"Cadwallon! May I have a word with you?" Telyn shouted across the training grounds.

The war leader looked up from the archery target he was placing, cupped a hand above his brow against the sun, and squinted to see who hailed him. Recognizing Telyn, he strode over across the hard-packed yard. The handful of young men standing nearby, awaiting their training session, looked on with curiosity.

"Yes, milady?" he asked as he approached. "How may I be of assistance?"

"I would like instruction in the use of weaponry," she replied amiably.

More than a little surprised, Cadwallon said nothing at first. Telyn quirked her eyebrows, urging him to answer. "Ah… I mean no disrespect, but that is a rather unusual request, coming from a lady…" he replied at last, "…and I am afraid I must decline."

Telyn's friendly expression hardened. "For what cause?"

"Well…" he hesitated again, choosing his words carefully. "I would not know where to begin training a woman in the ways of combat. With so great a difference in size and strength—"

"As I heard it, you are an experienced warrior who has trained many others," Telyn said, cutting him off. "Am I mistaken?"

Cadwallon bristled slightly, and drew himself up proudly. "No, you were not mistaken," he said brusquely. "I have served this house proudly and well for nigh on twenty-five years, and trained scores of men in that time."

"And youths among them, I assume? Twelve years of age? Thirteen?" Telyn continued. She cast a glance at the loitering squires, all of whom were gawping at her, then back at Cadwallon. Her chin cocked upward in challenge.

"I have…" Cadwallon replied, suspicious of where her argument was leading him.

"Well, I am at least as strong as a twelve-year-old boy," Telyn stated matter-of-factly. "So, train me as you would train such a one."

Cadwallon frowned. "There is also the matter of time, milady. If you are departing for Caer Dathyl as soon as planned, there is scant opportunity for any sort of proper training."

"Perhaps not, but you could lay a solid foundation upon which to build when we return," Telyn argued, undeterred. "I assure you, my memory is keen—I shall not forget whatever you do have time to teach me."

Cadwallon blinked several times without answering. Telyn continued to stare him down—no easy feat, as the war leader stood more than a head taller than she. Cadwallon stared back, his ice-blue eyes glinting down at her over his high-bridged nose. Telyn widened her stance and crossed her arms defiantly. Some muted snickers passed among the waiting squires. Fortunately, Fflewddur and Gurgi happened by just then, and broke the stalemate.

"Ah, there you are, Telyn!" Fflewddur called out cheerily. "We were wondering where you'd gotten off to." He glanced back and forth from her to Cadwallon. "I sense some tension in the air… Is there a battle brewing?"

"Cadwallon and I were just discussing the matter of combat training," Telyn replied, her gaze still fixed on the war leader. "Namely, my desire to obtain some."

"And I was explaining to Lady Telyn that it would be highly unusual—if not downright scandalous—for a woman to engage in combat training," Cadwallon broke in, his voice coldly polite and deliberately steady.

"What is scandalous about me wanting the ability to defend myself?" Telyn interjected. Her tone matched Cadwallon's deadly calm; had she still been a cat, her tail would have been switching back and forth in warning.

Fflewddur thought it best to interject. "Cadwallon, you do remember what Telyn's temperament was like in her former—well—form, do you not? Never one to be dissuaded, nor one to let prey escape once she had it in her paws?"

Cadwallon nodded reluctantly.

"From what I can tell, that has not changed one bit," Fflewddur warned. "So, if she has set her mind on acquiring some combat skills, it would probably be wise to assist her. Otherwise," he added, "you might find her 'borrowing' some of your weapons without your leave and setting out to teach herself."

"Heed, heed!" Gurgi cried. "Mountain cat maiden is kind and gentle to friends, but can be commanding and demanding, too! Even fearsome warriors should think twice before denying her willful wishes," he cautioned, shaking his head emphatically.

Cadwallon glanced back at Telyn. She replied with a smirk.

"You will not find her courage lacking," Fflewddur went on. "She has saved my own hide more than once—and not only as a mountain cat, either. Why, in the course of our journey here, she stopped a thief from skewering me like a collop of meat! These are still dangerous times, Cadwallon; it seems entirely reasonable that Telyn would want to bolster her strength. And I cannot think of a better man to train her than you!"

Cadwallon shifted his weight uneasily and scowled a little in consternation.

"All right, all right," he relented at last, raising his hands in surrender. "I have my reservations, but I cannot refuse the orders of my king. I shall train you, milady, if you are truly willing. But be forewarned," he added sternly, "I am no easy task-master. I expect diligence, fortitude, and no complaints."

"I would expect nothing less—and I shall deliver all three counts," Telyn replied. She broke into a warm smile. "You have my thanks, Cadwallon."

"Could humble Gurgi receive training, too?" Gurgi piped up tentatively. "He would like to learn the art of smitings and fightings, but alas, none have had time to teach him! If he, too, could learn from noble war leader, no more would he fear thwackings and whackings of his poor tender head!"

Cadwallon sighed, but nodded his consent.

