The Castle of Llyr

companions with tears, 'you've only your­self to blame if you've put yourself into a stew. You meddled, and as I've said time and again, it leads to sad results.'

'I didn't want to be a giant,' protested Glew, 'not at first anyway. I thought, once, I should be a famous warrior. I joined the host of Lord Goryon when he marched against Lord Gast. But I couldn't stand the sight of blood. It turned me green, green as grass. And those battles! Enough to make your head swim! All that clashing and smiting! The din alone is more than flesh can bear! No, no, it was absolutely out of the question.'

'A warrior's life is one of hardship,' Taran said, 'and it takes a stout heart to follow it. Surely there were other means to make a name for yourself.'

'I thought, then, I might become a bard,' Glew went on. 'It turned out as badly. The knowledge you must gain, the lore to be learned….'

'I'm with you there, old fellow,' murmured Fflewddur, with a sigh of regret. 'I had rather the same experience.'

'It wasn't the years of study,' explained Glew in a voice that would have been forlorn had it not been so loud. 'I know I could have learned if I'd taken the time. No, it was my feet. I couldn't bear all the tramping and wandering around from one end of Prydain to the other. And always sleeping in a different place. And the change of water. And the harp rubbing blisters on your shoulder….'

'We grieve for you,' interrupted Taran, shifting restlessly, 'but we cannot tarry here.'.

Glew had crouched down in front of the com­panions and Taran tried desperately to think of the best means of getting past him.

'Please, please don't go!' cried Glew, as if reading Taran's thoughts, his eyes blinking frantically. 'Not yet! I'll show you a passage in a moment, I promise.'

'Yes, yes!' shouted Gurgi, at last able to bring himself to open his eyes and clamber to his feet. 'Gurgi does not like caverns. And his poor tender head is filled with soundings and poundings!'

'It was then I decided to become a hero,' Glew eagerly went on, ignoring the impatience of the companions, 'to go about slaying dragons and such. But you can't imagine how difficult it is. Why, even finding a dragon is almost impossible! But I discovered one in Cantrev Mawr.

'It was a small dragon,' admitted Glew. 'About the size of a weasel. The cottagers had it penned up in a rabbit hutch and the children used to go and look at it when they'd nothing else to do. But it was a dragon nevertheless. I would have slain it,' he added, with a huge, rattling sigh. 'I tried. But the vicious thing bit me. I still carry the marks.'

Taran tightened his grip on his sword. 'Glew,' he said firmly, 'I beg you once again to show us the passage. If you will not…'

'Then I thought I might become a king,' Glew said hurriedly, before Taran could finish. 'I thought if I could wed a princess? but no, they turned me away at the castle gate.

'What else could I do?' moaned Glew, shaking his head miserably. 'What was left for me but to try enchantments? At last I came upon a wizard who claimed to have a book of spells in his possession. He wouldn't tell me how it had fallen into his hands, but he assured me the magic it held was most powerful. It had once belonged to the House of Llyr.'

Taran caught his breath at these words. 'Eilonwy is a Princess of the House of Llyr,' he whispered to the bard. 'What tale is Glew telling us? Is he speaking the truth?'

'It had come,' Glees went on, 'from Caer Colur itself. Naturally, I…'

'Glew, tell me quickly,' Taran cried, 'what is Caer Colur? What has it to do with the House of Llyr?'

'Why, everything,' replied Glew, as though surprised at Taran's asking. 'Caer Colur is the ancient seat of the House of Llyr. I should think everyone would know that. A very treasure house of charms and enchantments. Oh my, yes. So, as I was saying, naturally I believed I had at last found something to help me. The wizard was eager to be rid of the book, as eager as I was to have it.'

Taran's hands had suddenly begun to tremble. 'Where is Caer Colur?' he asked. 'How can we find it?'

'Find it?' said Glew. 'I don't know if there's much left of it to find. They say the castle has been in ruins for years. Bewitched, too, as you might expect. And you should have some hard rowing to do.'

'Rowing overland?' said Fflewddur. 'Don't ask us to believe that.'

