While Gwydion held a last, hurried council with Dallben, the companions began leading the horses from the stable. The wise Melyngar, Gwydion's white, golden-maned steed, waited calmly for her master. Melynlas, Taran's stallion, snorted and impatiently pawed the ground.
Eilonwy was already mounted on her favorite, the bay mare Lluagor. In a fold of her cloak the Princess carried her most treasured possession: the golden sphere that glowed brightly when she cupped it in her hands.
'I'm leaving that uncomfortable crown behind,' Eilonwy declared. 'There's no use for it at all, except to hold down your hair, and that's hardly worth the blisters. But I'd sooner walk on my hands than go without my bauble. Besides, if we need a light, we shall have one. That's much more practical than a hoop on top of your head.' In a saddlebag, she had packed the embroidery made for Taran, intending to finish it along the way. 'Perhaps,' Eilonwy added, 'I might fix the color of Hen Wen's eyes while I'm at it.'
Fflewddur's mount was the huge, tawny cat, Llyan, herself tall as a horse. Seeing the bard, she purred loudly, and Fflewddur could barely keep the powerful animal from knocking him down with her nuzzling.
'Gently, old girl,' cried the bard, as Llyan thrust her great head between his neck and, shoulder. 'I know you want a tune on my harp. I shall play one later, I promise you.'
Glew had recognized Llyan immediately. 'That's not fair,' he sniffed. 'By all rights she belongs to me.'
'Yes,' replied Fflewddur, 'if you count feeding her those vile lotions you once brewed to make her grow bigger. If you dare to ride her, you're welcome to try. Though I warn you? Llyan has a memory longer than her tail.'
Llyan, indeed, had begun lashing her tail at the sight of Glew. She towered over the pudgy little man, her yellow eyes blazed, her whiskers twitched, her tufted ears went flat against her head; and from her throat came a sound quite unlike her greeting to the bard.
Fflewddur quickly strummed a melody on his harp. Llyan turned her eyes from Glew and her mouth curved in an enormous smile and she blinked fondly at the bard.
However, Glew's pale face had gone paler and he edged away from the cat. 'When I was a giant,' Glew muttered, 'things were considerably better managed.'
King Rhun saddled his dapple gray steed. Since Coll, who had also decided to accompany Gwydion, would ride the sorrel mare Llamrei, foal of Melynlas and Lluagor, Glew had no choice but to climb up behind Gurgi on his shaggy pony? a companionship unwelcome to all three. Taran, meanwhile, helped Coll rummage in the stables, forge, and tool sheds for weapons.
'Few enough of them there are,' said Coll. 'These spears have served me well as beanpoles,' the stout warrior added. 'I had hoped never to use them for another purpose. Alas, the only blade I can give Gwydion is rusted from propping up one of the apple trees. As for helmets, there are none save my leather cap; and the sparrows have a nest in it. I shall not disturb them. But my own old pate is tough as leather,' Coll said, winking. 'It can last me to Caer Cadarn and back.
'And you, my lad,' Coll went on cheerfully, though he had not failed to notice Taran's troubled frown, 'I remember a day when an Assistant Pig-Keeper would have been all flash and fire to ride with Lord Gwydion. Now you look as glum as a frostbitten turnip.'
Taran smiled. 'I myself would ride to Annuvin, if Gwydion allowed me. What you say is true, old friend. For the boy I was, this would have been a bold adventure, full of glory. This much have I learned: A man's life weighs more than glory, and a price paid in blood is a heavy reckoning.
'My heart is not easy,' Taran added. 'Long ago, you made your way to Annuvin, to rescue Hen Wen after she had been stolen from you. Tell me: What chance has Gwydion alone in Arawn's realm?'
'No man has better,' said Coll, shouldering the spears. And he was gone from the shed before Taran realized the old warrior had not really answered him at all.
Caer Dallben lay far behind them and the day was darkening when the companions made camp deep in the shadows of the forest.
Eilonwy happily flung herself to the ground. 'It's been long since I've slept on comfortable roots and rocks!' she cried. 'What a pleasant change from goosefeathers!'
Gwydion allowed a fire to be built; and while Coll saw to the mounts, Gurgi opened his wallet of food to share out provisions. For the most part the companions were silent, chilled, and stiff after the long day's journey. King Rhun, however, had lost none of his good spirits. As the travelers huddled closer to the pale flames, Rhun picked up a twig and scratched busily in the earth, covering the ground before him with a spider web of lines.
