Fflewddur, Gurgi, and Telyn awoke to an overeager chorus of songbirds and the ache of empty bellies—both reminders that they ought to be up and on their way if they wanted to find food in the short term and reach Caer Dathyl before too long. Sadly, there was little breakfast to be had. The provisions Gurgi had scrounged from the ship were scant enough for two travelers, let alone three, and foraging options were slim so early in the season. Telyn's lingering hunting skills helped a bit: she managed to snatch one (rather scrawny) hare as it left its burrow, and found a few handfuls of edible mushrooms among the roots and tree stumps. That was hardly enough to satisfy, though.

"Hmm. What say you both to a stop at Caer Cadarn?" Fflewddur asked while they downed the meager fare. "It will put us slightly off course, but I dare say King Smoit will make it worth our while. Good food and good cheer are never in short supply when that old bear is around—both of which I'd welcome at the moment."

"You won't hear me complain," Telyn agreed as she picked every last scrap of stringy meat from the unfortunate hare's bones. "We sorely need supplies. High spirits will only carry us so far."

"Gurgi dreamed of crunchings and munchings last night…" the furry creature said wistfully. "But woe and sadness! He woke up with a mouthful of dead leaves."

Telyn nearly choked on a laugh. "Oh, you poor thing! What a disappointment to awake to!"

"Indeed! That certainly won't do," said Fflewddur. "Caer Cadarn it must be, then. Just another day of travel, and we'll be feasting heartily with our old friend. Great Belin, he'll be in for a surprise when we turn up!"

It was a heartening prospect—but, as usual, Fflewddur's optimistic claims had outpaced reality. One long day of walking stretched painfully into two, and the companions' hollow bellies were protesting loudly by the time they reached the broad, undulating fields at the outskirts of Cantrev Cadiffor. Evening was coming on, and the stronghold of King Smoit yet lay beyond the horizon. The companions did spot a small farmhold in the distance, however, with a few cows grazing placidly around it.

"Aha! Now there's a welcome sight!" cried Fflewddur. "If I haven't lost my bearings, that cottage is home to Aeddan and Alarca. You remember them, Gurgi, do you not?"

Gurgi nodded eagerly. "Oh, yes! Kindly farmer and farmwife helped wise and humble master after wicked warriors stole his horse."

"And with any luck, they will help us again—might let us do some work for them in return for a meal and extra clothing," Fflewddur went on. "It is too late to reach Caer Cadarn tonight, in any case; that will take the better part of another day."

"I wouldn't turn down food or clothing at this point," Telyn said, lifting a foot and looking ruefully at the blisters and scrapes on it. "My stomach is gnawing itself to shreds and my feet aren't far behind. And while I'm unafraid to raise some eyebrows, I'd rather not show up at Smoit's gate quite so oddly dressed."

"Poor, hungry Gurgi needs food, too," Gurgi added. "Hear how his belly is squelching sadly with emptiness!"

"Let's not waste a moment more in talking, then. To the cottage we go!" urged the bard. With that, he strode off so quickly on his long legs that Gurgi and Telyn nearly had to jog to keep up.

In short order, they arrived at the tiny wattle and daub hut, and Fflewddur knocked upon the door. It was Aeddan who answered, with Alarca coming up behind to see who had arrived. The gray-haired old farmer and his tall, sturdy wife looked in far better health and spirits than when Fflewddur and Gurgi had met them a few years before. The anxious, weary look was gone from their eyes, and they no longer seemed a knife's edge away from starvation. It took a moment for Aeddan to recognize Fflewddur, but the sight of Gurgi brought forth a warm smile of familiarity.

"What an unexpected gift!" he exclaimed. "Old acquaintances come again—friends of High King Taran, if I am not mistaken. Come in, and welcome." He ushered the companions into the hut and gestured for them to have a seat at the trestle table in the center of the room. "Forgive me, but you will have to remind me of your names and introduce me to your travel companion. I do not recall meeting her before."

"No… you would not recognize her," Fflewddur replied, fighting back a knowing smile. "She is Telyn Daughter of Branwen, a healer from the north. As for me? I am Fflewddur Fflam Son of Godo, a bard of the harp—once I can obtain such an instrument, that is. And our shaggy little friend here is Gurgi."

