Taran, usually eager to listen to the bard's music, sat apart, gloomily watching the cauldron. After a time Eilonwy drew near and put her hand on his shoulder.
'I realize it's no consolation to you,' she said, 'but if you look at it in one way, you didn't give up a thing to the enchantresses, not really. You did exchange the clasp and everything that went along with it. But, don't you see, all those things came from the clasp itself; they weren't inside of you.
'I think,' she added, 'it would have been much worse giving up a summer day. That's part of you, I mean. I know I shouldn't want to give up a single one of mine. Or even a winter day, for the matter of that. So, when you come right down to it, Orddu didn't take anything from
'Yes,' Taran answered. 'I am still only an Assistant Pig Keeper. I should have known that anything else was too good to last.'
'That may be true,' said Eilonwy, 'but as far as being an Assistant Pig-Keeper is concerned, I think you're a perfectly marvelous one. Believe me, there's no question in my mind you're the best Assistant Pig-Keeper in all Prydain. How many others there are, I'm sure I don't know, but that's beside the point. And I doubt a single one of them would have done what you did.'
'I could not have done otherwise,' Taran said, 'not if we were to gain the cauldron. Orddu said they were interested in things as they are,' he went on. 'I believe now they are concerned with things as they must be.
'Adaon knew there was a destiny laid on him,' Taran continued, turning to Eilonwy, his voice growing firmer, 'and he did not turn from it, though it cost him his life.
'Very well,' he declared. 'If there is a destiny laid on me, I shall face it. I hope only that I may face it as well as Adaon did his.'
'But don't forget,' added Eilonwy, 'no matter what else happens, you won the cauldron for Gwydion and Dallben and all of us. That's one thing nobody can take away from you. Why, for that alone you have every reason to be proud.'
Taran nodded. 'Yes, this much have I done.' He said no more and Eilonwy quietly left him there.
For long after the others had gone to sleep, Taran sat staring at the Crochan. He thought carefully over all Eilonwy had told him; his despair lightened a little and pride stirred within him. Soon the cauldron would be in Gwydion's hands and the long task ended. 'This much have I done,' Taran repeated to himself, and new strength budded in his heart.
Nevertheless, as the wind moaned across the heath and the Crochan loomed before him like an iron shadow, he thought once again of the brooch, and he buried his face in his hands and wept.
Chapter 16
The River
HIS NIGHT'S SLEEP refreshed Taran but little and hardly blunted the edge of his weariness. Nevertheless, at dawn he roused the companions and with much effort they began roping the Crochan to Lluagor and Melynlas. When they finished, Taran glanced around him uneasily.
'There is no concealment for us on these moors,' he said. 'I had hoped we might keep to the flatlands where our journey would be easier. But I fear that Arawn will have his gwythaints seeking the Crochan. Sooner or later they will find us, and here they could fall on us like hawks on chickens.'
'Please don't mention chickens,' said the bard with a sour grimace. 'I had quite enough of that from Orddu.'
'Gurgi will protect kind master!' shouted Gurgi.
Taran smiled and put a hand on Gurgi's shoulder. 'I know you'll do your best,' he said. 'But all of us together are no match for even one gwythaint.' Taran shook his head. 'No,' he said reluctantly, 'I think we had better turn north to the Forest of Idris. It's the longest way around, but at least it would give us some cover.'
Eilonwy agreed. 'It's not usually wise to go in the direction opposite to where you want to be,' she said. 'But you can be sure I'd rather not fight gwythaints.'
'Lead on, then,' said Fflewddur. 'A Fflam never falters! Though what my aching bones might do is another matter!'
Crossing the moorlands, the companions journeyed without difficulties, but once within the Forest of Idris the Crochan grew more burdensome. Although the trees and bushes offered concealment and protection, the paths were narrow. Lluagor and Melynlas stumbled often and, despite their most valiant efforts, they could barely drag the cauldron through the brush.
Taran called a halt. 'Our horses have borne all they can,' he said, patting the lathered neck of Melynlas. 'Now it is our turn to help them. I wish Doli were here.' He sighed. 'I'm sure he'd find an easier way of carrying the Crochan. He'd think of something clever. Like making a sling out of branches and vines.'
'There!' cried Eilonwy. 'You've just said it yourself! You're doing amazingly well without Adaon's brooch!'
With their swords Taran and the bard cut stout branches, while Eilonwy and Gurgi stripped vines from the tree trunks. Taran's spirits lifted when he saw the sling take shape according to his plan. The companions hoisted up the Crochan and set off again. But even with the sling, and all their strength, their progress was slow and painful.
'Oh, poor weary arms!' moaned Gurgi. 'Oh, moilings and toilings! This evil pot is a cruel and wicked master to us all! Oh, sorrow! Fainting Gurgi will never leave Caer Dallben again unbidden!'
Taran gritted his teeth, as the rough branches bit into his shoulders. To him, too, it seemed as if the ugly, heavy cauldron had gained some strange life of its own. The Crochan, squat and blood-darkened, lurched behind him as he stumbled through the brush. It caught on jutting tree limbs, as though eagerly clutching them to itself. Often, at these sudden checks, the companions lost their footing and went sprawling. Then, laboriously, they were obliged to set the Crochan back in its sling once again. Though the weather was chill enough to turn their breath white, their clothing was drenched with sweat and nearly ripped to shreds by the grasping brambles.
The trees had begun to grow more dense, and the ground rose toward the comb of a hill. For Taran, the Crochan seemed to gain weight with every pace. Its leering, gaping mouth taunted him, and the cauldron dragged at his strength as he heaved and struggled along the ascending trail.
The companions had nearly reached the crest of the hill when one of the carrier branches snapped. The Crochan plunged to the ground and Taran fell headlong. Painfully picking himself up and rubbing his shoulder, he stared at the spiteful cauldron and shook his head.
'No use,' Taran gasped. 'We'll never get it through the forest. No sense trying.'
'You sound like Gwystyl,' Eilonwy remarked. 'If I didn't have my eyes open, I could barely tell the difference.'
'Gwystyl!' cried the bard, looking ruefully at his blistered hands. 'I envy that fellow in his rabbit warren! Sometimes I think he had quite the right idea.'
'We are too few to carry such a burden,' Taran said hopelessly. 'With another horse or another pair of hands there might be a chance. We are only deceiving ourselves if we think we can bring the Crochan to Caer Dallben.'
'That may be true,' Eilonwy sighed wearily. 'But I don't know what else we can do, except keep on deceiving ourselves. And perhaps by that time we'll be home.'
Taran cut a new branch for the sling, but his heart was as heavy as the Crochan itself. And, as the companions wrestled their burden over the hill and descended into a deep valley, Taran nearly sank to the ground in despair. Before them, like a brown, menacing serpent, stretched a turbulent river.
Taran stared grimly at the choppy waters for a moment, then turned away. 'There is a destiny laid on us that the Crochan shall never reach Caer Dallben.'
'Nonsense!' cried Eilonwy. 'If you stop now, then you've given up Adaon's brooch for nothing! That's worse than putting a necklace on an owl and letting it fly away!'
'If I'm not mistaken,' said Fflewddur helpfully, 'that must be the River Tevvyn. I've crossed it farther to the north, where it takes its source. Surprising, the bits of information you pick up as a wandering bard.'
'Alas, it does us no good, my friend,' Taran said, 'unless we could turn north again and cross where the river is less wide.'
