The High King

"Good luck?" grumbled Doli. "Do you call tramping day and night in snow and wind good luck? All of us Fair Folk are abroad, one place or another― Orders of King Eiddileg. Mine were to find you and put myself at your service. No offense, but I could guess that if anybody in Prydain needed help it would turn out to be you. So, here we are."

"Gwystyl has done his work well," Taran said. "We knew he was journeying to your realm, but we feared King Eiddileg might not heed him."

"I can't say he was overjoyed," Doli, answered. "In fact, he nearly burst. I was there when our gloomy friend brought word of your plight and I thought my ears would split with Eiddileg's bellowing. Great gawks! Lumbering oafs! Giant clodpoles! All his usual opinions about humans. But he agreed willingly enough despite his bluster. He's really fond of you, no matter what he says. Above all, he remembers how you saved the Fair Folk from being turned into frogs, moles, and whatever. It was the greatest service any mortal ever did for us, and Eiddileg means to repay the debt.

"Yes, the Fair Folk are on the march," Doli continued. "Alas, we came too late to Caer Dathyl. But King Smoit has cause to thank us. There's a host of Fair Folk fighting side by side with him. The northern lords are ready for battle, and we'll take a hand in that, too, you can be sure."

Doli, for all his gruffness, was obviously proud of his own tidings. He had finished, with great relish, an account of one fray in which the Fair Folk had baffled the enemy by making an entire valley so resound with echoes that the foe fled in terror, believing themselves surrounded, and had begun another tale of Fair Folk valor, when he stopped abruptly, seeing the look of concern on Taran's face. Doli listened while Taran told what had befallen the other companions, and, it was the dwarf's turn to be grave and thoughtful. When Taran finished, Doli did not reply for a time.

"As for Eilonwy and Gurgi," the dwarf said at last, "I agree with Fflewddur. They'll manage, somehow. And if I know the Princess, I wouldn't be surprised to see her galloping up at the head of her own army.

"With the Cauldron-Born, we're all in bad straits," Doli continued. "Even we Fair Folk can do little against such creatures. All the tricks that would gull a common mortal are useless. The Cauldron-Born aren't human― I should say they're less than human. They've no memory of what they were, no fear, no hope― nothing can touch them." The dwarf shook his head. "And I see that any victory we might gain elsewhere would be wasted unless we find some way to deal with that spawn of Annuvin. Gwydion is quite right. If they aren't stopped― well, my friends, among us we'll have to do it, and that's flat."

By this time the Fair Folk band had reached Taran's lines and a murmur of wonder spread through the ranks of the Commot men. All had heard of the skill and prowess of King Eiddileg's fighting forces, but none had seen them face to face. Hevydd the Smith marveled at their axes and short swords, pronouncing them sharper and better tempered than any he could make. For their own part, the Fair Folk seemed not the least uneasy; the tallest of Eiddileg's warriors stood barely higher than Lassar's knee, but the Fair Folk soldiers looked on their human comrades with the friendly indulgence they might show to overgrown children.

Doli patted Llyan's head and the huge animal purred happily in recognition. The sight of Glew, hunched on a rock and staring sourly at the new arrivals, brought a cry of surprise from the crimson-haired dwarf. "Whoever― or whatever― is that? It's too big for a toadstool and too small for anything else!"

"I'm glad you asked," replied Glew. "It's a tale I'm sure you will find most interesting. I was once a giant, and my present unhappy state comes, no more and no less, from a complete lack of concern from those―" he looked dourly at Taran and the bard "―who might have been expected to show at least a small amount of consideration. My kingdom― yes, I would appreciate it if you addressed me as King Glew― was the finest cavern, with the finest bats, on the Isle of Mona. A cavern so vast…"

Fflewddur clapped his hands to his ears. "Leave off, giant! Enough! We've no time for your prattle about caverns and bats. We know you've been ill-used. You've told us so yourself. Believe me, a Fflam is patient, but if I could find a cavern I'd pop you into it and leave you there."