"Well met for the second time," Aeddan replied. "But what brings you our way? It appears hard travel has been your lot," he added as he surveyed Telyn's unusual garb, then the veritable forest of leaves and twigs amassed in Gurgi's fur, then the bard's own disheveled state.

"I should say they have!" Alarca cut in. "My dear, is that a cloak you are wearing as a dress? And no shoes of any kind?" Before Telyn could even reply, the farmwife had hastened over to an old chest and begun rummaging through it. "I am not sure I wish to know how you came to be in such a state, but it must be remedied immediately."

"Hmm, yes…" the bard said with some shame. "Our journey from Avren Harbor was rather—well—hasty, and did not go quite to plan. We are on our way to Caer Dathyl and planned to drop in at Caer Cadarn along the way. But with night coming on soon, we hoped to find shelter here—in exchange for whatever labor you might ask of us, of course. A Fflam never begs hospitality without recompense!"

Aeddan smiled. "Friends of King Taran's are friends of ours. You are welcome here for that alone. But if you are willing to work, so much the better. Join us for a meal first and we will discuss tomorrow's tasks afterward."

Alarca returned with a bundle of clothes in hand and offered them up to Telyn. "Here—I haven't a spare cloak to give you, but you shall have a proper chemise and dress now, at least. I'm afraid they will be a poor fit—I am a fair sight taller than you—but they should serve well enough until you find better."

"I am sure they will do just fine. My humblest thanks to you," Telyn replied with a gracious smile.

Alarca led her over to a corner of the hut to dress, and held up a blanket to shield her from view. "Tsk! Turn your backs and give the lady some privacy!" she scolded the menfolk, who had turned toward them while following the conversation. Telyn stifled a laugh and, feigning modesty, stepped behind the blanket.

Flushing ever so slightly, Fflewddur turned back to Aeddan. "You and Alarca are both looking well," he noted. "Fortune has turned back in your favor?"

"Yes, we have fared much better of late," the old farmer replied. "Cornillo, the cow that Taran gained for us, has been a great boon. True to her reputation, she produces the finest milk and her calves have been naught but twins. The first pair went to Lord Gast and Lord Goryon as promised, but the next have helped us begin a small herd of our own. And King Smoit saw to it that those lords served their punishment for turning our croplands into a battlefield, too. They toiled hard in the replanting—and I believe they gained some measure of respect for their subjects' own work while doing so."

"Though not without ample complaints," Alarca chimed in from across the room. "Although," she added with a light smirk, "seeing them taste humility was well worth tolerating their grumbling."

"No doubt!" said Fflewddur. "That must have been a sight to see: Gast the self-proclaimed Generous and Goryon the so-called Valorous toiling away in your fields like commoners!"

"It was indeed," remarked Aeddan, chuckling lightly. "I cannot say whether the lesson it taught them will last, but one can hope it does."

As soon as Telyn had dressed, Alarca returned to the pot simmering at the hearth. The scent of the hearty stew already had the hungry companions' mouths watering. She pulled some wooden bowls and spoons from a narrow shelf and began ladling out steaming portions for all.

"Talk is well and good," she said, "but it will neither fill your bellies nor fuel your labors tomorrow. Come—eat your fill. After too many years without, we at last have ample food to give, and are happy to share it with you."

The companions ate their supper with zeal, then sat by the fire for a while afterwards, discussing the next days' work. Aeddan found a few scraps of leather for Telyn, and she set to work fashioning a makeshift pair of slippers while everyone talked. Before long, however, the companions' weariness overtook them. Gurgi's head began to nod involuntarily, yawns began to punctuate the bard's conversation, and even Telyn's sharp eyes grew too heavy to continue her work. Alarca banked the fire while Aeddan cleared a space for the companions to sleep. Happily, the three stretched out on the hard-packed earthen floor and dropped into sleep like stones.


All rose well before dawn the next morning and set immediately to work. The companions began in the fields with Aeddan, plowing furrows and sowing seed. Then, after a short midday break, Gurgi returned to the fields, Telyn went to assist in the cottage, and Alarca charged Fflewddur with milking the cows and mucking out the byre.

The bard first cleaned out the cows' stalls and brought in fresh straw, then pulled over a stool to begin milking. With a docile, obliging cow like Cornillo, the task was easy enough. He was able to let his mind drift off into the realm of memory while he worked, humming along under his breath to the rhythm of milk hitting the pail.

