In the chilly pre-dawn Eilonwy awoke, pulled from sleep by the jingling of bits and blowing of horses, the low voices murmuring from the yard below as the men readied their mounts and themselves for the journey. Eilonwy lay, sullen, staring at the heavy beam that crossed the whitewashed ceiling over her head, at the pale light winking from her silver pendant, swinging by its chain from a bent nail upon it: the crescent moon, worn by all the royal women of Llyr, an emblem of which she had always been proud...now a reminder of why she wasn't down there with Taran, saddling a horse and strapping on a sword.
Silly, she thought at herself. Yesterday you didn't want to go anywhere and were upset that Taran did. Make up your mind. Well, it was different, wasn't it, now that they'd come down to it. It was all very well not to want her peace disrupted, but since it was going to be whether she wanted it or not, she might as well have a hand in it and do something other than waiting about at home.
With a frown she realized she'd be delegated all the farm chores in the absence of the men...not that there would be quite as much work, now that harvest was done. The horses would be mostly gone with the men, and the stock let to pasture in the stubble fields. Hen Wen would need to be fed, the nanny goat milked, and the chickens looked after, but Gurgi could do all that as well. Other than that, she'd be mending things, cooking, cleaning, and watching Dallben meditate. Lovely.
She burrowed beneath her bedclothes with a grumble, toying with the notion of staying there until they were all gone, so she wouldn't have to watch Taran and Coll riding off without her. But no, they'd want breakfast and be too busy to get it themselves. Anyway she ought to say goodbye. Suppose something happened and one of them didn't...no, no, she wouldn't suppose that. After all, Gwydion was leading, and there were hundreds of warriors involved. It was a far cry from running through the wilderness with a few companions, with cauldron-born on your trail. Forcing back the cold prickle that had begun crawling up her neck, Eilonwy leapt up and snatched her pendant from its nail.
Someone had already stoked the fire; the chimney was warm and she dressed next to it hurriedly, shivering in the darkness; her unbound hair snapped and crackled as she dragged a boar-bristle brush through it. It did still smell like the bonfire. Funny how she could like the smell of woodsmoke in the air but not find it particularly pleasant it in her hair. With cold-stiff fingers she plaited it tightly and wound the long braids around her head, tying them about with leather laces.
The steep loft stairs creaked as she descended, a comforting, familiar sound. The hearth glowed, but no kettle steamed over it, and she set about remedying this, with a sort of grim resignation. She had just hung it in place when Dallben materialized at her left elbow.
"No need for that," the enchanter grunted. "Unless you want it. They're packing their breakfast. Lord Gwydion wants as early a start as possible."
"Oh." Eilonwy frowned at the kettle, as though it were at fault for being unnecessary. "Well, then. Bread and butter for us, and less washing-up. Unless you want an egg."
"No." Dallben looked tired, and old; she felt his worry seeping through the cracks of his will, and the cold prickle touched her again, tingling up her spine to her scalp. If even Dallben was worried... "No," he repeated, looking at her with clear eyes that, as always, read her thoughts. "I need nothing. Later. You should see them off." She waited for him to say something comforting, some assurance that the quest for the cauldron would be successful and they'd all be back before she knew it, wait and see. He did not.
She left him standing before the fire, and walked to the door of the cottage, feeling suddenly heavy.
There were horses standing everywhere, chuffing and stamping, their breath puffing out in little clouds in the pale light, saddles waiting bare on their backs, while strange men hurried to and fro, tying on packs, checking and re-checking supplies, speaking together in groups of two or three, their voices a low, subdued hum in the hush of early morning. Eilonwy peered anxiously around for a familiar face, and picked Coll out of the crowd, where he stood mopping his bald head with an old kerchief. She ran to him and threw her arms round his broad middle, kissing his cheek. "Be careful, Coll."
"Get on with you." He grinned, laying his broad hand on her braids and mussing them a little. "We'll be back before you know it."
