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speedily to me. But Eilonwy must be told nothing of this, only that my quest is over, my father found." His
voice faltered. "Craddoc needs my help; his livelihood and his life depend on it, and I will not withhold it
from him. But to have Eilonwy know I am a herdsman's son... No!" he burst out. "That would be more
than I could bear. Bid her my farewell. She and I must never meet again. It were better the Princess
forget the shepherd boy, better that all of you forget me."
He turned to Gurgi. "And you, best of good friends, ride with Fflewddur. If my place is here, yours must
be in a happier one."
"Kindly master!" Gurgi shouted, flinging his arms desperately about Taran. "Gurgi staysl So he
promised!"
"Call me master no more!" Taran bitterly flung back. "No master am I, but a low-born churl. Do you
long for wisdom? You will not find it here with me. Take your freedom. This valley is no beginning but an
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ending."
"No, no! Gurgi does not listen!" shouted Gurgi, clapping his hands over his ears. He threw himself flat on
the ground and lay stiff as a poker. "He does not go from side of kindly master. No, no! Not with pullings
and pushings! Not with naggings and draggings!"
"So be it," Taran said at last, seeing nothing else would sway the determined creature.
When Craddoc returned, Taran told him only that he and his companion would stay, and that Fflewddur
could no longer delay his own journey.
When Llyan was ready to travel, Taran put his arms about the cat's mighty shoulders and pressed his
cheek into her deep fur as she mewed unhappily. Silently, he and Fflewddur clasped hands, and he
watched while the bard, with many a backward glance, rode slowly from the valley.
Leaving Melynlas and the pony tethered in the shed, Taran and Gurgi bore the saddlebags holding their
few possessions into the tumbledown cottage. Taran stood a moment, looking at the crumbling walls of
the narrow chamber, the dead fire and broken hearthstone. From the pasture Craddoc was calling to
him.
"And so," Taran murmured, "and so have we come home."
In the weeks that followed, Taran believed he could have fared no worse had Morda done as he had
threatened. Tall gray summits rose about. him like the unyielding bars of a cage. Prisoner, he sought
freedom from his memories in the harsh toil of the long days. There was much to be done, indeed there
was all to be done; the land to clear, the cottage to repair, the sheep to tend. At first he had dreaded the
dawns that brought him, weary as if he had not slept, from the straw pallet by the hearth to the seemingly
endless labor awaiting him; but soon he rediscovered, as Coll had told him long ago, that he could force
himself to plunge into it as into an icy stream, and find refreshment even in his exhaustion.
With Gurgi and Craddoc, he strained and sweated to uproot boulders from the field and haul them to the
cottage, where they would later serve to mend the walls. The spring where the sheep watered had
dwindled to a slow trickle. Taran saw a way to unblock it, shore up the damp ground, and dig a channel
which he lined with flat stones. As the sparkling stream rushed into its new course, Taran, forgetting all
else, knelt and drank of it from his cupped hands. The cool draught filled him with wonder, as though
never had he tasted water until now.
One day the three set about burning away the overgrowth and thorns. Taran's portion of the field took
flame too slowly and he pressed his way to thrust his torch deeper amid the brambles. As he did, a
sudden gust of wind turned the fire against him.
Quickly he drew back, but the thorns caught at his jacket; he stumbled and fell, crying out as the flames
rose in a scarlet wave.
Gurgi, at some distance, heard the shout. Craddoc, seeing Taran's plight, swung about on his crutch, and
even before Gurgi could reach him, flung himself to Taran's side. The herdsman dropped to the ground,
and, shielding Taran with his body, seized him by the belt and dragged him clear. Where Taran had been
trapped, the flaming thorns roared and crackled.
The herdsman, gasping from the effort, climbed painfully to his feet.
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Though Taran was unscathed, the fire had seared Craddoc's brow and hands. But the herdsman
grinned, clapped Taran on the shoulder, saying with rough affection, "I've not found a son only to lose
him," and with no more ado went back to his work.
"My thanks to you," Taran called. But in his voice there was as much bitterness as gratitude, for the man
who had saved his life was the same man who had broken it.
Thus it was in the days that followed. When a sheep sickened, Craddoc cared for it with an unexpected
tenderness that went to Taran's heart. Yet Craddoc it was who had torn asunder Taran's dream of noble
birth and destroyed every hope he had cherished for Eilonwy. When danger threatened the flock,
Craddoc turned fierce as a wolf, heedless of his own safety with a courage Taran could only admire. Yet
this man held him prisoner, in fetters of blood right. Craddoc would touch no food until Taran and Gurgi
had their fill, and often went hungry as a result, all the while insisting his appetite was dull. Yet the gift
stuck in Taran's throat, and he scorned the generosity he mould have honored in any other man.
"Are there two herdsman in this valley?" Taran cried to himself. "One I can only love, and one I can only
hate?"
So passed the summer. To forget the anguish of his divided heart, Taran labored for the sake of the
labor itself. Many tasks were still to be done, and the flock always to be tended. Until now Craddoc had
been hard-pressed to keep the new lambs from straying and, as the sheep roved farther afield seek-ing
better pasture, to gather all into the fold at evening. Gurgi pleaded to be given charge of them, and the
flock seemed as pleased as he was. He gamboled happily with the lambs, clucked and fussed over the
ewes, and even the ancient, bad-tempered ram turned gentle in his presence. As the days grew cooler
Craddoc gave him a jacket of unshorn fleece, and as Gurgi moved among his charges Taran could hardly
distinguish the shaggy creature bundled in his wooly garb from the rest of the flock. Often Taran came
upon him sitting on a boulder, the sheep in an admiring circle around their guardian. They followed him
everywhere and would even have trotted after him into the cottage. Marching at the head of the flock,
Gurgi looked as proud as a war leader.
"See with lookings!" Gurgi shouted. "See them heed Gurgi with bleatings! Is kindly master Assistant
Pig-Keeper? Then bold, clever Gurgi now is Assistant Sheep-Keeper!"
But Taran's eyes still turned beyond the barrier of the hills. At the end of each day he scanned the passes
for a sign of Fflewddur and the clouds for a glimpse of Kaw. The crow, he feared, had flown to the Lake
of Llunet; not finding the companions there, Kaw might still be waiting or, impatient, be seeking them
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