Taran Wanderer

Dallben studied him carefully. The enchanter's eyes fell on The Book of Three and he gazed long at it, as though his glance penetrated deep into the worn leather volume.

"Once the apple is ripe," he murmured to himself, "no man can turn it back to a greening." His voice grew heavy with sorrow as he said to Taran, "Is this indeed your wish?"

Taran's heart quickened. "I ask nothing more."

Dallben nodded. "So it must be. Journey, then, wherever you choose. Learn what lies in your power to learn."

"You have all my thanks," Taran cried joyfully, bowing deeply. "Let me start without delay. I am ready…"

Before he could finish the door burst open and a shaggy figure sped across the chamber and flung itself at Taran's feet. "No, no, no!" howled Gurgi at the top of his voice, rocking back and forth and waving his hairy arms. "Sharp-eared Gurgi hears all! Oh, yes, with listenings behind the door!" His face wrinkled in misery and he shook his matted head so violently he nearly sprawled flat on the floor. "Poor Gurgi will be lone and lorn with whinings and pinings!" he moaned. "Oh, he must go with master, yes, yes!"

Taran put a hand on Gurgi's shoulder. "It would sadden me to leave you, old friend. But my road, I fear, may be a long one."

"Faithful Gurgi will follow!" pleaded Gurgi. "He is strong, bold, and clever to keep kindly master from harmful hurtings!"

Gurgi began snuffling loudly, whimpering and moaning more desperately than before; and Taran, who could not bring himself to deny the unhappy creature, looked questioningly at Dallben.

A strange glance of pity crossed the enchanter's face. "Gurgi's staunchness and good sense I do not doubt," he said to Taran. "Though before your search is ended, the comfort of his kindly heart may stand you in better stead. Yes," he added slowly, "if Gurgi is willing, let him journey with you."

Gurgi gave a joyous yelp, and Taran bowed gratefully to the enchanter.

"So be it," Dallben said. "Your road indeed will not be easy, but set out on it as you choose. Though you may not find what you seek, you will surely return a little wiser― and perhaps even grown to manhood in your own right."

That night Taran lay restless. Dallben had agreed the two companions could depart in the morning, but for Taran the hours until sunrise weighed like the links of a heavy chain. A plan had formed in his mind, but he had said nothing of it to Dallben, Coll, or Gurgi; for he was half fearful of what he had decided. While his heart ached at the thought of leaving Caer Dallben, it ached the more with impatience to begin his journey; and it was as though his yearning for Eilonwy, the love he had often hidden or even denied, now swelled like a flood, driving him before it.

Long before dawn Taran rose and saddled the gray, silver-maned stallion, Melynlas. While Gurgi, blinking and yawning, readied his own mount, a short, stocky pony almost as shaggy as himself, Taran went alone to Hen Wen's enclosure. As though she had already sensed Taran's decision, the white pig squealed dolefully as he knelt and put an arm around her.

"Farewell, Hen," Taran said, scratching her bristly chin. "Remember me kindly. Coll will care for you until I…Oh, Hen," he murmured, "shall I come happily to the end of my quest? Can you tell me? Can you give me some sign of good hope?"

In answer, however, the oracular pig only wheezed and grunted anxiously. Taran sighed and gave Hen Wen a last affectionate pat. Dallben had hobbled into the dooryard, and beside him Coll raised a torch, for the morning still was dark. Like Dallben's, the old warrior's face in the wavering light was filled with fond concern. Taran embraced them, and to him it seemed his love for both had never been greater than at this leave-taking as they said their farewells.

Gurgi sat hunched atop the pony. Slung from his shoulder was his leather wallet with its inexhaustible supply of food. Bearing only his sword at his belt and the silver-bound battle horn Eilonwy had given him, Taran swung astride the impatient Melynlas, constraining himself not to glance backward, knowing if he did, his parting would grieve him the more deeply.

The two wayfarers rode steadily while the sun climbed higher above the rolling, tree-fringed hills. Taran had spoken little, and Gurgi trotted quietly behind him, delving now and again into the leather wallet for a handful of food which he munched contentedly. When they halted to water their mounts at a stream, Gurgi clambered down and went to Taran's side.

"Kindly master," he cried, "faithful Gurgi follows as he leads, oh, yes! Where does he journey first with amblings and ramblings? To noble Lord Gwydion at Caer Dathyl? Gurgi longs to see high golden towers and great halls for feastings."

"I, too," answered Taran. "But it would be labor lost. Dallben has told me Prince Gwydion and King Math know nothing of my parentage."

"Then to kingdom of Fflewddur Fflam? Yes, yes! Bold bard will welcome us with meetings and greetings, with merry hummings and strummings!"