At least someone had said it. She glanced around for Fflewddur, whose voice she had heard in the murmur, and found him in a low but animated discussion with Doli, who was already mounted on a pony, looking even more cantankerously amused than usual. When he saw her coming, the dwarf nodded in her direction with a harrumph that made the bard turn around in surprise, his face reddening. Eilonwy raised an eyebrow at him. "What's that all about, then?"
Fflewddur snorted, looking embarrassed. "Nothing for a young lady's ears. Come to wish us success?"
"If I must," she sighed, "since I'm not coming. I notice no one even asked."
Fflewddur looked at her ruefully. "If it makes you feel better, I'd rather be here. Good food and a comfortable bed, and time to compose a few new songs. But we must all do what we must." He returned her embrace heartily, murmuring in her ear, "You find something to keep yourself busy, and it won't seem so bad."
She grimaced. "Perhaps I should plan a nice welcome-back party? Give you all a good reason to return?"
"Ah, now," he said, setting her down and smiling at her with an affection unperturbed by her sarcasm. "You're reason enough, both to go and return. Don't you forget that."
She knew he meant it. "Well, go on then, and do something worth writing new songs about."
"If we're lucky." He grinned and winked as he swung up to the saddle. His face changed suddenly, softened, and she followed his nod to observe Taran a few paces away, standing holding Melynlas's bridle and watching them both awkwardly.
So Taran wanted a fond farewell, did he, after not apologizing for what he'd said nor even paying the slightest bit of attention to her after their quarrel yesterday? She'd seen him! - trailing Gwydion and his men around like a fawning hound, desperate to be accepted into their company and ignoring everyone else. She'd spent the whole evening on the fringes. Once finished mending the crockery she had tried to be helpful, packing food and preparing gear, but found herself mostly in the way, and finally retreated to the cottage to sulk in peace and help with dinner. It was a much smaller affair than their midday feast, only served to the household and a few guests, but even then Taran had left her, taking his meal outside to sit around the fire and listen to the men talk about their exploits - something she might have enjoyed, herself, but had he asked if she wanted to join in?
Eilonwy marched past him without a glance. She didn't need to see him to be aware of his consternation; passing him was like walking through fog, and it chased her, dragging at her feet as she moved toward the cottage door. Blast it, she couldn't even ignore him properly; he...he felt too much.
He started to say something as she neared the house and she whirled around, furious, at him and at herself. "I'm not speaking to you!" She flung the words at him like arrows. "After the way you acted. It's like asking someone to a feast, and then making them wash the dishes! Go on, go with them. That's where you want to be, isn't it? I shan't burden you any more."
Taran shut his mouth and looked at her in silence, with the pained, confused expression of one who wants to say many things that all contradict one another. Finally he turned away and she gulped a deep breath to fight back a sob as invisible talons dug into her heart. If he should come to harm in all this…
Eilonwy broke away from the door and ran, reaching Melynlas just as the boy had settled into the saddle, and clutched at a stirrup. Taran looked down in surprise. "Farewell, anyway," she gasped out, before he could say a word. "That doesn't count as speaking."
His eyes glowed, caught in the first ray of sunrise, and he made a move as if to take her hand, but there was a shout from the head of the group of horsemen, and the whole company began to shift in response. Melynlas danced impatiently away from her, carrying Taran with him, and another warrior cantered past, cutting off her view. As one the company moved off, a shifting mass of horses' legs and men's helmeted heads, with a music of jingling tack and the dull rhythm of hoof beats. Gurgi, with a howl, shot from the barns and loped alongside them on all fours. Eilonwy saw Taran turn in the saddle to order him back, and the creature stopped, and sat forlorn and dejected at the edge of the orchard, watching the warriors disappear. The boy looked back and waved once, proudly; then the trees swallowed him up. Silence fell, broken only by the swish of the wind in the leaves and the clucking of hens.
