[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
it went rolling in one direction, and the rest of it set up a muffled
shrieking: Eilonwy pummeled, kicked, and scratched. Fflewddur and King Rhun
were at her side in an instant. The bard seized one end of the flailing shape,
King Rhun the other.
Eilonwy drew back and quickly took the bauble from her cloak. As she
cupped it in her hand the sphere began to glow. She held it closer to the
struggling form. Her jaw dropped. The golden beams shone on a pale, wrinkled
face with a long, drooping nose and mournful mouth. Wild wisps of cobweb-like
hair floated above a pair of eyes that blinked wretchedly and tearfully.
"Gwystyl!" Eilonwy cried. "Gwystyl of the Fair Folk!"
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ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
The bard loosened his grasp. Gwystyl sat up, rubbed his skinny arms,
then climbed to his feet and pulled his cloak defensively about him.
"How nice to see you again," he mumbled. "A pleasure, believe me.
I've thought of you often. Goodbye. Now I really must be on my way."
"Help us!" Eilonwy pleaded. "Gwystyl, we beg you. Our companions are
prisoned in Smoit's castle."
Gwystyl clapped his hands to his head. His face puckered miserably.
"Please, please," he moaned, "don't shout. I'm not well, I'm not up to being
shouted at this evening. And would you mind not shining that light in my eyes?
No, no, it's really too much. It's more than enough to be pulled down and sat
on, without people picking at you and bellowing and half-blinding you. As I
was saying--- yes, it's been delightful running into you. Of course I'll be
glad to help. But perhaps another time. When we're not feeling so upset."
"Gwystyl, don't you understand?" Eilonwy cried. "Have you been
listening to me at all? Another time? You must help us now. Gwydion's sword is
stolen. Dyrnwyn is gone! Arawn has it! Don't you see what that means? This is
the most terrible thing that could ever happen. How can Gwydion get the sword
back if he's locked up, with his own life in danger? And Taran--- and Coll and
Gurgi..."
"Some days are like that," Gwystyl sighed. "And what's to be done
about it? Nothing, alas, but hope things will brighten, which they very likely
won't. But, there you are, it's all one can do. Yes, I know Dyrnwyn is stolen.
A sad misfortune, a disheartening state of affairs."
"You already know?" exclaimed the bard. "Great Belin, speak up!
Where is it?"
"No idea whatever," Gwystyl gasped in such desperation that Eilonwy
believed the melancholy creature indeed spoke the truth. "But that's the least
of my concerns. What's happening around Annuvin---" He shuddered and patted
his pale forehead with a trembling hand. "The Huntsmen are gathering. The
Cauldron-Born have come -out, whole troops of them. I've never seen so many
Cauldron-Born altogether in my life. It's enough to make a decent person take
to his bed.
"And that's not the half of it," Gwystyl choked. "Some of the
cantrev lords are rallying their battle hosts, and their war leaders hold
council in Annuvin. The place is thick with warriors, inside, outside,
Page 44
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
wherever you look. I was even afraid they'd discover my tunnels and spy holes.
These days, I'm the Fair Folk's only watcher close to Annuvin--- more's the
pity, for the work piles up so.
"Believe me," Gwystyl hurried on, "your friends are better off where
they are. Much safer. No matter what's being done to them, it can't be worse
than stumbling into that hornet's nest. If, by chance, you do see them again,
give them all my fondest greetings. I'm sorry, terribly sorry I can't stay
longer. I'm on my way to the realm of the Fair Folk; King Eiddileg should
learn of these matters without delay."
"If King Eiddileg learns you wouldn't help us," Eilonwy indignantly
burst out, "you'll wish you'd never left your waypost."
"It's a long, hard journey." Gwystyl sighed and shook his cobwebby
head, completely ignoring Eilonwy's remark. "I shall have to go above ground
every step. Eiddileg will want to know all that's stirring along the way. I'm
not up to journeying, not in my condition, not in this weather, least of all.
