A/N: Another double-post this week, because the last chapter and this one are relatively short. If you're not set up to receive alerts when I post, make sure you haven't missed any chapters.


.


After one more night at Caer Cadarn, and a hearty breakfast the next morning that lasted nearly until high noon, the companions bade farewell to King Smoit and rode forth once again. Instead of following the Valley of Ystrad, they veered east across the river to pick up a more direct, if challenging, route north to Fflewddur's realm. The Hill Cantrevs into which they passed were as glum and hostile as ever. Once legendary for flocks of the finest sheep, the domains had become infamous for the bands of thieves that roamed the hills. For two days, the companions trudged over gray land under ashen skies. They kept up as brisk a pace as possible on the stony terrain, resting only when necessary, and sleeping but little when they did stop for the night.

As the hazy sun peaked on the third day, Fflewddur called a halt on the leeward side of a slight ridge. The weary companions dismounted to rest for a while, and Gurgi passed around a leather water flask to slake their thirst. Fflewddur scratched some rough maps in the gravelly soil, getting his bearings for the next leg of their journey.

Suddenly, Telyn snapped to attention, head tilted and listening intently over her shoulder while she gestured for the others to be silent. Gurgi sniffed the wind for a sign of whatever she had heard. Time stretched long as the companions strained their ears and held their breath.

"Men… and horses…" Gurgi whispered at last, looking uneasy.

The companions jumped up and moved to untie their steeds, then waited again, tense and with hands poised on their weapons. The telltale thump and clatter of hoofbeats on loose stone sounded above them—close, and drawing steadily closer.

Over the crest of the ridge rode a band of a half-dozen men. They halted abruptly and stared down the slope, looking as startled to see the companions as the companions were to see them. Finally, one man gave a curt nod and waved his comrades onward from the ridge.

As the riders drew closer, it became clear they were a rough bunch: scruffy and stern, heavily-armed, and wearing coarse garb that seemed to have more mud splatters than clean fabric. In truth, they looked disconcertingly like another band of ruffians the companions had once encountered in the area. The young man at the head of the group, their apparent leader, couldn't have been much older than twenty. Yet, the crosshatch of scars across his broad face and the heartless look in his icy blue eyes showed he was no stranger to violence. The companions, wary, stood their ground but did not call out to the new arrivals, who pulled up mere paces away.

"Who are you?" the leader demanded, tilting his chin upwards in challenge. The open hostility in his tone sliced through the thin air.

"I was about to ask you the same question…" Fflewddur replied. "One doesn't encounter many wayfarers in these parts."

"What brings you here, then?" sneered the young man. "Answer quickly—before I decide to spill your guts rather than hear you spill your tale."

"Now, now—there is no need for such threats," Fflewddur said. "We are only travelers passing through, far from home and trying to return there. We mean no harm and want no trouble. I'm sure we have nothing of any interest whatsoever to you gentlemen."

"Well, trouble has found you anyway," the stranger replied with a smirk. He circled the companions slowly, menacingly, casting an appraising look over each of them in turn. "You do have some things of interest to us, you see…" he said slyly. "You have horses… and a wench." A few of his companions snickered. "This shaggy beast with you, though…" he added, nodding dismissively at Gurgi. "He seems to be of little value. Why, he must have crawled from the trash heap of Annuvin itself, by the looks of him."

Gurgi bared his teeth at the insult. Telyn, looking tensed and ready to pounce, glared at the man so fiercely it was a wonder her gaze alone didn't slay him. The bard's hand hovered over the hilt of his sword, but he held back from unsheathing it. There was no reason to start the fight if there was yet any hope of avoiding it—however unlikely that outcome now seemed.

"And you're clearly not from these parts," the stranger continued derisively. "People around here have better sense than to cross Ruawn Son of Dorath."

"Ha! Son of Dorath, eh? The acorn certainly didn't fall far from the oak…" Fflewddur muttered. He thought back to the encounter, years ago, with the villainous mercenary Dorath. The skirmish had hardly gone in their favor, and left Taran both shamed and sword-less. He fervently hoped this time would play out differently.

"What was that?" Ruawn snapped.

"Nothing. We have crossed paths with your father, that is all," Fflewddur replied steadily, as one might talk to a bristling dog.

"What do you know of my father?" Ruawn asked angrily. His eyes narrowed to slits.

"Likely more than you do. We've at least met the man once," Telyn jeered, unable to bite her tongue any longer. She regretted her words the instant they flew from her tongue—no good could come from swatting a hornets' nest. And yet, she had.

Ruawn flushed scarlet at the insult and raised his sword in threat. "Keep your woman quiet, before I silence her myself!" he shouted at Fflewddur.

"Oh, Telyn is her own woman, and not one to take orders—from me or anyone else," Fflewddur warned.

The brigands inched closer, fingering their weapons. The companions frantically scanned about for any possible escape route. Flight was their only option. Even well-armed, they were too few to face so many men.