"Well," said Dallben, from the doorway, "now we wait. I must meditate." Eilonwy glanced at him; he wore his usual half-asleep expression, but shot her a keen look before he turned away. "Stay out of trouble."
She glared after him, biting her lip, wondering, for once, about his clairvoyance. If he knew what was in her mind he'd tie her up. It was madness, of course, pure impulse, born of that last moment of pain in parting. But no less powerful for all that.
Not being invited wasn't the same as being forbidden. Suppose...suppose she…
"Gurgi," she called, and the creature came running, whimpering. He fawned at her feet, his ears drooping.
"Alas! Woe and sadness," he moaned. "The mighty warriors have gone! There is nothing now but fears and tears until they all return!"
"Maybe not," she said thoughtfully. "Did they take Mefusen and Hapus?" Her roan gelding and Gurgi's pony might have been used as pack animals. But if not—
Gurgi shook himself. "No. The great warriors brought their horses for packings, and Master and the farmer took only their own. Bold princess wishes to go for ridings?"
"Yes." It was whispered, a dangerous, rebellious word. "And you must come as well. See to the saddling, will you? I must make some preparations."
Gurgi froze for a moment, staring at her; then his ears pricked and his golden eyes gleamed; his teeth bared in what passed, in him, for a grin. "Should Gurgi bring his wallet of crunchings and munchings? Should he prepare for long...very long ridings?"
She nodded. "Very long. Pack an extra cloak. Be quick and quiet about it, and don't let Dallben see you."
"Gurgi is silent as mice," he proclaimed, and scurried to the stable.
The loft stairs creaked again at her weight, a sound not so comforting this time; she held her breath, but Dallben must be deep in meditation; no peep came from his chamber. At the top she paused, thinking, and crossed to the old chest where cast-off clothing was kept, rummaging within until she pulled out one of Taran's old long-sleeved tunics, patched and faded, but not too threadbare. Resolutely she stripped off her own gown and pulled the garment over her head. Once belted, it hung nearly to her knees, barely longer than her shift and perfect for riding. She laced up her boots, tucked a small hunting knife into her belt, and after a moment's hesitation, retrieved her bow and quiver from its corner. Best be ready for anything.
Extra cloak, leggings, and wool stockings, wrapped into her rolled blanket and tied with twine; she took one last look around the loft, tucked her bauble into her pocket, and crept quietly down the stairs and out of the cottage, grabbing an apple from the table on the way.
Gurgi was bustling about Mefusen and Hapus, adjusting their tack and talking to them in his own combination of chirrups and snuffles that they seemed to understand; she left him with her bundle and went to make rounds of the morning chores. Coll or Taran had already milked the goat and let the ox out to pasture; she made sure Hen Wen had water and food and clean bedding. The white pig came trotting to the fence, grunting in welcome, and Eilonwy scratched behind her bristly ears. "I suppose Dallben can look after things while we're all gone," she mused out loud, feeling a bit guilty. "He always has his magic if he needs it. I wonder if I ought to leave a note...but no, he'll know. Dallben always knows. I wouldn't do it, you know, except I can't bear to stay here while they all go into danger."
Hen Wen snorted, and nosed among her straw for hidden delicacies, utterly content and unconcerned. "Well," Eilonwy said, "at least you're happy at home, even if certain people refuse to be. Do you even know they've all gone? I suppose you'll realize it in a day or two when you miss Taran. I'll try to make sure he stays out of mischief. You know how he tends to attract it." She tossed her apple core into the enclosure, and left Hen Wen crunching it delightedly.
Gurgi had the horses ready, and had even thought to fill extra water pouches and hang them to the saddles by the time she returned to him. He was wrapped in a hooded cloak, with his magical wallet slung over his shoulder, and he wriggled all over with anticipation and trepidation. "Wise princess is ready for ridings and stridings? It is time, yes? We will join the great warriors?"
