The Black Cauldron (The Chronicles of Prydain) Read Online Free Page A

“Yes, of course,” she said, blushing, “if you really …”
    “I do!” cried Taran. “After all,” he added, “you’re the only girl in Caer Dallben.”
     
    “So that’s it!” Eilonwy retorted. “I knew there was something wrong when you started being so polite. Very well, Taran of Caer Dallben, if that’s your only reason you can go find someone else and I don’t care how long it takes you, but the longer the better!” She tossed her head and began furiously drying a bowl.
    “Now what’s wrong?” asked Taran, puzzled. “I said, ‘please,’ didn’t I? Do gird it on me,” he urged. “I promise to tell you what happened at the council.”
    “I don’t want to know,” answered Eilonwy. “I couldn’t be less interested—what happened? Oh, here, give me that thing.”
    Deftly she buckled the leather belt around Taran’s waist. “Don’t think I’m going through all the ceremonies and speeches about being brave and invincible,” said Eilonwy. “To begin with, I don’t think they apply to Assistant Pig-Keepers, and besides I don’t know them. There,” she said, stepping back. “I must admit,” she added, “it does look rather well on you.”
    Taran drew the blade and held it aloft. “Yes,” he cried, “this is a weapon for a man and a warrior!”
    “Enough of that!” cried Eilonwy, stamping her foot impatiently. “What about the council?”
    “We’re setting out for Annuvin,” Taran whispered excitedly. “At dawn. To wrest the cauldron from Arawn himself. The cauldron he uses to …”
    “Why didn’t you say so right away?” Eilonwy cried. “I won’t have half enough time to get my things ready. How long will we be gone? I must ask Dallben for a sword, too. Do you think I’ll need …”
    “No, no,” Taran interrupted. “You don’t understand. This is a task for warriors. We can’t be burdened with a girl. When I said ‘we’ I meant …”
    “What?” shrieked Eilonwy. “And all this while you let me think that—Taran of Caer Dallben, you make me angrier than anyone I’ve ever met. Warrior indeed! I don’t care if you have a hundred swords! Underneath it all you’re an Assistant Pig-Keeper and if Gwydion’s willing to take you, there’s no reason he shouldn’t take me! Oh, get out of my scullery!” With a cry, Eilonwy seized a dish.
    Taran hunched his shoulders and fled, while earthenware shattered behind him.

CHAPTER THREE
    Adaon
    A t first light the warriors made ready to depart. Taran hurriedly saddled the gray, silver-maned Melynlas, colt of Gwydion’s own steed Melyngar. Gurgi, miserable as a wet owl at being left behind, helped load the saddlebags. Dallben had changed his mind about not seeing anyone and stood silent and thoughtful in the cottage doorway, with Eilonwy beside him.
    “I’m not speaking to you!” she cried to Taran. “The way you acted. That’s like asking someone to a feast, then making them wash the dishes! But—farewell, anyway. That,” she added, “doesn’t count as speaking.”
    Gwydion leading, the horsemen moved through the swirling mist. Taran rose in his saddle, turned, and waved proudly. The white cottage and the three figures grew smaller. Field and orchard fell away, as Melynlas cantered into the trees. The forest closed behind Taran and he could see Caer Dallben no more.
    With a whinny of alarm, Melynlas suddenly reared. As Ellidyr had ridden up behind Taran, his steed had reached out her long neck and given the stallion a spiteful nip. Taran clutched at the reins and nearly fell.
    “Keep your distance from Islimach,” said Ellidyr with a raw laugh. “She bites. We are much alike, Islimach and I.”
    Taran was about to reply angrily when Adaon, who had seen what happened, drew his bay mare to Ellidyr’s side. “You are right, Son of Pen-Llarcau,” Adaon said. “Your horse carries a difficult burden. And so do you.”
    “What burden do I carry?” cried Ellidyr, bristling.
    “Last night I dreamed of us