Summer would have been much more agreeable. But--- there's nothing to be done
about that. Good-bye, farewell. Always a pleasure."
Gwystyl stooped to pick up a bundle almost as large as himself.
Eilonwy clutched him by the arm.
"Oh, no you don't!" she cried. "You'll warn King Eiddileg after we
free our companions. Don't try to deceive me, Gwystyl of the Fair Folk. You're
cleverer than you care to let on. But if you won't give us your help, I know
how to get it. I'll squeeze it out of you!"
The girl made a movement to seize the creature about his neck.
Gwystyl gave a heartrending sob and feebly endeavored to defend himself.
"No squeezing! No, please. I couldn't face up to it. Not now.
Good-bye. Really, this is hardly the moment..."
Fflewddur, meanwhile, was staring curiously at the bundle. The
large, lumpy pack had rolled near a bush when Eilonwy had first set upon
Gwystyl and it lay partly undone on the ground.
"Great Belin," murmured the bard, "what a tangle of oddments. Worse
than a snail with his household on his back."
Page 45
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
"It's nothing, nothing at all," Gwystyl said hurriedly. "A few
little comforts to ease the journey."
"We might do better squeezing this pack instead of Gwystyl's neck,"
remarked Fflewddur, who had dropped to his knees and had begun to rummage
through the bundle. "There may be something here more useful than Gwystyl
himself."
"Take whatever you please," Gwystyl urged, as Eilonwy turned the
bauble's glow upon the heap. "Have it all, if you like. It makes no
difference. I shall manage without it. Painfully, but I shall manage."
King Rhun knelt beside the bard, who thus far had pulled out a few
mended sheepskin-lined jackets and several ragged cloaks. "Amazing!" Rhun
cried. "Here's a bird's nest!"
"Yes," Gwystyl sighed. "Take it. It's something I've been saving;
you never know when the need for one might arise. But it's yours now."
"No thank you," muttered the bard. "I shouldn't want to deprive
you." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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it went rolling in one direction, and the rest of it set up a muffled
shrieking: Eilonwy pummeled, kicked, and scratched. Fflewddur and King Rhun
were at her side in an instant. The bard seized one end of the flailing shape,
King Rhun the other.
Eilonwy drew back and quickly took the bauble from her cloak. As she
cupped it in her hand the sphere began to glow. She held it closer to the
struggling form. Her jaw dropped. The golden beams shone on a pale, wrinkled
face with a long, drooping nose and mournful mouth. Wild wisps of cobweb-like
hair floated above a pair of eyes that blinked wretchedly and tearfully.
"Gwystyl!" Eilonwy cried. "Gwystyl of the Fair Folk!"
Page 43
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
The bard loosened his grasp. Gwystyl sat up, rubbed his skinny arms,
then climbed to his feet and pulled his cloak defensively about him.
"How nice to see you again," he mumbled. "A pleasure, believe me.
I've thought of you often. Goodbye. Now I really must be on my way."
"Help us!" Eilonwy pleaded. "Gwystyl, we beg you. Our companions are
prisoned in Smoit's castle."
Gwystyl clapped his hands to his head. His face puckered miserably.
"Please, please," he moaned, "don't shout. I'm not well, I'm not up to being
shouted at this evening. And would you mind not shining that light in my eyes?
No, no, it's really too much. It's more than enough to be pulled down and sat
on, without people picking at you and bellowing and half-blinding you. As I
was saying--- yes, it's been delightful running into you. Of course I'll be
glad to help. But perhaps another time. When we're not feeling so upset."
"Gwystyl, don't you understand?" Eilonwy cried. "Have you been
listening to me at all? Another time? You must help us now. Gwydion's sword is
stolen. Dyrnwyn is gone! Arawn has it! Don't you see what that means? This is
the most terrible thing that could ever happen. How can Gwydion get the sword
back if he's locked up, with his own life in danger? And Taran--- and Coll and
Gurgi..."