She gathered up the reins and scrambled up onto Mefusen, heart pounding. "It is time, but we must go slowly. If we catch up to them too soon, they'll just send us back. We'll need to stay out of sight and follow their trail...which shouldn't be too difficult, with so many."
"Yes, yes!" Gurgi warbled. "Gurgi can find their trail! Many horses leave such smellings and scentings behind Gurgi could follow them with his eyes closed." He clucked to Hapus, and Eilonwy let him move ahead, his shaggy head bouncing with the pony's jolting trot. A sense of elation, of freedom, rose up in her chest and out, tingling through her fingertips and down to her toes. She lifted her eyes to the gold-and-scarlet trees, took a deep breath, and clamped her knees to the horse's ribs.
The warriors' trail was broad and obvious. Gurgi rode in front, fondly believing his tracking abilities indispensable. Eilonwy called him back occasionally, when the freshness of horse leavings indicated that they might be too close to their quarry for comfort, but was content to let him lead for the time being.
Various scenarios of what would happen when she did catch up with the men presented themselves to her mind, none of them pleasant, but she pushed them away impatiently. Let them fuss. They had bigger problems, anyhow, and after an initial bit of shouting and lecturing would likely take no notice of her, so long as she kept up and didn't make any trouble.
It felt…tingly and fluttery, to be traveling again, after the year of quiet at Caer Dallben. In that year she had made herself comfortable with the fields and streams and woods within an hour's ramble all around the little farm. Now her heart thumped, torn between excitement and trepidation, the first time she looked back and recognized nothing. By the time the faint murky glow of the sun behind the clouds rose to its highest, she and Gurgi were well beyond the range of anything even remotely familiar, and she began to watch the warriors' trail with greater care, stopping where they had stopped to water the horses, filling her own water pouches and carefully studying the surrounding woods.
She noted nothing unusual, either with her ordinary senses or the internal guide she had learned to trust in such surroundings; a vague, inexplicable sense of living things like lights and shadows, flickering around her. These woods were alive - they always were; filled with thousands upon thousands of creatures both large and minute, all of them together going about their business, like individual threads in a tapestry who did not know they were part of something larger. Eilonwy stretched, breathing it in; it was good, the way things ought to be, and she smiled without knowing it.
The trail now followed a meandering brook, picking along around mossy stones and through hollow glades where the autumn leaves lay damp and muffling. Late in the afternoon, they emerged from the trees and beheld a broad sweep of gray, lazy-flowing water blocking their way. At its bank, the footprints of many horses were fresh in the mud.
Eilonwy, looking at it, wrinkled her nose. "It's the Avren. This must be where they forded."
Gurgi made a noise somewhere between a whimper and a bark. "Yes, yes! Great warriors have crossed the river!" He poked a toe in the shallow edge of the water. "This will be a cold and shivery splashing!"
"Yes." Eilonwy hesitated, staring at the water, thinking. At this season, Great Avren would not be terribly swift, but it was wide, and she knew from Taran's rueful testimony that it was deep. "It is cold. And just going to get colder." She squinted at the pale, blurry patch of sun pushing through the grey sky; it would do little to dry or warm them, and building a fire on the other side would take more time than she wanted, even using magic.
Grimly resolved, she sat down on a nearby rock, pulled off her boots, stockings, and leggings, and rolled them into a ball. "If I had proper magical training," she muttered to herself, standing up and unbuckling her belt, "I could probably swim across and stay bone-dry. Or make the water part for us. Or just walk over it. So whatever happens now is Achren's fault." Stripping her tunic off over her head, she wrapped it around the rest of her clothes, tied the whole bundle as high on the saddle as she could manage, and tied the reins to the saddlebow, shivering all the while in her thin undershift. Probably she ought to take it off, too, but she balked at the thought. Not with Gurgi present - human or not.
