Thwap! For the third time in a row, Telyn's wooden sparring sword found its mark, this time against Eilonwy's flank. The queen winced, more from embarrassment than the smart of the blow through her padded jacket, then scowled, huffed, and took a few paces around in a frustrated circle before facing Telyn again and readying herself for another bout.

Telyn merely stood there on the training ground, stance relaxed, giving her a wry look. "You're off. It's not like you to be so slipshod with your guard," she remarked.

Eilonwy huffed again, brushing an errant lock of hair out of her eyes and lowering her blade as well. "I don't know… I'm simply distracted today. Pay it no mind." In truth, she did know what bothered her; she knew all too well. But talking about it would mean pulling it out into the daylight of her consciousness, and that was not going to distract her any less.

"Not only today," Telyn pointed out. "Yesterday, too—and the day before that. Not only distracted, either; you've been snappish toward the servitors, contrarian toward the dignitaries, and unable to sit still for more than ten minutes at a time. What bee has been buzzing up your skirts of late?"

"What? No, I'm fine," Eilonwy said brusquely. "Truly, I am," she reiterated when Telyn raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"Hmm. Could have fooled me."

Eilonwy let out a low grumble. "That obvious, is it?"

"I've seen charging bulls be less obvious. Tell me—what is troubling you? If you need an open ear to complain to, you know I'm more than willing to listen," Telyn urged again.

"Oh, everything," Eilonwy sighed after one more moment of hesitation. "My patience is worn thinner than an old pair of slippers." She glanced up and around at the stony ramparts and towers surrounding them. "This castle feels more like a giant cage with each passing day. One would think I could tolerate it better, having grown up at Spiral Castle, of all places; Achren didn't exactly allow me to wander freely beyond its walls. But no, living at Caer Dallben must have spoiled me with the freedom to come and go more or less as I pleased…" She trailed off into a weighty pause.

"And…?" Telyn nudged.

Eilonwy bit down hard on her lip, trying to hold back the swell of resentment expanding hotly in her chest and stinging in her eyes. Finally, it burst forth in a single frustrated sob. "Oh, it's Taran, of course," she cried. "I've been itching to escape this place for weeks, and now he's gone off with Fflewddur—and you know it will turn into some sort of adventure, or at least something interesting, with those two involved—while I'm stuck here buried up to my chin in boring documents and mundane tasks. I shouldn't be so angry about it, but I am, and that makes me even angrier." She sucked in a deep breath and held it fast, hoping to push the surge of emotions back behind the dam.

"And…?" Telyn asked again, her steady gaze insistent, refusing escape.

Eilonwy released the pent-up breath in an extended huff, deflating like a punched loaf of risen bread dough. "And I'm worried for him," she admitted, closing her eyes to blink back a few rebellious tears. "All the more so because I am not there to see what is actually happening—with everything possible, I end up imagining the worst."

Telyn's mouth twisted in rueful empathy. "You are not alone in feeling thus," she said. "If the campaign in Talgarth does turn to battle, it will be the first in which I'm not at Fflewddur's side. Not that I could do much now to defend him, but at least I would know how he fared. Being here…" Her brow creased with lines of worry. "I admit, the uncertainty is making me restless, as well."

With a shake of her head, Eilonwy assumed her ready stance once more. "It's neither here nor there, though," she declared. "There is nothing to be done about it, so I ought not to let it bother me. Come. Let's continue."

Somewhat reluctantly, guessing that the brief outburst had done little to dispel Eilonwy's pent-up frustration, Telyn resumed her own position. Eilonwy lunged forcefully into an offensive this time, trying to channel her roiling energy into the match. At first, Telyn struggled to counter the fierce attack. Within a few more swings and thrusts and parries, however, Eilonwy's movements turned careless and Telyn's blade slipped around her guard yet again to touch down at the joint between shoulder and neck. Another loss.

"Oh, this is useless!" Eilonwy cried, flicking her practice sword to the ground in disgust. "My mind isn't in it, your mind is only half in it, and one of us is likely to end up losing an eye or a tooth if we continue."

