He cooked, dusted, swept, empty the chamber pot, feed the chickens, and washed his own laundry (he had no idea who cleaned Manannan's robes or underthings, and he refused to think about it either). Occasionally Manannan would demand he clean the windows or change the candles around the Keep, and once polish the floors. But really, it was very easy here. Much better then the Dursleys. After Gwydion had finished reading the journal, he had started his own entries with of course his name (Freak-Harry-Boy) and where he had come from (writing down he had come from what he thought might be another world was just as weird as thinking it.) Apart from that he didn't have much to say, and getting used to writing with a quill was difficult to say the least, but he did report his dreams on planting a garden in the small yard between the kitchen and the edge of the flat space the Keep sat in, around the spring which bubbled up in its stone surround before tumbling off the northern edge. He had already laid the largest pieces of firewood as edging for the beds, and had started work on a few large compost heaps. Thankfully, he could repurpose a rubbish pile of kitchen leavings and chicken poop that was already there, and hoped to have good growing dirt with a month or two. For once, Petunia's insistence on Gwydion doing all the gardening came in handy, as he could easily do this. In fact, gardening was perhaps the only work he liked more then hated from Before. It was horrible in the sun in summer, and the cold in winter, but there was something satisfying about looking out over the yard at what he had coaxed and grown from seed into beautiful plants. It helped that the glossy magazines on gardens had been one of his major reading sources, and he could name all the plants and how best they grew. He was even getting use to using the dictionary he had found tucked into the shelves to help when he got stuck on a word.
Gwydion had gotten comfortable, which of course meant something had to upset everything. It came in the form of a letter when dusting the study left out on Manannan's desk:
My dear Manannan,
It saddens me to learn that no word of your sister Hagatha, has reached you of late. We can but hope she is well and able somewhere… to do as she pleases, to whoever she pleases! My own sister is well, and thank you for asking. She was taken with you once, before you grew that "excessive beard" and insists that you were a handsome man in you day. I can only imagine.
Is your servant performing as adequately as the last? You certainly pick them, don't you! Rumour has it that The Father had a particular say in keeping this latest slave. Such a rare honour: I'm really quiet envious! Then again, you name them all "Gwydion," so what does it matter where they come from? The way they meet their end all on their eighteenth birthdays… you are such a poetic dear! As for my own daring boy, he is performing his role as a loyal son superbly…one might think he'd been doing so his whole life.
In matters of Faith, my response is as is had always been: we must continue to do what we can to usurp control from the unfaithful, so that the world may be prepared for the Great Day. For my part, I have made plans to rid this realm of my enemy. Being so predictable and obliviously innocent, she will make easy prey.
The time comes soon, Brother Manannan, and our long wait will be over. May swift destruction come to all those who oppose us!
In The Father We Trust,
'L'
PS. You really shouldn't keep cats around the house. Steeds make much better pets.
Gwydion tried to tell himself he was mistaken, that this L was wrong, and that Manannan, who had been so kind to him, had maybe just sent the other Gwydion's away when they turned 18. Maybe he found them new jobs elsewhere? It didn't men he killed them. It couldn't! Gwydion squeezed his eyes shut, as if he could through force of will push the thoughts out of his head. Instead, he concentrated on the other piece of information, that it was possible that this Father had done something to deliberately bring Gwydion to this place. But who was 'The Father'? Maybe he should thank him too? Was it Manannan's father? But that meant it was L's father too, and L sister liked Manannan, so that couldn't be right. Right?
Gwydion carefully smoothed the parchment where his figures has curled hard, and put the latter back. He should just forget about it. It was rude to read other peoples mail anyway. But maybe he should also find out more about the town at the base of the mountain. They would be able to tell him if the other Gwydions escaped or… well he didn't want to think of the or.