Taran Wanderer

"All things considered, then," replied the bard, "the best thing would be to pack our gear and start for Caer Dallben."

Taran shook his head. "I cannot face Dallben or Coll. One day, perhaps. Not now. I must make my own way, earn my own keep. Somehow, the robin must scratch for his own worms." He stopped suddenly and looked, wondering, at the bard. "Orddu― those were her words. I heard them only with my ears. Until now, I did not understand with my heart."

"Scratching for worms is unappetizing, to say the best of it," Fflewddur answered. "But it's true, everyone should have a skill. Take myself, for example. King though I am, as a bard you'll find none better―" A harp string snapped, and for a moment it appeared that several others might give way.

"Yes, well, aside from all that," Fflewddur said hastily, , "if you don't mean to go home, then I suggest the Free Commots. The craftsmen there might welcome a willing apprentice."

Taran thought for some moments, then nodded. "So shall I do. Now will I scorn no man's welcome."

The bard's face fell. "I― I fear I can't go with you, old friend. There's my own realm waiting. True enough, I'm happier wandering as a bard than sitting as a king. But already I've been too long away."

"Then our ways must part again," Taran replied. "Will there ever be an end to saying farewell?"

"But Gurgi does not say farewell to kindly master," cried Gurgi, as Fflewddur went to gather up his gear. "No, no, humble Gurgi toils at his side!"

Taran bowed his head and turned away. "If the day comes when I deserve your faithfulness that will be prize enough for me."

"No, no!" protested Gurgi. "Not prizings! Gurgi only gives what is in his heart to give! He stays and asks nothing more. Once you comforted friendless Gurgi. Now let him comfort sorrowful master!"

Taran felt the creature's hand on his shoulder. "Dallben spoke truth, old friend," he murmured. "Staunchness and good sense? All that and more. But your comfort stands me in better stead than all the cleverness in Prydain."

NEXT MORNING TARAN and Fflewddur took leave of one another for the second time. Despite the bard's protest that a Fflam could always find his way; Taran insisted on Kaw's going along as a guide. Once this task was done, Taran urged the crow to return to Caer Dallben or, if it pleased him better, to fly freely as he chose. "I'll not bind you to my journey," Taran said to Kaw, "for even I don't know where it may end."

"Then how do we fare?" cried Gurgi. "Faithful Gurgi follows, oh, yes! But where does kindly master begin?"

The valley seemed suddenly empty as Taran stood, unanswering, looking at the silent cottage and the small mound of stones marking Craddoc's resting place. "Times there were," Taran said, almost to himself, "when I believed I was building my own prison with my own hands. Now I wonder if I shall ever labor as well and gain as much."

He turned to the waiting Gurgi. "Where?" He knelt, plucked a handful of dry grass from the turf, and cast it into the air. The freshening wind bore the blades eastward, toward the Free Commots.

"There," Taran said. "As the wind blows, so do we follow it."

SINCE NEITHER TARAN nor Gurgi wished to leave the sheep behind, the wayfarers departed from the valley with the small flock bleating after them. Taran intended offering the animals to the first farmstead with good grazing land, yet several days passed and he saw no inhabited place. The two companions had started in a southeasterly direction, but Taran soon gave Melynlas free rein and, though aware the stallion was bearing more east than south, he paid little heed until they drew near the banks of a wide, rapid-flowing river.

Here, the pasture stretched broad and fair. Ahead he glimpsed an empty sheepfold; he noticed no flock, but the gate of the enclosure stood open as though awaiting the animals' return at any moment. The low-roofed cottage and sheds were neat and well-kept. A pair of shaggy goats browsed near the dooryard. Taran blinked in surprise, for set about the cottage were all manner of woven baskets, some large, some small, some rising on stilts, and others seemingly dropped at random. Several trees by the river held wooden platforms, and along the riverbank itself Taran caught sight of what appeared to be a weir of carefully woven branches. Wooden stakes secured a number of nets and fishing lines drifting in the current.