Free The Foundling by Lloyd Alexander Page A

less than help the unlucky mole,” said Coll to himself, “and glad enough I was to do so. Nevertheless, honor to my name is no help to my pig and cold comfort to my turnips.”
    For some days they journeyed, Ash-Wing leading the way, Oak-Horn bearing Coll across rivers and along cruel mountain trails. At last, by night, they drew near the Dark Gate of Annuvin. Here, the owl spied out a hidden passage and the stag, despite quaking heart and quivering antlers, carried Coll down the twisting, treacherous path. Silent as shadows, they stole unseen into the depths of Arawn’s realm.
    Ash-Wing had flown ahead to find where Hen Wen had been taken. “Woeful news!” hooted the owl, returning. “She is prisoned in a deep pit, guarded by Huntsmen and fierce gwythaints. She is so terrified she cannot speak. Thus, Arawn has learned none of her secrets. But now he means to slay her.”
    â€œHe shall slay me first!” cried Coll, leaping from the stag’s back. “I will fight for my pig to the last!”
    â€œStay!” warned Ash-Wing. “First let me see what I may do.”

    Ash-Wing sped into the air. Catching sight of the owl, the gwythaints screamed with bloodlust and swooped to follow him.
    Taking courage from Ash-Wing’s example, Oak-Horn bounded forward. The Huntsmen shouted, drew their swords, and left the pit to pursue the stag.
    Coll’s way now lay clear. He raced ahead and flung himself into the unguarded pit, where Hen Wen squealed joyfully to see him. Desperately, Coll sought an escape for them. There was none. The pit was too deep; the walls were too sheer. Coll heard the clashing weapons of the returning Huntsmen, the beating wings of the gwythaints. All hope lost, Coll stood over his pig, vowing to sell his life dearly. Spears whistled down, arrows hissed, and Coll knew the end had come.
    Suddenly, at his feet the pit opened. There stood Star-Nose, and behind him, moles in their dozens and hundreds and thousands.
    â€œQuickly!” squeaked Star-Nose. “All our councils and clans, our fellowships and families have labored for you. Our tunnel will lead you to safety!”
    Coll seized Hen Wen, thrust her into the mouth of the tunnel, and scrambled after. Behind him, Star-Nose and the others walled up the opening against the Huntsmen. At every turn, from every side, the moles cheered Coll and his white pig all along the way.
    Far from Annuvin, the tunnel ended and they clambered above ground. Ash-Wing and Oak-Horn, having escaped unharmed, joined them again and began the journey back to Coll’s farm. When at last they arrived at the edge of the woods, the owl and the stag halted.
    â€œFarewell, Coll,” said Ash-Wing. “If you ever need eyes to see in the darkness, call on me.”

    â€œFarewell, Coll,” said Oak-Horn. “My heart is still in my mouth, but if you ever need a swift foot, call on me.”
    â€œAnd if you ever need work well done,” piped up Star-Nose, who had been lying in a fold of Coll’s cloak this while, “do not forget us.”
    â€œFarewell,” said Coll. “I shall forget none of you.”
    He turned from the forest. The voices of his friends faded behind him and he knew, sadly, that his power to understand their speech had ended. Hen Wen, her stubby trotters flying, ran beside him, as he hastened to his farm.
    Amazed, Coll stopped short. Not a weed did he see; nor, at a quick glance, any sign of worms in the cabbages, blight on the beans, or scale on the apple trees. Yet he was more alarmed than pleased, because smoke was curling out of the cottage chimney.
    â€œAlas,” cried Coll, dismayed, “I have found my pig and lost my farm.”
    He stepped past the door. A fire crackled merrily in the hearth, and in Coll’s chair sat a gray-bearded stranger, so ancient that his hands seemed brittle as autumn leaves, his face lined like frost tracings on an ice-bound river. Though