Without warning, one of Ruawn's men broke from the group and lunged at Telyn. Swiftly, she jumped back, spun around, and ran to her steed, but the assailant caught hold of her leg as she swung up into the saddle. She thrashed and kicked violently at him, just barely managing to free herself from his grasp. The other thieves sprung to action as well, rushing at Fflewddur and Gurgi with glinting blades in hand.

"Fly, fly!" shouted the bard, racing toward his own horse.

The order was a waste of breath; Telyn and Gurgi were already tearing down the slope, zig-zagging wildly in an effort to throw off their attackers. The land itself fought against them. Several times, the horses stumbled on the uneven ground, and the thick brush dragged at their flanks. The thieves were right at the companions' heels, blades drawn and slashing whenever they came within an arm's length of their quarry.

After what felt like an age, the companions finally burst forth into a clearing on more level ground. They galloped ahead full-tilt, hoping to finally break free of their pursuers. Telyn reached the far edge of the clearing first—and immediately came to a dead stop, nearly pitching over Seiriol's neck. She gasped in dismay. Ahead, the land fell away steeply into a ravine filled with jagged boulders—a leering maw of stony teeth. Fflewddur and Gurgi reached the edge mere moments later, and faced a fresh wave of panic when they realized their plight. They were trapped. The three whirled around, bracing for the imminent attack. Their steeds pawed the ground in anticipation as Ruawn's men bore down like wolves on wounded deer.

Melee ensued. The thieves were upon them in an instant, in a crash of horses and clash of blades. Telyn and Gurgi thrust out with their spears as Fflewddur charged into the midst of the attackers, slashing left and right with his sword. The thieves drew back at his onslaught, but it was only a moment before they plunged once more into the fray. Mawr, Gurgi's mount, reared and stomped and bit at the foes like a warrior in his own right, but that proved too much for his hapless rider to hold on. Gurgi sprang from the saddle and attacked from the ground instead, flailing about in a whirlwind of teeth and claws, throwing wild shrieks in for terrifying measure.

Telyn struck out valiantly, but as strong as she was for her size, she was still at a grave disadvantage against the larger warriors. One of Ruawn's men backhanded her brutally across the jaw, sending her sprawling to the rocky ground. Terror flooded her veins and a metallic taste rose in her mouth as she fought to rise. Luckily, the assailant left her where she fell, judging her a waste of his energy. She looked around frantically for any way she might help her desperate companions.

The outcome looked dire. One of Ruawn's men had fallen to the companions' assault, but the others had redoubled their attack. Fflewddur was hard-pressed, warding off slashes and blows from the two thieves who had dragged him from his horse. His long experience with combat gave him a slight edge over the younger men, but his strength would fail before long. Gurgi rushed to his aid, slaying one of the men, wounding another, and holding the rest at bay. Ruawn himself turned against Fflewddur, then, slashing over and over at the beleaguered bard with his battered sword. Fflewddur held his own for a while. Then, another thief flung out a foot, tripping him from behind. Telyn and Gurgi watched in horror as the bard tumbled to earth.

He landed hard with a sickening thud. His blade flew from his hand upon impact, clattering to the stony ground well beyond reach. Fractured patterns swam before his eyes as he gasped to regain the breath that been knocked from him. When his vision cleared at last, he looked up to see Ruawn looming over him, sword raised high, poised for the death-blow.

Suddenly, there was a flurry of movement behind Ruawn, and Fflewddur saw a large rock crack into his attacker's skull. The thief staggered forward, briefly stunned by the unexpected assault. Telyn stood behind him, eyes wide with rage and terror. In a flash, she dropped the rock, leaped astride Ruawn's back, unsheathed her dagger, and plunged it up to the hilt between his shoulder blades. Ruawn shrieked and collapsed to earth, writhed in agony, then went deathly still.

The remaining thieves, seeing their leader and two more of their number slain, fled the clearing. Fflewddur scrambled once more to his feet and quickly retrieved his sword, lest any of the attackers return. For several moments, he stood there panting, scanning the surrounding land, poised to defend against another attack. Fortunately, none came.

Then, he glanced back toward Telyn. She still crouched over Ruawn's prone body, every muscle tensed, as though fearful he might rise again. Fflewddur went to her side, put his hands beneath her arms, and gently urged her to rise. He felt her trembling slightly beneath his hands.

"It's all right. You are all right. I think it is over now," he assured her quietly.

They stood there for a moment, bruised and bloody, staring down at Ruawn's lifeless form. The hilt of Telyn's knife still gleamed dully in his back.

Without warning, she shook herself from Fflewddur's grasp and flung herself at the corpse, kicking it savagely in the ribs, again and again. With a visceral shriek, she snatched up her dagger and spat on Ruawn's bloodied back before finally turning away. Her eyes blazed with fury; her chest heaved with each ragged breath she drew. Fflewddur and Gurgi pulled away a pace, startled by the ferocity of her hatred and disgust.

