Chapter 3: Centaurs

When the centaur took Nell up, he held her under his arm as he galloped out of sight and out of reach of any pursuit. But once he judged that he was clear, he slowed down and stopped. Holding Nell before him, her feet dangling a long distance from the ground, he said, “Don’t be afraid, little one,” more gently than she expected.

Nell was a little bit scared but felt better when she heard the tone of his voice. The sound of his voice was melodious and soothing. He had very deep brown eyes. “I am taking you to my country, on the other side of the mountains,” he continued, “We need your help. I will explain more about this later, but we do not have time for explanations now. I am going to set you on my back and then I will run hard for a long time. Hold on to me and we will rest when you grow too tired to hold on.”

Nell nodded and the centaur spun her around and then lifted her over his head; she found herself sitting on his back. She put her hands on his shoulders as he leapt forward on the path. They passed the fork in the road the others would reach later, but they took the way that lead away from Feinbrom. By the time the stars had come out and Graewingle had sent out his dwarf scouts, Nell and the centaur had passed over that mountain range and were almost at the top of the next one. Nell wondered where the centaur’s country was. She wondered more about the reason anybody in this world might need her. She wondered why he had snatched her up instead of asking her for her help. She supposed that perhaps centaurs were abrupt. It did seem rather discourteous, nonetheless, and she was not very sure that she approved.

The night was cool and as they came to the top of the pass the stars glittered overhead. Nell felt small and alone, but she was not the sort of person easily to feel sorry for herself. She was rather glad for some adventure, and shivered with the cold and with anticipation. Below them, at the foot of the mountains, a vast, dark forest brooded in the starlight.

They traveled on through the night and as dawn was touching the mountain tops behind them came to the edge of the forest. Nell was starting to droop, but she remained awake, gripping the centaur’s shoulders firmly. He had never slackened his pace all night. Now he stopped and helped her to get down from his back. She sank wearily to the grass. She was not very used to riding.

The centaur trotted around looking about as if to see if they were being followed or watched. Satisfied, he returned and whistled a high and piercing whistle. Another centaur appeared almost at once and they began to talk in a language Nell did not understand but which she thought sounded like German, although she wasn’t sure since she did not speak German. She dozed off puzzling over this.

When Nell was awake again, she found herself cradled in the arms of the second centaur; he was walking through a very dense forest. It came as a bit of a shock to her to be carried this way since she was, after all, already ten years old. The centaur looked down at her and smiled. “We have almost arrived,” he said. “You can rest better when we arrive.” Then he was silent again.

They arrived at last at a hollow. The trees grew thick on the outer slopes but were thinned out in the dale. The trees that grew there were tall, and there seemed to be broad avenues between them. There was a long, low building in the center where the centaurs lived. In the front entrance, as a sort of antechamber, there was a shallow pool through which everyone who entered had to pass. The centaur washed his hooves in it before passing into the rush-strewn hall. There was a long, high table which ran down the middle of the hall. It was being laden with food even as they arrived, and when Nell smelled the food she woke up completely, realizing she was very hungry.

She had not eaten for almost a whole day. When she had been carried in, she was placed directly on the table at the nearest end. Several centaurs came to look at her gazing thoughtfully at her for a while.

“She is very small,” one of them said at last.

“Oh yes, and quite light,” said the centaur who had brought her.

“What is her name?” asked another.

“My name is Eleanor, but everybody calls me Nell.” Nell volunteered, feeling a bit uncomfortable. The centaurs stirred, glancing at each other and looking interested.

“Do you mean to say that you are not called by your own name?” the one who brought her said.

“How exceedingly peculiar!” another one remarked. They pressed closer. “Do you know why this is?”

“Probably because it is easier,” Nell said, shaking her head. She was tired but very hungry, and these curious centaurs who failed to introduce themselves hardly helped matters. She decided to take matters into her own hands and asked, “And what are you called?” as pleasantly as she could manage.

