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Authors: Lloyd Alexander
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murmured Gwystyl.
“Yes, the cauldron!” shouted the furious dwarf. “You pale grub! You lightless lightning bug! The cauldron of Arawn's Cauldron-Born!”
“Oh, that cauldron,” Gwystyl answered feebly. “Forgive me, Doli, I was thinking of something else. When did you say you were going?”
The dwarf seemed on the verge of seizing Gwystyl by his robe and shaking him, but Adaon stepped forward and quickly explained what had occurred at Dark Gate.
“It's a shame,” Gwystyl murmured, with a sorrowful sigh. “You should never have got mixed up with the thing. It's too late to think about that, I'm afraid. You'll just have to make the best of it. I don't envy you. Believe me, I don't. It's one of those unfortunate events.”
“But you don't understand,” Taran said. “We aren't mixed up with the cauldron. It isn't in Annuvin any more. Someone has already stolen it.”
“Yes,” said Gwystyl, with a gloomy look at Taran, “yes, I know.”
Chapter 7
Kaw
TARAN STOPPED SHORT. “You know that?” he asked in surprise. “Then why didn't you...” Gwystyl gulped and darted nervous glances about him. “Oh, I know. But only in a very general way, you understand. I mean, I don't really know anything at all. Just the usual unfounded rumor you might expect to hear in a beastly place like this. Of no importance. Pay no attention to it.”
“Gwystyl,” said Doli sharply, “you know more about this than you let on. Now, out with it.”
The gloomy creature flung his hands to his head and began moaning and rocking back and forth. “Do go away and let me alone,” he sobbed. “I'm not well; I have so many tasks to finish, I shall never be caught up.”
“You must tell us!” cried Taran. “Please,” he added, lowering his voice, for the wretched Gwystyl had begun to shake violently, his eyes turning up as though he were about to have a fit. “Do not keep your knowledge from us. If you stay silent, our lives are risked for no purpose.”
“Leave it alone,” Gwystyl choked, fanning himself with an edge of his robe. “Don't bother with it. Forget it. That's the best thing you can do. Go back wherever you came from. Don't even think about it.”
“How can we do that?” Taran cried. “Arawn won't rest until he has the cauldron again.”
“Of course he won't rest,” Gwystyl said. “He isn't resting now. That's exactly why you should drop the search and go quietly. You'll only stir up more trouble. And there's enough of that already.”
“Then we'd better get back to Caer Cadarn and join Gwydion as quickly as we can,” Eilonwy said.
“Yes, yes, by all means,” broke in Gwystyl, with the first trace of eagerness Taran had glimpsed in this strange individual. “I only give you this advice for your own good. I'm glad, very glad, you've seen fit to follow it. Now, of course,” he added, almost brightly, “you'll want to be on your way. Very wise of you. I, unhappily, have to stay here. I envy you, I really do. But--- that's the way of it, and there's little anyone can do. A pleasure meeting you all. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye?” cried Eilonwy. “If we put our noses above ground and the Huntsmen are waiting for us--- yes, it will be goodbye indeed! Doli says it's your duty to help us. And with that, you haven't done a thing. Except sigh and moan! If this is the best the Fair Folk can manage, why, I'd rather be up a tree with my toes tied together!”
Gwystyl clutched his head again. “Please, please, don't shout. I'm not up to shouting today. Not after the horses. One of you can go and see if the Huntsmen are still there. Not that it will really do any good, for they might have just stepped away for a moment.”
“I wonder who'll do that?” muttered the dwarf. “Good old Doli, of course. I thought I'd done with making myself invisible.”
“I could give all of you a little something,” Gwystyl went on, “not that it will do much good. It's a kind of powder I've put by
“Yes, the cauldron!” shouted the furious dwarf. “You pale grub! You lightless lightning bug! The cauldron of Arawn's Cauldron-Born!”
“Oh, that cauldron,” Gwystyl answered feebly. “Forgive me, Doli, I was thinking of something else. When did you say you were going?”
The dwarf seemed on the verge of seizing Gwystyl by his robe and shaking him, but Adaon stepped forward and quickly explained what had occurred at Dark Gate.
“It's a shame,” Gwystyl murmured, with a sorrowful sigh. “You should never have got mixed up with the thing. It's too late to think about that, I'm afraid. You'll just have to make the best of it. I don't envy you. Believe me, I don't. It's one of those unfortunate events.”
“But you don't understand,” Taran said. “We aren't mixed up with the cauldron. It isn't in Annuvin any more. Someone has already stolen it.”
“Yes,” said Gwystyl, with a gloomy look at Taran, “yes, I know.”
Chapter 7
Kaw
TARAN STOPPED SHORT. “You know that?” he asked in surprise. “Then why didn't you...” Gwystyl gulped and darted nervous glances about him. “Oh, I know. But only in a very general way, you understand. I mean, I don't really know anything at all. Just the usual unfounded rumor you might expect to hear in a beastly place like this. Of no importance. Pay no attention to it.”
“Gwystyl,” said Doli sharply, “you know more about this than you let on. Now, out with it.”
The gloomy creature flung his hands to his head and began moaning and rocking back and forth. “Do go away and let me alone,” he sobbed. “I'm not well; I have so many tasks to finish, I shall never be caught up.”
“You must tell us!” cried Taran. “Please,” he added, lowering his voice, for the wretched Gwystyl had begun to shake violently, his eyes turning up as though he were about to have a fit. “Do not keep your knowledge from us. If you stay silent, our lives are risked for no purpose.”
“Leave it alone,” Gwystyl choked, fanning himself with an edge of his robe. “Don't bother with it. Forget it. That's the best thing you can do. Go back wherever you came from. Don't even think about it.”
“How can we do that?” Taran cried. “Arawn won't rest until he has the cauldron again.”
“Of course he won't rest,” Gwystyl said. “He isn't resting now. That's exactly why you should drop the search and go quietly. You'll only stir up more trouble. And there's enough of that already.”
“Then we'd better get back to Caer Cadarn and join Gwydion as quickly as we can,” Eilonwy said.
“Yes, yes, by all means,” broke in Gwystyl, with the first trace of eagerness Taran had glimpsed in this strange individual. “I only give you this advice for your own good. I'm glad, very glad, you've seen fit to follow it. Now, of course,” he added, almost brightly, “you'll want to be on your way. Very wise of you. I, unhappily, have to stay here. I envy you, I really do. But--- that's the way of it, and there's little anyone can do. A pleasure meeting you all. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye?” cried Eilonwy. “If we put our noses above ground and the Huntsmen are waiting for us--- yes, it will be goodbye indeed! Doli says it's your duty to help us. And with that, you haven't done a thing. Except sigh and moan! If this is the best the Fair Folk can manage, why, I'd rather be up a tree with my toes tied together!”
Gwystyl clutched his head again. “Please, please, don't shout. I'm not up to shouting today. Not after the horses. One of you can go and see if the Huntsmen are still there. Not that it will really do any good, for they might have just stepped away for a moment.”
“I wonder who'll do that?” muttered the dwarf. “Good old Doli, of course. I thought I'd done with making myself invisible.”
“I could give all of you a little something,” Gwystyl went on, “not that it will do much good. It's a kind of powder I've put by
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