Lloyd Alexander - Taran Wanderer

"Still, it may serve one purpose," Taran went on. "With this to bargain, Orddu will surely tell me who I am. Yes!" he cried. "This is a treasure she won't refuse." He stopped abruptly and paused a long moment. In his grasp lay means to gain the knowledge he craved. But his heart sank. Though he had won the gem fairly, never could he claim to be its rightful owner. It was his to bargain with no more than it had been Morda's. If Orddu accepted it, and if he should learn he was of noble birth― was a royal robe enough to hide a dishonorable deed?

He looked at Doli. "The gem is mine," Taran said. "But only mine to give, not mine to keep." Slowly he pressed the jewel into Doli's hand. "Take this. It belonged once to the Fair Folk. It belongs to them once more."

The dwarf's usual scowl softened. "You've done us a service," he answered. "Very likely the greatest service any of you mortals have done for the Fair Folk. Without your help Morda could have destroyed us all. Yes, the gem must return to our realm; it's too dangerous in other hands. You chose well. King Eiddileg will ever remember you for this. You have his thanks― and mine." Doli nodded with satisfaction and tucked the stone carefully into his jacket. "It's made a long journey. At last it comes back to us.

"Yes, yes!" shouted Gurgi. "Take it for keepings. If kindly master will not have it, then Gurgi wants to see no more of wicked stone. Away with it, away! Do not let it turn faithful Gurgi to a mouse again!"

Taran, with a fond laugh, put a hand on Gurgi's shoulder. "Morda couldn't have changed what you truly are, any more than he could have changed Doli. Mouse though you might have seemed, you still had the heart of a lion. But what of me?" he murmured thoughtfully. "As a caged eagle, as a blind worm― could I indeed have stayed myself? Would I still have been Taran, when I scarcely know who Taran is?"

The sun had begun to climb, promising a day blue and fresh, when the companions left the wizard's fastness. The wall of thorns had fallen, shattered like the evil power that raised it, and the companions breached it without difficulty. They untethered Melynlas and Gurgi's pony, but it was not until they had gone a considerable distance that Fflewddur agreed to halt and rest. Even then, the bard appeared uncomfortable and, while Gurgi opened the wallet of food, Fflewddur sat distractedly on a hummock, meditatively fingering his ears, as though to make certain they were indeed his own.

"Rabbits!" the bard murmured. "I'll never chase another."

Taran sat apart with Doli, for there was much he had to tell and much he wanted to ask. Though Doli had regained his long frown and short patience, the occasional flicker of a grin betrayed his delight at seeing the companions again. Yet, learning of Taran's quest, Doli scowled more deeply than usual.

"The Free Commots?" said the dwarf. "We're on the best of terms with the Commot folk; they respect us and we respect them. You'll not find many in Prydain to match their stout hearts and good will, and no man lords it over his fellows because he had the luck to be born in a king's castle instead of a farmer's hut. What matters in the Free Commots is the skill in a man's hands, not the blood in his veins. But I can tell you no more than that, for we have few dealings with them. Oh, we keep a way post open here and there, just in case they might need our help. But it seldom happens. The Commot folk would rather count on themselves, and they do quite well at it. So we're more than pleased, for our own sake, as well as theirs, for we have burden enough keeping an eye on the rest of Prydain.

"As for the Mirror you speak of," Doli continued, "never heard of it. There's a Lake of Llunet in the Llawgadarn Mountains. More than that I can't tell you. But what have you there?" the dwarf suddenly asked, noticing Taran's battle horn for the first time. "Where did you get that?"

"Eilonwy gave it to me when I left Mona," Taran replied. "It was her pledge that we…" He smiled sadly. "How long ago it seems." He unslung the horn from his shoulder and handed it to Doli.

"That's Fair Folk craftsmanship," said the dwarf. "Can't mistake it." To Taran's surprise Doli squinted into one end, then the other, and raised the horn into the sunlight as though trying to peer through the mouthpiece. As Taran watched, puzzled, Doli rapped the horn sharply with his knuckles and thumped it against his knee.

"Empty!" the dwarf grumbled. "All used up. No! Hold on a moment." He pressed the bell of the horn against his ear and listened intently. "There's one left, no more than that."

"One what?" cried Taran, more than ever perplexed at Doli's words.

"One call, what did you think?" snapped Doli.

Fflewddur and Gurgi had come closer, drawn by Doli's odd behavior, and the dwarf turned to them. "This was crafted long ago, when men and, Fair Folk lived in closer friendship and each was glad to help the other. The horn holds a summons to us."

"I don't understand," began Taran.

"If you'd listen to me, you would," retorted Doli, handing back the battle horn. "And I mean listen. Hard." He pursed his lips and whistled three long notes of a pitch and sequence strange to Taran. "Hear that? Sound those notes on the horn― just so, mind you, and no other way. They'll bring you the nearest Fair Folk who will do whatever they can if you need help. Now, do you remember the tune?" Doli whistled the notes again.

Taran nodded and unthinkingly raised the horn to his lips.

"Not now, you clot!" shouted Doli, "Keep it in your head. I told you there was only one summons. Save it. Don't waste it. Someday, your life may hang on that call."

Taran stared in wonder at the horn. "Eilonwy herself knew nothing of this. You've done me a priceless favor, Doli."

"Favor?" snorted the dwarf. "No favor at all. The horn serves whoever happens to have it― in this case, you. I've done nothing but show you how to gain a little more use from something already yours. Favor? Humph! It's only common courtesy. But guard it well. Squander it like a fool at the first whiff of danger and you'll regret it when you really are in trouble."

"Ahem," Fflewddur whispered to Taran. "My own counsel to you is: Trust your wits, your sword, or your legs. Enchantment is enchantment, and if you'd been through what I've been through, you'd want no part of it." He frowned uneasily at the battle horn and turned away. "I'll never be the same, that's sure!" he muttered, nervously patting his ears. "Great Belin, they still feel twice as long as before!"

AFTER EATING, the Companions stretched themselves on the turf and slept solidly the rest of the day and all that night. In the morning Doli took his leave of them. Kaw, at Doli's request, had already begun flying to the Fair Folk realm with tidings that all was well; from there, the crow would rejoin Taran.

"I'd go with you if I could," the dwarf said to Taran. "The thought of an Assistant Pig-Keeper blundering his way through the Llawgadarn Mountains makes my hair stand on end. But I dare not. Eiddileg must have the jewel safely. And who's to bring it to him? Good old Doli! Humph!"

"It saddens me to part with you," Taran said, "but you've helped me more than I could hope. The Lake of Llunet bears the same name as the Mirror and perhaps will lead me to it."

"Farewell, then," said Doli. "You've kept us all from being frogs or worse and restored a treasure to us. You'll not regret it. We Fair Folk have long memories."

The dwarf clasped hands with the travelers, and pulled his leather cap tighter on his head. Doli waved one last time, and Taran watched the dwarf's stumpy figure trudging steadily across a broad meadow, growing smaller in the distance until he vanished into the skirting woods and Taran saw him no more.