Gurgi was watching her with his head at that odd angle that denoted confusion; never did he look more like a dog than when wearing this expression and she was grateful for it now. "I'll dry faster than my clothes will," she explained, "so I don't want them wet if I can help it." She pondered ordering him to tell no one and decided against it. He wouldn't understand why, and belaboring the matter would just make him remember it when otherwise…well, it was normal for him to go about mostly naked, wasn't it? She giggled suddenly. "It's too bad you can't take off your fur and put it back on at the other side."
Gurgi looked surprised. "Gurgi's fur dries fast, fast! He shakes and quakes and the water flies off like gnats! No fear for him!"
"Lead on, then," she ordered, and he splashed into the river, clucking to Hapus, who moved with less enthusiasm. Eilonwy, gripping Mefusen's bridle, followed, hissing as the touch of cold water brought the gooseflesh prickling up on her skin, rising from ankles to knees to thighs to waist. When it rose to chest height the cold crushed her like a vise of ice; a wave of panic flooded her and she gasped, throwing herself forward hard into the current, fighting the urge to turn back. The only way out is through.
Mefusen blew and snorted as the current lifted them; she pushed away from the horse as she felt the water churning around his strong legs, and struck out on her own, slicing through the river with as much power as she could muster, kicking across the flow.
The current was sluggish, but the breadth of the river seemed even greater once they were in it. Before she was halfway across, her arms and legs were aching. She should have found a branch first; something that would float and help buoy her across. Eilonwy floundered, terrified, when hot fury flooded her. I did not come all this way to be killed by water. The irony of it smote her; water was her element, was home; never had she feared it, and now it threatened her. A ludicrous vision of her lifeless body washed up on the bank, in her soaked and clinging undergarments, popped into her mind, and she would have laughed at the absurd horror of it if she'd had any breath to laugh. The idea of her companions finding her like that! It was not to be borne. Not even dead.
With a burst of desperate strength she plowed on anew, arms lifting and arcing, legs pumping until she no longer felt the cold, until the water itself felt solid, a thing that could be molded and manipulated; it enveloped her, an almost-sentient mass that shaped itself around her, curious at its sudden awareness of the small creature stubbornly struggling within it. A strange taste filled her mouth - not the acrid, metallic magic-taste but something that mingled freshness and salt together, bubbling hot and icy-cold by turns. Her numbed fingers felt suddenly hot; the curl of the current around them shone in her mind's eye like strands of silver.
And then her foot touched pebbles and pushed against solid ground; Gurgi grabbed her wrist and she clutched at his wet fur, stumbling with him up the bank. A bit further downstream, Hapus and Mefusen were snorting and shaking the water from their manes.
Eilonwy, shivering uncontrollably, fought the inclination to throw herself upon the nearest patch of turf and curl up like a woodlouse; no, it wouldn't do; if she did that she'd never get up again. She called to Mefusen and pulled down her bundle of clothing - blessedly dry but for the end of one sleeve that had trailed out of the ties.
Gurgi had shaken himself with a violent shudder; his wild fur stuck out in bedraggled spikes but he looked otherwise no worse for their swim. He capered around her joyfully. "Wise princess swims the river as well as Gurgi! And faster than great warriors and all their horses, he thinks. We will catch them soon, soon!"
"Not too soon," she hissed through chattering teeth, but managed to grin. "Go and find their trail and I'll catch up once I've dressed."
He bolted away and when he was out of sight she peeled her wet shift off and danced a bit in the cold air to try to dry herself, wishing desperately that the sun would come out for just a few minutes. It was horrid to pull dry clothes on over her damp skin but it had to be done. Once decently attired, she wrung out her shift and stuffed it in a saddle bag, took Mefusen by the reins and followed Gurgi on foot, leading the horse. She'd walk until she was warm.
They found the trail with no trouble and headed back into the woods. Eilonwy turned once to glance back at the Avren, thoughtfully. Something had happened there…something besides almost drowning. She wasn't sure what precisely.
