&&000 The Book of Three, p9
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=Taran wanted to make a sword; but =Coll, charged with the practical
side of his education, decided on horseshoes.  And so it had been
horseshoes all morning long.  =Taran's arms ached, soot blackened his face.
At last he dropped the hammer and turned to =Coll, who was watching him
critically.
"Why," =Taran cried? "Why must it be horseshoes?  As if we had any horses!"
=Coll was stout and round and his great bald head glowed bright pink.  "Lucky
for the horses," was all he said, glancing at =Taran's handiwork.
"I could do better at making a sword," =Taran protested. "I know I could."
And before =Coll could answer, he snatched the tongs, flung a strip of red-hot
iron to the anvil, and began hammering away as fast as he could.

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=Gwydion gave him a hard smile. "Do you have the eyes of an owl, to find a trail
at nightfall? We sleep here and I shall be off at first light. With good luck,
I may have her back before."
"What of me," =Taran interrupted? "=HenWen is in my charge. I let her escape and
it is I who must find her."
"The task counts more than the one who does it," said =Gwydion. "I will not be
hindered by an Assistant Pig Keeper, who seems eager to bring himself to grief."
He stopped short and looked wryly at =Taran. "On second thought, it appears I
will. If the Horned Kin rides toward =CaerDalban, I cannot send you back alone
and I dare not go with you and lose a day's tracking. You cannot stay in this
forest yourself. Unless I find some way."

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"=Gwyn owes allegiance to a lord unknown even to me," =Gwydion answered, "and one
perhaps greater than =Arawn. =Gwyn the Hunter rides alone with his dogs, and
where he rides, slaughter follows. He has foreknowledge of death and battle, and
watches from afar, marking the fall of warriors."
Above the cry of the pack rose the long, clear notes of a hunting horn. Flung
across the sky, the sound pierced =Taran's breast like a cold blade of terror.
Yet, unlike the music itself, the echoes from the hills sang less of fear than
of grief. Fading, they sighed that sunlight and birds, bright mornings, warm fires,
food and drink, friendship, and all good things had been lost beyond recovery.
=Gwydion laid a firm hand on =Taran's brow.


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=Taran blinked with amazement. "What's that," he cried?
"It's my bauble," said =Eilonwy. "How many times do I have to tell you?"
"But -- but it lights up!"
"What did you think it would do? Turn into a bird and fly away?"
=Eilonwy, as the bewildered =Taran saw for the first time, had, in addition
to blue eyes, long hair of reddish gold reaching to her waist. Her face,
though smudged, was delicate, elfin, with high cheekbones. Her short, white
robe, mud-stained, was girdled with silver links. A crescent moon of silver
hung from a fine chain around her neck. She was one or two years younger than
he, but fully as tall. =Eilonwy put the glowing sphere on the floor, went
quickly to =Taran, and unknotted the thongs that bound him.


&&000 p89
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=Eilonwy paid scant attention to the warriors, having found something more
interesting to her. "I'm sure =Achren hasn't any idea all this is here,"
she whispered, pointing to heaps of otter-skin robes and great earthen jars
overflowing with jewels. Weapons glistened amid stacks of helmets; woven baskets
held brooches, collarpieces, and chains.
"She'd have hauled it out long ago; she loves jewelry, you know, though it
doesn't become her one bit."
"Surely it is the barrow of the king who built this castle," =Taran said in
a hushed voice. He stepped past the warriors and drew near the figure on the
slab. Rich raiment clothed the body; polished stones glowed in his broad belt.
The clawed hands still grasped the jeweled hilt of a sword, as if ready to
unsheath it. =Taran recoiled in fear and horror. The skull seemed to grimace in
defiance, daring a stranger to despoil the royal treasures.