Suddenly, an earthy laugh tumbled into his daydream. He whirled around so quickly that he nearly overturned his bucket. Telyn stood in the doorway, leaning against its rough wooden frame and smiling broadly.

"You are a rare sort of king, Fflewddur Flam," she said, shaking her head in amusement. "Although, I suppose I knew that much already. But wherever did you learn to milk a cow?"

"Come to witness the spectacle, have you?"

"Alarca needs milk and cream," she explained, raising the small earthen pitcher she held. "But I won't deny that watching you is rather entertaining." She looked over at the cow. "What say you, Cornillo? Does it amuse you to be milked by a king? And one descended from the mighty House of Don, no less?"

Cornillo lowed deeply in answer. Telyn looked back at Fflewddur, straight-faced. "She says you've been fine company. Your humming is a particularly nice touch."

"Oh, she said that, did she?" Fflewddur replied. Telyn nodded and chuckled again. "Well, that's more praise than many a human listener has bestowed upon me, so I will accept it gracefully. My thanks, Cornillo," he said, tipping his head to the cow. She merely lowed again, turned away, and resumed thinking about whatever it is cows ponder in the course of a day.

"In all seriousness, though—how do you know the ways of milking cattle?" Telyn asked again. "Satisfy my curiosity."

"Believe it or not, an old friend showed me how," Fflewddur explained as he took the pitcher from Telyn's hands and filled it. "One of the cottagers in my realm. We met as children, you see, when I snuck out of the castle one day for a ramble. It was many years ago, but she must have taught me well since I seem to be doing a fair job of it now."

Telyn's expression turned cheeky. "She? And does she still live in your realm?"

Fflewddur turned back to Cornillo and resumed milking, looking mildly embarrassed but smiling a little all the same. "Yes, she still lives there—quite happily with her husband and children, I might add. Their herd yields some of the best milk in the realm. Most of what we use in the castle comes from them."

"And what is her name?" Telyn prodded.

"Braith."

"And friends you were? For quite a while?"

"We were," Fflewddur replied more quietly. "In fact, she was the one who first put the notion of barding into my head—thought it would suit both my roving foot and my love of a good story."

Telyn paused for a moment, her brow slightly furrowed. "So, what happened? What ended the friendship?" she asked, all teasing gone from her voice.

Fflewddur kept his eyes on Cornillo. "We… grew apart, you might say. I suppose it was inevitable, really—what with me becoming a king and her being a milkmaid. Probably for the best. She didn't much fancy the idea of wandering, herself…" He trailed off, letting the silence speak for him.

"Hmm. A pity, that," Telyn said softly. "True friends are hard to come by…" She watched the bard's back for a few moments while he continued to work, the sympathy written across her face going all unseen. "Well… I should like to meet Braith one day," she pronounced at last, decisively. "I assume she has a few stories of her own to tell—and likely some that will be of interest to me."

Fflewddur snapped around at the sudden change in tone. An impish look glinted once again in Telyn's eyes. Her smirk broadened into a full grin, then she turned on her heel and slipped out the door as silently as she had come.


After supper that evening, the group gathered again around the hearth for idle conversation and sundry small tasks. Telyn went back to stitching her slippers, Alarca set about mending some clothing, and Aeddan himself worked to sharpen a few of his tools.

"If only I had my old harp with me," Fflewddur lamented. "I do miss it terribly, snapping strings and all. This would be the perfect time for a few songs, to round out the day."

"If you haven't songs to give us, a story would suffice," Aeddan suggested. "Tell us how poor Telyn came to be without clothes on her back or shoes on her feet. You never did say…"

Fflewddur gulped, then cleared his throat hesitantly. "Well—ah—it's a rather unusual tale…" He glanced over at Telyn, looking for some sign of how much she wished to divulge.

"Would you believe a mountain cat disappeared with my clothing?" she put in, shaking her head at the absurdity of it.

"A mountain cat? In these parts? Never have I seen one so far south!" remarked Aeddan, incredulous.

"Well, it wasn't from around here, you see," Telyn explained. "It was Fflewddur's own mountain cat—the giant one he rode as a steed. Surely you recall seeing it when last he was here."

