwythaints made no attempt to attack the companions, but circled once again, then drove skyward. They veered north and the mountains quickly hid them. Pale and shaking, Taran stepped from the bushes.

"They have found what they were seeking," he said. "Arawn will soon know the Crochan waits to be plucked from our hands." He turned to Ellidyr. "Help us," he asked again, "I beg you. We dare not lose a moment."

Ellidyr shrugged and strode down the river-bank into the shallows where he looked closely at the half-sunken Crochan. "It can be moved," he said when he returned. "But not by you, pig-boy. You will need the strength of Islimach added to your own steeds--- and you will need mine."

"Lend us your strength, then," Taran pleaded. "Let us raise the Crochan and be gone from here before more of Arawn's servants reach it."

"Perhaps I shall; perhaps I shall not," answered Ellidyr with a strange look in his eyes. "Did you pay a price to gain the cauldron? Very well, you shall pay another one. Hear me, pig-boy," he went on. "If I help you bear the cauldron to Caer Dallben, it shall be on my own conditions."

"This is no time for conditions," cried Eilonwy. "We don't want to listen to your conditions, Ellidyr. We'll find our own way to get the Crochan out. Or we'll stay here with it and one of us can go back and bring Gwydion."

"Stay here and be slain," Ellidyr replied. "No, it must be done now, and done as I say or not at all." He turned to Taran. "These are my conditions," he said. "The Crochan is mine, and you shall be under my command. It is I who found it, not you, pig-boy. It is I who fought for it and won it. So you shall say to Gwydion and the others. And you shall all swear the most binding oath."

"No, we shall not!" cried Eilonwy. "You ask us to lie so that you may steal the Crochan and steal our own efforts with it! You are mad, Ellidyr!"

"Not mad, scullery maid," said Ellidyr, his eyes blazing, "but weary to my death. Do you hear me? All my life have I been forced into the second rank. I have been put aside, slighted. Honor? It has been denied me at every turn. But this time I shall not let the prize slip from my fingers."

"Adaon saw a black beast on your shoulders," Taran said quietly. "And I, too, have seen it. I see it now, Ellidyr."

"I care nothing for your black beast!" shouted Ellidyr. "I care for my honor."

quote:

"Do you think," Taran said, "I care nothing for mine?"

"What is the honor of a pig-boy?" laughed Ellidyr, "compared to the honor of a prince?"

"I have paid for my honor," answered Taran, his voice rising, "more dearly than you would pay for yours. Do you ask me now to cast it away?"

"You, pig-boy, dared reproach me for seeking glory," said Ellidyr. "Yet you yourself cling to it with your dirty hands. I shall not tarry here. My terms or nothing. Make your choice."

Taran stood silent. Eilonwy seized Ellidyr by the jacket. "How dare you ask such a price?"

Ellidyr drew away. "Let the pig-boy decide. It is up to him whether he will pay it."

"If I swear this," Taran said, turning to the companions, "you must swear along with me. Once given, I will not break an oath, and it would be even more to my shame if I broke this one. Before I can decide, I must know whether you, too, will bind yourselves. On this we must all agree." No one spoke.

At length, Fflewddur murmured, "I put the decision in your hands and abide by what you do." Gurgi nodded his head solemnly.

"I shall not lie!" Eilonwy cried, "not for this traitor and deserter."

"It is not for him," Taran said quietly, "but for the sake of our quest."

"It isn't right," Eilonwy began, tears starting in her eyes.

"We do not speak of rightness," Taran answered. "We speak of a task to be finished."

Eilonwy looked away. "Fflewddur has said the choice is yours," she murmured at last. "I must say the same." For a long moment Taran did not speak. All the anguish he had felt when Adaon's brooch had left his hands returned to him. And he recalled Eilonwy's words in his blackest despair, the girl's voice telling him that nothing could take away what he had done. Yet this was the very price Ellidyr demanded.

Taran bowed his head. "The cauldron, Ellidyr, is yours," he said slowly. "We are at your command, and all things shall be as you say. Thus we swear." Heavy-hearted and silent, the companions followed Ellidyr's orders and once again lashed ropes around the sunken Crochan. Ellidyr hitched the three horses side by side, then attached the lines to them. While Fflewddur held the bridles with his uninjured hand, the companions waded into the shallows.

Ellidyr, standing up to his knees in the rushing water, commanded Taran, Eilonwy, and Gurgi to post themselves on either side of the Crochan and keep it from slipping back against the boulders. He signaled an order to the waiting bard, then bent to his own task. As he had done with Melynlas long before, Ellidyr thrust his shoulders as far below the cauldron as the rocks allowed. His body tensed; the veins rose to bursting on his streaming forehead. Still the cauldron did not yield. Beside him, Taran and Eilonwy heaved vainly at the sling.

Gasping for breath, Ellidyr turned once more to the Crochan. The sling creaked against the boulders; the ropes strained. Ellidyr's shoulders were cut and bleeding, his face deathly white. He choked out another command to the companions; his muscles trembled in a final effort. With a cry, he pitched forward into the water, stumbling to gain his balance. Then he gave an exultant shout. The cauldron had lifted free. Desperately the companions labored to bring the Crochan to shore. Ellidyr seized one end of the sling and thrust ahead. The cauldron skidded to dry, firm ground. On the riverbank they quickly roped the sling between Melynlas and Lluagor. Ellidyr hitched up Islimach as the leading horse, to guide the others and bear a share of the weight.

Until then Ellidyr's eyes had burned with triumph, but now his face changed. "My cauldron has been won back from the river," he said, with a curious glance at Taran. "But I think perhaps I was too hasty. You met my terms too quickly," he added. "Tell me, what is in your mind, pig-boy?" Rage filled him again. "I know well enough! Once more you would try to cheat me!"

"You have my oath." Taran began.

"What is the oath of a pig-boy?" Ellidyr said. "You gave it; you will break it!"

"Speak for yourself," Eilonwy said angrily. "That's what you would do, Prince of Pen-Llarcau. But we are not like you."

"The cauldron needed all of us to raise it," Ellidyr continued, lowering his voice. "But does it now need all of us to carry it? A few would serve," he added. "Yes, yes--- only a few. Perhaps only one, if he were strong enough. Was my price too low?" he went on, spinning around to face Taran.

"Ellidyr," Taran cried, "you are truly mad."

"Yes!" laughed Ellidyr. "Mad to believe your word alone! The price must be silence, utter silence!" His hand moved to his sword. "Yes, pig-boy, I knew in time we should have to face one another."

He lunged forward, his sword out and raised. Before Taran could draw his own blade, Ellidyr swung viciously and pressed to the attack. Taran stumbled down the riverbank and leaped to a boulder, feverishly grasping for his weapon. Ellidyr strode into the water while the companions raced to stop him. As Ellidyr swung his blade again, Taran lost his footing and toppled from the boulder. He tried to rise, but the stones slipped from under him and he stumbled backward. He threw up his hands. The current was clutching at him and he fell. The sharp edge of a rock loomed up, and he knew no more.

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IT WAS NIGHT when Taran came to his senses. He found himself propped against a log, a cloak wrapped around him. His head throbbed; his body ached. Eilonwy was bending over him anxiously. Taran blinked his eyes and tried to sit up. For some moments his memory held only a mingling of sights and sounds, of rushing water, a stone, a shout; his head still whirled. A yellow light shone in his eyes. He realized, as his mind gradually cleared, that the girl had lit the golden sphere and had set it on the log. Beside him, a small fire blazed. Crouched next to it, the bard and Gurgi fed twigs to the flames.

"I'm glad you decided to wake up," Eilonwy said, trying to appear cheerful, as Fflewddur and Gurgi came to kneel beside Taran. "You swallowed so much of the river we were afraid we'd never be able to pump it out of you, and that rap on your head didn't help matters."

"The Crochan!" Taran gasped. "Ellidyr!" He looked around him. "This fire," he murmured, "we dare not show a light Arawn's warriors..."

"It was either build a fire or let you freeze to death," said the bard, "so of course we decided on the first. At this point," he added with a wry grin, "I doubt it can make too much difference. Since the cauldron is out of our hands, I don't believe Arawn will have quite the same interest in us. Happily, I might say."

"Where is the Crochan?" Taran asked. Despite his spinning head, he raised himself from the log.

"It is with Ellidyr," said Eilonwy. "And if you ask where he is," put in the bard, "we can answer you very quickly: we do not know."

"Wicked prince goes off with wicked pot," Gurgi added, "yes, yes, with ridings and stridings!"

"Good riddance to them," agreed Fflewddur. "I don't know which is worse, the Crochan or Ellidyr. Now, at least, they're both together."

"You let him go?" Taran cried in alarm. He put his hands to his head. "You let him steal the Crochan?"

"Let is hardly the word, my friend," the bard answered ruefully.

"You seem to have forgotten," Eilonwy added. "Ellidyr was trying to kill you. It's a good thing you fell into the river, because I can tell you the goings-on weren't very pleasant on the shore. It was terrible, as a matter of fact," the girl went on. "We'd all started after Ellidyr--- by that time you were already floating down the river like a twig in a--- well, like a twig in a river. We tried to save you, but Ellidyr turned on us. I'm certain he meant to kill us," Eilonwy said. "You should have seen his face, and his eyes. He was furious. Worse than that. Fflewddur tried to stand against him..."

"That villain has the strength of ten!"said the bard. "I could barely draw my sword--- it's clumsy when you have a broken arm, you understand. But I faced him! A dreadful clash of weapons! You've never seen the prowess of an outraged Fflam! Another moment and I should have had him at my mercy--- in a manner of speaking," the bard added quickly. "He knocked me sprawling."

"And Gurgi fought, too! Yes, yes, with smitings and bitings!"

"Poor Gurgi," said Eilonwy, "he did his best. But Ellidyr picked him up and tossed him against a tree. When I tried to draw my bow, he snatched it away and snapped it in his hands."

"He chased us into the woods, after that," Fflewddur said. "I've never seen a man in such a frenzy. Shouting at the top of his voice, calling us robbers and oath-breakers, and that we were trying to keep him in second place, that's all he's able to say or think now, if you choose to call that thinking."

Taran shook his head sadly. "I fear the black beast has swallowed him up as Adaon warned," he said. "I pity Ellidyr from the bottom of my heart."

"I should pity him more," muttered Fflewddur, "if he hadn't tried to slice off my head."

"For long, I hated him," Taran said, "but in the little while I bore Adaon's brooch, I believe I saw him more clearly. His heart is unhappy and tormented. Nor shall I forget what he said to me: that I taunted him for seeking glory yet clung to it myself." Taran spread his hands in front of him. "With dirty hands," he said heavily.

"Pay no heed to what Ellidyr says," Eilonwy cried. "After what he made us do, he has no right to blame anyone for anything."

"And yet," Taran said softly, almost to himself, "he spoke the truth."

"Did he?" said Eilonwy. "It was only too true, for his own honor he would have slain us all."

"We managed to escape from him," Fflewddur continued. "That is, he finally stopped pursuing us. When we came back, the horses, the Crochan, and Ellidyr were gone. After that we followed down the river looking for you. You hadn't gone far. But I'm still amazed that anyone can swallow so much water in such a short distance."

"We must find him!" Taran cried. "We dare not let him keep the Crochan! You should have left me and gone after him." He tried to climb to his feet. "Come now, there is no time to lose!"

Fflewddur shook his head. "I'm afraid there's no use in it, as our friend Gwystyl might say. There's not a sign of him anywhere. We have no idea where he planned to go or what he had in mind to do. He has too long a start on us. And, though I hate to admit it, I don't believe any one of us, or all of us together, could do very much against him." The bard glanced at his broken arm. "We're hardly in the best way to deal with the Crochan or Ellidyr, even if we found them."

Taran stared silently into the fire. "You, too, speak the truth, my friend," he said with great gloom. "You have all done more than I could ever ask. Alas, much better than I. Yes, it would be useless now to seek Ellidyr, as useless as our quest has been. We have forfeited all for nothing--- Adaon's brooch, our honor, and now the Crochan itself. We shall return to Caer Dallben empty-handed. Perhaps Ellidyr was right," he murmured. "It is not fitting for a pig-boy to seek the same honor as a prince."

"Pig-boy!" Eilonwy cried indignantly. "Don't ever speak of yourself that way, Taran of Caer Dallben. No matter what has happened, you're not a pig-boy; you're an Assistant Pig Keeper! That's honor in itself! Not that they don't mean the same thing, when you come right down to it," she said, "but one is proud and the other isn't. Since you have a choice, take the proud one!" Taran said nothing for a time, then raised his head to Eilonwy.

"Adaon once told me there is more honor in a field well plowed than in a field steeped in blood." As he spoke, his heart seemed to lighten. "I see now that what he said was true above all. I do not begrudge Ellidyr his prize. I, too, shall seek honor. But I shall seek it where I know it will be found."

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THE COMPANIONS PASSED the night in the forest and next morning turned southward across gentler land. They saw neither Huntsmen nor gwythaints, and they made little attempt at concealment; for, as the bard had said, the forces of Arawn sought the Crochan and not a pitiful band of stragglers. Unburdened, they moved more easily, though without Lluagor and Melynlas their pace on foot was slow and painful. Taran trudged silently, his head bowed against the bitter wind. Dead leaves drove against his face, but he paid them no heed, filled as he was with the distress of his own thoughts.

Some while after midday Taran caught sight of movement among the trees covering a hill crest. Foreseeing danger, he urged the companions to hurry across the open meadow and find cover in a thicket. But before they could reach it, a party of horsemen appeared at the rise and galloped toward them. Taran and the bard drew their swords, Gurgi nocked an arrow into his bowstring and the weary band made ready to defend themselves as best they could.