"Easy… easy…" Fflewddur murmured, moving slowly toward her and placing his hands once more on her arms. "I don't think he'll be giving us any more trouble. You took care of that handily enough."

Telyn looked dazedly up at him. Only upon seeing the bard did the blood-lust in her eyes begin to ebb.

"I… I'm sorry… I… He tried to kill you… I just…" She trailed off, and glanced down at her bloodied hands, one still clenched tightly around the dagger.

"It's all right—heat of battle and all," Fflewddur said reassuringly. "I only wish I had a harp on hand, to calm you down again."

Gurgi scurried over to inspect the gruesome scene. "Wicked, evil wanderer!" he cried, shaking a fist at Ruawn's prone body. "He should have known better than to attack valiant Gurgi and his fearsome friends. We fight back with smashings and slashings—and jabbings and stabbings!" He turned to Telyn. "And mountain cat maiden is the fiercest of them all," he said, looking at her with awe. "She protects noble bard with brave bashings!"

Fflewddur smiled a bit at Gurgi's lively account of the battle. "Indeed! I owe her my life!" he agreed. He turned and bowed deeply to Telyn, only slightly in jest. "My humble thanks, Lady Telyn. It appears I owe you a boon, whenever you see fit to claim it."

"Oh… Uhh… You're welcome?" Telyn replied, sounding more than a little bewildered. "But it was luck, really. If I hadn't been able to surprise him, I would have been nearly useless," she added, frowning.

"Luck? Quick thinking is what it was! Don't sell your valor so cheaply, my dear. It takes more courage to fight when you know you're outmatched than when you are certain to win." Fflewddur gave her a clap on the shoulder and gently wiped a smear of blood from her rapidly bruising jaw. "A brave deed is a brave deed, and a life saved is all the better—particularly when that life is my own, if I may say so."

The bard glanced warily around the clearing. "We had better be on our way, though. A Fflam is fearless, but I'd rather not run afoul of any vengeful comrades if we can help it."

The companions rounded up their spooked and scattered horses, then set out again with all the speed their battered bodies could muster. They pushed on for several hours before they felt they had put enough distance between themselves and the ruffians' territory to be safe.


In a serendipitous twist of fate, their haphazard flight had brought them within striking distance of the valley where Craddoc the shepherd once lived—where Taran had gained and lost both an illusory father and a genuine friend. Telyn remembered the trail well enough, and led her companions onward to the abandoned hut. Cobwebs and dust shrouded every surface within the dwelling, but Taran's repairs had fared well on the whole. The tiny cottage was snug and weathertight, in good condition for all its disuse. Fflewddur soon had a fire blazing in the hearth, and Telyn did her best to sweep away the layer of dust. Gurgi attempted to help her, but kept sneezing so violently at the dust and smoke that he nearly tumbled over backwards. He retreated to a corner instead, and began the seemingly hopeless task of setting his bedraggled self to rights.

After so many nights on the open terrain, all three companions were grateful to have a solid roof over their heads and a relatively safe place to rest. Fflewddur brought water in from the nearby stream so they could wash away the blood and grime, and tend their wounds. After assisting with that, Telyn spent a good while patiently helping to brush the tangles and assorted plant fragments out of Gurgi's matted fur, much to the disheveled creature's delight. If his characteristic wet wolfhound odor bothered her, she hid it well. When she had done as much as she could for him, Gurgi curled up in a ball near her feet, content as a lamb with its mother, and was deep asleep within minutes.

Telyn, however, was clearly still shaken by their encounter with the thieves. She sat on a stool beside the hearth, huddled under the shelter of her cloak even though the hut was quite warm. Almost in a trance, she slowly turned her unsheathed dagger over and over in her hands while staring vacantly into the dancing flames. The blade flashed brightly with each rotation.

Fflewddur noticed her disquiet and his brow wrinkled in concern. She had been through a great deal over the past several days, even without the fight against Ruawn—small wonder she seemed troubled. He hated to see it though… such a stark contrast to her lightheartedness in the days before. At a loss over how to help, he began to sing quietly, figuring it would calm his own unsettled nerves if nothing else.

The song did seem to help Telyn, though. Gradually—almost imperceptibly—the taut energy drained from her shoulders. Encouraged, Fflewddur sang a bit louder. She stopped fidgeting with the dagger. He sang more boldly still—one of the songs that had never failed to elicit a purr from Llyan. Telyn's eyes closed and her head cocked involuntarily toward the sound of his voice. Finally, the shadow of a smile—barely visible in the flickering firelight—rewarded the bard's efforts. Unseen across the room, he smiled in return. Apparently, he had not lost his touch after all, even without his harp.

When the fire burned low and the bard fell silent at last, Telyn stirred as if waking from a dream and looked over at him. Her mismatched eyes caught and held his for so long that he found himself counting the number of times she blinked—once… twice… thrice—before she turned wordlessly back to the hearth and cast her attention once more to the pulsing coals. Fflewddur's attention remained on her. In that particular moment, he would willingly have trod barefoot across those embers to know what burned within her thoughts.