Her fingers still tingled. Fire and water. The daughters of Llyr, according to legend, wielded both, but her education had been one-sided. Achren had been all fire. Dallben's lessons seemed neutral in comparison, always centered around controlling her thoughts and emotions; he had not yet taught her very many actual spells and she wondered if he ever intended to. What was Dallben's gift, anyway? He seemed a bit of everything; if the tiny insights of his powers she sometimes caught at moments he left unguarded were any indication, they defied any attempt at classification, and Dallben never spoke of his history or indeed of himself at all. Perhaps it was a privilege of being the most powerful enchanter in Prydain, never to have to explain anything, but it made him an often maddening master.
"Do you ever ask him why?"she had queried once, early on, to Taran after one of the old enchanter's incomprehensible edicts.
He had glanced at her in some surprise. "Yes. I used to. Quite a lot," with a rueful laugh. "It never did any good, so I gave it up. His answers are just more confusing. Try it and you'll see."
"But he doesn't…" she hesitated. "He doesn't get angry?"
"Not really. Testy, you know. Sharp, sometimes, if I got very cheeky. But not angry. I don't think I've ever seen him truly angry." He had looked at her curiously but Eilonwy had said nothing more, did not tell him how Achren had treated all questions as open defiance, dealt swift consequence to any delay in following orders. Not that it had made her any less defiant. She had rarely angered Achren on purpose, but crossing her, even secretly, was satisfying, and she had learned to endure most consequences without crying. Much.
But Dallben was different. She had no wish to displease him.
No doubt he was displeased with her now, for her absence would be known to him by this time. Stay out of trouble, he had ordered. Well, here was open defiance if ever there had been. It was odd of him not to place more…well, more tangible boundaries up. He knew her well enough by now to suspect her current course of action - knew her better, she sometimes thought, than she knew herself. Why had he allowed it? Had he secretly wanted her to go? Perhaps it was a test of character. She wondered whether she were passing or failing it.
The clumsy swish of a bat flying over head made her look up sharply, arrested her thoughts. It was getting dark. She whistled to Gurgi, still trotting happily up ahead, and he reined Hapus around and waited for her to catch up.
They made camp in a little hollow surrounded by alders, and she risked a small fire to guard against the cold seeping down from the darkening sky. Birch bark, a few twigs; she took a breath, thought of sitting in her favorite crook in her favorite big apple tree at Caer Dallben until she felt her heartbeat meld slowly into the creak of the wood and the flutter of leaves, murmured and snapped her fingers. Sparks kindled and blazed, licking up the twigs with light and warmth, and she sighed happily. Bless Dallben.
Gurgi doled out provisions from his magical wallet and she chewed the stuff without much interest; it had the texture of dried meat but none of the flavor. He drew first watch, and settled onto his haunches, his ears pricked. "I haven't slept outdoors since we came to Caer Dallben," Eilonwy mused out loud, as she wrapped herself in her cloak and burrowed into the dry leaves. "I've missed it a little."
"Bold princess says so, now," Gurgi observed, with a lopsided grin at her. "But her last sleepings-out were in the middle of the summertimes, with the glowing and flowing of the sunshine to warm the trees even after dark."
"That's true," she admitted. "Not quite so comfortable now. Do you miss your bed?" At the cottage he slept on a rug before the hearth - a spot he had chosen himself, though she had offered him a heap of straw in the loft.
"Gurgi's bed is good for snoozings and snorings in safety," he said, scratching his ears languidly with a hind foot. "But he has slept in the trees most of his life, and sleepings are good wherever they happen."
"Well, make sure you wake me when they catch up with you too much," she admonished, and pulled her hood over her head. It smelled like woodsmoke. Like her hair. Like Taran's jacket. Like the bonfire at Caer Dallben. She thought of the firelight, shining from the dome of Coll's head, like a small reflection of the golden moon. Whatever happened out here, it was comforting to know Caer Dallben was there, waiting for them. Enough, for now; she could sleep well in a world with Caer Dallben in it.