Fflewddur suddenly gave a great shout and waved his sword excitedly. "Put up your weapons!" he cried. "We're safe at last! These are Morgant's warriors! They bear the colors of the House of Madoc!" The warriors pounded closer. Taran, too, cried out with relief. They were indeed King Morgant's riders, and at their head rode King Morgant himself. As they reined up beside the companions, Taran hurried to Morgant's steed and dropped to one knee.

"Well met, Sire," he cried. "We feared your men were servants of Arawn." King Morgant swung down from the saddle. His black cloak was torn and travel-stained, his face haggard and grim, but his eyes still held the fierce pride of a hawk. A trace of a smile flickered on his lips.

"But you would have stood against us nonetheless," he said, raising Taran to his feet.

"What of Prince Gwydion, of Coll?" Taran asked quickly and with sudden uneasiness. "We were separated at Dark Gate and have had no word of them. Adaon, alas, is slain. And Doli, too, I fear."

"Of the dwarf, there has been no trace," answered Morgant. "Lord Gwydion and Coll Son of Collfrewr are safe. They seek you even now. Though," Morgant added, with another half smile, "it has been my good fortune to find you. The Huntsmen of Annuvin pressed us sharply at Dark Gate," Morgant went on. "At last we fought free of them and began to make our way toward Caer Cadarn, where Lord Gwydion hoped you would join us. We had not reached there," said Morgant, "before we had word of you, and that you had taken it on yourselves to go to the Marshes of Morva. That was a bold venture, Taran of Caer Dallben," Morgant added, "as bold, perhaps, as it was ill advised. You should learn that a warrior owes obedience to his lord."

"It did not seem we could do otherwise," Taran protested. "We had to find the Crochan before Arawn. Would you not have done the same?"

Morgant nodded curtly. "I do not reproach your spirit, but would have you understand that Lord Gwydion himself would hesitate to make a decision of such weight. We would have known nothing of your movements had not Gwystyl of the Fair Folk brought us news. Lord Gwydion and I separated then to search for you."

"Gwystyl?" Eilonwy interrupted. "Not Gwystyl! Why, he wouldn't have done the least thing for us--- until Doli threatened to squeeze him! Gwystyl! All he wanted was to be let alone and hide in his wretched burrow!"

Morgant turned to her. "You speak without knowledge, Princess. Among all who hold the way posts, Gwystyl of the Fair Folk is the shrewdest and bravest. Did you believe King Eiddileg would trust a lesser servant so close to Annuvin? But," he added, "if you misjudged him, it was his intention that you do so. As for the Crochan itself," Morgant went on, as Taran looked at him in amazement, "though you failed to bring it from Morva, Prince Ellidyr has done us noble service. Yes," Morgant added quickly, "my warriors came upon him near the River Tevvyn in the course of our search. From his words, I understood that you were drowned and your companions scattered, and that he bore the cauldron from Morva."

"That's not true," Eilonwy began, her eyes flashing angrily.

"Be silent!" Taran cried.

"No, I will not be silent," retorted Eilonwy, spinning around to face Taran. "You aren't going to tell me you still think you're bound by that oath you made us all swear!"

"What does she mean?" Morgant asked. His eyes narrowed and he studied Taran closely.

"I'll tell you what I mean!" Eilonwy answered, heedless of Taran's protest. "It's very simple. Taran paid for it, and paid dearly. We carried it almost on our backs every step of the way from Morva, until Ellidyr came along. He helped us--- he certainly did that, just the way a robber helps you tidy up your chamber! That's the truth of it, and I don't care what anybody else says!"

"Does she indeed speak the truth?" Morgant asked. When Taran did not answer, Morgant nodded slowly and continued in a thoughtful tone. "I believe she does, though you stay silent. There was much of Prince Ellidyr's tale which rang false to me. As I once told you, Taran of Caer Dallben, I am a warrior and I know my men. But when you face Ellidyr himself, I shall know beyond all doubt. Come," said Morgant, helping Taran to his steed, "we shall ride to my camp. Your task is ended. The Crochan is in my hands."

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Morgant's warriors took up the rest of the companions and they galloped swiftly into the wood. The war lord had made camp in a wide clearing, well protected by trees, its approach guarded by a deep ravine, and the tents had been blended in with a line of underbrush. Taran saw Lluagor and Melynlas tethered among the steeds of the warriors; a little apart, Islimach pawed the ground nervously and pulled at her halter. Near the center of the clearing Taran caught his breath at the sight of the Black Crochan, which now had been removed from its sling. Though two of Morgant's warriors stood by it with drawn swords, Taran could not shake off the sense of fear and foreboding that hung like a dark mist about the cauldron.

"Do you not fear Arawn will attack you here and gain the cauldron once again?" Taran whispered. Morgant's eyes hooded over and he gave Taran a glance both of anger and pride.

"Whoever challenges me shall be met," he said coldly, "be it the Lord of Annuvin himself."

A warrior drew aside the curtain of one of the pavilions, and the war lord led them inside. There, bound hand and foot, lay the still form of Ellidyr. His face was covered with blood and he appeared so grievously battered that Eilonwy could not stifle a cry of pity.

"How is this?" Taran exclaimed, turning to Morgant in shock and reproach. "Sire," headded quickly, "your warriors had no right to use him so ill! This is shameful and dishonorable treatment."

"Do you question my conduct?" Morgant replied. "You have much to learn of obedience. My warriors heed my orders and so shall you. Prince Ellidyr dared to resist me. I caution you not to follow his example." At a call from Morgant, armed guards strode quickly into the tent. The war leader made a brief gesture toward Taran and his companions.

"Disarm them and bind them fast."

Coca Koala posted:

Glad to see more chapters (and to get confirmation that you’re alive and well).

I remember this part of the book hitting me hard as a kid - seeing Taran make choices that are difficult but as right as he can stuck with me for years and years.

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BEFORE THE STARTLED TARAN could draw his blade, a guard seized him and quickly lashed his arms behind his back. The bard, too, was seized. Screaming and kicking, Eilonwy fought vainly. For an instant Gurgi broke loose from his captors and flung himself toward King Morgant. But a warrior struck him brutally to the ground, leaped astride the limp figure, and trussed him tightly.

"Traitor!" Eilonwy shrieked. "Liar! You dare to steal..."

"Silence her," Morgant said coldly, and in another moment a gag muffled her cries. Frantically Taran struggled to reach the girl's side, before he was thrown down and his legs secured with thongs. Morgant watched silently, his features fixed and without expression. The guards stepped away from the helpless companions. Morgant gestured for the warriors to leave the tent. Taran, whose head still spun with confusion and disbelief, strained against his bonds.

"You are already a traitor," he cried. "Will you now be a murderer? We are under the protection of Gwydion; you will not escape his wrath!"

"I do not fear Gwydion," answered Morgant, "and his protection is worthless to you now. Worthless, indeed, to all Prydain. Even Gwydion is powerless against the Cauldron-Born."

Taran stared at him in horror. "You would not dare to use the Crochan against your own kinsmen, your own people. This is even more foul than treachery and murder!"

"Do you believe so?" Morgant replied. "Then you have more lessons to learn than that of obedience. The cauldron belongs to him who knows how to keep it and how to use it. It is a weapon ready for a hand. For years Arawn was master of the cauldron, yet he lost it. Is this not proof he was unworthy, that he did not have the strength or cunning to prevent its slipping from his grasp ? Ellidyr, the proud fool, believed he could keep it. He is hardly fit to be cast into it."

"What," Taran cried, "will you set yourself to rival Arawn?"

"To rival him?" Morgant asked with a hard smile. "No. To surpass him. I know my worth, though I have chafed in the service of lesser men than I. Now I see the moment is ripe. There are few," he continued haughtily, "who understand the uses of power. And few who dare use it when it is offered them. Power such as this was offered once to Gwydion," Morgant went on. "He refused it. I shall not fail to take it. Shall you?"

"I?" asked Taran, with a terrified glance at Morgant. King Morgant nodded. His eyes were hooded, but his falcon's face was keen and avid.

"Gwydion has spoken of you," he said. "He told me little, but that little is of interest. You are a bold youth--- and perhaps more than that. How much more, I do not know. But I do know you are without family, without name or future. You can expect nothing. And yet," Morgant added, "you can expect everything, I would not offer this to one such as Ellidyr," Morgant continued. "He is too prideful, weakest where he believes himself strong. Do you remember I told you that I know good mettle? There is much that is possible with you, Taran of Caer Dallben. And this is what I offer--- swear that you shall serve me as your liege lord and when the time is right you shall be my war leader, second only to me in all Prydain."

"Why do you offer me this?" Taran cried. "Why should you choose me?"

"As I have said," Morgant answered, "there is much you might achieve, if the way is opened for you. Do not deny you have dreamed long of glory. It is not impossible for you to find it, if I judge you well."

"Judge me well," Taran flung back, "and you would know I scorn to serve an evil traitor!"

"I have no time to hear you vent your rage," Morgant said. "Many plans must be made between now and dawn. I shall leave you with this to consider: will you be first among my warriors--- or first among my Cauldron-Born?"

"Give me to the cauldron, then!" Taran shouted. "Cast me in it now, even as I live!"

"You have called me traitor," Morgant answered, smiling. "Do not call me fool. I, too, know the secret of the cauldron. Do you think I would have the Crochan shatter even before it began its work? Yes," he went on, "I, too, have been to the Marshes of Morva, long before the cauldron was taken from Annuvin. For I knew that sooner or later Gwydion must make this move against Arawn. And so I prepared myself. Did you pay a price for the Crochan? I, too, paid a price for the knowledge of its workings. I know how to destroy it, and I know how to make it yield a harvest of power. But you were bold, nonetheless, to hope to trick me," Morgant added. "You fear me," he said, drawing closer to Taran, "and there are many in Prydain who do. Yet you defy me. To dare that, there are few. This is rare metal indeed, ready to be tempered." Taran was about to speak, but the war lord raised his hand. "Say no more. Instead, think carefully. If you refuse, you shall become a voiceless, mindless slave, without even hope of death to release you from your bondage."

Taran's heart sank, but he raised his head proudly. "If that is the destiny laid on me..."

"It will be a harder destiny than you believe," Morgant said, his eyes flickering. "A warrior does not fear to give up his own life.But will he sacrifice that of his comrades?" Taran gasped with horror as Morgant went on.

"Yes," said the war lord, "one by one your companions shall be slain and given to the Crochan. Who will it devour before you cry a halt? Will it be the bard? Or the shabby creature that serves you? Or the young Princess? They shall go before you, even as you watch. And, at the last, yourself. Weigh this carefully," said the war lord. "I shall return for your answer." He flung his black cloak about his shoulders and strode from the tent. Taran struggled against his bonds, but they held firm. He sank back and bowed his head.

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The bard, who had been silent this while, heaved a sorrowful sigh. "In the Marshes of Morva," he said, "if I had only known, I should have asked Orddu to change me into a toad. At the time I didn't care for the idea. As I think of it now, it's a happier life than being a Cauldron warrior. At least there would have been dew circles to dance in."

"He will not succeed in this," Taran said. "Somehow, we must find a way to escape. We dare not lose hope."

"I agree absolutely," Fflewddur answered. "Your general idea is excellent; it's only the details that are lacking. Lose hope? By no means! A Fflam is always hopeful! I intend to go on hoping," he added ruefully, "even when they come and pop me into the Crochan." Gurgi and Ellidyr still lay unconscious, but Eilonwy had not ceased working furiously at the gag and now at last she succeeding in forcing it out of her mouth.

"Morgant!" she gasped. "He'll pay for this! Why, I thought I'd stifle! He might have kept me from talking, but he didn't keep me from listening. When he comes back, I hope he tries to put me in the cauldron first! He'll soon find out who he's dealing with. He'll wish he'd never thought of making his own Cauldron-Born!"

Taran shook his head. "By then it will be too late. We shall be slain before we are taken to the Crochan. No, there is only one hope. None of you shall be sacrificed because of me. I have decided what I must do."

"Decided!" Eilonwy burst out. "The only thing you have to decide is how we shall escape from this tent. If you're thinking of anything else, you're wasting your time. That's like wondering whether to scratch your head when a boulder's about to fall on it."

"This is my decision," Taran said slowly. "I will accept what Morgant offers."

"What?" Eilonwy exclaimed in disbelief. "For a while I thought you'd actually learned something from Adaon's brooch. How can you think to accept?"

"I shall swear my allegiance to Morgant," Taran went on. "He shall have my word, but shall not make me keep it. An oath given under threat of death cannot bind me. This way, at least, we may gain a little time."

"Are you sure Morgant's warriors didn't strike you on the head and you didn't notice it?" Eilonwy asked sharply. "Do you imagine Morgant won't guess what you plan? He has no intention of keeping his part of the bargain; he'll slay us all anyway. Once you're in his clutches--- I mean more than you are--- you won't get out of them. Morgant might have been one of the greatest war leaders in Prydain; but he's turned evil, and if you try coming to terms with him, well, you'll find it's worse than being a Cauldron warrior. Though I admit that isn't very attractive either."

Taran was silent for a time. "I fear you are right," he said. "But I don't know what else we can do."

"Get out first," Eilonwy advised. "We can decide what else when the time comes. Somehow it's hard to think about where to run as long as your hands and feet are tied up."

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With much difficulty, the tightly bound companions struggled closer and sought to undo each other's thongs. The knots refused to yield, slipped from their numb fingers, and only bit more deeply into their flesh. Again and again the companions returned to their labors until they lay breathless and exhausted. Even Eilonwy no longer had the strength to speak. They rested a while, hoping to gain new energy, but the night moved as a heavy, tormented dream and the moments they passed in fitful drowsing did nothing to restore them, nor did they dare lose too much precious time; morning, Taran knew, would come swiftly. The cold, gray trickle of dawn had already begun to seep into the tent.

