6. Hen Wen
Sitting on Melynlas, Taran listened in silence to the sounds of the caravan, the cracking wheels of the carts, the hooves of the horses, and people around him laughing and singing. The mood was as cheerful and bright as the sun, but Taran felt doubtful instead. All that had happened in the last few weeks passed by in his mind, and everything seemed to raise more questions than give answers. How could he become a good High King without any preparation? All the work he had put on his shoulders, all the promises he had made… was it too much? Then, the first thing that had happened was the loss - under his own roof, right in front of his eyes - of the forgotten knowledge he wanted to share with the good people of Prydain. Gwydion was right, evil was still among them. He touched the hilt of Dyrnwyn, but no flaming sword would be of any help here. And the sudden transformation of Caer Dallben. Would he have noticed it at all if he had not forgotten the tapestry? Or was the tapestry forgotten to force him to return, to see the effect? Should he, instead, have joined the Golden Ships to the Summer Country, and married Eilonwy there, and lived an easy life? The more he thought, the more complex it all seemed.
Finally, he asked Arianllyn her council, but it was Eilonwy, riding before him, who put it to rest: "You can trouble your poor head as long as you want, and bite your nails as if your fingers were carrots, but it will be of no help. We made the decision to move on, so it is best to leave it behind you. At least for now. And if I may remind you, my beloved High King of Prydain, I am riding in front of you, so please keep looking forward!" And that was that.
He followed her advice and he noted that his mood grew brighter indeed. He straightened his back and looked around the troupe of people around him. They were there out of friendship, out of loyalty. There was Master Hevydd and Llasser, forming an unusual but by now inseparable duo. Llassar, young and in full spirit, was explaining something to Hevydd, who listened attentively, agreeing from time to time with a loud grunt. It was Hevydd who started a slow song in his deep voice, surprisingly musically, which was picked up by several in unison. Afterwards Taran complimented him, which the smith answered with an almost shy nod.
Behind him, Taran could hear the ongoing chatter of queen Kigva, with several servants riding around doing…well, he couldn't grasp what they were doing, but it seemed she needed them. King Manawyddan gave the impression of being happy to be outside, while keeping a sharp eye on the caravan and giving instructions where needed. Curious, Taran watched them and tried to imagine Eilonwy and himself in the same place, older. After a while he shook off the image, not sure what he wanted to see. Looking ahead, he watched Lluagor carrying Eilonwy. He noticed how well she fit in for this kind of travelling, chatting with the company, enjoying nature and sleeping in the open air. This was Eilonwy at her best. Watching her, he felt warm and proud that she had decided to stay in Prydain and join him. She always seemed to be able to just live in the moment. He had to admit it brought a careless feeling within him as well. Giving up his pondering, he gave rein to Melynlas until he was next to Eilonwy. He looked at her with a grin from ear to ear. He would be part of this caravan, wherever it would take him, as long as she was with him. With a smile she welcomed him back. "Wonderful! You are with us again!"
They made, of course, a brief stop at Caer Cadarn. King Smoit's great hall was loaded that night with food, and drink, and laughter, as he insisted every member of the caravan should join the feast. A corner was even made for Hen Wen and her family. Taran learned from Smoit that there was no sign of either Teirnyon or Captain Ervyll. "By my blood and bones! We will catch them! That cowardly fool Teirnyon will not escape and Ervyll…" His voice suddenly lowered and calmed down. He brought his face closer to Taran. "I actually gave him permission to find out about his family. He has a very strong bond with his brother. And I once learned from an Assistant Pig-Keeper how important those family ties can be." He was silent for a short moment as if his thoughts drifted away. Then suddenly he pulled a leg of roasted meat towards him, hold it above his head and roared "At least we know your station now, High King of Prydain! Eat! Eat like a king!" With a wild laughter, he attacked his food and no serious word came out for a long time. Taran heard Eilonwy chatting next to him, " …and if we have a great hall, and I suppose we will, because a castle seems to be no castle without, I think we need proper napkins." Taran grinned and took a bite himself.
The next morning, the caravan resumed the journey to the north. A group approached the castle of King Smoit, and Taran could spot the banners of Lord Gast and Lord Goryon. In moments, the two rivals stood before him and, without any false intentions or boasting, they offered their help at Caer Dathyl. With a reassuring nod from Smoit, Taran accepted them. "Let them feel important and they will help you endlessly. Just put them both at the opposite ends of Caer Dathyl just to be sure," Smoit said to him sidelong, while walking over to Kigva and giving her a big farewell hug, as if she were a long lost relative, while she muttered some specific suggestions in the field of improving hygienics, which Smoit greatly accepted but clearly would not follow.