Lowering her own weapon and sinking into one hip, Telyn wiped her streaming brow and took a weary look around the practice yard. Across the way, she spotted a pair of young scullery maids who had paused to watch them on their way to fetch water from the well. Telyn took a few steps toward Eilonwy. "Looks like we have an audience, too, which may or may not be to your liking," she said under her breath, flicking her head slightly in the girls' direction.

Eilonwy glanced over out of the corner of her eye. "Hmn. So now we're becoming a distraction in addition to being distracted."

Telyn gave an abrupt laugh. "Oh, that's been going on the entire time we've been at this—passersby craning their necks to catch a glimpse. I've not yet figured out whether it is the novelty of two woman engaging in swordplay, the fact that one is their high queen, or both…"

"Both, most likely." Eilonwy turned and waved amiably to the two girls, who promptly scurried off in embarrassment at being caught loitering. "I've seen those two before, come to think of it… If they have an interest, I do wish they would simply speak up instead of hovering about. It makes my skin prickle, knowing I'm being watched."

"I doubt it would occur to them that they could ask. You're the queen, after all, and I doubt they've ever dreamed that a woman might train for combat; this isn't Llyr, after all, with its highly-regarded sword-maidens."

While they were standing there, three washerwomen passed by in the opposite direction, heading out to the river with a laden cart of laundry in tow. The two older women in the group, seeing Eilonwy and Telyn in their rough training garb, frowned disapprovingly. The third woman's stride slowed as she passed, lagging behind the other two a pace, looking toward Eilonwy and Telyn with more curiosity than scorn—a fact which did not go unnoticed by her companions. One of them tsked over her shoulder at her, then muttered something reproving out of the side of her mouth. The young woman blushed a little and gave a quick shake of her head before all three continued on their way.

Eilonwy's back was turned toward them, but Telyn witnessed the exchange. Her countenance tightened. "You know… we could find a more secluded place to practice, if you'd prefer to avoid unwanted attention," she suggested. "My reputation as an oddity can't get much worse, but I'd hate for yours to suffer."

"What? No, no, no," Eilonwy argued. "I realize swordplay isn't considered a respectably ladylike pursuit, but seeing as I am a lady and I am engaging in it, I would say that neatly disproves the notion. I am not ashamed of it in the least."

"And you know I believe the same. I would not be here training with you otherwise," Telyn acknowledged. "Yet the sad fact remains, you won't change naysayer's minds overnight. Bear in mind, too, that a great deal of a queen's power arises from the sense of respect she inspires. If your subjects hold you in poor regard—however unfairly—on account of this, it may be worth exercising a bit more secrecy."

"Well, I don't see how naysayer's minds will change if they see only what they're inclined to agree with," Eilonwy protested. "Do you really think we ought to hide away?"

"Oh, you know my ways by now—for my part, I'm inclined to simply continue as I see fit and let others warm up to it or not," Telyn admitted. "But I am also not a queen."

Eilonwy gave an assertive shake of her head. "No, we will continue as we have been. This is the proper training ground and, as such, this is where we ought to train. However…" she added, blue eyes glinting like sunlight on clear water, "as for the matter of you not being a queen…"

"Don't change the subject," Telyn warned. Her tone was dry, but a rosy flush had risen into her cheeks.

"Now, how do you know what I was about to say? You did not even let me finish the statement," Eilonwy replied, feigning innocence.

"I can guess well enough, and it has naught to do with swordplay," Telyn retorted.

"Does it not?" Eilonwy continued with a suggestive smirk.

Telyn's flush deepened. Teasingly, she pointed the tip of her blade in Eilonwy's direction. "You're becoming entirely too saucy for your own good, Your Majesty, you know that?"

A musical laugh fluttered past Eilonwy's lips. "Well, look what company I keep! It's bound to rub off on me a little."

"Hmph. There must be a seed before a plant can sprout," Telyn rejoindered.