All night, as they had toiled, Taran had heard the movements of warriors in the clearing, the voice of Morgant crying harsh, urgent commands. Now he dragged himself painfully to the curtain at the entrance of the tent, pressed his cheek against the cold ground, and tried to peer out. He could see little, for the rising mists swirled above the turf, and he made out only shadow shapes hastening back and forth. The warriors, he imagined, were gathering their gear, perhaps making ready to strike camp. A long, pitiful whinny came from the line of tethered horses and he recognized it as that of Islimach. The Crochan still squatted where it had been; Taran made out the dark, brooding mass, and it seemed to him, in a flare of horror, that its mouth gaped greedily. Taran rolled over and pulled himself back to the companions. The bard's features were pale; he appeared half dazed by fatigue and suffering. Eilonwy raised her head and looked silently at him.

"What," murmured Fflewddur, "has the moment already come for us to say farewell?"

"Not yet," Taran said, "though Morgant will be here soon enough, I fear. Then our time will be upon us. How does Gurgi fare?"

"The poor thing is still unconscious," Eilonwy answered. "Leave him as he is, it is kinder thus."

Ellidyr stirred and groaned feebly. Slowly his eyes opened; he winced, turned his bloodstained, broken face to Taran, and studied him for a time as though without recognition. Then his torn lips moved in his familiar, bitter grimace.

"And so we are together again, Taran of Caer Dallben," he said. "I did not expect us to meet so soon."

"Have no fear, Son of Pen-Llarcau," Taran answered. "It shall not be for long." Ellidyr bowed his head. "For that I am truly sorry. I would make up the ill I have done all of you."

"Would you have said the same if the cauldron were still in your hands?" Taran asked quietly.

Ellidyr hesitated. "I shall speak the truth--- I do not know. The black beast you saw is a harsh master; its claws are sharp. Yet I did not feel them until now. But I tell you this," Ellidyr continued, trying to lift himself, "I stole the cauldron out of pride, not evil. I swear to you, on whatever honor remains to me, I would not have used it. Yes, I would have taken your glory for my own. But I, too, would have borne the Crochan to Gwydion and offered it for destruction. Believe this much of me."

Taran nodded. "I believe you, Prince of Pen-Llarcau. And now perhaps even more than you believe it yourself." A wind had risen, moaning through the trees and shaking the tent. The curtain blew back. Taran saw the warriors forming in ranks behind the cauldron.

quote:

ELLIDYR!" TARAN CRIED. "Have you strength enough to break your bonds and free the rest of us?" Ellidyr rolled on his side and strained desperately against the tight cords. The bard and Taran tried to aid him, but at last Ellidyr fell back, exhausted and gasping with the pain of his efforts.

"Too much of my strength is gone," he murmured. "I fear Morgant has given me my death wound. I can do no more." The curtain blew open again. An instant later Taran was flung full length and roughly spun around. He kicked wildly with his bound legs and tried to right himself.

"Stop struggling, you clot!" a voice shouted in his ear.

"Doli!" Taran's heart leaped. "Is it you?"

"Clever question!" snapped the voice. "Stop trying to fight me! Things are hard enough without your squirming! Whoever tied these knots, I wish he had them about his neck!"

Taran felt firm hands drawing at the thongs. "Doli! How did you come here?"

"Don't bother me with silly chatter," growled the dwarf. Taran felt a knee jabbing into the small of his back as Doli took a better grip on the bonds. "Can't you see I'm busy?" muttered the dwarf. "No, of course you can't, but that doesn't matter. Drat! If I hadn't lost my axe I'd be through this in no time! Oh, my ears! I've never stayed invisible so long at one go! Hornets! Wasps!" Suddenly the thongs parted. Taran sat up and began as best he could to unbind his legs. In another moment Doli himself flashed into sight and set about freeing the bard. The stout dwarf was grimy, muddy, and his ears were tinged bright blue. Doli stopped his exertions to clap his hands to his head. "Enough invisibility is enough!" he cried. "No need for it here. Not yet. Bumblebees! A whole hive of them in my ears!"

"How did you ever find us?" cried Eilonwy, as the dwarf ripped away her bonds.

"If you must know," the dwarf snapped impatiently, "I didn't find you. Not at first. I found Ellidyr. Saw him come up from the river a little before Morgant reached him. I was on my way to Caer Cadarn, after I shook off the Huntsmen, to get help from Gwydion. I didn't dare waste time chasing through the Marshes after you. Ellidyr had the cauldron. And your horses, too. That got my suspicions up. So I went invisible and followed him on foot. As soon as I understood what had happened, I turned back to look for you. My pony had run off--- dratted beast, we never liked each other--- and you got here ahead of me." The dwarf knelt and untied Gurgi, who had begun to show some signs of life, but hesitated when he came to Ellidyr.

"What about this one?" Doli asked. "I have an idea he's better off as he is," he added gruffly. "I know what he tried to do." Ellidyr raised his head.

Taran met his glance and gestured quickly to Doli. "Free him," Taran ordered. Doli paused, doubtful. Taran repeated his words. The dwarf shook his head, then shrugged. "If you say so," he muttered, setting to work on Ellidyr's bonds. While Eilonwy chafed Gurgi's wrists, the bard hurried to the tent flap and cautiously peered out. Taran searched vainly for weapons.

"I can see Morgant," Fflewddur called. "He's on his way here. Well, he shall have a surprise."

"We are unarmed!" Taran cried. "They far outnumber us and can slay us at their pleasure!"

"Rip up the back of the tent!" Doli exclaimed. "Make a run for it through the forest!"

"And leave the Crochan in Morgant's hands?" replied Taran. "No, that we dare not do!"

Ellidyr had risen to his feet. "I had not strength enough to break my own bonds," he said, "but I can still serve you." Before Taran could stop him, Ellidyr plunged from the tent. The guards shouted the alarm. Taran saw Morgant fall back in astonishment, then draw his sword.

"Slay him!" Morgant commanded. "Slay him! Keep him from the cauldron!" With the bard and Doli at his heels, Taran raced from the tent and flung himself against King Morgant, fighting furiously to wrest the sword from the war lord's hands. With a savage snarl, Morgant caught him by the throat and tossed him to the ground, then turned to pursue Ellidyr. The horsemen had broken ranks and hastened to close upon the running figure. Taran scrambled to his feet. Ahead, he saw Ellidyr grappling fiercely with one of the warriors. Fighting as he had never fought before, the Prince of Pen-Llarcau, Taran knew, was calling on all the strength remaining to him. Ellidyr threw the warrior down, but faltered and cried out as the man's sword thrust deep into his side. Clutching the wound, Ellidyr stumbled ahead.

"No! No!" Taran shouted. "Ellidyr! Save yourself!"

A few paces from the cauldron, struggling madly, Ellidyr broke free of the warriors. Then, with a cry, he flung himself into the Crochan's gaping mouth. The Crochan shuddered like a living thing. In horror and dismay, Taran cried out again to Ellidyr. He fought his way toward the cauldron, but in another instant a sharp clap, louder than thunder, rang above the clearing. The leafless trees trembled to their roots; the branches writhed as if in agony. Then, while echoes ripped the air and a whirlwind screamed overhead, the cauldron split and shattered. The jagged shards fell away from the lifeless form of Ellidyr. A war horse burst from the thicket. Astride it rode King Smoit, a naked sword in his fist, a shout of battle on his lips. Behind the red-bearded King streamed mounted warriors, who plunged against the men of Morgant. In the press of combat, Taran glimpsed a white steed galloping to the charge.

"Gwydion!" Taran shouted and struggled to reach his side. He caught sight of Coll, then; the stout old warrior had drawn his sword and struck mightily about him. Gwystyl, with Kaw clinging to his shoulder, dashed into the fray. Bellowing with rage, King Smoit drove straight for Morgant, who raised his sword and lashed viciously at the rearing steed. Smoit leaped to the ground. Two of Morgant's warriors threw themselves in front of him to defend their lord, but Smoit cut them down with powerful blows and strode past. Eyes unhooded and blazing, his teeth bared, Morgant fought savagely amid the shattered pieces of the cauldron, as though he sought defiantly to claim them. His sword had broken under the force of Smoit's attack, yet he slashed and thrust again and again with the jagged blade, the grimace of hatred and arrogance frozen upon his features, his hand still clutching the bloodstained weapon even as he fell. Morgant's riders had been slain or captured as Gwydion's voice rose in command to cease the combat. Taran stumbled to Ellidyr's side and tried to raise him. He bowed his head in grief.

"The black beast is gone from you, Prince of Pen-Llarcau," he murmured.

A high-pitched whinny behind him made Taran turn. It was Islimach who had broken her tether and now stood over the body of her master. The roan lifted her lean, bony head, tossed her mane, spun about, and galloped from the clearing. Taran, understanding the frenzied look in the roan's eyes, cried out and ran after her. Islimach plunged through the undergrowth. Taran strove to overtake her and seize the hanging bridle, but the roan sped onward to the ravine. She did not check her speed even at the brink. Islimach made a mighty leap, hung poised in the air a moment, then plummeted to the rocks below. Taran covered his face with his hands and turned away.

quote:

IN THE CLEARING the bodies of King Morgant and Ellidyr lay side by side, and the remainder of King Smoit's horsemen rode in a slow, mournful circle around them. Alone and apart, Gwydion leaned heavily on the black sword Dyrnwyn, his shaggy head bent, his weathered face filled with sorrow. Taran drew near and stood silently.

At length Gwydion spoke. "Fflewddur has told me all that befell you. My heart is grieved that Coll and I found you only now. Yet, without King Smoit and his warriors, I fear we might not have prevailed. He grew impatient and came seeking us. Had I been able to send him word, I would have summoned him long before this. I am grateful to him for his impatience. And to you, too, Assistant Pig-Keeper," he added. "The Crochan is destroyed, and with it Arawn's power to add to the number of his Cauldron-Born. It is one of the gravest defeats Arawn has ever suffered. But I know the price you paid."

"It is Ellidyr who paid the final price," Taran said slowly. "The last honor belongs to him." He spoke then of Islimach. "He has lost all else, even his steed."

"Or perhaps gained all," Gwydion answered. "And his honor shall be certain. We shall raise a barrow to his memory. Islimach, too, shall rest with him, for they are both now at peace. Smoit's dead shall also sleep in honor, and a barrow be raised above Morgant King of Madoc."

"Morgant?" Taran asked, turning a puzzled glance to Gwydion. "How can there be honor for such a man?"

"It is easy to judge evil unmixed," replied Gwydion. "But, alas, in most of us good and bad are closely woven as the threads on a loom; greater wisdom than mine is needed for the judging.

"King Morgant served the Sons of Don long and well," he went on. "Until the thirst for power parched his throat, he was a fearless and noble lord. In battle he saved my life more than once. These things are part of him and cannot be put aside or forgotten.

"And so shall I honor Morgant," Gwydion said, "for what he used to be, and Ellidyr Prince of Pen-Llarcau for what he became."

[quote]NEAR THE TENTS of Morgant, Taran found the companions again. Under Eilonwy's care, Gurgi had recovered from the guard's blow and looked only a little shaken.

"Poor tender head is filled with breakings and achings," Gurgi said, with a wan smile at Taran. "He is sad not to fight at side of kindly master. He would have struck down wicked warriors, oh, yes!"

"There's been more than enough fighting," Eilonwy said. "I found your sword again," she added, handing the weapon to Taran. "But sometimes I wish Dallben hadn't given it to you in the first place. It's bound to lead to trouble."

"Oh, I should think our troubles are over," put in Fflewddur, cradling his injured arm. "The beastly old kettle is smashed to bits, thanks to Ellidyr," he went on sadly. "The bards shall sing of our deeds--- and of his."

"I don't care about that," grumbled Doli, rubbing his ears, which had only now begun to return to their natural color. "I just don't want anyone, not even Gwydion, dreaming up another scheme to have me turn invisible."

"Good old Doli," Taran said. "The more you grumble, the more pleased you are with yourself."

"Good old Doli," replied the dwarf."Humph!" Taran caught sight of Coll and King Smoit resting beneath an oak. Coll had taken off his close-fitting helmet and, though bruised and slashed, his face beamed and his bald head glowed with pleasure, as he put an arm around Taran's shoulders.

"We did not meet as soon as I expected," Coll said with a wink, "for I hear you were busy with other things."

"My body and blood!" roared Smoit, giving Taran a clap on the back. "You looked like a skinned rabbit last time I saw you. Now the rabbit is gone and only the skin and bones are left!" A loud squawk interrupted the redbearded King. In surprise Taran turned and saw Gwystyl, sitting alone and morose. On his shoulder Kaw hopped up and down and bobbed his head in delight.

"So it's you again," Gwystyl remarked, sighing heavily as Taran hurried over. "Well, you shan't blame me for what's happened. I warned you. However, what's done is done and there's no sense complaining. No use in it at all."

"You shall not deceive me again, Gwystyl of the Fair Folk," Taran said. "I know who you are and the valiant service you have rendered." Kaw croaked joyfully as Taran smoothed his feathers and scratched him under the beak.

"Go on," Gwystyl said, "put him on your shoulder. That's what he wants. For the matter of that, you shall have him as a gift, with the thanks of the Fair Folk. For you have done us a service, too. We were uneasy with the Crochan knocking about here and there; one never knew what would happen. Yes, yes, pick him up," Gwystyl added with a melancholy sigh. "He's taken quite a fancy to you. It's just as well. I'm simply not up to keeping crows any more, not up to it at all."

