The High King

Orgoch gave a most ungentle snort. Orddu, meanwhile, had unfolded a length of brightly woven tapestry and held it out to Taran.

"We came to bring you this, my duckling," she said. "Take it and pay no heed to Orgoch's grum­bling. She'll have to swallow her disappointment― for lack of anything better."

"I have seen this on your loom," Taran said, more than a little distrustful. "Why do you offer it to me? I do not ask for it, nor can I pay for it."

"It is yours by right, my robin," answered Orddu. "It does come from our loom, if you insist on strictest detail, but it was really you who wove it."

Puzzled, Taran looked more closely at the fabric and saw it crowded with images of men and women, of warriors and battles, of birds and animals. "These," he murmured in wonder, "these are of my own life."

"Of course," Orddu replied. "The pattern is of your choosing and always was."

"My choosing?" Taran questioned. "Not yours? Yet I believed…" He stopped and raised his eyes to Orddu. "Yes," he said slowly, "once I did believe the world went at your bidding. I see now it is not so. The strands of life are not woven by three hags or even by three beautiful damsels. The pattern indeed was mine. But here," he added, frowning as he scanned the final portion of the fabric where the weaving broke off and the threads fell unraveled, "here it is unfinished."

"Naturally," said Orddu. "You must still choose the pattern, and so must each of you poor, perplexed fledglings, as long as thread remains to be woven."

"But no longer do I see mine clearly," Taran cried. "No longer do I understand my own heart. Why does my grief shadow my joy? Tell me this much. Give me to know this, as one last boon."

"Dear chicken," said Orddu smiling sadly, "when, in truth, did we really give you anything?"

Then they were gone.

Chapter 21 Farewells

THROUGH THE REMAINDER of the night, Taran did not move from the window. The unfinished weaving lay at his feet. By dawn, a still greater number of Commot folk and cantrev nobles came to throng the fields and hillsides around Caer Dallben, for it had become known the Sons of Don were departing Prydain, and with them the Daughters of Don who had journeyed from the eastern strongholds. At last Taran stirred and made his way to Dallben's chamber.

The companions were already gathered, even Doli, who had flatly refused to set out for the Fair Folk realm without taking a last leave of each and every friend. Kaw, quiet for once, perched on the dwarf's shoulder. Glew seemed excited and pleased to be on his way. Taliesin and Gwydion stood near Dallben, who had donned a heavy travel cloak and bore an ashwood staff. Under his arm the enchanter carried The Book of Three.

"Kindly master, hasten!" shouted Gurgi, as Llyan at Fflewddur's side twitched her tail impatiently. "All are ready for floatings and boatings!"

Taran's eyes went to the faces of the companions; to Eilonwy, who was watching him eagerly; to the weathered features of Gwydion, and the face of Dallben, furrowed with wisdom. Never had he loved each of them more than at this moment. He did not speak until he came to stand before the old enchanter

"Never shall I have greater honor than the gift you offer me," Taran said. The words came slowly, yet he forced himself to continue. "Last night my heart was troubled. I dreamed that Orddu― no, it was not a dream. She was indeed here. And I have seen for myself your gift is one I cannot take."

Gurgi's yelping stopped short and he stared at Taran with wide and unbelieving eyes.

The companions started and Eilonwy cried out, "Taran of Caer Dallben, do you have any idea what you're saying? Has the flame of Dyrnwyn scorched your wits?" Suddenly her voice caught in her throat. She bit her lips and turned quickly away. "I understand. In the Summer Country we were to be wed. Do you still question my heart? It has not changed. It is your heart that has changed toward mine."

Taran dared not look at Eilonwy, for his grief was too keen in him. "You are wrong, Princess of Llyr," he murmured. "I have long loved you, and loved you even before I knew that I did. If my heart breaks to part from our companions, it breaks twice over to part from you. Yet, so it must be. I cannot do otherwise."

"Think carefully, Assistant Pig-Keeper," Dallben said sharply. "Once taken, your choice cannot be recalled. Will you dwell in sorrow instead of happiness? Will you refuse not only joy and love but neverending life?"

Taran did not answer for a long moment. When at last, he did, his voice was heavy with regret, yet his words were clear and unfaltering.

"There are those more deserving of your gift than I, yet never may it be offered them. My life is bound to theirs. Coll Son of Collfrewr's garden and orchard lie barren, waiting for a hand to quicken them. My skill is less than his, but I give it willingly for his sake.