Lloyd Alexander - The Black Cauldron

"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."

THE COMPANIONS PASSEDthe 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."