"Taran!" croaked Kaw.

"Though I warn you again," Gwystyl went on, "pay no attention to him. Most of the time he talks just to hear himself talk--- like some others I could mention. The secret is: don't listen. No use in it. No use whatever."

quote:

AFTER THEY HAD RAISED the barrows, Gwystyl left to resume his guard at the way post; the companions, King Smoit, and his riders departed from the clearing and turned their horses toward the River Avren. High overhead, their wings darkening the sky, flight after flight of gwythaints retreated toward Annuvin. Of the Huntsmen there was no sign; and Gwydion believed that Arawn, learning of the Crochan's destruction, had summoned them to return.The companions rode not in triumphant joy but slowly and thoughtfully. The heart of King Smoit, too, was heavy, for he had suffered the loss of many warriors. With Kaw perched on his shoulder, Taran rode beside Gwydion at the head of the column as it wound through hills rich with autumn's colors. For a long while Taran did not speak.

"It is strange," he said at last. "I had longed to enter the world of men. Now I see it filled with sorrow, with cruelty and treachery, with those who would destroy all around them."

"Yet, enter it you must," Gwydion answered, "for it is a destiny laid on each of us. True, you have seen these things. But there are equal parts of love and joy. Think of Adaon and believe this. Think, too, of your companions. Out of friendship for you, they would have given up all they valued; indeed, all they possessed."

Taran nodded. "I see now the price I paid was the least of all, for the brooch was never truly mine. I wore it, but it was no part of me. I am thankful I kept it as long as I did; at least I knew, for a little while, how a bard must feel and what it must be like to be a hero."

"That is why your sacrifice was all the more difficult," Gwydion said. "You chose to be a hero not through enchantment but through your own manhood. And since you have chosen, for good or ill, you must take the risks of a man. You may win or you may lose. Time will decide."

They had come into the Valley of Ystrad, and here Gwydion reined up the goldenmaned steed.

"Melyngar and I must now return to Caer Dathyl," he said, "and bring word to King Math. You shall tell Dallben all that has happened; indeed, this time you know more of these events than I. Go swiftly," Gwydion said, reaching out, his hand. "Your comrades wait for you; and Coll, I know, is eager to ready his vegetable garden for winter. Farewell, Taran, Assistant Pig-Keeper ---and friend." Gwydion waved once and rode northward. Taran watched until he was out of sight. He turned Melynlas, then, and saw the faces of the companions smiling at him.

"Hurry along," Eilonwy called. "Hen Wen will be wanting her bath. And I'm afraid Gurgi and I left in such a hurry I didn't take time to straighten up the scullery. That's worse than starting a journey and forgetting to put on your shoes!"

Taran galloped toward them.

Wahad posted:

Author's Note posted:

The Castle of Llyr is, in a sense, more romantic than the preceding chronicles--- Taran is noticeably aware of his feelings toward Eilonwy. And it is sometimes more comic--- for example, the utter despair of the companions in trying to cope with the well-meaning but hapless Prince Rhun. The mood, perhaps, is bittersweet rather than grandly heroic.

quote:

EILONWY OF THE red-gold hair, the Princess Eilonwy Daughter of Angharad Daughter of Regat of the Royal House of Llyr, was leaving Caer Dallben. Dallben himself had so ordered it; and though Taran's heart was suddenly and strangely heavy, he knew there was no gainsaying the oldenchanter's words. On the spring morning set for Eilonwy's departure, Taran saddled the horses and led them from the stable. The Princess, looking desperately cheerful, had wrapped her few belongings in a small bundle slung from her shoulder. At her neck hung a fine chain and crescent moon of silver; on her finger she wore a ring of ancient craftsmanship; and in the fold of her cloak she carried another of her most prized possessions: the golden sphere that shone at her command with a light brighter than a flaming torch. Dallben, whose face was more careworn than usual and whose back was bowed as though under a heavy burden, embraced the girl at the cottage door.

"You shall always have a place in Caer Dallben," he said, "and a larger one in my heart. But, alas, raising a young lady is a mystery beyond even an enchanter's skill. I have had," he added with a quick smile, "difficulties enough raising an Assistant Pig-Keeper. I wish you a fair voyage to the Isle of Mona," Dallben went on. "King Rhuddlum and Queen Teleria are kindly and gracious. They are eager to stand in your family's stead and serve as your protectors, and from Queen Teleria you shall learn how a princess should behave."

"What!" cried Eilonwy. "I don't care about being a princess! And since I'm already a young lady, how else could I behave? That's like asking a fish to learn how to swim!"

"Hem!" Dallben said wryly. "I have never seen a fish with skinned knees, torn robe, and unshod feet. They would ill become him, as they ill become you." He set a gnarled hand gently on Eilonwy's shoulder. "Child, child, do you not see? For each of us comes a time when we must be more than what we are." He turned now to Taran. "Watch over her carefully," he said. "I have certain misgivings about letting you and Gurgi go with her, but if it will ease your parting, so be it."

"The Princess Eilonwy shall go safely to Mona," Taran answered.

"And you," said Dallben, "return safely. My heart will not be at ease until you do." He embraced the girl again and went quickly into the cottage. It had been decided that Coll would accompany them to Great Avren harbor and lead back the horses. The stout old warrior, already mounted, waited patiently. Shaggy-haired Gurgi, astride his pony, looked as mournful as an owl with a stomach ache. Kaw, the tame crow, perched in unwonted silence on Taran's saddle. Taran helped Eilonwy mount Lluagor, her favorite steed, then swung to the back of Melynlas, his silver-maned stallion. Leaving Caer Dallben behind, the little band set out across the soft hills toward Avren. Side by side Taran and Coll rode ahead of the others to lead the way, Kaw meanwhile having made himself comfortable on Taran's shoulder.

"She never stopped talking for a moment," Taran said gloomily. "Now, at least, it will be quieter in Caer Dallben."

"That it will," said Coll.

"And less to worry about. She was always getting into one scrape or another."

"That, too," said Coll.

"It's for the best," Taran said. "Eilonwy is, after all, a Princess of Llyr. It's not as if she were only an Assistant Pig-Keeper."

"Very true"" said Coll, looking off toward the pale hills. They jogged along silently for a while.

"I shall miss her," Taran burst out at last, half angrily.

The old warrior grinned and rubbed his shining bald head. "Did you tell her that?"

"Not--- not exactly," faltered Taran. "I suppose I should have. But every time I began talking about it I--- I felt very odd. Besides, you never know what silly remark she'll come out with when you're trying to be serious."

"It may be," replied Coll, smiling, "we know least what we treasure most. But we will have more than enough to keep us busy when you come back, and you will learn, my boy, there is nothing like work to put the heart at rest."

Taran nodded sadly. "I suppose so," he said.

quote:

PAST MIDDAY THEY TURNED their horses to the west, where the hills began a long slope downward into the Avren valley. At the last ridge Kaw hopped from Taran's shoulder and flapped aloft, croaking with excitement. Taran urged Melynlas over the rise. Below, the great river swung into view, wider here than he had ever seen it. Sunlight flecked the water in the sheltered curve of the harbor. A long, slender craft bobbed at the shore. Taran could make out figures aboard, hauling on ropes to raise a square, white sail. Eilonwy and Gurgi had also ridden forward. Taran's heart leaped; and to all the companions the sight of the harbor and the waiting vessel was like a sea wind driving sorrow before it. Eilonwy began chattering gaily, and Gurgi waved his arms so wildly he nearly tumbled from the saddle.

"Yes, oh yes!" he cried. "Bold, valiant Gurgi is glad to follow kindly master and noble Princess with boatings and floatings!" They cantered down the slope and dismounted at the water's edge. Seeing them, the sailors ran a plank out from the vessel to the shore. No sooner had they done so than a young man clambered onto the plank and hastened with eager strides toward the companions. But he had taken only a few paces along the swaying board when he lost his footing, stumbled, and with a loud splash pitched headlong into the shallows. Taran and Coll ran to help him, but the young man had already picked himself up and was awkwardly sloshing his way ashore. He was of Taran's age, with a moon-round face, pale blue eyes, and straw-colored hair. He wore a sword and a small, richly ornamented dagger in a belt of silver links. His cloak and jacket, worked with threads of gold and silver, were now sopping wet; the stranger, however, appeared not the least dismayed either by his ducking or the sodden state of his garments. Instead, he grinned as cheerfully as if nothing whatever had befallen him.

"Hullo, hullo!" he called, waving a dripping hand. "Is that Princess Eilonwy I see? Of course! It must be!"Without further ado, and without stopping even to wring out his cloak, he bowed so low that Taran feared the young man would lose his balance; then he straightened up and in a solemn voice declared: "On behalf of Rhuddlum Son of Rhudd and Teleria Daughter of Tannwen, King and Queen of the Isle of Mona, greetings to the Princess Eilonwy of the Royal House of Llyr, and to--- well--- to all the rest of you," he added, blinking rapidly as a thought suddenly occurred to him. "I should have asked your names before I started." Taran, taken aback and not a little vexed by this scatterbrained behavior, stepped forward and presented the companions. Before he could ask the stranger's name, the young man interrupted. "Splendid! You must all introduce yourselves again later, one at a time. Otherwise, I might forget--- oh, I see the shipmaster's waving at us. Something to do with tides, no doubt. He's always very concerned with them. This is the first time I've commanded a voyage," he went on proudly. "Amazing how easy it is. All you need to do is tell the sailors..."

"But who are you?" Taran asked, puzzled.

The young man blinked at him. "Did I forget to mention that? I'm Prince Rhun."

"Prince Rhun?" Taran repeated in a tone of disbelief.

"Quite so," answered Rhun, smiling pleasantly. "King Rhuddlum's my father; and, of course, Queen Teleria's my mother. Shall we go aboard? I should hate to upset the shipmaster, for he does worry about those tides."

quote:

Coll embraced Eilonwy. "When we see you again," he told her, "I doubt we shall recognize you. You shall be a fine Princess."

"I want to be recognized!" Eilonwy cried. "I want to be me!"

"Never fear," said Coll, winking. He turned to Taran. "And you, my boy, farewell. When you return, send Kaw ahead to tell me and I shall meet you at Avren harbor."

Prince Rhun, offering his arm to Eilonwy, led her across the plank. Gurgi and Taran followed them. Having formed his own opinion of Rhun's agility, Taran kept a wary eye on the Prince until Eilonwy was safe aboard. The ship was surprisingly roomy and well-fitted. The deck was long, with benches for oarsmen on either side. At the stern rose a high, square shed topped by a platform. The sailors dipped their oars and worked the vessel to the middle of the river. Coll trotted along the bank and waved with all his might. The old warrior dropped from sight as the ship swung around a bend in the ever-widening fiver. Kaw had flapped to the masthead and, as the breeze whistled through his feathers, he beat his wings so pridefully that he looked more like a black rooster than a crow. The shore turned gray in the distance and the craft sped seaward. If Rhun had perplexed and vaguely irritated him at their first meeting, Taran now began to wish he had never laid eyes on the Prince. Taran had meant to speak with Eilonwy apart, for there was much in his heart he longed to tell her. Yet each time he ventured to do so, Prince Rhun would pop up as if from nowhere, his round face beaminghappily, calling out, "Hullo, hullo! "--- a greeting Taran found more infuriating each time he heard it.

Once, the Prince of Mona eagerly dashed up to show the companions a large fish he had caught--- to the delight of Eilonwy and Gurgi, but not Taran; for a moment later, Rhun's attention turned elsewhere and he hurried off, leaving Taran holding the wet, slippery fish in his arms. Another time, while leaning over the side to point out a school of dolphins, the Prince nearly dropped his sword into the sea. Luckily Taran caught it before the blade was lost forever. After the ship reached open water Prince Rhun decided to take a hand at steering. But he no sooner grasped the tiller than it flew out of his fingers. While Rhun clutched at the wooden handle, the vessel lurched and slewed about so violently that Taran was flung against the bulwark. A water cask broke loose and went rolling down the deck, the sail flapped madly at the sudden change of course, and one bank of oars nearly snapped before the steersman regained the tiller from the undismayed Prince. The painful bump on Taran's head did nothing to raise his esteem of Prince Rhun's seamanship. Although the Prince made no further attempt to steer the vessel, he climbed atop the platform where he called out orders to the crew.

"Lash up the sail!" Rhun shouted happily. "Steady the helm!" No seaman himself, Taran nevertheless realized the sail was already tightly lashed and the craft was moving unwaveringly through the water; and he very shortly became aware that the sailors were quietly going about their task of keeping the ship on course without paying any heed whatever to the Prince. Taran's head ached from the bump, his jacket was still unpleasantly damp and fishy, and when at last his chance came to speak with Eilonwy he was altogether out of sorts.

"Prince of Mona indeed!" he muttered. "He's no more than a--- a princeling, a clumsy, muddleheaded baby. Commanding the voyage? If the sailors listened to him, we'd be aground in no time. I've never sailed a ship, but I've no doubt I could do it better than he. I've never seen anyone so feckless."

"Feckless?" answered Eilonwy. "He does often seem a little dense. But I'm sure he means well, and I've a feeling he has a good heart. In fact, I think he's rather nice."

"I suppose you do," Taran replied, all the more nettled by Eilonwy's words. "Because he gave you his arm to lean on? A gallant, princely gesture. Lucky he didn't pitch you over the side."

"It was polite, at least," Eilonwy remarked, "which is something Assistant Pig-Keepers sometimes aren't."