Fflewddur jumped in. "Yes… You remember Llyan… Tall as a horse, with bright yellow eyes and thick, tawny, speckled fur…"

"Ahh, yes—I do remember now," Alarca said. "A monstrous looking beast, she was. I would have been quite terrified had I not seen how gentle she was with everyone. How could I possibly have forgotten her?"

"In your defense, you were rather preoccupied at the time," said the bard. "Naturally, having war lords and battle hosts trampling one's harvest would tend to put all else out of mind."

"But how was it that she ended up with Telyn's clothing? And where is she now?" asked Aeddan.

"Well, as I mentioned, we had a few mishaps on our journey from the harbor…" Fflewddur began. He could feel the tale coalescing in his mind and beginning to dance on the tip of his tongue. "Telyn ran afoul of more than a little mud and grime along the way, and she was positively itching to get clean again. So, she decided to have a bath in the river one morning. It was just after dawn—the sun still dim, the forest still in shadow. Up Llyan crept while Telyn's back was turned, stealthy as a—well, stealthy as a cat, I suppose. Closer… Closer… And then… she pounced! With a flash of teeth and a swipe of her claws, she snatched every last piece of clothing from the bank where they lay! Alas, Gurgi and I were no help at all—still fast asleep, snoring away, some distance from the river. By the time we awoke, Llyan was long gone and the clothing gone with her! There was only Telyn—huddled by the fire, naked as the day she was born, trying to warm herself. Sadly, my cloak was the only spare clothing we had on hand to give her."

Alarca and Aeddan shook their heads in sympathy. "Oh, my! Such an embarrassing situation in which to find oneself!" Alarca exclaimed. "And cold, too, this early in the year."

"Now, what use a mountain cat might have for clothes and shoes, I won't hazard a guess," Fflewddur went on. "But one never can tell with cats. It has been my long experience that they have minds of their own. Nothing will dissuade them from a hunt, whether their quarry be field mice or fine cloth. And I will say, Llyan could be a mischievous creature at times," he added, shooting Telyn a wry, sidelong glance. "Perhaps it was her notion of a jest."

"Or perhaps," Telyn countered, "Llyan had merely tired of her current life, decided to run off, and wanted soft bedding for her new lair. I imagine even wild creatures appreciate a spot of comfort now and then."

"My word!" Alarca said, shaking her head once again. "That is certainly the oddest story I have heard in a long time—or possibly ever."

"To be sure," Aeddan agreed. "And I must say: however entertaining your songs may be, Fflewddur, that tale surely surpasses them all."

"Oh, you would be surprised," the bard replied with a chuckle. "In fact, I shall give you another, and then you may judge…"

While he leaped into another tale, Telyn moved closer to the light of the hearth and resumed her work on the new slippers. Fflewddur watched her for a while out of the corner of his eye, a little envious of her ability to focus so intently on her task. He had no doubt her keen ears were picking up every word of the story he told, but she didn't seem at all distracted by it. No, she just kept working methodically along with nimble fingers, stitch, by stitch, by stitch. Shortly before they were all about to turn in for the night, she finished her handiwork and threaded the long laces through. She pulled them on and stretched her feet out in front of her, wiggling her toes inside of the leather and giving them an appraising look.

"Well? What do you think?" she asked. "The finest slippers in all of Prydain, are they not?"

"The very best!" Fflewddur replied in jest. "If you ever tire of being a healer, you ought to take up work as a cobbler."

Telyn laughed and tucked her feet back under her. "They will get me to Caer Cadarn, at any rate. Thank you again for the leather, Aeddan—I don't think my poor feet could stand much more abuse. And just as many thanks to you, Alarca, for the clothing."

"We are more than happy to help," she replied with a kindly smile. "I wish we had better to give you but, alas, even now, fortunate as we have become, we have little more than what we need for ourselves."

"If all were as generous as you, there would be much less want in Prydain," said Telyn. "We are truly in your debt."

"Ah, no. You paid whatever debt you owed us in full with your work today," said Aeddan. "All we ask now is that you give our regards to King Taran and Queen Eilonwy once you reach Caer Dathyl."

"So we shall, and gladly!" Fflewddur agreed. "I'm sure he and Eilonwy need that more than ever right now, what with having crowns thrust upon them so suddenly. I know something of how troublesome that can be—and how lonely, too. I'm sure the kind wishes of friends like you will hearten them beyond measure."