"Excellent! You shall commence this very day!" Fflewddur decreed. "I see you were setting up for some archery practice already—that would be a fine place to begin. In fact, I think I shall join you for a while myself." He clapped his frustrated war leader on the shoulder and left to gather up some bows.


Whether or not Cadwallon's rigorous training sessions would increase Gurgi's fighting skill remained to be seen. By the end of the very first lesson, however, they had increased his already prodigious appetite twice over. No sooner had Cadwallon called a halt for the evening than Gurgi scampered straight from the practice grounds to the kitchen, hoping to scrounge up a few morsels while Delyth's back was turned. Busy as she was, he was nearly successful—nearly, but not quite.

"Oy! Get out of there, you!" Delyth cried, rapping Gurgi lightly on the knuckles with a wooden spoon. "Those loaves are for breakfast tomorrow. Gracious Don, they've only just finished a first rising, let alone been baked!"

"Gurgi is sorry," the creature said sheepishly, pulling his hand back and sucking on his smarting fingers. "He is just so very hungry for crunchings and munchings after learning the ways of fearsome fightings all day." He climbed up onto a footstool to look more closely at the vegetables Delyth was about to chop. "Are there no snips and snaps that he might have, to quiet his rumbling belly?"

"Supper will be in just a few hours, my dear. I won't have you spoiling your appetite," she replied. Gurgi looked up at her piteously, then back down at the vegetables, then back up once more. "Ach, such a little beggar you are! You know all too well I haven't the heart to turn you away hungry," Delyth said, as she brushed a loose strand of hair out of her eyes and wiped her hands on her apron. "I'll give you a spot of something to tide you over. However," she went on, "from here on out, my boy, you'll need to earn your extra munchings."

"Gurgi will! Oh, yes—he is always ready for handy helping! Especially if it comes with crunchings!"

"All right then." Delyth went over to one of the many sacks and barrels piled up in the larder, and scooped out a bowlful of walnuts. "You know how to handle a kitchen knife, do you not?" Gurgi nodded enthusiastically. "Well these need to be cracked, and then chopped up fine—not too fine, mind you, but into nice little pea-sized chunks." She set the bowl before Gurgi and handed him a sturdy knife. "And no sneaking any while you're at it. I'll give you an apple as reward for finishing your work."

Gurgi nodded and set to work while Delyth looked on. He handled the knife a bit clumsily at first, but steadily improved as he made his way through the pile of nuts. Once all of them were chopped, he scooped them back into the bowl as carefully as if they were precious gems, and proudly bore them over to show Delyth.

"Quite good!" she said encouragingly. She reached into a barrel and tossed a glossy apple his way. "And here is your reward, as promised—a precious one, too, since we've hardly any left from the last harvest. You're lucky it's cold enough here for them to keep." Gurgi had snatched the fruit out of the air and taken a juicy bite before the cook had even finished speaking. In a few more blinks of an eye, he had wolfed it down, core and all.

"Well!" Delyth exclaimed. "If you're that quick about it, you can do a bit more for me. Those walnuts are for that bread you were trying to slink off with earlier. You can help me knead them in." She led Gurgi over to the table where the loaves were rising. "On second thought…" she said, looking from the pristine mounds of dough to Gurgi's furry palms and back again, "perhaps we'd better find another task for you. Let's have you mind the cookpot for a while—keep it from burning to the bottom. It's not the most exciting work, but the important things seldom are, no?"

Gurgi smiled wide and plucked up a spoon half as tall as he was, wielding it as gallantly as the finest of swords. Two things he would protect above all else: his friends, and his food.


A few evenings later, as the denizens of Caer Fflam gathered in the Great Hall for supper, Fflewddur noticed Cadwallon was sporting a sizeable lump on his forehead.

"Great Belin, did that happen in the training session this afternoon?" exclaimed the bard.

Cadwallon flushed slightly beneath his gray streaked beard. His mouth twitched a little, and he cleared his throat roughly. "Yes… Things got a bit more, ah… vigorous than I anticipated for a first round of sword training…"

"So it appears," Fflewddur said, scrutinizing the angry purplish bruise. "How did Gurgi fare?"

"Well enough," Cadwallon answered with a shrug. "He is not without promise, if he can keep his mind on the fighting instead of his appetite." Both of them glanced over at Gurgi, who was eyeing the waiting platters of food like a miser might eye waist-high stacks of gold.

"And Telyn?" Fflewddur asked, a bit warily. Judging by Cadwallon's abashed demeanor, he had a sinking feeling that injury was her doing.

Cadwallon snorted. "Ha! I wouldn't have gone against her when she was a mountain cat, and I'd still think twice about it. She has much to learn, but she is tenacious, clever… strong for her size and even stronger of will." He smiled ruefully and shook his head. "Belin help the man who tangles with her. You mark my words," he added with a pointed glance, "whether in passion or in pain, the poor fool who does that will be devoured alive."

Fflewddur swallowed hard. The war leader shook his head again and—rather stiffly—moved to take his seat at the table. Fflewddur noticed he sat down more gingerly than usual upon the hard bench; his tailbone, it seemed, had taken a beating along with his pride.