That elicited another chuckle. "Oh, come now—why won't you tell me where things stand between you and Fflewddur?" Eilonwy begged. "It's as plain as day that you two are mad for each other, and I know you've been spending a great deal of time together, and I don't see him being one to lead a woman on frivolously…"

"He is not."

"Which brings us back around to what I was attempting to ask before…"

"It is not so simple," Telyn interjected, cutting the question short for the second time, to which Eilonwy responded with a pout. "Things stand where they stand, and contentedly enough—and if anything changes, rest assured that you will be the first one I tell, my friend. But that has no bearing on our current business. If we plan to continue sparring, we would do well to get back to it."

Eilonwy looked dejectedly over at her practice sword, lying abandoned on the hard-packed ground a few feet away. Grudgingly, she strode over and stooped to retrieve it. Telyn, now slightly flustered despite her quick-tongued retorts, momentarily set down her own blade so as to unbind and fussily re-plait her hair, though only a few strands had come loose from their tight braid. For a few moments, the pair stood there wordlessly, each stirring their own pot of thoughts.

Then, Telyn cast her gaze to the gatehouse. "You wish to cut the sparring short?" she asked. "To be free of Caer Dathyl for a while?"

"Good Llyr, yes," Eilonwy enthused, spinning back around to face her.

"Then let us go. I've been meaning to take a trip up Hawk Hill for a while now. I spotted a patch of toothache-wood growing on its lower slopes, so I'm guessing there might be more higher up that I could gather. There were a few old, overgrown trails, too, and I'm curious to see where they lead." Eilonwy did not reply immediately, so Telyn pressed on. "We could ask Gurgi along, too. He's sure to want a break from castle life as much as we. It will be like old times—far better, really, since we won't have Cauldron-Born and such ilk chasing after us."

After a second thought, Eilonwy's bright expression fell. "I'm not sure I can afford to…" she demurred, frowning regretfully. "Another day, and there are another hundred things to be done—an endless scroll, rolling out across the desk."

"Yet, you sound as though you want to be convinced otherwise…" Telyn countered. "Come. You can spare a few hours—we can ride for a good part of the way and be back by early afternoon. I'm sure Medyr and Cadfan can manage everything in the meantime. Besides, I don't think it would hurt to make people wait for you once in a while; you cannot allow your subjects to get into the habit of being more demanding than their queen."

"Mmmmmm…. All right. You've convinced me," Eilonwy agreed at last, grinning. "Meet you at the stables shortly? I must go deliver Medyr the news that he'll need to hold everyone at bay until my return."

"Of course—I will go track down Gurgi in the meantime. I suspect he'll need some time to ready himself; no doubt he'll want to make a run through the kitchens for 'crunchings and munchings' to take along."


Within the hour, the three companions were cantering down the slope from Caer Dathyl and striking out southwestward, into the exhilarating sweep of a cool breeze. Hawk Hill rose up in the distance, perched at the nexus of a fork in the valley, its long but sharply sloped crest echoing the broad wings of Mount Eagle. It was a fairly easy ride to reach it, over broad fields and across a few shallow streams that wound down from the highlands. The lower reaches of the hill were navigable on horseback, and in short order Telyn had led her companions to the point where she'd previously spotted a stretch of overgrown trail. The centerline of it was hard-packed enough to have remained clear in spite of disuse, but underbrush crowded its flanks as it snaked upward toward the summit. The three tethered their steeds on a fairly level patch in the shade of a rowan tree and proceeded on foot.

It was a pleasant climb, for all that they had to keep a close watch on their footing, eliciting a sense of freedom as boundless as the clear blue sky above. Gurgi was panting a little—from happiness as much as exertion, it seemed—and the two women conversed lightly while Telyn scanned the surrounding rocks for the plants she sought.