“We are all called by our names,” the centaur who had brought her said. “My name is Welgan, whether it is easy or not.” The others gave their names, Elgar, Malton, Filsur and Bolnan. They pronounced them by lingering over the L’s in a way Nell found curious.

“Who was it who brought me to you first?”

“His name is Baldor. He is a very bold centaur.” Welgan said.

Quite unexpectedly, a clear and silvery ringing was heard, and when Nell looked around she saw that the room was filling up with centaurs who were all taking their places around the long tall table. The centaurs around her dispersed; only Welgan and Bolnan remained near her.

When all were in place they began suddenly to sing in the same language that Nell had heard Welgan speak earlier on the edge of the forest. It was a glad and solemn song. Their voices were strong and deep, and all too soon the sound was finished. But then they began to eat, and this was a great relief to Nell for she was famished. Centaurs eat well and they eat long, for they have to eat like horses.

The food was good and the only thing that Nell could have wished for that was not available was butter. There were potatoes and vegetables and fruit and meat that was strange to Nell, for it was venison. The cider that she drank was clear and good as well. She was done long before any of the centaurs showed signs of slowing down. They ate from large oval trenchers which were filled up at least three times over; and they drank down great drafts of cider from mugs that looked to Nell more like pitchers.

Nell began to droop as she waited for them to finish. She was sitting cross legged in front of her plate and nodding off.

Welgan noticed this and came to pick her up. He carried her around to the left side of the table and back toward the side of the building where there were smaller rooms. There he placed her on a table on which a bed had been made for her (centaurs, of course, do not use beds themselves), and soon she was fast asleep.

She slept for the rest of the evening and all through the night. In the hall, after the meal, the centaurs sang a great deal (as centaurs will) until they all went to their rooms to sleep.

You may be wondering, as Nell was, why the centaurs had snatched her away. The world into which our children had arrived was no more peaceful than our own: everyone has troubles to face. The centaurs had one thing in common that was more valuable to them than all of their lives put together. The had come to understand that few other creatures considered this thing valuable the way they did. This did not mean that some other creatures did not consider this thing valuable, for they did. It did mean that they were unable to appreciate it the way the centaurs did, and the centaurs were convinced that there was only one way properly to appreciate this thing.

I keep saying it is a thing because the only ones who really know what it is are the centaurs, and this is the result of an accident. You may wonder why anybody else would even appreciate something they don’t really know anything about. That is the curiosity of it all. In any event, the centaurs kept to themselves and were rather abrupt because they had a plan and they did not want their plan to be known in the wrong places.

When Nell woke up the next morning, she was rather sore from all the riding and could hardly walk at first. Eventually, and especially if she kept moving, she was able to get around without too much pain. The centaurs were coming and going in the main building. They were preparing for their breakfast (which they always have at nine in the morning). It was another great and long meal, of which Nell mostly remembered eggs (cooked many different ways) and a great deal of bread.

Welgan was beside her again and, after the meal was over and he had carefully wiped his mouth with his napkin (which they kept on the table, not having laps), he looked at Nell and said, “Well, it is time that we gave you some explanation, Eleanor. Come with me,” he said lifting her down from the high table and placing her on the floor.

He went along the side of the building to the end that was opposite the door through which they had entered on the previous evening. There were three doors at this end of the building and they passed through the one on the right. They came into another room which had a long table along one side, right under a long window.

There was an aged centaur in this room. The hair of his head was white, and his white beard was long, although the horse part of his body was still jet black. Welgan picked Nell up again and set her on the table near to where the older centaur stood. The looked at each other for a little bit. The eyes of the centaur were bright and keen. He smiled at last and said, “I am told that your name is Eleanor, but that you are to be called Nell?”

Nell was rather puzzled again but said, “Welgan calls me Eleanor, I don’t mind if that is what you call me also. It’s just that my brother and sister and everybody except my father call me Nell.”

“Does your father call you Eleanor?” the old centaur asked.

“Yes, he chose the name and he likes it better,” she explained.