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"So, of course," said =Taran, nettled by the girl's remarks, "you've made up your
mind that I'm not -- whatever it is."
"I didn't mean to offend you," =Eilonwy said quickly. "For an Assistant Pig Keeper,
I think you're quite remarkable. I even think you're the nicest person I've
ever met in my life. It's just that I'm forbidden to let you have the sword
an that's that."
"What will you do with it, then?"
"Keep it, naturally. I'm not going to drop it down a well, am I?"
=Taran snorted. "You'll make a fine sight -- a little girl carrying a sword."
"I am not a little girl," said =Eilonwy, tossing her hair in exasperation.
"Among my people in the olden days, the Sword-Maidens did battle beside the men."

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The web slowly settled over the Cauldron-Born, but the pallid warriors paid it no heed.
They spurred their mounts onward; the strands of the web broke and melted away.
=Eilonwy clapped a hand to her mouth. "It didn't work," she cried, almost in tears!
"The way =Achren does it, she makes it into a big sticky rope. Oh, it's all gone wrong.
I tried to listen behind the door when she was practicing, but I've missed something
important." She stamped her foot and turned away.
"Take her from here," =Taran called to the bard! He unsheathed his sword and faced
the Cauldron-Born. Within moments they would be upon him. But, even as he braced himself
for their onslaught, he saw the horsemen falter. The Cauldron-Born reined up suddenly;
then, without a gesture, turned their horses and rode silently back toward the hills.

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"I am =Medwyn," answered the white-bearded man, "for all that my name may concern you.
That is not important now.  My own concern is for =HenWen."
"You have seen nothing of her, then?"
=Medwyn shook his head. "What Lord =Gwydion said is true: of all the places in =Prydain,
she would have come here first, especially if she sensed her life in danger.  But there
has been no sign, no rumor. Yet she would find her way, sooner or later, unless."
=Taran felt a chill ripple at his heart. "Unless she has been killed," he murmured.
"Do you think that has happened?"
"I do not know," =Medwyn answered," though I fear it may be so."

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"By no means!  Just the opposite! If any of you thick-skulled oafs come on one of the Fair
Folk above ground, what happens?  You seize him! You grab him with your great hammy hands
and try to make him lead you to buried treasure. Or you squeeze him until you get three
wishes out of him -- no satisfied with one, oh, no, but three!"
"Well, I don't mind telling you this," =Eiddileg went on, his face turning redder by the
moment, "I've put an end to all this wish granting and treasure scavenging. No more!
Absolutely not! I'm surprised you didn't ruin us long ago!"
Just then a chorus of voices rose from behind the door of =Eiddileg's throne room.  The
harmonies penetrated even the walls of heavy stone.  =Taran had never in his life heard
such beautiful singing. He listened, enchanted, forgetting, for the moment, all but the
soaring melody. =Eiddileg himself stopped shouting and puffing until the voices died away.

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"=Medwyn would not say so," =Taran answered.  "In the hills he spoke of kindness for all
creatures; and he told me much about the gwythaints. I think it's important to bring this
one to Caer =Dathyl. No one has ever captured a live gwythaint, as far as I know. Who can
tell what value it may have?"
The bard scratched his head. "Well, yes, I suppose if it had any use at all, it would be
better alive than dead.  But the proposition is risky, no matter what."
=Taran gestured for the others to stand away from the bush. He saw the gwythaint was
wounded by more than thorns; perhaps an eagle had challenged it, for blood flecked its
back and a number of feathers had been torn out. He reached in carefully.  The
gwythaint hissed again, and a long, rasping rattle sounded in its throat.  =Taran feared
the bird might be dying even then. He put a hand under its feverish body.  The gwythaint
struck with beak and talons, but its strength had gone.  =Taran lifted it free of the thornbush.

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"She hasn't stirred from the chamber ever since they brought you here," said =Eilonwy.
"Neither have I," she added, with a glance at =Taran. "She's a very intelligent pig,"
=Eilonwy went on.  "Oh, she does get frightened and loses her head once in a while, I
suppose. And she can be very stubborn when she wants, which sometimes makes me wonder
how much difference there is between pigs and the people who keep them.  I'm no mentioning
anyone in particular, you understand."
The door opposite =Taran's couch opened part way. Around it appeared the spiky yellow head
and pointed nose of =FflewddurFflam.
"So you're back with us," cried the bard. "Or, as you might say, we're back with you!"