Further the caravan went, a colorful procession, with people tagging along on the way. Curious about the High King they offered help or simply wanted to come near, sensing he would soon be quite unreachable in a castle. He had to hold babies, shake hands and promise a safe future and a rich harvest for those who had lost more the year before than they could bear.
Taran watched the slopes surrounding the valley of the Ystrad river, with its dense woods. Once, it seemed in another lifetime, he had been tired and desperate to chase the army of the Horned King. Right now, he enjoyed the ash trees towards the hills and the lower vegetation they rode alongside. It seemed full of life, this place; small animals made their way to the woods to escape the hooves of the caravan. He gestured Melynlas closer to Eilonwy who welcomed him with a tender smile. "Without Hen Wen we would not be riding here." Taran said. "She started everything somehow. I wonder sometimes if Dallben knew that or if he was surprised all unfolded like that."
They rode in silence for a while. Then Eilonwy said, "Maybe it was because you were so fond of Hen. After all you were the best Assistant-Pigkeeper in Prydain. But maybe you would not have been if not for Hen Wen." Mildly confused, Taran looked at her in surprise and said a silent prayer that Eilonwy's brain would not ever change to that of any ordinary woman. Earlier in his life he had called her scatter-brained, but he'd become fond of her way of thinking, whether he could understand it or not. "Let's make a big spoiled-pig sty for Hen in Caer Dathyl," he said, smiling.
At the end of each day, the caravan came slowly to a hold to setup a camp for the night. Bedrolls were laid out, fires were made and food was shared. Taran noticed everybody helping everybody, and somehow he and Eilonwy were taken care of as much as possible by whomever was nearby. Suddenly there was a small carpet and pillows, blankets. Someone started to hang a curtain in a tree and that was enough for Eilonwy. "Please stop this…this…kindness! It is like you are trying to put a castle inside out! I like to sleep without frills and fuss when I am outside! Thank you, really, but it is too much!" And then when they were left alone, to Taran, "You will do nicely enough as a blanket!"
With red cheeks, Taran went off to attend Hen Wen and her familly.
With several loud "hoinch!" greetings in different voices, the pig family left the cart, like they did every evening at the camp. Immediately, some kids (and adults) gathered to admire the little piglets and play with them. Hen Wen pressed her snout against Taran, who had to make an effort to keep standing. He cuddled her chin, and watched her for a while. He noticed her skin was weary, maybe from travelling. Her bristly hair was thin and, to his surprise, grey. He looked her in the face and whispered more to himself than to her, "How old are you Hen, what is happening to you?"
Hen Wen looked back at him as if in understanding and he noticed her happy round face had become sort of melancholy. He felt a sudden knot in his stomach and felt his hands shaking. Llassar happened to walk by and Taran urged him, "Please can you get Eilonwy here." Llassar noticed the look in his face and went without further question.
Eilonwy came in a hurry with Arianllyn and Hevydd beside her. They all saw the tears in Taran's eyes while he held the pig in his arms as if she was his last friend in the world. "What is going on, is she ill?" Eilonwy started and came closer, while others gave them space. "Is she not feeling well?"
Taran turned his head towards Eilonwy and sniffed. "She is getting old!" He petted the back of Hen Wen softly. "I fear she is changing too." Some piglets came around, sniffing at them and getting close to Hen Wen, who gently broke loose from Taran's grip, putting her attention to her family. Taran smiled through his tears to see Hen Wen still being tender, but old now.
Later, when they gathered to eat some bites, Taran asked Llassar his knowledge of how old pigs usually could become. Llassar's mouth opened and shut immediately. After some thinking he struggled to answer. "I..I am not sure , sire, Taran, euh, …maybe 10, 12 springs? It is hard to say. When I was tending the cattle at home, they had maybe a rougher life than Hen Wen had at Caer Dallben. But then I never had pigs at home."
The group was silent again. "I knew Hen Wen my whole life," Taran spoke, with a faraway look. "Even before my time, Coll, son of Collfrewr had Hen Wen. We all knew the tale of his famous rescue from Annuvin, I suppose." Some nodded in acknowledgment, followed by more silence. Then it was Arianllyn who spoke, softly. "So Hen Wen was also affected by Dallben's protection. And that protection is wearing off. It fits in the changes we saw already."