'About that seawall,' said Rhun. 'I think I see how it went wrong. Yes, exactly so. Now, here's the way to do it.'
From across the fire Taran saw Rhun's eyes brightly eager and on his face the familiar boyish grin. But Rhun, Taran sensed, was no longer the feckless princeling he had known on the Isle of Mona. As Rhun was absorbed in the tasks he had planned, so Taran had been caught up in his own labors at forge, loom, and potter's wheel. And if Rhun had found manhood in ruling a kingdom, Taran had found the same in toiling among the staunch folk of the Free Commots. He watched Rhun with new affection. The King of Mona spoke on and Taran's interest was drawn to the scratchings on the ground. He studied them as Rhun continued. Taran smiled. One thing had not changed, he realized; as usual, the King of Mona's intentions went somewhat beyond the King of Mona's skill.
'I fear your wall may tumble if you build it thus,' Taran said with a kindly laugh. 'See this part here.' He pointed. 'The heavier stones must be sunk deeper. And here…'
'Amazing!' exclaimed Rhun, snapping his fingers. 'Quite right! You shall come to Mona and help me finish it!' He began scratching new lines so vigorously he nearly pitched himself into the fire.
'Oh, great and kindly master!' cried Gurgi, who had been listening closely without altogether understanding what the two comrades had been discussing. 'Oh, clever scannings and plannings! Gurgi wishes he, too, had wisdom of wise speakings!'
Gwydion warned them to silence. 'Our fire is risk enough, without adding noise to it. I can only hope Arawn's Huntsmen are not abroad. We are too few to withstand even a handful of them. They are not common warriors,' Gwydion added, seeing Rhun's questioning expression, 'but an evil brotherhood. Slay one of their band, and the strength of the others grows that much greater.'
Taran nodded. 'They are as much to be feared as the Cauldron-Born,' he cautioned Rhun, 'the deathless, voiceless creatures that guard Annuvin. Perhaps more to be feared. The Cauldron-Born cannot be slain, yet their power dwindles if they journey too far, or stay too long beyond Arawn's realm.'
Rhun blinked and Gurgi fell silent, glancing behind him uncomfortably. Memory of the ruthless Cauldron-Born turned Taran's thoughts once more to Hen Wen's prophecy. 'The flame of Dyrnwyn quenched,' Taran murmured. 'Yet how shall Arawn achieve this? For all his power, I will not believe he can even draw the blade.'
'Prophecy is more than the words that shape it,' Gwydion said. 'Seek the meaning that underlies it. For us, the flame of Dyrnwyn will be as good as quenched if Arawn keeps it from my hands. Its power will indeed vanish, for all it may avail us, should the blade be locked forever in his treasure hoard.'
'Treasure?' said Glew, stopping his munching only long enough to speak the word.
'The Death-Lord's domain is as much a treasure-house as a stronghold of evil,' Gwydion said. 'Long has it been filled with all the fair and useful things Arawn has stolen from Prydain. These treasures do not serve him; his purpose is to deprive, to keep their use from men, to sap our strength by denying us what might yield a richer harvest than any of us here has known.' Gwydion paused. 'Is this not death in but another guise?'
'I have been told,' Taran said, 'the treasure troves of Annuvin hold all that men could wish for. Plows, there are said to be, that work of themselves, scythes that reap with no hand to guide them, magical tools and more,' Taran went on. 'For Arawn stole the craft secrets of metalsmiths and potters, the lore of herdsmen and farmers. This knowledge, too, lies locked forever in his hoard.'
Glew sucked his teeth. The morsel of food stayed untouched in his chubby fingers. For a long while he said nothing. At last he cleared his throat 'I mean to forgive your slights and humiliations. It would not have happened when I was a giant, I assure you. But no matter. I pardon you all. In token of my good will, I too shall journey with you.'
Gwydion looked at him sharply. 'Perhaps you shall,' he said quietly after a time.
'No question of it now!' Fflewddur snorted. 'The little weasel hopes to sniff out something for himself. I can see his nose trembling! I never thought the day would come when I should want him at our side. But I think that's safer than having him at our backs.'
Glew smiled blandly.'I forgive you, too,' he said.
