Lloyd Alexander - The Book of Three

"The Council were very nice to me," continued Fflewddur. "Taliesin, the Chief Bard himself, presented me with this harp. He said it was exactly what I needed. I sometimes wonder if he was really doing me a favor. It's a very nice harp, but I have such trouble with the strings. I'd throw it away and get another, but it has a beautiful tone; I should never find one as good. If only the beastly strings…"

"They do seem to break frequently," Eilonwy began.

"Yes, that's so," Fflewddur admitted, a little sheepishly. "I've noticed it usually happens when― well, I'm an emotional sort of fellow, and I do get carried away. I might, ah, readjust the facts slightly; purely for dramatic effect, you understand."

"If you'd stop readjusting the facts quite as much," Eilonwy said, "perhaps you wouldn't have that trouble with the harp."

"Yes, I suppose," said the bard with a sigh. "I try, but it's hard, very hard. As a king, you get into the habit. Sometimes I think I pass more time fixing strings than playing. But, there it is. You can't have everything."

"Where were you journeying when Achren captured you?" Taran asked.

"No place in particular," said Fflewddur. "That's one advantage. You don't have to hurry to get somewhere. You keep moving, and next thing you know, there you are. Unfortunately, in this case, it was Achren's dungeon. She didn't care for my playing. That woman has no ear for music," he added, shuddering.

"Sire," Taran said, "I ask a boon."

"Please," said the former king, "Fflewddur will do very well. A boon? Delighted! I haven't done any boon-granting since I gave up my throne."

Fflewddur Fflam and Eilonwy seated themselves on the turf, while Taran recounted his search for Hen Wen and what Gwydion had told him of the Horned King and the rising of the cantrevs. Gurgi, having finished his meal, sidled over and squatted on a hillock to listen.

"There is no doubt in my mind," Taran went on, "the Sons of Don must have news of the uprising before the Horned King strikes. If he triumphs, Arawn will have Prydain by the throat. I have seen with my own eyes what that means." He felt ill at ease, speaking as if he himself were a war leader in a council hall, but soon the words began to come easier. Perhaps, he thought, because he was speaking for Gwydion.

"I see your plan," Fflewddur interrupted. "You shall keep on looking for your pig, and you want me to warn the warriors of Don. Splendid! I shall start off immediately. And if the hosts of the Horned King overtake me…" The bard slashed and thrust at the air. "They shall know the valor of a Fflam!"

Taran shook his head. "No, I shall journey to Caer Dathyl myself. I do not question your valor," he said to the bard, "but the danger is too great. I ask no one else to face it in my stead."

"When do you intend to seek your pig?" asked Fflewddur.

"My own quest," said Taran, looking at the bard, "must be given up. If it is possible, after the first task is done, I mean to return to it. Until then, I serve only Gwydion. It was I who cost him his life, and it is justice for me to do what I believe he would have done."

"As I grasp the situation," said the bard, "I think you're taking too much blame on yourself. You had no way of knowing Gwydion wasn't in the dungeon.''

"It changes nothing," Taran answered. "I have made my decision."

Fflewddur was about to protest, but the firmness of Taran's words silenced the bard. After a moment, he asked, "What is your boon, then?"

"It is twofold," said Taran. "First, tell me how I may reach Caer Dathyl as quickly as possible. Second, I beg you to conduct this girl safely to her own people."

Before Fflewddur could open his mouth, Eilonwy gave an indignant cry and leaped to her feet. "Conducted? I shall be conducted where I please! I'm not going to be sent back, just so I can be sent somewhere else; and it will be another dreary place, you can be sure. No, I shall go to Caer Dathyl, too!"

"There is risk enough," Taran declared, "without having to worry about a girl."

Eilonwy put her hands on her hips. Her eyes flashed. "I don't like being called ' a girl' and ' this girl' as if I didn't have a name at all. It's like having your head put in a sack. If you've made your decision, I've made my own. I don't see how you're going to stop me. If you ," she hurried on, pointing at the bard, "try to conduct me to my mean, stupid kinsmen― and they're hardly related to me in the first place― that harp will be in pieces around your ears!"

Fflewddur blinked and clutched his harp protectively, while Eilonwy went on.

"And if a certain Assistant Pig-Keeper― I won't even mention his name― thinks otherwise, he'll be even more mistaken!"

Everyone started talking at once. "Stop it!" cried Taran at the top of his voice. "Very well," he said, after the others grew quiet. "You," he said to Eilonwy, "could be tied up and set on Melyngar. But," he added, raising his hand before the girl could interrupt, "that will not be done. Not because of all the commotion you raised, but because I realize now it is best."

The bard looked surprised.

Taran continued. "There is greater safety in greater numbers. Whatever happens, there will be more chance for one of us to reach Caer Dathyl. I believe we should all stay together."

"And faithful Gurgi, too!" shouted Gurgi. "He will follow! Too many wicked enemies are smirking and lurking to jab him with pointy spears!"

"If he agrees," Taran said, "Fflewddur shall act as guide. But I warn you," he added, glancing at Gurgi and Eilonwy, "nothing must hinder our task."

"Ordinarily," said Fflewddur, "I prefer to be in charge of this type of expedition myself. But," he went on, as Taran was about to protest, "since you are acting for Lord Gwydion, I accept your authority as I would accept his." He bowed low. "A Fflam is yours to command!

"Forward, then!" the bard cried. "And if we must give battle, so be it! Why, I've carved my way through walls of spearmen…"

Six harp strings broke at once, and the others strained so tautly they looked on the verge of snapping. While Taran saddled Melyngar, the bard set ruefully to work repairing his harp.

AT FIRST, TARAN OFFEREDto let Eilonwy ride Melyngar, but the girl refused.

"I can walk as well as any of you," she cried, so angrily that Taran made no more of it; he had learned to be wary of the girl's sharp tongue. It was agreed that the white mare would carry the weapons taken from Spiral Castle― except the sword Dyrnwyn, of which Eilonwy had appointed herself guardian.

Scratching in the dirt with his dagger point, Fflewddur Fflam showed Taran the path he intended to follow. "The hosts of the Horned King will surely stay in the Valley of Ystrad. It's the easiest way for an army on the march. Spiral Castle was here," he added, with an angry jab to mark the spot, "west of the River Ystrad. Now, the shortest road would be straight north over these hills."

"That is the one we must take," said Taran, trying hard to make sense of Fflewddur's crisscrossing lines.

"Wouldn't recommend it, my friend. We should be passing a little too near Annuvin. Arawn's strongholds are close to Spiral Castle; and I suggest we keep clear of them. No, what I believe we should do is this: stay on the high ground of the western bank of the Ystrad; we can go quite directly, since we needn't follow the valley itself. That way, we can avoid both Annuvin and the Horned King. The four of us can move faster than heavily armed warriors. We shall come out well ahead of them, not too far from Caer Dathyl. From there, we make a dash for it― and our task is done." Fflewddur straightened up, beaming with satisfaction. "There you have it," he said, wiping the dirt from his dagger. "A brilliant strategy. My own war leader couldn't have arranged it better."