"An Assistant Pig-Keeper," Taran snapped. "Yes, that's to be my lot in life. I was born to be one, just as the Princeling of Mona was born to his rank. He's a king's son and I--- I don't even know the names of my parents."

"Well," said Eilonwy, "you can't blame Rhun for being born. I mean, you could, but it wouldn't help matters. It's like kicking a rock with your bare foot."

Taran snorted. "I daresay that's his father's sword he's got on, and I daresay he's never drawn it except to frighten a rabbit. At least I've earned the right to wear mine. Yet he still calls himself a prince. Does his birth make him worthy of his rank? As worthy as Gwydion Son of Don?"

"Prince Gwydion's the greatest warrior in Prydain," Eilonwy replied. "You can't expect everyone to be like him. And it seems to me that if an Assistant Pig-Keeper does the best he can, and prince does the best he can, there's no difference between them."

"No difference!" Taran cried angrily. "You spoke well enough of Rhun!"

"Taran of Caer Dallben," Eilonwy declared, "I really believe you're jealous. And sorry for yourself. And that's as ridiculous as--- as painting your nose green!" Taran said no more, but turned away and stared glumly at the water. To make matters worse, the wind freshened, the sea heaved about the sides of the ship, and Taran could barely keep his footing. His head spun and he feared the vessel would capsize. Eilonwy, deathly pale, clung to the bulwark.

Gurgi wailed and howled pitifully. "Poor tender head is full of whirlings and twirlings! Gurgi does not like this ship any more. He wants to be at home!" Prince Rhun appeared not the least distressed. He ate heartily and was in the best of spirits, while Taran huddled wretchedly in his cloak. The sea did not calm until dusk, and at nightfall Taran was grateful the vessel anchored in a calm cove. Eilonwy took out the golden sphere. In her hands it began to glow and its rays shimmered over the black water.

"I say, what's that?" cried Prince Rhun, who had clambered down from his platform.

"It's my bauble," said Eilonwy. "I always carry it with me. You never can tell when it will come in handy."

"Amazing!" exclaimed the Prince. "I've never seen anything like it in my life." He examined the golden ball carefully, but as he held it in his hand the light winked out. Rhun looked up in dismay. "I'm afraid I've broken it."

"No," Eilonwy assured him, "it's just that it doesn't work for everyone."

"Unbelievable!" said Rhun. "You must show it to my parents. I wish we had a few of those trinkets around the castle." After a last, curious glance at the bauble, Rhun returned it to Eilonwy. Insisting that the Princess sleep in the comfort of the shed, Rhun bedded himself down amid a pile of netting. Gurgi curled up nearby, while Kaw, heedless of Taran's entreaties to leave his high perch, roosted on the mast. Rhun, falling asleep instantly, snored so piercingly that Taran, already vexed beyond endurance, stretched out on the deck as far as possible from the slumbering Prince. When Taran slept at last, he dreamed the companions had never left Caer Dallben.

Darthemed posted:

Here's to Prince Rhun, able to unravel Taran's character development into utter cattiness.

quote:

THE DAYS THAT FOLLOWED put Taran in better spirits. The companions grew used to the motion of the ship; the air was clear, sharp, and salt-laden, and Taran could taste the briny spray on his lips. While Prince Rhun, from atop his platform, shouted commands which the crew, as usual, did not heed, the companions were glad to pass the time by lending a hand at the tasks aboard. The work, as Coll had foretold, eased Taran's heart. Yet there came moments when he suddenly recalled the purpose of the voyage and wished it would never end.

He had just finished coiling a length of rope when Kaw swooped down from the mast and circled around him, croaking wildly. An instant later the lookout cried they had sighted land. At Prince Rhun's urging, the companions hastened to climb to the platform. In the bright morning Taran saw the hills of Mona spring from the horizon. The vessel sped closer to the crescent-shaped harbor of Dinas Rhydnant, with its piers and jetties, its stone sea wall and clusters of ships. Steep cliffs rose almost from the water's edge and on the highest of them stood a tall castle. From it, the banners of the House of Rhuddlum snapped in the breeze. The vessel glided to the pier; the sailors cast the mooring lines and leaped ashore. The companions, with Prince Rhun marching in the lead, were escorted to the castle by ranks of warriors who made a hedge of honor with their spears.Yet even this short journey did not end without mishap. The Prince of Mona, drawing his sword to return the salute of the Captain of Guards, did so with such a sweeping gesture that the point snagged in Taran's cloak.

"I say, I'm sorry about that," cried Rhun, curiously examining the long, gaping slash his blade had caused.

"And I, too, Prince of Mona," Taran muttered, vexed at Rhun and embarrassed at the impression his torn garment would make on the King and Queen. He said no more, but shut his lips and desperately hoped the damage would go unnoticed. The procession passed through the castle gates and into a wide courtyard. Shouting a glad "Hullo, hullo!" Prince Rhun hurried to his waiting parents.

King Rhuddlum had the same round and cheerful face as Prince Rhun. He greeted the companions cordially, repeating himself a number of times. If he was aware of Taran's torn cloak, he showed no sign, which only added to Taran's distress. When King Rhuddlum at last finished talking, Queen Teleria stepped forward. The Queen was a stout, pleasant-looking woman dressed in fluttering white garments; a golden circlet crowned her braided hair, which was the same straw color as Prince Rhun's. She showered Eilonwy with kisses, embraced the still embarrassed Taran, halted in amazement when she came to Gurgi, but embraced him nevertheless.

"Welcome, Daughter of Angharad," Queen Teleria began, returning to Eilonwy. "Your presence honors--- don't fidget, child, and stand straight--- our Royal House." The Queen stopped suddenly and took Eilonwy by the shoulders. "Good Llyr!" she cried. "Where did you get those frightful clothes? Yes, I can see it's high time Dallben let you out of that hole-and-corner in the middle of the woods."

"Hole-and-corner indeed!" Eilorlwy cried. "I love Caer Dallben. And Dallben is a great enchanter."

"Exactly," said Queen Teleria. "He's so busy casting spells and all such that he's let you grow like a weed!" She turned to King Rhuddlum. "Wouldn't you say so, my dear?"

"Very much like a weed," agreed the King, eying Kaw with interest. The crow hunched up his wings, opened his beak and loudly croaked "Rhuddlum!" to the King's immense delight.

Queen Teleria, meanwhile, had been examining Taran and Gurgi by turns. "Look at that disgracefully torn cloak! You must both have new raiment," she declared. "New jackets, new sandals, everything. Luckily we have a perfectly wonderfulshoemaker at the castle now. He was just--- don't pout that way, my child, you'll give yourself a blister--- passing through. But we've kept him busy and he's still cobbling away. Our Chief Steward shall see to it. Magg?" she called. "Magg? Where is he?"

"At your command," answered the Chief Steward, who had been standing all the while by Queen Teleria's elbow. He wore one of the finest cloaks Taran had ever seen, its rich embroidery almost surpassing King Rhuddlum's garment. Magg carried a long staff of polished wood taller than himself, from his neck hung a chain of heavy silver links, and at his belt was a huge iron ring from which jingled keys of all sizes. "All has been ordered," said Magg, bowing deeply. "Your decision has been foreseen. The shoemaker, the tailors and weavers stand ready."

"Excellent!" Queen Teleria cried. "Now, the Princess and I shall go first to the weaving rooms. And Magg shall show the rest of you to your chambers."

Magg bowed again, even more deeply, and beckoned with his staff. With Gurgi at his heels, Taran followed the Chief Steward through the courtyard, into a high stone building and down a vaulted corridor. At the end of it, Magg gestured toward an open portal and silently withdrew. Taran stepped inside. The chamber was small,but neat and airy, bright with sunlight from a narrow casement. Fragrant rushes covered the floor and in one corner stood a low couch and pallet of straw. Taran had no sooner taken off his cloak when the portal suddenly burst open and a spiky, yellow head thrust in.

"Fflewddur Fflam!" Taran shouted with joyful surprise at the sight of this long-absent companion "Well met!"

The bard seized Taran by the hand and began pumping it with all his might, at the same time clapping him resoundingly on the shoulder. Kaw flapped his wings while Gurgi leaped into the air, yelped at the top of his voice, and embraced Fflewddur in a shower of twigs, leaves, and shedding hair.

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"Well, well, well!" said the bard. "And high time it is! I've been waiting for you. I thought you'd never get here."

"How did you come?" cried Taran, who had just begun to catch his breath. "How did you know we were to be at Dinas Rhydnant?"

"Why, I couldn't help knowing," the bard replied, beaming with delight. "There's been talk of nothing but the Princess Eilonwy. Where is she, by the way? I must find her and pay my respects at once. I was hoping Dallben would send you along with her. How is he? How is Coll? I see you've brought Kaw. Great Belin, I've seen none of you for so long I've lost track!"

"But Fflewddur," Taran interrupted, "what brings you to Mona, of all places?"

"Well, it's a short tale," said the bard. "I had decided, this time, really to make a go of being a king. And so I did, for the best part of a year. Then along came spring and the barding and wandering season, and everything indoors began looking unspeakably dreary, and everything outdoors began somehow pulling at me, and next thing I knew I was on my way. I'd never been to Mona, so that was the best reason in the world for going. I reached Dinas Rhydnant a week ago. The vessel had already left to meet you or you can be sure I'd have been on it."

"And you can be sure you'd have borne us better company than the Princeling of Mona," Taran said. "We were lucky that noble fool didn't somehow manage to blunder onto a reef and sink us in the tide. But what of Doli?" he went on. "I have longed to see him as much as I have longed to see you."

"Good old Doli." The bard chuckled, shaking his yellow head. "I tried to rouse him when I first set out. But he's hidden himself away with his kinsmen in the realm of the Fair Folk." Fflewddur sighed. "I fear our good dwarf has lost his taste for adventure. I managed to get word to him, thinking he might come along with me for the sport of it. Hesent back a message. All it said was 'Humph!' "

"You should have come to meet us at the harbor," Taran said. "It would have cheered me to know you were here."

"Ah--- yes, I was going to," replied Fflewddur, with some hesitation, "but I thought I'd wait and surprise you. I was busy, too, getting ready a song about the arrival of the Princess. Quite an impressive chant, if I do say so myself. We're all mentioned in it, with plenty of heroic deeds."

"And Gurgi, too?" cried Gurgi.

"Of course," said the bard. "I shall sing it for all of you this evening."

Gurgi shouted and clapped his hands. "Gurgi cannot wait to hear hummings and strummings!"

"You shall hear them, old friend," the bard assured him, "all in due course. But you can imagine I could hardly spare the time to join the welcoming procession..." At this a harp string broke suddenly. Fflewddur unslung his beloved instrument and looked at it ruefully. "There it goes again," he sighed. "These beastly strings will never leave off snapping whenever I--- ah--- add a little to the truth. And in this case, the truth of the matter is I wasn't invited."

"But a bard of the harp is honored at every court in Prydain," Taran said. "How could they overlook---"

Fflewddur raised a hand. "True, true," he said. "I was certainly honored here, and handsomely, too. That was before they learned I wasn't a real bard. Afterward," he admitted, "I was moved into the stables."

"You should have told them you are a king," said Taran.

"No, no," said Fflewddur, shaking his head. "When I'm a bard, I'm a bard; and when I'm a king, that's something else again. I never mix the two. King Rhuddlum and Queen Teleria are decent sorts," Fflewddur continued. "The Chief Steward was the one who had me turned out."

"Are you sure there wasn't some mistake?" Taran asked. "From what I've seen of him, he seems to do his duties perfectly."

"All too well, if you ask me," said Fflewddur. "Somehow he found out about my qualifications, and next thing I knew--- into the stables! The truth of it is I think he hates music. Surprising how many people I've run into who for some reason or other simply can't abide harp-playing." Taran heard a loud rapping at the portal. It was Magg himself, come with the shoemaker, who stood humbly behind him.

"Not that he troubles me," Fflewddur whispered. "That is," he added, looking at the harp, "not beyond what I can honorably bear." He slung the instrument over his shoulder. "Yes, well, as I was saying, I must go and find Princess Eilonwy. We shall meet later. In the stables, if you don't mind. And I shall play my new song." Glaring at Magg, Fflewddur, strode from the chamber.

The Chief Steward, taking no notice of the bard's angry glance, bowed to Taran. "As Queen Teleria commanded, you and your companion are to be given new apparel. The shoemaker will serve you as you wish." Taran sat down on a wooden stool and, as Magg departed from the chamber, the shoemaker drew near. The man was bent with age and garbed most shabbily. A grimy cloth was wrapped around his head and a fringe of gray hair fell almost to his shoulders. At his broad belt hung curiously shaped knives, awls, and hanks of thongs. Kneeling before Taran, he opened a great sack and thrust in his hand to pull out strips of leather, which he placed about him on the floor. He squinted at his findings, holding up one after the other, then casting it aside.

"We must use the best, the best," he croaked, in a voice much like Kaw's. "Only that will do. To go well-shod is half the journey." He chuckled. "Is that not so, eh? Is that not so, Taran of Caer Dallben?" Taran drew back with a start. The shoemaker's tone had suddenly rung differently. He stared down at the aged man who had picked up a piece of leather and was now shaping it deftly with a crooked little knife. The shoemaker, his face as tanned as his own materials, was watching him steadily. Gurgi looked ready to yelp loudly. The man raised a finger to his lips.

Taran, in confusion, hurriedly knelt before the shoemaker. "Lord Gwydion..."

Gwydion's eyes flashed with pleasure, but his smile was grim. "Hear me well," he said quickly, in a hushed voice. "Should we be interrupted, I shall find a way to speak with you later. Tell no one who I am. What you must know, above all, is this: the life of the Princess Eilonwy is in danger. And so," he added, "is your own."