'Rowing,' repeated Glew, nodding sorrowfully. 'Long ago, Caer Colur was part of Mona. But it broke from the mainland during a flood. Now it's no more than a speck of island. Be that as it may,' Glew went on, 'I took all the little treasure I had managed to save…'

'Where is the island?' Taran pressed. 'Glew, you must tell us. It is important for us to know.'

'At the mouth of the Alaw,' replied Glew, with a certain vexation at being interrupted once more. 'But that has nothing to do with what hap­pened to me. You see, the wizard…'

Taran's mind raced. Magg had taken Eilonwy to the Alaw. He had needed a boat. Was Eilonwy's ancestral home his destination? His glance met Fflewddur's, and the bard's expression showed he had been following the same thought.

'…the wizard,' Glew continued, 'was in such haste that I had no chance to see the book. Until it was too late. He had cheated me. It was a book? a book of nothing! Of empty pages!'

'Amazing!' cried Prince Rhun. 'The very book we found!'

'Worthless,' sighed Glew, 'but since you found it, you may keep it. It's yours. A gift. Something to remember me by. So you won't forget poor Glew.'

'Small chance of that,' muttered Fflewddur.

'Finally, I turned to brewing my own potions,' said Glew. 'I wanted to be fierce! I wanted to be strong, to make all Mona tremble! Oh, it was long labor, I tell you. Alas, you see the results. And the end of all my hopes,' the giant glumly continued. 'Until you came along. You must help me escape from this frightful cavern. I can't stand the bats and the crawly things. It's too much, I tell you, too much! It's nasty and horrid and sticky and wet,' he cried in loud de­spair. 'I can't abide mold and mushrooms! Mold and mushrooms! I've had enough of them!' He set to weeping again and his pitiful moans shook the cavern.

'Dallben, my master, is the most powerful enchanter in Prydain,' Taran said. 'It may be that he can find a means to help you. But it is your help we need now. The sooner we are free, the sooner I shall return to him.'

'Too long to wait,' moaned Glew. 'I'll be a mushroom myself by that time.'

'Help us,' Taran pleaded. 'Help us and we shall try to help you.'

Glew said nothing for a moment. His forehead wrinkled and his lips twitched nervously. 'Very well, very well,' he sighed, climbing to his feet. 'Follow me. Oh? there's one thing you might do,' he added. 'If it would be no bother to you, it's such a little thing, if you really wouldn't mind. So at least I might have the satisfaction, however brief. A tiny favor. Would you call me? King Glew?'

'Great Belin,' shouted Fflewddur, 'I'll call you king, prince, or whatever you choose. Only show us a way out of here? Sire!'

Glew's spirits seemed to lift as he shambled toward the dim reaches of the cavern. The companions scrambled down the ledge and hastened to keep up with his huge strides. Glew, having spoken to no one since his confinement, never left off talking. He had, he explained, tried to brew new potions? this time to make himself smaller. In one of the chambers he had even set up a kind of workshop, where a bubbling pool of steaming hot water served to boil his concoctions. Glew's cleverness in devising makeshift pestles and mortars, cookpots and basins from painstakingly hollowed-out stones surprised Taran and filled him with a pitying admiration for the desperate giant. But his mind turned over and over on itself, seeking an understanding that escaped him like a will- o'-the-wisp each time he drew close to it. He was certain the answer lay in the ruined halls of Caer Colur, and certain the companions would find Eilonwy there.

Impatient to be gone, he ran forward as Glew halted at a chimney-like shaft of rock. Close to the ground the dark mouth of a tunnel opened.

'Farewell,' sniffed Glew, pointing sorrowfully at the tunnel. 'Go straight on. You shall find your way.'

'You have my word,' Taran said, while Gurgi, Fflewddur, and Prince Rhun crawled into the opening. 'If it is in Dallben's power, he will help you.'

Clutching the bauble, Taran bent and thrust his way past the jagged arch. Bats rose in a shrieking cloud. He heard Gurgi cry out in fear and raced ahead. Next moment, he collided with a wall of stone and fell back on his heels while the bauble slipped from his grasp and dropped among the pebbles on the uneven ground. With a shout Taran spun to see a mas­sive rock pushed into the opening, and flung himself toward it.