Yet, as they climbed higher and the terrain thrust up into starker relief, it pushed Eilonwy's thoughts back in time to another rocky slope—one even steeper, colder, filled with snow, and rife with more sinister dangers than the straightforward risks of a twisted ankle or treacherous fall. It was enough to still her tongue and quash her earlier lightness of heart. Although the early autumn sun fell warmly across her shoulders, she found herself shuddering from within.

"Telyn… Was it difficult for you having Iscawin around during the Great Council?" she asked suddenly after an unwontedly long period of silence. She paused to glance up at her friend, who was picking her way along a few paces ahead.

Telyn's focused, calm demeanor shifted in an instant; Eilonwy could see the tension enter her back, though there was no break in her stride. She took a few more steps before answering. "I won't deny that it was a relief when he returned to Arvon," she acknowledged, then halted to turn and look back, her brows slightly drawn. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, it just popped into mind…" Eilonwy answered as she resumed her own climb, skirting a few tufts of taller grass that poked up in the middle of the narrow path. "He is to return fairly soon to oversee his warriors. I thought I should ask how just how much that will trouble you… to make accommodations, you know. I could hardly stand to look at him myself after hearing how he treated you, so I imagine it might make your blood curdle to be in his presence…"

Telyn uttered a grunt of contempt as she, too, continued on her way. "To be honest, I did not expect it to be quite so unsettling this many years on," she remarked. "It's not as if he ever did lay a hand on me, after all. Oh, he came close—far too close, and more than once—but I always managed to evade him. But I would never have thought the fear and rage would return so strongly even now. I can bear it, though; do not worry over his return on my account."

"Hmm. I… I think I understand," Eilonwy said, quietly enough that the breeze nearly carried her voice away. Telyn did hear, though, and the undertone behind the words caught her full attention. She stopped again and looked sharply over her shoulder at the young queen, who was trudging along with her gaze fixed low on the path immediately ahead. A long pause hovered in the thin air: Telyn waiting to see if Eilonwy would say more, and Eilonwy weighing how much she was willing to divulge.

"What happened?" Telyn ventured at last, gently. "Not specifically, if you'd rather not speak of it, but in broad terms…"

"Oh, about the same as what happened to you, from the sound of it…" Eilonwy replied with feigned indifference and a dismissive wave of her hand, "…without the murder, of course. A narrow escape, nothing more."

"A narrow escape is not nothing. What befell you?"

Eilonwy hesitated again, both in speech and motion, on the verge of brushing the conversation aside entirely, but the earnest concern in Telyn's eyes tipped her restrained words beyond their point of balance. "It was in the Hills of Bran Galedd last winter," she began. She strove to keep her tone easy, but could feel a tendril of anxiety twining up from within, squeezing her chest in the same manner it had earlier, when her memories had turned back to that terrifying evening. "When Gurgi and I were separated from the group, we crossed paths with Dorath's band of mercenaries," she explained. "Well, from what Fflewddur said of your encounter with him years ago, you know what sort of villain Dorath was. Our situation looked dire enough to begin with, when he thought I was simply a boy run off from the host of warriors. But once he realized I was a 'wench', as he put it—" She halted abruptly and did not finish. That invisible vine had pulled tight—too tight—forbidding a full disclosure. To describe what might have transpired would cause it to actually play out in her mind's eye, a vision she never wanted to see.

"Nothing actually happened," she finally said, brusquely. "No real harm came to me. Medwyn's wolves arrived just in time and made quick work of Dorath and his men. It was close, though…" She moved to take another step forward, but found her legs were suddenly unsteady and her stomach queasy as her mind relived what had transpired and a fresh wave of dread surged through her in kind. "I still have nightmares about it sometimes…" she added in a murmur. "I don't know why, when everything turned out all right, but I do…"

"Does Taran know? Have you spoken to him about it?" Telyn asked, drawing closer and reaching out a hand to settle on her friend's arm.

"Yes, I told him—not right away, but I did in the end. It… it helped a little," Eilonwy replied with a slight frown. "But not enough to make me forget it completely."