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TARAN PALED. His head still whirled at seeing the Prince of Don in the guise of a shoemaker, and Gwydion's words left him all the more confused. "Our lives in danger?" he asked hurriedly. "Does Arawn of Annuvin seek us as far as Dinas Rhydnant?"

Gwydion motioned for Gurgi to stand guard at the portal and turned once more to Taran. "No," said Gwydion, with a quick shake of his head. "Though Arawn's wrath has grown to fury since the Black Cauldron was destroyed, the threat comes not from Annuvin."

Taran frowned. "Who then? There is none in Dinas Rhydnant who wishes us ill. You cannot mean that King Rhuddlum or Queen Teleria..."

"The House of Rhuddlum has always borne friendship to the Sons of Don and to our High King Math," replied Gwydion. "Look elsewhere, Taran of Caer Dallben."

"But who would harm Eilonwy?" Taran asked urgently. "It is known she is under Dallben's protection."

"There is one who would dare to stand against Dallben," Gwydion said. "One against whom my own powers may not suffice and whom I fear as much as Arawn himself." Gwydion's face was taut and his green eyes flickered with deep anger as he spoke one harsh word: "Achren."

Taran's heart chilled. "No," he whispered. "No. That evil enchantress is dead."

"So I, too, believed," Gwydion answered. "It is not true. Achren lives."

"She has not rebuilt Spiral Castle!" Taran cried, his thoughts flashing to the dungeon where Achren had held him prisoner.

"Spiral Castle still lies in ruins, as you left it," Gwydion said, "and grass already covers it. Oeth-Anoeth, where Achren would have given me to death, no longer stands. I have journeyed to those places and seen with my own eyes. You must know that I have long pondered her fate," Gwydion went on. "Of Achren there has not been the slightest sign, as though the earth had swallowed her. This troubled me and lay heavily on my heart, and I have never given up seeking traces of her. At last I found these traces," said Gwydion. "They were faint as words whispered in the wind, puzzling rumors that seemed at first no more than imaginings. A senseless riddle without an answer. Perhaps," Gwydion continued, "I should say an answer without a riddle; And it was only after long toil and hard journeying that I discovered part of that riddle. Alas, only a part." Gwydion's voice lowered. As he spoke, his hands did not cease carving and shaping the unfinished sandal.

"What I have learned is this. After Spiral Castle fell, Achren vanished. At first I believed she had sought refuge in the realm of Annuvin, for she had lived long as a consort of Arawn. Indeed, it was Achren who gave Arawn his power in the days when she herself ruled Prydain. But she did not go to Annuvin. Since she had let the sword Dyrnwyn slip from her hands, and failed to take my life, it may be that she feared Arawn's wrath. Perhaps she dared not face him, having been outwitted by a young girl and an Assistant Pig-Keeper. Of this, I am not certain. Nevertheless, she fled Prydain. Since then, no man knows what has befallen her. Yet even to know she is alive is cause enough for fear."

"Do you think she is on Mona?" Taran asked. "Does she seek vengeance on us? But Eilonwy was no more than a child when she escaped from Achren; she understood nothing of what she did."

"Wittingly or not, by taking Dyrnwyn from Spiral Castle, Eilonwy gave Achren her most grievous defeat," Gwydion said. "Achren does not forget or forgive." He knit his brows. "It is my fear that she seeks Eilonwy. Not only for revenge. I sense there is something other than that. It is hidden from me now, yet I must discover it without delay. More than Eilonwy's life may hang in the balance."

"If only Dallben had let her stay with us," Taran said in dismay. "He, too, must have known Achren was alive. Did he not realize Eilonwy would be in danger the moment she was beyond his protection?"

"Dallben's ways are deep," said Gwydion, "and not always given to me to fathom. He knows much, but he foresenses more than he chooses to tell." Gwydion, putting down his awl, drew out a leather thong and began stitching it through the sandal. "Dallben sent me word that the Princess Eilonwy would voyage to Mona, and counseled me to turn my attention here. He told me, too, of certain other matters. But it is better not to speak of them now."

"I cannot sit idle while Eilonwy may be in peril," Taran insisted. "Is there no way I can serve you?"

"You shall serve me best by keeping silent," Gwydion answered. "Stay watchful. Say nothing of me or of what we have spoken, not to the Princess Eilonwy, not even to Fflewddur." He smiled. "Our eager bard saw me in the stables and luckily did not know me. Meantime, I shall..." Before the Prince of Don could finish, Gurgi began waving his arms in warning. Footsteps rang in the corridor and Gwydion bent quickly to the task of fitting the sandals.

"Hullo, hullo!" cried Prince Rhun, striding into the chamber. "Ah, shoemaker, there you are. Have you done with your work? I say, they are handsome, aren't they?" he said, glancing at the sandals. "Amazingly well-made. I should like a pair myself. Oh--- my mother asks to see you in the Great Hall," he added, turning to Taran. Gwydion's face had fallen suddenly into lines and wrinkles; his shoulders were hunched and his voice shook with age. Without a further glance at Taran, Gwydion beckoned to Rhun.

"Come with me, young Prince," he said. "you shall have sandals befitting your station." As Kaw fluttered after him, Taran hurried from the chamber and down the corridor. Gurgi, roundeyed with fright, trotted beside him.

"Oh, fearsome danger!" Gurgi moaned. "Gurgi is sorry great enchanter sends us to place of peril. Gurgi wants to hide his poor tender head under kindly straw at Caer Dallben."

Taran warned him to silence. "Eilonwy is surely in more danger than we are," he whispered, hastening toward the Great Hall. "I don't like the thought of Achren turning up again any more than you do. But Gwydion is here to protect Eilonwy, and so are we."

"Yes, yes!" cried Gurgi. "Brave, loyal Gurgi will guard golden-haired Princess, too, oh yes; and she will be safe with him. But," he snuffled, "he still longs to be in Caer Dallben."

"Take heart, my friend," Taran said. He smiled and put a hand on Gurgi's trembling shoulder. "We companions shall see no ill befalls any of us. But remember--- not a word that Gwydion is here. He has his own plans and we must do nothing to betray them."

"Gurgi will be silent!" Gurgi cried, clapping hishands to his mouth. "Oh, yes! But mind," he added, shaking a finger at Kaw, "that gossipy black bird does not tell with talkings and squawkings!"

"Silence!" Kaw croaked, bobbing his head. "Secrets!"

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In the high-ceilinged Great Hall, with its flagstones that seemed to cover a space as large as the orchard at Caer Dallben, Taran caught sight of Eilonwy amid a group of court ladies. Some, of Eilonwy's age, were listening delightedly to the Princess; the rest, all of whom looked much like Queen Teieria, were frowning or whispering behind their hands. Magg, standing near the Queen's throne, watched impassively.

"...and there we stood," Eilonwy was saying, her eyes flashing, "back to back, sword in hand! The Huntsmen of Annuvin burst from the forest! They were upon us in a moment!" The young girls.of the court gasped with excitement, while some of the older women gave horrified cluckings that reminded Taran of nothing so much as Coll's chicken run. Taran saw that Eilonwy wore a new cloak; her hair had been combed and dressed in a different fashion; among the ladies, she shone like a bird of golden plumage; and, with a curious twinge of heart, Taran realized that had it not been for her chattering he might not have known her.

"Good Llyr!" cried Queen Teleria, who hadleaped from her throne as Eilonwy continued the tale of battle. "I'm beginning to think you haven't had a--- my dear child, don't be so gleeful when you talk about hacking at people with swords--- safe moment in your life." She blinked, shook her head, and fanned herself with a kerchief. "What a relief that Dallben has finally decided to be sensible and send you to us. If nothing else, you'll be out of harm's way." Taran caught his breath, and it took all his strength to force himself not to shout Gwydion's warning aloud.

"Ah, there you are!" Queen Teleria called, spying Taran. "I had thought to speak to you about--- that's right, young man, step up briskly, bow a little more deeply if you can, and, good Llyr, don't scowl so--- the royal feast tonight. You shall be pleased to know that, in honor of all of you, we're planning to invite a perfectly wonderful bard, who claims to be a bard, that is, and who claims, by the way, to know you."

"The self-styled bard," said Magg, with ill-concealed distaste at the mention of Fflewddur, "has already been commanded to present himself at the feast."

"Therefore, in the matter of new garments," Teleria went on, "you had better go with Magg immediately and find some."

"That has been seen to, as well, Lady Teleria," murmured the Chief Steward, handing Taran a neatly folded cloak and jacket.

"Wonderful!" Teleria cried. "All that remains to be done is--- well, I do believe everything has been done! I suggest, then, Taran of Caer Dallben, that you go and make yourself--- don't frown so, you'll look old before your time--- ready." Taran hardly had finished bowing to Queen Teleria when Eilonwy seized him and Gurgi by the arms and hastily drew them away.

"You've seen Fflewddur, of course," she whispered. "Now it's getting to be more like old times. What a blessing to have him here! I've never met such silly women! Why, I don't think there's one of them that's ever drawn a sword! All they want to talk about is sewing and embroidery and weaving, and how to run a castle. The ones who have husbands are always complaining about them, and the ones who haven't are always complaining about the lack of them. They've never been out of Dinas Rhydnant in their lives! I told them a thing or two about some of our adventures; not the best ones--- I'm saving those for later, when you can be there to tell your part in them. What we'll do," Eilonwy hurried on, her eyes sparkling, "after the feast, when no one's watching, we'll get hold of Fflewddur and go exploring for a few days. They'll never miss us; there's so many people coming and going around here. There's bound to be a few adventures on Mona, but we certainly won't find them in this stupid castle. Now, first thing, you must look out a sword for me--- I wish I'd brought one from Caer Dallben. Not that I think we'll need swords, but it's better to have them just in case. Gurgi, of course, shall bring along his wallet of food---"

"Eilonwy," Taran interrupted, "this cannot be."

"How's that?" asked Eilonwy. "Oh, very well, you needn't bother with swords then. We'll just go adventuring as we are." She hesitated. "What's the matter with you? I must say, you have the strangest expressions on your face from time to time. Right now, you look as if a mountain were about to fall on your head. As I was saying..."

"Eilonwy," Taran said firmly, "you are not to leave Dinas Rhydnant."

Eilonwy, so surprised she stopped talking for a moment, stared at him open-mouthed. "What?" she cried. "What did you say? Not leave the castle? Taran of Caer Dallben, I think the salt air must have pickled your wits!"

"Listen to me," Taran said gravely, searching his mind for some means to warn the startled girl without revealing Gwydion's secret, "Dinas Rhydnant is--- unfamiliar to us. We know nothing of Mona. There may be--- dangers that we..."

"Dangers!" cried Eilonwy. "You can be sure of that! And the biggest is that I'll be bored to tears! Don't think for an instant I mean to wear out my days in this castle! You, of all people, tell me I'm not to go adventuring! What, really, is the matter with you? I'm ready to believe you dropped your courage over the side of Rhun's ship along with the anchor stone!"

"It is not a question of courage," Taran began. "It is the better part of wisdom to..."

"Now you're talking about wisdom!" Eilonwy cried. "Before, that was the last thing in the world you thought about!"

"This is different," Taran said. "Can you not understand?" he pleaded, though he saw dearly from Eilonwy's face that his words made no sense to her. For an instant he was tempted to blurt out the tiuth. Instead, he took the girl by the shoulders. "You are not to set foot outside this place," he ordered angrily. "And if I think you have any idea of doing so, I shall ask King Rhuddlum to set a guard over you."

"What?" cried Eilonwy. "How dare you!" Tears suddenly filled her eyes. "Yes, I do understand! You're glad I've been sent to this wretched island and these clucking hens! You couldn't wait for a chance to be rid of me! You actually want me to stay here and be lost in this dreadful castle. That's worse than putting someone's head in a sack of feathers!" Sobbing, Eilonwy stamped her foot. "Taran of Caer Dallben, I'm not speaking to youany more!"

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THE FEAST THAT EVENING was surely the merriest the castle had ever seen. Kaw, perched on the back of Taran's chair, bobbed up and down and looked as if the banquet had been arranged entirely in his honor. King Rhuddlum beamed with good spirits; the talk and laughter of the guests rang through the Great Hall. Behind the long table, crowded with Queen Teleria's ladies of the court, Magg flitted back and forth, snapping his fingers and whispering commands to servitors bearing endless dishes of food and flagons of drink. For Taran it was a waking nightmare; he sat silent and uneasy, his repast untouched.

"You needn't look so gloomy," said Eilonwy. "After all, you aren't the one who has to stay here. If I'm trying to make the best of things, I must say you're not exactly helpful. I want to remind you I'm still not speaking to you after the way you behaved today."

Without waiting to hear Taran's confused protests, Eilonwy tossed her head and began chattering to Prince Rhun. Taran bit his lip. He felt as though he were shouting a voiceless warning, while Eilonwy, all unwitting, raced gaily toward the brink of a cliff. At the end of the feasting, Fflewddur tuned his harp, stepped to the middle of the Hall, and sang his new lay. Taran listened without pleasure, although he realized it was the best Fflewddur had yet composed. When the bard had done, and King Rhuddlum had begun to yawn, the guests rose from their seats at the table. Taran plucked Fflewddur's sleeve and drew him aside.

"I've been thinking about the stables," Taran said anxiously. "No matter what Magg says, it's not a fitting place for you to sleep. I'll speak to King Rhuddlum and I'm sure he'll order Magg to give you back your chamber in the castle." Taran hesitated. "I--- I think somehow it would be better if we were all together. We are strangers here, and know nothing of the ways of this place."