“It is a good name. It is like the name of a centaur. El-leanor” he said pausing over the L as the centaurs did when they pronounced their names. “My name is Calnod, and it was I who commanded Baldor to snatch you away from the wizard, and bring you here. You have come to our world, out of your own world for this reason.”

“Why did you have to snatch me away rather than simply asking Elmquist if he would come or send me?” Nell asked.

“For one thing, he would not have agreed to separate you from your brother and sister.”

“Why didn’t you send more centaurs to get us, you didn’t have to separate us, did you?”

“The reason the three of you are here,” Calnod said gravely, “is that you each have a task to do, something you can do to help us in or difficulties. But Elmquist doesn’t realize this, and he never would have countenanced the separation of the three of you. He is intent on returning you home, as anybody should be.”

“Mightn’t you have explained that to him?” Nell insisted.

“We might have,” Calnod said, with no sign of impatience at all, “but he would never have agreed to allow you to undertake the dangerous task for which you came here. He is too human to allow it. Even so, he will be a part of it even if unwittingly. That is the way humans work, it is a strange thing.”

“What is it we must do?”

“You will know in time, Eleanor.” Calnod said. “What you must do will be plain to you when the time comes to do it, for I see that you are brave and sensible. Do you know that in our language Eleanor means hunter?” He smiled, and Nell felt rather pleased. “We have little time to lose,” he continued. “We must take you to the north, out of the wood and over the plains toward the sea. We must arrive there in a few days’ time, for we must arrive by new moon. The wood is ours, and there we may go safely, but the plains are not. They belong to the enemy. We must carry you swiftly through the plains to bring you to the place of your errand. For this reason you must learn to ride as well as you can, for a horse, and not one of us, will carry you over the plains. Horses are swifter than we when carrying burdens.”

“Must I go alone?” Nell asked, dismayed.

“Not at all,” Calnod said smiling. “Welgan at least shall go with you. But horses can run better with burdens than centaurs can. So we will call on them for help when we carry you across the plains. But centaur bowmen shall go with you, to protect you from the enemy.”

“Who is the enemy?” Nell wanted to know.

“A young fellow by the name of Mordvark—one of the wizards who went bad.” Calnod looked out the window for a long time. “He’s got the ring of the dragon. His dark battlements overlook the plains from the distant east, and yet his minions are many.”

He grew silent for a while, and both of the centaurs stared pensively out the window. Nell wished she could go out and enjoy the sunshine. As if to answer her unspoken wish Calnod said, “you should ride for a while before noon. Welgan, why don’t you take her for a swim?”

“A swim!” Nell exclaimed.

“Yes, we’ll go down to the river and then down to the apple groves.” Welgan said. “We still have a few hours before noon.”

“Calnod had already turned back to the book he had been studying as Welgan lifted Nell and set her upon his back. They went out the door, which Welgan turned and shut, and then proceeded out of the dim hall and into the bright sunshine.

Nell was still very sore and didn’t think at first that riding would be the best idea, but she soon learned to put most of the discomfort out of her mind. They went along the side of the long house and back toward the garden they had looked at from Calnod’s study. The river ran at the end of the grass and to Nell’s amazement, the centaur plunged right in and began to swim downstream. It was very enjoyable. Swimming was smoother going than riding over the ground. The bright water foamed and sparkled and Nell’s spirits were refreshed. They went swiftly in the strong current, winding through the forest till they began to see apple trees. Welgan headed for the bank of the river and climbed out dripping. Then he took Nell into the fragrant orchard, cool with dappled sunlight.

They galloped back to the hall shortly after noon. Lunch awaited them and Nell was rather hungry for it. Afterward she slept, for she was weary and sore. She remained indoors for the rest of the afternoon until dinner. Then, after the feast was over, Calnod came to her and brought her outside with him.

