Taran Wanderer

THE COMPANIONS RETURNED to their steeds and prepared to mount. Fflewddur picked up his harp, looked about him, and called, "I say, where's Llyan? Don't tell me she's wandered off."

Taran's alarm quickly changed to reassurance, for a moment later he saw the huge cat plunge from the underbrush and lope to Fflewddur, who clapped his hands and made loud whispering noises through his teeth.

"Sa! Sa! So there you are, old girl," cried the bard, beaming happily as Llyan frisked about him. "Now, what have you been after?"

"I think she's caught a― why, yes― she's caught a frog!" Taran exclaimed, catching sight of a pair of long legs with webbed feet dangling from Llyan's mouth.

"Yes, yes," put in Gurgi. "A froggie! A froggie with thumpings and jumpings!"

"I should hardly think so," said the bard. "We've seen no swamps or pools, and very little water at all, for the matter of that."

Proudly purring, Llyan dropped her burden at Fflewddur's feet. It was indeed a frog, and the biggest Taran had ever seen. The bard, after patting Llyan's head and fondly rubbing her ears, knelt and with a certain squeamishness picked up the motionless creature.

"Yes, well, I'm delighted, old girl," he said, holding it at arm's length between his thumb and forefinger. "It's lovely; I don't know how to thank you. She often does this," he explained to Taran. "I don't mean dead frogs necessarily, but odds and ends― an occasional mouse, that sort of thing. Little gifts she fancies I might enjoy. A sign of affection. I always make a fuss over them. It's the thought, after all, that counts."

Taran, curious, took the frog from the bard's hand. Llyan, he saw, had carried the creature gently and had in no way harmed it. Instead, the frog had suffered from lack of water. Its skin, splotched in green and yellow, was sadly parched. Its legs feebly splayed; its webbed toes had begun to curl and wither like dry leaves; and its great bulging eyes were tightly shut. Regretfully, Taran was about to return the creature to the bushes when the faint tremor of a heartbeat touched his palm.

"Fflewddur, the poor thing's alive," Taran said. "There may still be time to save him."

The bard shook his head. "I doubt it. He's too much the worse for wear. A shame, for he's a jollylooking fellow."

"Give poor froggie a drink," Gurgi suggested. "Give him water with sloshings and washings."

In Taran's hand the frog stirred as in a last, painful effort. One eye flickered, the wide mouth gaped, and its throat trembled like a faint pulse. "Arrad!" croaked the frog.

"I say, there is life in him yet!" exclaimed Fflewddur. "But he must be desperately sick. I've never heard a frog make a noise like that."

"Urgghi!" the frog croaked. "Ood!"

The creature was struggling to make a further sound, but its croaking dwindled to a hoarse and scarcely audible rasping.

"Elpp! Elpp!"

"He is an odd one," remarked Fflewddur, as Taran, more puzzled than ever, held the frog close to his ear. The creature had forced its eyes open and stared at Taran with what seemed a most pitiful, pleading expression.

"I've known them to go 'chug-a-chug,' " continued Fflewddur, "and at times 'thonk.' But this fellow― if frogs could talk, I'd swear he was saying 'help'!"

Taran gestured the bard to silence. From deep in the frog's throat came another sound, hardly more than a whisper but clear and unmistakable. Taran's jaw fell. His eyes wide with bewilderment, he turned to Fflewddur. Barely able to speak, he held the frog in his outstretched hand and gasped, "It's Doli!"

Chapter 7 Friends in Danger

"DOLI!" ECHOED THE astonished bard, falling back a pace. His eyes bulged like the frog's and he clapped his hands to his head. "It can't be! Not Doli of the Fair          Folk! Not good old Doli!"

Gurgi had just then come up with a leather water flask and, hearing Fflewddur's words, began yelping in terror and dismay. Taran took the flask from Gurgi's trembling hand, unstoppered it, and with all haste began drenching the frog. "Oh, terrible! Oh, horrible!" moaned Gurgi. "Unlucky Doli! Unhappy dwarfish companion! But how did this froggie swallow him with gulpings?"

Under the stream of water the frog had begun to revive, and now kicked mightily with its long hind legs.

"Skin! Skin!" came Doli's voice. "Pour it on my skin! Not down my throat, you clot! Are you trying to drown me?"

"Great Belin," murmured Fflewddur. "At first I thought it was just a frog who happened to have the same name as Doli. But I'd know that temper anywhere."

"Doli!" Taran cried. "Is it really you?"

"Of course it is, you long-legged beanpole!" snapped Doli's voice. "Just because I look like a frog on the outside doesn't mean I'm not myself on the inside!"

Taran's head spun at the thought of Doli in this form. Gurgi was speechless, his eyes as round and wide open as his mouth. Fflewddur, as stunned as the other companions, had recovered somewhat from his first shock and now dropped to his hands and knees on the damp turf where Taran had set the frog.