"Great Belin, don't give yourself a moment's concern about that," replied the bard. "For my part, I prefer the stables. Indeed, that's one reason I go wandering: to get away from stuffy, dreary castles. Besides," he added behind his hand, "it would lead to trouble with Magg. And if he pushes me beyond endurance, there will be sword-play--- a Fflam is hotheaded--- which is hardly courteous behavior from a guest. No, no, we shall all be fine and meet again in the morning." So saying, Fflewddur shouldered his harp, waved good night, and made his way from the Hall.

"Something tells me we should keep an eye on the castle," Taran said to Gurgi. He put a forefinger under Kaw's feet and set the bird on Gurgi's shoulder, where the crow immediately began running his beak through Gurgi's matted hair. "Stay close to Eilonwy's chamber," he went on. "I'll join you soon. Keep Kaw with you and send him to me if anything seems amiss."

Gurgi nodded. "Yes, yes," he whispered. "Loyal Gurgi will stand with watchful waitings. He will guard dreamful drowsings of noble Princess."

Unnoticed among the departing guests, Taran walked to the courtyard. Hoping to find Gwydion, he strode quickly toward the stables. Stars filled the clear night sky and a bright moon hung above the crags of Mona. In the stables, Taran discovered no trace of the Prince of Don, but came only upon Fflewddur curled up in the straw, his arm flung around his harp and already snoring peacefully. Taran turned once more to the castle, which had by now fallen into darkness. He stood a moment, wondering where else he might seek.

"Hullo, hullo!" Prince Rhun burst from around a corner at such a rate he nearly sent Taran sprawling. "Still awake, are you? So am I! My mother says it's good for me to take a little stroll before sleeping. I suppose you're doing the same? Very good! We shall walk along together?"

"That we shall not!" Taran retorted. Now, of all times, he had no wish to be hindered by the feckless Prince. "I--- I seek the tailors," he added quickly. "Where are they lodged?"

"You're looking for tailors?" Rhun asked. "How odd! Whatever for?"

"My jacket," Taran hurriedly answered. "It--- it fits me badly. I must ask them to fix it."

"In the middle of the night?" asked Rhun, his moon face puzzled. "Now, that really is surprising!" He pointed toward a shadowed side. of the castle. "Their chambers are down there. But I shouldn't think they'd be in a humor to stitch well if you rouse them up out of a sleep. Tailors can be touchy, you know. I advise you to wait until morning."

"No, it must be done now," Taran said, impatient to be rid of Rhun. The Prince shrugged, wished him a cheerful good night, and trotted off again. Taran made his way toward a cluster of sheds beyond the stable. His search there was also in vain. Discouraged, he had decided to rejoin Gurgi when he stopped suddenly. A figure was moving quickly across the courtyard, not toward the main portal but to the farthest angle of the heavy stone wall.

Could Eilonwy have slipped away from Gurgi? Taran was about to call out. Then, fearful of waking the castle, he hurried after the figure. An instant later it seemed to disappear completely. Taran pressed on. At the wall he stumbled upon a narrow opening, barely wide enough to squeeze through. Taran plunged through the curtain of ivy concealing it and found himself beyond the castle on a rocky slope overlooking the harbor. The figure, Taran suddenly realized, was not Eilonwy--- too tall, the gait different. He caught his breath as the cloaked shape turned once for a furtive glance at the castle and the moonlight glittered for a moment over its features. It was Magg. Spider-like, the Chief Steward was rapidly picking his way down a path. In a surge of fear and suspicion, Taran clambered blindly over jagged stones, trying his best to be both swift and silent. Despite the clear night the way was difficult to follow, boulders loomed to catch him unawares and break his stride. He longed for the light of Eilonwy's bauble as he scrambled headlong after Magg toward the sleeping harbor.

Magg had come to level ground well ahead of Taran, and was scuttling along the sea wall until, at the far end, he reached a huge pile of rocks. With surprising agility the Chief Steward swung himself up, crawled over, and once more dropped out of sight. Casting caution aside, fearful he would lose track of Magg, Taran broke into a run. Along the wall moonbright water lapped and whispered. A shadow moved for an instant among the stilted piers. In alarm Taran checked his pace, then hastened on. His eyes were playing tricks. Even the rocks themselves seemed to rise before him like crouching, threatening beasts. Gritting his teeth, Taran climbed the dark barrier of rocks. Below, the water churned in glittering eddies and foamed among the stones. The surf rang in his ears as he hauled himself to the crest. There he clung, not daring to follow farther. Magg had stopped not many paces beyond, at the edge of a narrow spit of land. Taran saw him kneel and make a rapid motion. In another instant a light flared.

The Chief Steward had lit a torch and now raised it overhead, moving the flickering flame slowly back and forth. As Taran watched, fearful and puzzled, a tiny point of orange light glowed far seaward. This answering signal, Taran judged, could come only from a ship, though he could make out nothing of the vessel's shape or distance. Magg waved the torch again, in a different pattern.The light from the ship repeated it, then winked out. Magg thrust his torch into the black water where it sputtered and died; he turned and strode quickly toward the tumble of rocks where Taran lay. Taran, left blinking in the sudden darkness, sought to clamber down before Magg should come upon him, but could find no foothold. In panic he groped for a jutting stone below him, slipped, caught vainly for another one. He could hear Magg scrabbling up the far side and let himself fall among the rocks. Wincing at the sharp pain, he tried to hide in the shadows. Magg's head had just appeared at the crest when Taran was seized firmly from behind. Taran snatched at his sword. A hand was clapped over his mouth, stifling his shout, and he was dragged rapidly toward the foaming wavelets, to be flung silently down amid the stones.

"Make no sound!" Gwydion's voice whispered the command. Taran went limp, with relief. Overhead, Magg lowered himself from the mass of stones and passed no more than a dozen paces from the two crouching figures. Gwydion, clinging to the rocks above the surf, motioned for Taran to stay hidden. The Chief Steward, without a backward glance, hastened once more along the sea wall, heading for the castle.

"Seize him!" Taran urged. "A ship rides at anchor. I saw him signal it. We must make him tell us what he is about." Gwydion shook his head. His green eyes followed the retreating Magg and his lips drew tightly against his teeth in the lean smile of a stalking wolf. He still wore the rags of the shoemaker; but Dyrnwyn, the black sword, now hung at his belt.

"Let him go," he murmured. "The game is not played out."

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"But the signal," Taran began.

Gwydion nodded. "I, too, saw it. I have been keeping watch over the castle since I left you. Though a moment ago," he added, with some severity, "I feared an Assistant Pig-Keeper would stumble into a snare set to catch a traitor., Would you serve me? Then return at once to the castle. Stay close by the Princess."

"Dare we let Magg go unhindered?" Taran asked.

"He must go unhindered for a time, at least," replied Gwydion. "The shoemaker will soon put down his awl and take up the sword. Until then, keep silent. I would not spoil Magg's scheme before I learn more of it. The fisherfolk of Mona have already told a curious and harmless shoemaker part of what he must know," Gwydion continued. "Enough to be certain of one thing: Achren is aboard that vessel. Yes," Gwydion went on as Taran drew a sharp breath, "this much I suspected. Achren herself would not dare strike directly against Eilonwy. The castle is strong and well-guarded, only treachery could open its gates. Achren needed a hand to do her bidding. Now I know whose it is." Gwydion frowned deeply as he spoke on. "But why?" he murmured almost to himself. "Too much still remains hidden. If it is as I fear..." He shook his head quickly. "It does not please me to use Eilonwy as unwitting bait for a trap, but I cannot do otherwise."

"Magg can be watched," Taran said, "but what of Achren?"

"I must find some means to learn her plan as well as Magg's," replied Gwydion. "Go quickly now," he ordered. "Soon all may grow clear. So I hope, for I would not see the Princess Eilonwy long in peril." Taran hastened to obey Gwydion's command.

Leaving the Prince of Don at the harbor, he made his way with all speed up the winding path to the castle, found the opening in the wall, and pressed through it into the dark courtyard. Eilonwy, he knew, would not be safe so long as Magg had the freedom of the castle. But Magg, at least, could be watched. The terror that chilled Taran's heart came from the ship waiting in the night. Memory of Achren, beautiful and merciless, again returned to him. From a day long past he recalled her lividface, her voice that had spoken so softly of torment and death. It was her shadow that loomed behind the treacherous Chief Steward. He hurried silently across the courtyard. A dim light shone from one of the chambers. Stealthily, Taran moved toward it, raised himself on tiptoe, and peered through the casement. In the glow of an oil lamp he saw the Chief Steward. Magg clutched a long dagger which he brandished in the air, all the while making fierce grimaces. After a time he hid the weapon in his garments, then picked up a small looking glass into which he smiled, pursed his lips, and eyed himself with glances of deep satisfaction. Taran watched with rage and horror, hardly able to keep from bursting in upon him. With a final smirk, the Chief Steward put out the lamp. Taran clenched his fists, turned away, and entered the castle. At Eilonwy's chamber he found Gurgi crouched on the flagstones. Rumpled and half-asleep, Gurgi blinked and sprang to his feet. Kaw, as tousled as Gurgi himself, popped his head from under his wing.

"All is quiet," Gurgi whispered. "Yes, yes, watchful Gurgi has not moved from portal! Valiant, sleepy Gurgi keeps noble Princess from harmful hurtings. His poor tender head is heavy, but it does not nod, oh no!"

"You have done well," Taran said. "Sleep, my friend. Go and rest that poor tender head of yours and I shall stay here until daylight."

While Gurgi, yawning and rubbing his eyes, crept down the corridor, Taran took his place before the chamber. He sank to the flagstones and, with hand on sword, rested his head on his knees and fought against his own weariness. Once or twice, despite his efforts, he drowsed, then started up suddenly. The vaulted corridor slowly lightened in the rising dawn. With relief Taran saw the first rays of morning and at last allowed himself to close his eyes.

"Taran of Caer Dallben!" He stumbled to his feet and clutched his blade. Eilonwy, looking fresh and well-rested, stood in the doorway. "Taran of Caer Dallben!" she declared. "I nearly tripped over you! Whatever in the world are you doing?" Befuddled, Taran could only stammer that he found the hallway more comfortable than his chamber. Eilonwy shook her head. "That," she remarked, "is the silliest thing I've heard this morning. I may hear something sillier, because it's early yet, but I doubt it. I'm beginning to think the ways of Assistant Pig-Keepers are quite beyond me." She shrugged. "In any case, I'm going to breakfast. After you wash your face and untangle your hair,you might have some too. It would do you good. You look as jumpy as a frog with fleas!"

Without waiting for Taran to shake the sleep from his head, and before he could stop her, Eilonwy disappeared down the corridor. Taran hurried after her. Even in the bright morning he felt shadows cling to him like black spider webs. By now, he hoped, Gwydion had discovered Achren's plan. But Magg still went free. Taran, recalling the Chief Steward's hidden dagger, had no intention of letting Eilonwy out of his sight for an instant.

"Hullo, hullo!" His round face glowing as if he had just scrubbed it, Prince Rhun popped out of his chamber just as Taran passed by. "Going to breakfast?" cried the Prince, clapping Taran on the shoulder. "Good! So am I."

"Then we shall meet in the Great Hall," Taran hastily replied, striving to shake himself loose from Rhun's friendly grasp.

"Amazing how one's appetite grows during the night," Prince Rhun went on. "Oh, by the way, did you ever manage to rouse the tailors?"

"Tailors?" Taran answered impatiently. "What tailors? Oh--- yes, yes, they have done what I asked," he quickly added, peering down the corridor.

"Splendid!" cried Rhun. "I wish I had the same good fortune. Do you know, that shoemaker never did finish my sandals? He'd only just begun, then off he went, and that was the end of them."

"It may be he had a more important task to do," Taran replied. "As do I---"

"What could be more important to a shoemaker than making shoes?" asked Rhun. "However..." He snapped his fingers. "Ah! I knew there was something. I've forgotten my cloak. Hold on, I shall only be a moment."

"Prince Rhun," Taran cried, "I must join the Princess Eilonwy."

"We shall be there directly," called Rhun from the chamber. "Oh, drat! There goes my sandal lace broken! I do wish that shoemaker had finished his work!" Leaving the Prince of Mona still rummaging in the chamber, Taran sped anxiously to the Great Hall. King Rhuddlum and Queen Teleria were already at table, the Queen surrounded, as always, by her ladies. Taran looked quickly about him. Magg, usually in attendance, was not there.

Nor was there any sign of Eilonwy.

Wahad posted:

I think Rhun's bumbling fool thing getting in the way of Taran at critical moments like this does a lot to lessen this book's impact. It's just kind of...annoying?

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"WHERE IS EILONWY?" Taran cried, as King Rhuddlum and Queen Teleria stared at him in astonishment. "Where is Magg? He's made off with her! Sire, I beg you. Turn out your guard. Help me find them. Eilonwy is in danger of her life!"

"What, what?" Queen Teleria clucked. "Magg? The Princess? You're overwrought, young man. Perhaps the sea air--- don't shake so and wave your arms about--- has gone to your head. Because someone isn't here for breakfast doesn't mean they're in danger. Does it, my dear?" she asked, turning to the King.

"I should hardly think so, my dear," answered Rhuddlum. "This is a heavy charge to bring against a loyal retainer," he added, looking gravely at Taran. "Why do you accuse him?" For a moment, Taran stood perplexed and torn. Gwydion had bound him to secrecy. But now that Magg had struck, must the secret still be kept? Taking his decision, he let the words tumble from his lips, hurriedly and often confusedly telling all that had happened since the companions had reached Dinas Rhydnant.

Queen Teleria shook her head. "This shoemaker disguised as Prince Gwydion--- or was it the other way around--- and ships and torch signals toenchantresses make the wildest tale I've heard, young man."

