Lloyd Alexander - The Black Cauldron

"Yes," said Gwystyl, with a gloomy look at Taran, "yes, I know."

TARAN STOPPED SHORT. "You know that?" he asked in surprise. "Then why didn't you…"

Gwystyl gulped and darted nervous glances about him. "Oh, I know. But only in a very general way, you understand. I mean, I don't really know anything at all. Just the usual unfounded rumor you might expect to hear in a beastly place like this. Of no importance. Pay no attention to it."

"Gwystyl," said Doli sharply, "you know more about this than you let on. Now, out with it."

The gloomy creature flung his hands to his head and began moaning and rocking back and forth. "Do go away and let me alone," he sobbed. "I'm not well; I have so many tasks to finish, I shall never be caught up."

"You must tell us!" cried Taran. "Please," he added, lowering his voice, for the wretched Gwystyl had begun to shake violently, his eyes turning up as though he were about to have a fit. "Do not keep your knowledge from us. If you stay silent, our lives are risked for no purpose."

"Leave it alone," Gwystyl choked, fanning himself with an edge of his robe. "Don't bother with it. Forget it. That's the best thing you can do. Go back wherever you came from. Don't even think about it."

"How can we do that?" Taran cried. "Arawn won't rest until he has the cauldron again."

"Of course he won't rest," Gwystyl said. "He isn't resting now. That's exactly why you should drop the search and go quietly. You'll only stir up more trouble. And there's enough of that already."

"Then we'd better get back to Caer Cadarn and join Gwydion as quickly as we can," Eilonwy said.

"Yes, yes, by all means," broke in Gwystyl, with the first trace of eagerness Taran had glimpsed in this strange individual. "I only give you this advice for your own good. I'm glad, very glad, you've seen fit to follow it. Now, of course," he added, almost brightly, "you'll want to be on your way. Very wise of you. I, unhappily, have to stay here. I envy you, I really do. But― that's the way of it, and there's little anyone can do. A pleasure meeting you all. Goodbye."

"Goodbye?" cried Eilonwy. "If we put our noses above ground and the Huntsmen are waiting for us― yes, it will be goodbye indeed! Doli says it's your duty to help us. And with that, you haven't done a thing. Except sigh and moan! If this is the best the Fair Folk can manage, why, I'd rather be up a tree with my toes tied together!"

Gwystyl clutched his head again. "Please, please, don't shout. I'm not up to shouting today. Not after the horses. One of you can go and see if the Huntsmen are still there. Not that it will really do any good, for they might have just stepped away for a moment."

"I wonder who'll do that?" muttered the dwarf. "Good old Doli, of course. I thought I'd done with making myself invisible."

"I could give all of you a little something," Gwystyl went on, "not that it will do much good. It's a kind of powder I've put by in case of need. I was saving it for emergencies."

"What do you call this, you clot!" Doli growled.

"Yes, well, I meant, ah, more for personal emergencies," Gwystyl explained, paling. "But it doesn't matter about me. You can have it. Take all of it, go ahead.

"You put it on your feet, or whatever you walk on― I mean hooves and so forth," Gwystyl added. "It doesn't work too well, hardly much sense in bothering. Because it wears off. Naturally, if you're walking on it, it would do that. However, it will hide your tracks for a while."

"That's what we need," said Taran. "Once we throw the Huntsmen off our trail, I think we can outrun them."

"I'll get some," Gwystyl said with eagerness. "It won't take a moment."

As he made to leave the chamber, however, Doli took him by the arm. "Gwystyl," said the dwarf severely, "you have a skulking, sneaking look in your eyes. You might hoodwink my friends. But don't forget you're also dealing with one of the Fair Folk. I have a feeling," Doli added, tightening his grip, "you're far too anxious to see us gone. I'm beginning to wonder, if I squeezed you a little, what more might come out."

At this, Gwystyl rolled up his eyes and fainted away. The dwarf had to haul him upright, while Taran and the others fanned him.

At length Gwystyl opened one eye. "Sorry," he gasped. "Not myself today. Too bad about the cauldron. One of those unfortunate things."

The crow, who had been watching all this activity, turned a beady glance on his owner and flapped his wings with such vigor that Gurgi roused himself in alarm.

"Orddu!" Kaw croaked.

Fflewddur turned in surprise. "Well, can you imagine that! He didn't say 'kaw' at all. At least it didn't seem that way to me. I could have sworn he said something like 'or-do.' "

"Orwen!" croaked Kaw. "Orgoch!"

"There," said Fflewddur, looking at the bird with fascination. "He did it again."

"It's strange," agreed Taran. "It sounded like ordorwenorgoch! And look at him, running back and forth on his perch. Do you think we've upset him?"

"He acts as if he wants to tell us something," began Eilonwy.

Gwystyl's face, meanwhile, had turned the color of ancient cheese.

" You may not want us to know," said Doli, roughly seizing the terrified Gwystyl, "but he does. This time, Gwystyl, I really mean to squeeze you."

"No, no, Doli, please don't do that," wailed Gwystyl. "Don't give him another thought. He does odd things; I've tried to teach him better habits, but it doesn't do any good."

A flood of Gwystyl's pleading and moaning followed, but the dwarf paid it no heed, and began to carry out his threat.

"No," squealed Gwystyl. "No squeezing. Not today. Listen to me, Doli," he added, his eyes crossing and uncrossing frantically, "if I tell you, will you promise to go away?"

Doli nodded and relaxed his grip.

"All Kaw meant to say," Gwystyl went on hurriedly, "is that the cauldron is in the hands of Orddu, Orwen, and Orgoch. That's all. It's a shame, but there's certainly nothing to be done about it. It hardly seemed worth mentioning."

"Who are Orddu, Orwen, and Orgoch?" Taran asked. His excitement and impatience were getting the better of him, too, and he was sorely tempted to aid Doli in squeezing Gwystyl.

"Who are they ?" murmured Gwystyl. "You had better ask what are they?"

"Very well," cried Taran, "what are they?"

"I don't know," replied Gwystyl. "It's hard to say. It doesn't matter; they've got the cauldron and you might as well let it rest there." He shuddered violently. "Don't meddle with them; there's no earthly use in it."

"Whoever they are, or whatever they are," cried Taran, turning to the rest of the company, "I say find them and take the cauldron. That's what we set out to do, and we should not turn back now. Where do they live?" he asked Gwystyl.

"Live?" asked Gwystyl with a frown. "They don't live. Not exactly. It's all very vague. I really don't know."

Kaw flapped his wings again. "Morva!" he croaked.

"I mean," Gwystyl moaned, as the angry Doli reached for him again, "they stay in the Marshes of Morva. Exactly where, I have no idea, no idea at all. That's the trouble. You'll never find them. And if you do, which you won't, you'll wish you never had." Gwystyl wrung his bony hands, and his trembling features indeed held a look of deepest dread.

"I have heard of the Marshes of Morva, " Adaon said. "They lie to the west of here. How far, I do not know."

"I do!" interrupted Fflewddur. "A good day's journey, I should say. I once came upon them during my wanderings. I recall them quite clearly. Unpleasant stretch of country and quite terrifying. Not that it bothered me, of course. Undaunted, I strode through …"