straggling down. The work on the frame was less than half-finished and so tangled and knotted he could imagine no one ever continuing it.
Broken crockery covered a small table. Rusted and broken weapons were piled about.
'How would you like it,' asked a cheerful voice behind Taran, 'if you were turned into a toad? And stepped on?'
Chapter 11
The Cottage
TARAN SPUN AROUND and raised his sword. Suddenly in his hand writhed a cold serpent, hissing and twisting to strike. With a cry of horror he flung it away. The serpent fell to the ground, and there, in its place, lay Taran's blade. Eilonwy stifled a scream. Taran drew back fearfully.
Facing him was a short and rather plump little woman with a round, lumpy face and a pair of very sharp black eyes. Her hair hung like a clump of discolored marsh weeds, bound with vines and ornamented with bejeweled pins that seemed about to lose themselves in the hopeless tangle. She wore a dark, shapeless, ungirt robe covered with patches and stains. Her feet were bare and exceptionally large.
The companions drew closer together. Gurgi, trembling violently, crouched behind Taran. The bard, looking pale and uneasy, nevertheless prepared to stand his ground.
'Come along, my ducklings,' the enchantress said cheerily. 'I promise it won't hurt a bit. You can bring your sword if you want,' she added with an indulgent smile at Taran, 'though you won't need it. I've never seen a toad with a sword. On the other hand, I've never seen a sword with a toad, so you're welcome to do as you please.'
'We please to stay as we are,' cried Eilonwy. 'Don't think we're going to let anybody…'
'Who are you?' Taran cried. 'We have done you no harm. You have no cause to threaten us.'
'How many twigs in a bird's nest?' asked the enchantress suddenly. 'Answer quickly. There, you see,' she added. 'Poor chicks, you don't even know that. How could you be expected to know what you really want out of life?'
'One thing I want,' retorted Eilonwy, 'is not to be a toad.'
'You're a pretty little duck,' said the enchantress in a kind, cajoling voice. 'Would you give me your hair once you've done with it? I have such trouble with mine these days. Do you ever have the feeling things are disappearing into it and you might never see them again?
'No matter,' she went on. 'You'll enjoy being toads, skipping about here and there, sitting on toadstools? well, perhaps not that. Toads don't really sit on toadstools. But you might dance in dew circles. Now there's a charming thought.
'Don't be frightened,' she added, leaning over and whispering in Taran's ear. 'You can't for a moment imagine I'd do all I said. Goodness no, I wouldn't dream of stepping on you. I couldn't stand the squashiness.'
With mounting terror, Taran cast desperately about in his mind for some means of saving his companions. He would have considered this disheveled creature's intention as mad and impossible had he not remembered the serpent in his hand, its menacing fangs and cold eyes.
'You mightn't like being toads at first,' the enchantress said reasonably. 'It takes getting used to. But,' she added in a reassuring tone, 'once it's happened, I'm certain you wouldn't want it any other way.'
'Why are you doing this?' Taran cried with all the more anger at feeling himself powerless. He turned his head in fear and revulsion as the enchantress gave him a kindly pat on the cheek.
'Can't have people poking and prying,' she said. 'You understand that much, don't you? Make an exception for one, then it's two, three, and next thing you know, hundreds and hundreds trampling things and getting underfoot. Believe me, this is best for everybody.'
From around the side of the hill, at that moment, two more figures appeared. Both closely resembled the stout little woman, except that one wore a black cloak with the hood pulled up, nearly concealing her face; and at the throat of the other hung a necklace of milky white stones.
The enchantress ran to them and called out happily, 'Orwen! Orgoch! Hurry! We're going to make toads!'
Taran gasped. He shot a quick glance at the bard and Eilonwy. 'Did you hear those names?' he whispered hurriedly. 'We've found them!'
The bard's face was filled with alarm. 'Much good it may do us,' he said. 'By the time they're through, I don't think we're going to care about the cauldron or anything else. I've never danced in a dew circle,' he continued under his breath. 'In different circumstances I might enjoy it. But not now,' he added with a shudder.
'I've never met a person,' whispered Eilonwy, while Gurgi snuffled in fright, 'who could talk about such dreadful things and smile at the same time. It's like ants walking up and down your back.'
'We must try to take them unawares,' Taran said. 'I don't know what they can do to all of us all at once. I don't even know if there's anything we can do to them. But we must take the chance. One or two of us may survive.'
'I suppose that's all we can do,' agreed the bard. He swallowed with difficulty and gave Taran a worried look. 'If it should turn out that I? I mean, if I should be? yes, well, what I mean is should anything happen to me, I beg you, do pay attention to where you tread.'
Meantime, the three enchantresses had returned to the cottage. 'Oh, Orddu,' the one with the necklace was saying, 'why must it always be toads? Can't you think of anything else?'
'But they're so neat,' replied Orddu, 'compact and convenient.'
'What's wrong with toads?' asked the hooded one. 'That's the trouble with you, Orwen, always trying to make things complicated.'
'I only suggested something else, Orgoch,' answered the enchantress called Orwen, 'for the sake of variety.'
'I love toads,' murmured Orgoch, smacking her lips. Even in the shadow of the hood Taran could see the features of the enchantress moving and twitching in what he feared was impatience.
'Look at them standing there,' Orddu said, 'poor little goslings, all wet and muddy. I've been talking to them, and I think they finally realize what's best for them.'
'Why, those are the ones we saw galloping across the Marsh,' said Orwen, toying with her beads. 'It was so clever of you,' she added, smiling at Taran, 'to have the Huntsmen swallowed up in the bog, really quite well done.'
'Disgusting creatures, Huntsmen,' muttered Orgoch. 'Nasty, hairy, vicious things. They turn my stomach.'
'They stick to their work,' ventured the bard. 'I'll say that much for them.'
'We had a whole flock of Huntsmen here the other day,' said Orddu. 'They were poking and prying around, just as you were. Now you understand why I said we couldn't make exceptions.'
'We didn't make exceptions of
'I remember very distinctly, my dear,' replied the first enchantress, 'but you were Orddu then. And when you're being Orddu, you can do as you please. But I'm Orddu today, and what I say is…'
'That's not fair,' interrupted Orgoch. 'You always want to be Orddu. I've had to be Orgoch three times in a row, while you've only been Orgoch once.'
'It's not our fault, my sweet,' said Orddu, 'if we don't like being Orgoch. It isn't comfortable, you know. You have such horrid indigestion. If you'd only pay more attention to what you take for your meals.'
Taran had been trying to follow this conversation of the enchantresses, but found himself more confused than ever. Now he had no clear idea which was really Orddu, Orwen, and Orgoch, or whether they were all three the same. However, their remarks about the Huntsmen gave him hope for the first time.
'If the Huntsmen of Annuvin are your enemies,' Taran said, 'then we have common cause. We, too, have fought against them.'
'Enemies, friends, it all comes to the same in the end,' muttered Orgoch. 'Do make haste, Orddu, and take them off to the shed. It's been a terribly long morning.'