"Wild indeed," said King Rhuddlum. "But we shall learn the truth easily enough. Fetch the shoemaker and we shall soon see if he is the Prince of Don."

"Prince Gwydion seeks Achren," Taran cried. "I have given you the truth. If it is not so, you shall take my life for it. Will you prove my words? Fetch your Chief Steward."

King Rhuddlum frowned. "It is odd that Magg should not be here," he admitted. "Very well, Taran of Caer Dallben. He shall be found and you shall repeat your tale in his presence." He clapped his hands and ordered a servitor to summon the Chief Steward. Frantic with anxiety, knowing that time was fleeting and delay could cost Eilonwy's life, Taran was nearly beside himself when the servitor at last returned with tidings that Magg appeared to be nowhere in the castle, nor could Eilonwy be found. As King Rhuddlum hesitated, still puzzled by Taran's words, Gurgi, Kaw, and Fflewddur entered the Great Hall. Taran raced to them.

"Magg! That villainous spider!" the bard exclaimed as soon as Taran told him what had happened. "Great Belin, she's ridden off with him! I saw them galloping through the gate. I called to her, but she didn't hear me. She seemed cheerful enough. I'd no idea anything was amiss. But they're gone, long gone by now!"

Queen Teleria turned deathly pale. The ladies of the court gasped fearfully. King Rhuddlum sprang to his feet. "You have spoken the truth, Taran of Caer Dallben." Shouting for the guard, the King strode from the Great Hall. The companions hastened after him. At King Rhuddlum's hurried orders, the stables were flung open. Within moments the courtyard filled with warriors and neighing horses. Prince Rhun, meantime, had strolled into the courtyard where he peered at the gathering host.

"Hullo, hullo!" he called to Taran. "Is this a hunting party? Splendid thought. I should enjoy a brisk morning ride."

"A hunt for your traitor steward," Taran retorted, thrusting Rhun aside and making his way to King Rhuddlum. "Sire, where is your war leader? Give us leave to put ourselves at his service."

"My war leader, sorry to say, is none other than Magg himself," the King answered. "As we've never had a war on Mona, we never needed a war leader, and it seemed quite in order to give Magg the honorary title. I shall form up the searching party myself. As for you--- yes--- by all means help with any tasks that need doing."

While King Rhuddlum saw to the ordering of the warriors, Taran and the companions labored with all speed, tightening saddle girths and handing out weapons from the armory. Prince Rhun, Taran saw, had clambered astride a swaybacked, piebald mare that persisted in turning in circles despite the efforts of the Prince to control her. Fflewddur and Gurgi had led out three horses. A glance at the animals filled Taran with despair, for they seemed unspirited, of no great mettle, and he wished for the swift-footed Melynlas now grazing peacefully at Caer Dallben.

King Rhuddlum, taking Taran by the arm, drew him hurriedly into an empty stable. "You and I must speak together," the King said quickly. "The warriors are ready and divided into two parties. One I shall lead over the lands south of the River Alaw. You and your companions are to ride with my son, who shall command the search in the Hills of Parys north of the Alaw. It is of him I would speak."

"Prince Rhun in command?" Taran burst out.

"What then, Taran of Caer Dallben," King Rhuddlum asked sharply. "Do you question Prince Rhun's skill?"

"Skill!" Taran cried. "He has none! Eilonwy's life hangs in the balance; our task must be done without delay. Give command to a feckless fool? He can barely knot a sandal lace, let alone ride a horse or wield a sword. The voyage to Mona showed me more than enough. Choose one of your liege men,a warrior, a forester, anyone save Rhun..." He stopped short. "Dallben has my oath to protect Eilonwy, and I say what is in my heart. Were I to say less, I would fail my duty. If I am to suffer for my words, then so be it."

"Once again. you speak the truth," King Rhuddlum answered. "It is not you who suffers for it, but I." He put a hand on Taran's shoulder. "Think you I do not know my own son? You are right in your judgment. But, I know, too, that Rhun must grow to be both a man and a king. You carry the burden of an oath to Dallben. I pray you take the burden of another one. Word of your deeds has reached Mona," King Rhuddlum went on, "And I have seen for myself that you are a brave lad, and honorable. I confide this knowledge to you: my Master of Horse is a skillful tracker; he rides with your party and in truth shall direct the search. Prince Rhun commands in name only, for the warriors expect leadership from the Royal House. I would entrust my son to you, and beg you to let no harm befall him. Nor," added the King, smiling sadly, "to let him make too great a fool of himself. Much he has to learn, and much, perhaps, he may learn from you. One day he must be King of Mona, and it is my hope he will rule honorably and wisely with Eilonwy his Queen."

"Eilonwy?" Taran cried, "with Rhun her husband?"

"Yes," answered King Rhuddlum. "When the Princess comes of age, it is our desire they shall wed."

"Princess Eilonwy," Taran murmured, confused. "Does she know of this?"

"Not yet. Nor does my son," said King Rhuddlum. "Eilonwy must have time to grow used to Mona and our ways here. But I am sure it will be happily arranged. After all, she is a Princess and Rhun is of royal blood." Taran bowed his head. The grief in his heart kept him from speaking. "What say you, Taran of Caer Dallben?" King Rhuddlum asked. "Will you give me your word?" From the courtyard Taran could hear the clamor of warriors and the voice of Fflewddur calling his name. Yet these sounds reached his ears as though from a great distance. He remained silent, his eyes downcast.

"In this, I do not speak as liege lord to liege man," King Rhuddlum added. "I speak as a father who loves his son." He paused, watching Taran closely.

At last Taran met the King's eyes. "I will swear this oath," he said slowly. "Your son will come to no harm if it lies in my power to keep him from it." Taran put a hand to his sword. "I pledge my life to do so."

"Go with my thanks, Taran of Caer Dallben," King Rhuddlum said. "And help us bring the Princess Eilonwy safely home." The bard and Gurgi were already mounted when Taran hurried from the stable. Heavyhearted, he swung into the saddle. Kaw flew to join him. Prince Rhun, who had finally managed to keep his steed from turning in circles, was shouting commands, unheeded as usual.

quote:

As the searching parties galloped out the gates, Taran lifted Kaw from his shoulder. "Can you find her? Seek her carefully, my friend," he murmured, while the crow cocked his head and looked at Taran with shrewd eyes. Taran flung his arm upward. Kaw launched himself into the air and sped aloft. Wings beating, the crow circled overhead, drove higher against the sky, then disappeared from sight.

"Yes, yes!" shouted Gurgi, waving his arms. "Go with flyings and spyings! Lead us to evil, wicked steward!"

"The sooner the better!" cried Fflewddur. "I can't wait to get my hands on that sneering spider. He shall know the fury of a Fflam!"

Glancing behind him, Taran saw King Rhuddlum's band stream from the castle and turn southward. Ahead, the Master of Horse led his party of warriors toward the higher ground above Dinas Rhydnant and signaled for the outriders tosearch for tracks. Taran's face was set and grim as he rode silently next to Fflewddur.

"Have no fear," the bard assured him, "we shall bring Eilonwy back with us safe and sound before nightfall, and all of us shall make merry over this adventure. I promise you a new song in celebration!"

"You would do well to make it a chant of betrothal," Taran said bitterly, "and sing of the wedding of the Prince of Mona."

"Rhun?" cried the startled Fflewddur. "To be wed? I had no idea! That's one disadvantage of being lodged in the stables instead of the castle, you miss the news and gossip. Prince Rhun, indeed! Who is to be his bride?" Painfully, Taran told the bard of King Rhuddlum's plans and of his own oath to keep Rhun from harm.

"Oho," said Fflewddur, when Taran had finished, "so that's the way the wind blows! Strange," he added, with a quick glance at Taran, "I had always hoped that if Eilonwy were betrothed to anyone it would be--- yes, well, what I mean to say is that despite all the squabbling and bickering between the two of you, I had rather expected..."

"Do not mock me," Taran burst out, reddening. "Eilonwy is a Princess of the House of Llyr. You know my station as well as I. Such a hope has never been in my mind. It is only fitting for Eilonwy to be betrothed to one of her own rank." Angrily he drew away from the bard and galloped ahead.

"So you say, so you say," murmured Fflewddur, hurrying after him. "Look closer into your heart. You may find your opinion to be somewhat different." Taran, unhearing, pressed his steed to join the line of warriors.

quote:

TURNING NORTHWARD along the lower slopes of the Hills of Parys, the searching party broke into smaller bands, each quartering its own ground. The warriors, widely separated, moved in long, wavering lines, often out of each other's sight, painstakingly scouting every possible hiding place. Yet, as the morning wore away and noontide passed, they found no trace of the Chief Steward or Eilonwy.

Among the green and gentle slopes ran broken, pebbly trails, where the fleeing Magg might have passed and where clues would be invisible to the eyes of even the most able tracker. Taran's heart sank; in his mind chafed the fear that he was following a false hope and that Eilonwy had been taken in an altogether different direction. From time to time he anxiously scanned the sky for a glimpse of Kaw returning with news of the Princess. Gwydion, Taran knew, was the only one who might discover Achren's plan. Magg was the key, but the Chief Steward had acted so swiftly that perhaps even now he was beyond the reach of the searching party. Taran redoubled his efforts to find a broken twig, a loose stone--- anything that might bring them closer to Eilonwy before nightfall put an end to the day's searching. Gurgi, riding close at hand, called out to him.

"Look, look! Noble prince goes far alone, too far into the woods! He will lose himself. Then cheerful hullos will turn to sad moanings and groanings!"

Taran, who had dismounted to study what seemed a possible trail, raised his eyes in time to see Prince Rhun galloping over the shoulder of a hill. He shouted at him, but Rhun was too distant to hear, or, more likely, Taran thought, was simply paying no heed. He leaped astride his horse and sought to overtake the Prince. Until now he had managed to keep Prince Rhun always in view, but by the time Taran reached the hill, Rhun had vanished into the shadows of an alder grove. Below, on the rapidly darkening meadow, Fflewddur had cantered into sight and was calling him. Taran shouted Rhun's name once again, then beckoned for the bard and Gurgi to join him.

"That sickening spider has escaped us today," Fflewddur cried angrily, while his nag labored to the crest. "But we shall fetch him out tomorrow and Eilonwy will be safe and sound. If I know the Princess, Magg has already begun to regret stealing her away. She's worth a dozen warriors even if she's tied hand and foot." Despite the bard's brave words, his face looked deeply worried. "Come," said Fflewddur, "the Master of Horse is calling in the warriors. We're to make camp with them for the night."

Even as the bard spoke, Taran heard the faint notes of a signal horn. He frowned. "I dare not leave Prince Rhun to wander alone in the forest."

"In that case," replied Fflewddur, glancing toward the setting sun, "we had best get hold of him without delay. A Ffiam is keen-eyed! But I'd rather not go stumbling about the countryside after dark, if it can possibly be avoided."

"Hasten, yes, yes, with hurryings and scurryings!" cried Gurgi. "Fearsome shadows fall, and bold but cautious Gurgi does not know what hurtful things hide in them!" The companions rode quickly into the grove where, Taran felt certain, they would find the Prince. However, once beyond the ring of alders, and seeing nothing of him, Taran's alarm grew. Vainly he called the Prince's name. Only the echo returned.

"He cannot have ridden far," he told the bard. "Even Rhun would have wits enough to halt at nightfall." Darkness covered the grove. The horses, more used to their quiet stalls in Dinas Rhydnant than to the forests of Mona, trod fearfully, rearing and shying at every wind-stirred bush. The companions were obliged to dismount and make their way on foot, leading the reluctant steeds. By this time Taran was deeply troubled. What had begun as a simple matter had turned grave.

"He might have fallen from his horse," Taran said. "Even now he might be lying hurt or unconscious."

"Then I suggest we find our way back to the rest of the band," said Fflewddur, "and ask them to help us. In this gloom the more eyes the better."

"We would lose too much time," Taran answered, pressing on through the underbrush. Gurgi followed, whimpering softly to himself. The rising ground told Taran they were moving above the foothills. No sound came but the hiss of saplings that whipped back as he passed and the click of the horses' hooves over pale stones. Taran stopped short, his heart in his mouth. From a corner of his eye he glimpsed a fleeting movement. It lasted but an instant, a shadow within a shadow. Fighting down his fear, he groped ahead. The horses had turned more skittish than before, and Taran's mount laid back his ears and voiced a frightened whinny. Gurgi, too, had sensed the dark presence. The terrified creature's hair rose along his neck and he began to howl pitifully.

"Wicked, evil things come to follow harmless Gurgi! Oh, kind master, save Gurgi's poor tender head from hurtful dangers!" Taran drew his sword and the companions, with many backward glances into the darkness, hurried on. This time the horses did not lag, but plunged desperately ahead, nearly dragging the bard with them.

"Great Belin!" protested Fflewddur, who had crashed into a tree and struggled to free his jangling harp from a bush, "hold up, there! Next thing you know, we'll be looking for our own steeds as well as for Prince Rhun!" With difficulty Taran managed to calm the animals who now refused to budge. Despite all his coaxing, pleading, and tugging, the horses stood stiff-legged and round-eyed, their flanks trembling. Taran, himself exhausted, sank to the ground.

"Our search is blind and useless," he said. "You were right," he went on, turning to Fflewddur. "We should have gone back. The time I had hoped to save is wasted twice over, and Eilonwy's danger is greater with every moment we delay. Now Prince Rhun is lost--- and so is Kaw, for all we know."

"I'm afraid you're right," sighed Fflewddur. "And unless you or Gurgi knows where we are, I rather suspect we're lost, too."