Just then, Telyn herself swept into the Hall. She'd taken the time to change out of her coarse training garb and back in a flowing gown, although her hair still looked a bit mussed from her earlier exertions. Breezily, she took her customary seat between Fflewddur and Gurgi at the high table.

"So, I heard the first sword-skill lesson went well for you," Fflewddur noted. "Have a care not to abuse poor Cadwallon too much, though—seasoned war leaders like him are difficult to come by," he added in jest.

Telyn looked confused at first, then broke into a wide grin. "Oh, that!" She shook her head. "That was a lucky hit—or unlucky, depending upon whose eyes you're looking through. It was more surprise than skill, of which I have precious little yet. Fortunately, Cadwallon is a patient instructor… for the most part."

"He would have to be," Fflewddur laughed. "He taught me, after all. And the truth of it is, I was never the most attentive pupil."

"Why does that not surprise me?" Telyn teased. "You turned out to be an admirable warrior in the end, though, so you must have paid some attention."

"Eventually," Fflewddur said. "Though nowhere near as soon as I should have."

"Better late than never at all," Telyn replied. She plucked up her goblet and raised it in toast: "To Cadwallon's forbearance!"

"Here, here!" agreed Fflewddur. "Long may it endure—I have a feeling he will continue to need it."


Nearly a month passed before the companions finally set out again for Caer Dathyl. Yet, even that was too soon to satisfy Fflewddur's subjects, who gathered in the Great Hall to bid a fond farewell.

For all his hard talk and initial misgivings, Cadwallon had grown fond of Telyn and Gurgi, who had proven to be eager, determined pupils. Telyn's irreverent tongue made for some interesting banter, besides. The old war leader stepped forward, and shook their hands firmly. "I expect you to continue practicing, you hear? I haven't the patience to start from scratch when you return." His tone was as brusque as ever, but it could not mask the spark of respect and affection in his eyes.

Telyn grinned and Gurgi nodded vigorously.

"Good. You've made fine progress already. Keep at it, and I'll make warriors of you yet," Cadwallon added with a smile.

Ovan, too, stepped forward and embraced each of the companions in turn.

"My thanks to you, Lady Telyn," said he, "for speaking with me about what it was like to live as a mountain cat, and to serve as a steed. I think I understand the horses and falcons in my care a fair bit better now. And that has given me some ideas about how to improve the stables and mews, which the animals are sure to like."

"It was my pleasure," Telyn replied. "And my thanks to you, Ovan, for your hospitality in years past. I recall giving your other charges quite a fright at first, but you never once seemed to hold that against me."

Delyth was especially grieved by the companions' departure. She had enjoyed having another lady in the household to fuss over and gossip to. She had also taken a particular fancy to Gurgi, who had regularly haunted her kitchens after that first cooking lesson. Although she had to be watchful that none of his shaggy fur ended up in the cookpot, he had turned out to be a devoted assistant with a keen interest in the finer points of cookery. As a parting gift, she presented him with an apron of his own, embroidered with his name at the hem.

"For humble, helpful Gurgi?" he asked. His voice wavered and he teared up slightly at the thoughtfulness of the gift.

"Why of course you dear, rumpled little lamb!" Delyth cried, enveloping him in a motherly hug. "Every cook worth his salt needs a fine apron. You in particular, if you don't mind my saying so—it will keep your fur out of the food, and the food out of your fur."

"Now Gurgi is ready for all mixings and fixings, and slicings and dicings!" He beamed with delight, clutching the apron to his chest.

Even Baeddan was sorry to see the companions go, and not only because it meant the inconvenient absence of his king. Visitors to Caer Fflam were rare at best, so he had enjoyed the opportunity to play his role as Chief Steward to the fullest. He still had a list of outstanding tasks and questions for Fflewddur as long as the Great Hall was wide, but he had served his king long enough to recognize when the man's rambling foot began to twitch. The cottagers' numerous concerns had been settled, more or less; the deferred castle maintenance had mostly been set to rights; and all major events for the year had been scheduled to his satisfaction. The rest, he could handle on his own—as usual.

"Safe travels, Your Majesty," he said with a deep bow to Fflewddur. "And it was the greatest pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Telyn and Gurgi. You are welcome at Caer Fflam any time you see fit to visit." As they moved to leave, he lightly caught Telyn's arm and leaned close to her ear. "And the sooner you return the better, if you can manage to drag him back with you," he whispered, making the subtlest of nods in Fflewddur's direction. "No doubt a fair lady such as you will be more convincing in that regard than a stodgy old steward like myself."


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A/N: An almost entirely superfluous, just-for-fun chapter here, and I make no apologies. I wasn't ready to leave Caer Fflam quite yet, and Gurgi needed a cameo. Besides, it shows a slightly different sort of reaction to the woman-wants-combat-skills scenario in the previous chapter. *shrug* What is fanfiction if not a venue for a little self-indulgence at times?