Telyn nodded sympathetically. "I do not think anything could manage that," she said quietly. She paused a moment before continuing. "There is no real medicine for it—not even time, it seems. The images fade, but they do reappear from time to time…" She breathed in deeply then released a heavy sigh. "I am truly sorry to hear that you, too, have such memories haunting you."

Eilonwy shrugged and pulled away from Telyn to continue her upward march, but the gesture seemed as forced as it was. "It's foolish," she asserted as she strode onward. "I should not be so bothered by something that never happened. I might as well fret over a lightning bolt that never struck ground."

"No, it's not foolish," countered Telyn, hurrying after her. She reached out a hand again—this time to stop Eilonwy and turn her around. She looked at her squarely. "Being at the mercy of a vile brute like Dorath… Being made to feel so defenseless… Knowing that no matter how hard you fought back, you likely wouldn't escape… That robs you of something. The world never feels quite as safe after that. Unfamiliar men never seem as trustworthy. It lights an anger in you, deep and seething. Do not berate yourself for being troubled by it—for not shaking it off like a bad dream. Those feelings are all too real, even if the terrible thing that caused them never actually came to pass."

Eilonwy averted her gaze and drew inward, folding her arms across herself guardedly, hugging her waist. She nodded but said nothing. A long silence fell, the only sound that of a restless wind coursing over the slopes and rustling the grasses around them, an invisible yet forceful hand.

"We needn't speak any more of it now. But we can talk any time you wish, for however much it may help," Telyn offered. "And we can do things, too… Has the weapons training eased your mind at all? I know gaining strength and skill has made me feel less vulnerable."

"Yes… It does seem to help somewhat," Eilonwy acknowledged. "That is part of why this came to mind today, I suppose… and why I want other young women to see us training and join in. If it helps you and me, it may help others as well. Not many of them will want to learn the ways of weaponry and defense, I'd wager, but for however many do, I would like them to have that chance."

"I see no real obstacle to that," Telyn answered. "Oh, I know I mentioned naysayers earlier, but they will probably be small stones to trip over, nothing you cannot surmount. You are the High Queen, after all—and the blood of Llyrian Sword-Maidens flows in your veins. If you pronounce that you are restoring a part of your heritage, I doubt anyone will oppose you openly. At worst, they will forbid their daughters from taking part. But others may actually see the value in it and encourage them to—"

Without warning, a great rattle and scrabble of leaves and brush drowned out the rest of Telyn's words and Gurgi scampered back into view, nearly colliding with Eilonwy in his haste.

"Come! Come! Look what keen-eyed Gurgi has found with seekings and peekings!" he cried breathlessly, hopping up and down and gesturing excitedly for Eilonwy and Telyn to follow him. "Oh, clever Gurgi always finds what is lost and hidden!"

"What is it?" Eilonwy asked. "How far ahead?"

"Not far, not far! Oh, strange and wondrous secret! Follow and see!" Immediately, he turned about and scrambled off the way he had come, with Eilonwy and Telyn in as close a pursuit as they could manage. Together, they clambered their way over a small ridge and found themselves on what appeared to be a new path, narrower and even more overgrown than the one they'd previously followed, and winding more steeply up toward the crest of the hill. It was slow-going as they pushed their way through the underbrush and sidestepped several large boulders, but they eventually reached a more level shoulder not far below the summit.

"See? See?" Gurgi cried, waving his arms with delight. Eilonwy and Telyn looked upward and gaped.

There before them stood the remains of an ancient tower, roughly as tall as five men and seemingly hewn from the rocky hill itself. Obscured by the surrounding scrub and patchworked with lichen and moss, it blended almost seamlessly with its surroundings. A few of the upper crenellations had fractured and tumbled to the ground, but the structure looked mostly intact and sturdy enough to explore. Swiftly as they dared, the companions climbed up the narrow, shallow, spiraling steps and emerged onto an upper platform. A broad, blackened hollow in the center of the space, etched with a mysterious sigil, looked to have held many a signal blaze in times past.

