Lloyd Alexander - The Castle of Llyr

"And I advise you to stay away from strange huts," put in Fflewddur. "Last time I was in one, I almost got changed into a toad." The bard shook his head. "Shun them― huts, that is," he added. "You never know what disagreeable thing you'll run into― and by the time you find out, it's too late."

"Changed into a toad?" cried Rhun, not the least dismayed. "I say, that might be interesting. I should like to try it one day. But there's nothing like that to worry about. No one lives here. And they haven't for a long time."

"Hurry, then," Taran said, resolving never again to let Prince Rhun out of his sight. "We must join the others. We'll have long, hard riding before we catch up to them."

"Immediately!" said Rhun, who was wearing nothing but his shirt. "I shall get my things together."

Gurgi, meanwhile, had clambered down from the tree. His curiosity getting the better of his prudence, he loped across the clearing and thrust his head into the doorway, at last venturing inside with Rhun. Fflewddur and the impatient Taran followed him.

It was, Taran saw, as the Prince had told them. A heavy layer of dust covered the wooden tables and benches. A spider had spun an enormous web in one corner, but even the web was deserted. On a broken hearthstone lay the charred remnants of a long-dead fire. Near the hearth, a number of large cookpots, dry and empty now, had been overturned. Earthen bowls and tall jars, shattered into fragments, were strewn about the floor. Through the holes in the roof the leaves of more than one autumn had fallen, nearly burying a stool whose legs had broken into splinters. The hut was silent; the noises of the forest did not enter. Taran stood uneasily while Prince Rhun fumbled with his gear.

Gurgi, fascinated by so many strange odds and ends, lost no time in poking through them. Suddenly he cried out in surprise. "Look, look!" he called, holding up a sheaf of tattered parchment.

Taran knelt beside Gurgi and examined the ragged bundle. The fold mice, he realized, had discovered the packet long before. Many of the sheets had been gnawed away; others were rain sodden and blotted. The few undamaged pages were covered with cramped writing. Only at the bottom of the pile did Taran find pages in good repair. These had been carefully bound in leather to make a small tome, and their surface was clear and unmarked.

Prince Rhun, who still had not got around to buckling on his sword, came to peer over Taran's shoulder. "I say!" he cried. "What have you there? I can't guess what it is, but it looks interesting. And isn't that a handsome little book? I shouldn't mind having it to put down things I'm supposed to remember to do."

"Prince Rhun," Taran said, handing the undamaged volume to the Prince of Mona, who thrust it into his jacket, "believe me, if there's anything that might ever help you do anything, you're welcome to it." He went back to puzzling over the parchments. "Between the mice and the weather," he went on, "there's not much to make out of this scrawl. There seems to be no beginning or ending, but as far as I can tell, these are recipes for potions."

"Potions!" cried Fflewddur. "Great Belin, that's something we've little use for!"

Taran, nevertheless, continued to scan and sort the pages. "Wait, I think I've found the name of whoever wrote them. Glew, it looks like. And the potions, as it says here, are to"― his voice faltered and he turned anxiously to Fflewddur― "to make yourself grow bigger. What can this mean?"

"How's that?" asked the bard. "Bigger? Are you sure you haven't read it wrong?" He took the pages from Taran's hand and examined them carefully himself. When he had finished, he gave a low whistle.

"In my wanderings," said Fflewddur, "I've managed to learn a number of things, not least of which is don't meddle. I fear that's exactly what this fellow Glew did. Indeed, what he sought was a potion to make himself bigger and stronger. If those are Glew's boots over there," he added, pointing to the corner, "he surely needed one, for he must have been a little fellow."

Half hidden by leaves, a pair of well-worn boots lay on their side. They were hardly large enough to fit a child and seemed, to Taran, pitiful in their smallness and emptiness.

"He must have been painstaking," Fflewddur went on. "I'll say that much for him. He describes everything he did, and set down all his recipes, quite carefully and methodically. As for his ingredients," the bard said, making a sour face, "I should rather not think about them."

"I say," Prince Rhun eagerly interrupted, "perhaps we should try them ourselves. It would be interesting to see what happens."

"No, no!" Gurgi shouted. "Gurgi wants no tastings of nasty lotions and potions!"

"Nor do I," said Fflewddur. "And neither did Glew, for the matter of that. He had no wish to drink his concoctions until he had some hope they'd work― for which I can't blame him in the least. He went about it very cleverly.

"As I gather from what he's written down here," continued the bard, "he went out and trapped a mountain cat― a small one, I should think, since Glew himself was such a small person. He brought her back, put her in a cage, and fed her his potions as fast as he could cook them up."

"Poor creature," said Taran.

"Indeed," agreed the bard. "I shouldn't have liked to be in her place. Yet he must have grown fond enough of her to give her a name. Here, he's written it down. Llyan. Apart from feeding her those dreadful messes, I expect he didn't treat her badly. She might even have been company for him, living alone as he did.

"At last it happened," Fflewddur went on. "You can see by his writing how excited Glew must have been. Llyan began to grow. Glees mentions he was obliged to make a new cage for her. And still another. How pleased he must have been. I can easily imagine the little fellow chuckling and brewing away for all he was worth."

Fflewddur turned to the last page. "And so it ends," he said, "where the mice have eaten the parchment. They've done away with Glew's last recipe. As for Glew and Llyan― they've vanished along with it."

Taran was silent looking at the empty boots and overturned cookpots. "Glew certainly is gone," he said thoughtfully, "but I have a feeling he didn't go far."

"How's that?" asked the bard. "Oh, I take your meaning," he said, shuddering. "Yes, it does look rather― shall I say, sudden? As I see Glew, he was a neat and orderly sort. He would hardly go off leaving his hut as it is now. Without his boots at that. Poor little fellow," he sighed. "It only proves the dangers of meddling. For all his pains, Glew must have got himself gobbled up. And if you ask me, the wisest thing for us is to leave immediately!"

Taran nodded and rose to his feet. As he did, terrified whinnyings and the sound of galloping hooves filled the air. "The horses!" he cried, racing to the door.

Before he could reach it, the door burst from its hinges. Taran clutched at his sword and stumbled back into the hut as a huge shape leaped at him.

TARAN'S BLADE WENTspinning from his grasp and he threw himself to the ground to escape the onslaught. In a powerful spring, the creature passed over his head. The great beast screamed with fury as the companions scattered in terror to all parts of the hut.

Amid the confusion of tumbling stools and benches, and as the dry leaves rose in a whirlwind, Taran saw that Fflewddur had jumped to a tabletop and, in so doing, had plunged into the spiderweb which now covered him from head to foot. Prince Rhun, having tried vainly to climb up the chimney, crouched in the ashes of the hearth. Gurgi had made himself as small as he could and had pressed into a corner, where he squealed and yelled, "Help, oh, help! Save Gurgi's poor tender head from pawings and clawings!"