"Some days are like that," Gwystyl sighed. "And what's to be done
about it? Nothing, alas, but hope things will brighten, which they very likely
won't. But, there you are, it's all one can do. Yes, I know Dyrnwyn is stolen.
A sad misfortune, a disheartening state of affairs."
"You already know?" exclaimed the bard. "Great Belin, speak up!
Where is it?"
"No idea whatever," Gwystyl gasped in such desperation that Eilonwy
believed the melancholy creature indeed spoke the truth. "But that's the least
of my concerns. What's happening around Annuvin---" He shuddered and patted
his pale forehead with a trembling hand. "The Huntsmen are gathering. The
Cauldron-Born have come -out, whole troops of them. I've never seen so many
Cauldron-Born altogether in my life. It's enough to make a decent person take
to his bed.
"And that's not the half of it," Gwystyl choked. "Some of the
cantrev lords are rallying their battle hosts, and their war leaders hold
council in Annuvin. The place is thick with warriors, inside, outside,
Page 44
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
wherever you look. I was even afraid they'd discover my tunnels and spy holes.
These days, I'm the Fair Folk's only watcher close to Annuvin--- more's the
pity, for the work piles up so.
"Believe me," Gwystyl hurried on, "your friends are better off where
they are. Much safer. No matter what's being done to them, it can't be worse
than stumbling into that hornet's nest. If, by chance, you do see them again,
give them all my fondest greetings. I'm sorry, terribly sorry I can't stay
longer. I'm on my way to the realm of the Fair Folk; King Eiddileg should
learn of these matters without delay."
"If King Eiddileg learns you wouldn't help us," Eilonwy indignantly
burst out, "you'll wish you'd never left your waypost."
"It's a long, hard journey." Gwystyl sighed and shook his cobwebby
head, completely ignoring Eilonwy's remark. "I shall have to go above ground
every step. Eiddileg will want to know all that's stirring along the way. I'm
not up to journeying, not in my condition, not in this weather, least of all.
Summer would have been much more agreeable. But--- there's nothing to be done
about that. Good-bye, farewell. Always a pleasure."
Gwystyl stooped to pick up a bundle almost as large as himself.
Eilonwy clutched him by the arm.
"Oh, no you don't!" she cried. "You'll warn King Eiddileg after we
free our companions. Don't try to deceive me, Gwystyl of the Fair Folk. You're
cleverer than you care to let on. But if you won't give us your help, I know
how to get it. I'll squeeze it out of you!"
The girl made a movement to seize the creature about his neck.
Gwystyl gave a heartrending sob and feebly endeavored to defend himself.
"No squeezing! No, please. I couldn't face up to it. Not now.
Good-bye. Really, this is hardly the moment..."
Fflewddur, meanwhile, was staring curiously at the bundle. The
large, lumpy pack had rolled near a bush when Eilonwy had first set upon
Gwystyl and it lay partly undone on the ground.
"Great Belin," murmured the bard, "what a tangle of oddments. Worse
than a snail with his household on his back."
Page 45
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
"It's nothing, nothing at all," Gwystyl said hurriedly. "A few
little comforts to ease the journey."
"We might do better squeezing this pack instead of Gwystyl's neck,"
remarked Fflewddur, who had dropped to his knees and had begun to rummage
through the bundle. "There may be something here more useful than Gwystyl
himself."
"Take whatever you please," Gwystyl urged, as Eilonwy turned the
bauble's glow upon the heap. "Have it all, if you like. It makes no
difference. I shall manage without it. Painfully, but I shall manage."
King Rhun knelt beside the bard, who thus far had pulled out a few
mended sheepskin-lined jackets and several ragged cloaks. "Amazing!" Rhun
cried. "Here's a bird's nest!"
"Yes," Gwystyl sighed. "Take it. It's something I've been saving;
you never know when the need for one might arise. But it's yours now."
"No thank you," muttered the bard. "I shouldn't want to deprive
you." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]