Eilonwy went right to the tower's edge and leaned upon its slight parapet, gazing in wonder at the scene below. "What a view!" she exclaimed. "You can see so much in one sweep from here—southward along Ystrad, and even where the lowlands twist around that bend toward the west." She drew in a deep breath of the crisp, thin air as a wild breeze whipped loose strands of hair about her face and scattered her dark thoughts like spent storm-clouds.

Gurgi and Telyn were equally awestruck, excited, and windblown. "I wonder how long this has been here… and how long ago it was abandoned," Telyn mused. "A good while on both counts, judging by how overgrown it is." She brushed her fingers lightly over one of the countless splotches of lichen. "These living crusts can take a lifetime to spread so far."

"I suppose it was built at the same time as Caer Dathyl? No, wait—that symbol in the fire bowl… I saw one much the same in the throne room of King Eiddileg!"

"A Fair Folk outpost?" Telyn let out an impressed whistle. "That would explain it being carved from the hill in one piece… and those shallow steps, too; must've been some of Doli's kin." Even more curious now, she strode to the edge of the fire basin and crouched down to trace the smaller runes bordering its rim.

"Oh, wonderful watchtower for spyful scoutings!" Gurgi cried with delight as he scuttled past Telyn and hopped right into the center of the basin. "Now it can be useful again, thanks to sharp-eyed Gurgi!"

"Indeed, it can," Eilonwy answered with a grin. "I cannot imagine why it might have been abandoned, though… and clearly for much longer than the few months it has been since the Fair Folk retreated from Prydain."

Telyn shrugged. "Perhaps it was built to keep watch on Caer Dathyl when the Children of Don first arrived; I imagine the Fair Folk were wary of them for quite a while. Then they abandoned it once trust was established?"

"Perhaps… Still, it seems like such a useful lookout point," Eilonwy went on. "I mean, you can see all the way to Caer Dathyl from here…" Looking that way, she squinted as something caught her eye not far from the stronghold: a lone rider bearing toward them. Gurgi and Telyn followed her gaze, tracking the man for a while as he rode swiftly through the valley along much the same path they had taken earlier. "Oh, look—I believe it's the messenger from Talgarth. He must be returning home now," Eilonwy added once he was close enough to recognize. "That's odd, though… He claimed to be a farmer, but that is no farm horse he rides. And Talgarth is southeast of here, so why is he veering off westward instead of following Ystrad?"

The companions watched the rider until he disappeared under the cover of the woodlands that skirted the mountains. As they did so, a vague uneasiness seeped into them, dampening their earlier excitement and furrowing their brows. Had the messenger's news been nothing but lies? Had he sent Taran and the warriors of Caer Dathyl on a fool's errand—or worse, into a trap? Or, was he truly from Talgarth but now carrying news of Taran's departure elsewhere? To Arvon? To Madoc? Both lay to the west…

Eilonwy shuddered, although the wind was no colder than before. "I think perhaps we should be getting back…" she said slowly. "I have been away too long already." Neither Telyn nor Gurgi breathed a word; they simply nodded in agreement and headed somberly—and quickly—back down the tower stairs. Eilonwy lingered behind a few moments more, continuing to scan the westward valley, hands clenching the parapet edge, fingernails digging into the rough-hewn stone. Then, with a quavering sigh, she pushed away, turned, and followed her companions.

More questions. More worries. More ominous riddles with no answers in sight. A fractured castle to defend, and no knowledge of when Taran would return—or even how he fared.

The wind whispered to her again: unintelligible insights about survival, voiced by all of those living and stony things that withstood it. If only she could understand…


.


A/N: Apologies for starting the chapter on a bright note then taking things for a dark turn instead of the other way around, but I've got to harden you all up for the winter to come. ;)

Quick botany note of the week... toothache-wood is the English translation of a plant the Welsh supposedly call "pren y ddannoedd", AKA Sedum rosea, rose-root, rhodiola. It's still used today in alternative medicine, but I haven't researched the efficacy of it.