Taran stood up abruptly and left the fire circle. He walked straight to Hen Wen. His mind was pondering what he dared not say aloud. How long does she still have? "Oh Hen Wen," he sighed. He kneeled before her and massaged her ears, just how she liked so much. She moved her head and made soft sounds of affection. The piglets were gathered around her, fast asleep. The black boar had disappeared, like he had some other nights. He would surely return in the morning. Tired of the day, Taran put his head against Hen Wen and stretched his legs, and fell asleep next to the pig.
The next morning, Taran woke up under a blanket someone had quickly put over him. He drove the sleep out of his eyes with the backs of his hands. Eilonwy was watching him. "You look like your bones have been taken out and put back at the wrong places," she noted. "I feel like that too," Taran agreed, yawning. He bent to grab the blanket, noticing Hen Wen was still motionless. He dropped the blanket again and kneeled down, his hands shaking; a moment later he cried louder than he had ever done before in his life.
The preparations to move the caravan were stopped, because the High King of Prydain refused to let go of the lifeless body of Hen Wen until the sun was straight overhead in the sky. Eilonwy stayed with him, and he held her hand as if he were afraid to lose her as well. She cried without hesitation with him. Around them the piglets were gathered as if to mourn with them over the loss of their famous mother. Around the piglets, Taran's closest friends gathered for support, and many, many gathered around them. Despite that, Taran felt like the loneliest man in the world. He cried not only for Hen Wen, but also for Coll, and all the others that were gone, and it was as if his heart broke open and everything burst out in a long and endless stream.
Stones and flowers were gathered that afternoon and they made a burial for the pig equal to a queen. Gifts were left there, and stories were told. Taran felt empty and stayed close to Eilonwy, knowing he needed her more than ever. It seemed every member of the caravan came to wish him strength and courage for the loss of his dear friend. There was Master Hevydd, the stout big smith who'd taught Taran to work without giving up, with red eyes, hugging him in his strong arms, nearly squeezing him like the bellows of his fire.
At the end of the day, three colorful birds landed on the burial, and started a song so beautiful that everybody went quiet. During the song, the melody was picked up by other birds, hidden in the surroundings, sung in different voices and harmonics. Other animals came around, some close to the burial, like some mice and squirrels, and some staying at the edge of the woods. When the song was over, the three birds flew up, each to its own direction. From the woods, Taran could hear howling sounds. Not loud, but coming near. Eilonwy heard it too, and reacted immediately to it by moving her head in that direction. Behind the trees, shadows were moving, and she stepped right toward it. People moved forward to protect her, but she halted and turned around. "Let them pass! These are brave allies and they will not harm us." People hesitated and walked back, making space as two big grey wolves entered from the woods, slowly and gracious. One looked Eilonwy straight in the eyes and walked towards her, putting his head in her cupped hands. She touched his nose and head, fearless, and the people surrounding her did not dare to protest. After a moment, both creatures walked towards the shrine and sat down for a while. One started a very loud howl and the other touched the stones with its front leg. They disappeared afterwards in silence as they had come, back into the woods, and were never seen since that day.
The rest of the journey was a difficult one for Taran. They decided to keep the piglets, but one escaped and did not return. Also the black boar was gone without a trace. Taran did not want to put more effort into a searc and wished to leave the place. Although the caravan did its best to cheer up their High King, and he appreciated the efforts, he felt very empty. Eilonwy kept him close by and he thanked the universe she was there. He tried to think about Caer Dathyl as a distraction. Work was a good medicine for a heavy heart.
After some days, the caravan split up. Master Hevydd and Llassar, as well as Lord Goryon and Lord Gast, would join the part moving on to Caer Dathyl. Arianllyn and the king and queen of the Eastern Strongholds would travel to Harlech Castle. But they lent some parts of their resources to Caer Dathyl, since, according to queen Kigva, "without food you cannot rebuild a castle." She had also an opinion about Arianllyn's father to share: "At least someone has to pull that old Bran out of that dusty castle to show him the sun every now and then." Arianllyn stood behind her and Taran saw a smile breaking on her face as if that were not the first time she had heard Kigva complaining. "They call him Bran the Blessed, but he should feel blessed to know us!" Kigva added. Turning around, she looked at Arianllyn. "Of course you do well for yourself, dear, and we really enjoy your visits every now and then. Fresh air keeps you young."
Taran's eyes met those of Eilonwy, and despite his heavy mood he finally formed a weak smile. Then king Manawyddan interrupted his wife with his loud voice. "Are we staying here being sentimental the whole day? Without wine and food? I don't think so; let's move on!" And the caravan – smaller now, but still impressively long - was set in motion again, northeastward, along the high peaks of the Eagle Mountains.
Thank you ZosiaDetroit for stil being so kind to help with English corrections and suggestions!