Free Taran Wanderer by Lloyd Alexander

even before it had begun? Could he respect himself? For a
     long while Taran did not answer, then with fond admiration he turned his eyes to Smoit.
    “The honor you would give me,” Taran began, “there is nothing I would value more highly.
     Yes--- I long to accept it.” His voice faltered. “Yet I would rather hold kingship by
     right of noble birth, not as a gift! It may be,” he went on slowly, “that in truth I am
     nobly born. If it should prove thus, then gladly would I rule Cadiffor.”
    “How then!” cried Smoit. “My body and bones, I'd rather see a wise pig-keeper on my throne
     than a blood prince who's a fool!”
    “But there is this, as well,” Taran answered. “It is in my heart to learn the truth about
     myself. I will not stop short of it. Were I to do so, who I truly am would forever be
     unknown and through all my life I would feel a part of me lacking.”
    At these words Smoit's battle-scarred face fell with sadness and regretfully he bowed his
     head. But after a moment he clapped Taran heartily on the back. “My breath, blood, and
     beard!” he cried. “You've a will to chase the wild goose, will-o'-the-wisp, looking-glass,
     or whatever it may be; and I'll say no more to keep you from it. Seek it out, lad! Whether
     or not you find it, come back and Cadiffor will welcome you. But hasten, for if Gast and
     Goryon are ever at loggerheads again, I'll not vouch for how much of the cantrev will be
     left!”
    Thus Taran, with Gurgi and Fflewddur Fflam, set off once more. In his secret heart Taran
     cherished the hope he might return to Smoit's realm with proud tidings of his parentage.
     Yet he did not foresee how long it would be until he set foot in Cantrev Cadiffor again.
    Chapter 6
    A Frog
    F
    
    
     ROM CAER CADARN
    
    
     the companions made good progress and within a few days crossed the Ystrad River, where
     Fflewddur led them for a time along the farther bank before turning northeastward through
     the Hill Cantrevs. Unlike the Valley Cantrevs, these lands were grayish and flinty. What
     might once have been fair pastureland Taran saw to be overlaid with brush, and the long
     reaches of forest were close-grown and darkly tangled.
    Fflewddur admitted his roving seldom brought him to these parts. “The cantrev nobles are
     as glum as their domains. Play your merriest tune and the best you can hope for is a sour
     smile. Yet, if the old lore is true, these realms were as rich as any in Prydain. The
     sheep of the Hill Cantrevs--- Great Belin, it's said they had fleece so thick you could
     sink your arm in it up to the elbow! Nowadays, alas, they tend to be a little scruffy.”
    “Aeddan told me Arawn Death-Lord stole many secrets from the farmers of the valley,” Taran
     replied. “Surely he robbed the shepherds of the Hill Cantrevs as well.”
    Fflewddur nodded. “Few treasures he hasn't spoiled or stolen save those of the Fair Folk,
     and even Arawn might think twice before trifling with them. Be that as it may,” he went
     on, “I'd not change the Northern Realms, where my own kingdom is, for any of these. There,
     my boy, we raise no sheep, but famous bards and warriors! Naturally, the House of Fflam
     has held its throne there for--- well, for a remarkably long time. In the veins of a
     Fflam,” declared the bard, “flows royal blood of the Sons of Don! Prince Gwydion himself
     is my kinsman. Distant ---distant, it's true,” he added hastily, “but a kinsman
     nonetheless.”
    “Gurgi does not care for famous sheep or fleecy bards,” Gurgi wistfully murmured. “He is
     happy at Caer Dallben, oh, yes, and wishes he is soon there.”
    “As for that,” answered Fflewddur, “I'm afraid you'll have hard travel before you see home
     again. It's anyone's guess how long it will take to find your mysterious Mirror. I'll go
     with you as far as I can,” he said to Taran, “though sooner or later I shall have to get
     back to my kingdom. My