Free The Foundling by Lloyd Alexander Page B

Coll was a bold man, he drew back a little fearfully before the flame of authority in the stranger’s pale eyes.
    â€œA good greeting to you, Coll,” said the aged man, not troubling to get up. “If I had reached here sooner, I might have spared you a harsh journey. I sensed Hen Wen’s danger and set out to warn you. I arrived a little late; but no matter. You have done well enough on your own. And I have whiled away the time tending your garden. You know me not,” he added, seeing Coll’s bewilderment, “but I know you, and the worth of your pig. I am Dallben.”
    Few in Prydain had looked face to face upon this mighty
enchanter, and Coll bowed most humbly. For her part, Hen Wen sat on her haunches and grinned happily.
    â€œNo doing of mine,” replied Coll, and he told what had befallen him along the way.
    â€œTut,” said Dallben. “Look at the root of things, and see that what truly counts is not a strong arm but a kind heart; not a fist that smites but a hand that helps.”
    The enchanter then pointed to a great leather-bound book on the table. “This is The Book of Three , and in it is set down all that will happen in the days to come. These things are hidden from you now, but I grant you the gift of knowing one of them. Which shall it be?”
    Coll’s bald head turned pink and he pulled nervously at his ear, for he was a modest man and unused to such favors.
    â€œNow then,” he answered, thinking hard, “I already know that spring will surely follow winter; and just as surely there will be sunlight and rain, good days and bad. And if I am to have any more such adventures—why, I would rather not know about them ahead of time. It is a great gift you offer me; but, thank you all the same, I have no need of it.”
    â€œThink well,” said Dallben. “This chance will not be given to you again.”
    â€œWait!” cried Coll. “Yes, there is one matter I would know above all. Tell me, then, tell me, for it has been on my mind these many days: how shall my turnips fare this year?”
    Dallben smiled. “To answer that, I need not open The Book of Three ,” he replied. “They will thrive.”
    It was true, even as Dallben had said. Coll’s turnips had never been bigger or tastier. Dallben himself agreed to remain at the farm,
which greatly pleased Coll—not only for the honor of it, but for the safety of Hen Wen. And all prospered.
    â€œNo doubt about it,” said Coll to Hen Wen. “It is better to be raising things up than smiting things down. And quieter, into the bargain.”
    Such is the tale of Coll and the rescuing of Hen Wen, with the help of the owl, Ash-Wing, the stag, Oak-Horn, and the digging and delving of the moles.
    And such is the end of it.

T HE T RUTHFUL H ARP
    Â 
    Â 

    Â 
    Â 
    T his is the tale of King Fflewddur Fflam and his truthful harp, as the bards tell it in the Land of Prydain.
    And this is the beginning of it.
    Fflewddur Fflam ruled a kingdom so small he could almost stride across it between midday and high noon. The fields and pastures grew so near his castle that sheep and cows ambled up to gaze into his bed-chamber; and the cottagers’ children played in his Great Hall, knowing he would sooner join their games than order them away.
    Â 
    â€œMy crown’s a grievous burden!” Fflewddur cried. “That is, it would be if I ever wore it. But a Fflam is dutiful! My subjects need me to rule this vast kingdom with a firm hand and a watchful eye!”
    Nevertheless, one secret wish lay closest to his heart. He yearned to adventure as a wandering bard.
    â€œA Fflam is eager!” he declared. “I’ll be as great a bard as I am a king!”
    So he puzzled over tomes of ancient lore, striving to gain the wisdom every true bard must have. And he strained and struggled with his harp until his fingers blistered.
    â€œA Fflam is clever!” he