“We have little time to spare,” He began. “You must ride north early in the morning. You will go at a measured pace as long as you are in our forest, but you must be ready to travel very quickly over the plain. On the other side of the plain are the hills and the broken country that lies near the sea. It is to the tower by the sea that you must go.”

Then he lifted her up and held her with one arm while he pointed with his free hand, and she sighted along his arm and saw the group of stars he indicated. “That is the hunter of the centaurs,” he said, tracing the shape of a bow and then the rough outline of a centaur. “He is watching, as he has watched for a long time. Always there has been a centaur in the heavens, wheeling about our world and watching beyond it. He is greater than we are, but he was placed there by one even greater. Now you have your appointed mission, and even though you are small, it is a great task. If you are brave and do what you know you must do, then you will do your task well. For to each of us is given our task to do, and all that is required is that we do what we were made to do.” Then he set her down again and she stood there, feeling small beside him.

“Remember,” he said, “that the designer of the stars is greater than any other, and that he watches, and that he stands beside you.”

“What is it that I must do?” Nell asked in a small voice.

“That you will see when the time comes to do it. Now,” he said, “you should go and get a good night’s rest.”

Nell was awakened the following morning while it was still dark. She was given some things to eat, which she ate hastily while the last preparations were made. Welgan and Bolnan were there along with two other centaurs. All of them but Welgan had packs. When Nell was finished eating Bolnan set her on Welgan’s back and they went outside to begin their journey. Nell saw that Baldor also was going with them.

They traveled through the forest all day stopping only occasionally for rest and for food. When the shadows grew long they stopped under a mighty oak, and after eating, they gave Nell a blanket. She fell asleep at once.

Early the next morning they rode on again, and so it continued for four days straight. On the fifth day in the afternoon they came to the edge of the forest and stood looking out over a long, grassy plain.

“We will begin to cross the plain tomorrow.” Welgan said. “We have come as far as we can today.”

“Will we cross it all in one day?” Nell asked.

“No, we cannot. We must ride hard and without stopping, but we’ll not come over the plain in a day. We must pass the night and hope to get across in two days. The night will be our worst peril.”

“Will Mordvark’s people be able to find us in the dark?”

“We trust they will not, but it is their land. They do not patrol it very well, and in that lies much of our hope.”

They turned back from the edge of the forest and went in a ways and made their camp under another oak.

“I’ll go for the horses,” Baldor said.

Welgan nodded. He was preparing for the meal in the centaur fashion. Because they were too high off the ground, the centaurs didn’t really have tables they could use. What they did was to open up a pack on somebody’s back and all take their share. And one would give the food to the centaur being used as a table. Then they would come around so they were all facing and sing their glad song (more quietly than in the hall) before they began to eat. And Nell would stand holding her food while they sang, then she would sit on the ground so she could eat.

Baldor soon came back with five horses which fell to grazing on the farther side of the oak. The centaurs took their food and sang, and then all began to eat.

After they had eaten in silence, they began to unpack the bundle that Bolnan carried. He carried quivers full of arrows and bows. Each of them stung their bows and tested them. They found a target and shot a few arrows. They each inspected every single one of their arrows and made some adjustments to the feathers, or shaved some wood from the shaft with knives. (The strap of each quiver had a sheath with a long knife inside.) As each one of the centaurs was satisfied with his weapons, he hung them on the branches of the oak till the morning.

Nell was awakened long before morning. Welgan gave her quite a lot of bread and cheese, some berries and a skin full of water. “This is what you will have to eat all day. Keep it with you and try to spread it out through the day. You will ride all day and might not have a chance to get off till night, unless you absolutely cannot go on. So be careful how much you drink; and save the food for it is all you will have all day.” Welgan told her. Nell nodded and began storing the food in her pockets.

In the darkness she sensed the figures of the others standing around. “Are you ready?” Welgan asked.

“Yes.”

Then she was picked up and carried over to a horse.

“You are a pretty good rider by now,” Welgan said to her. “I think you will be fine, but you will probably be very tired by the end. If you cannot hold on, let me know. This is a good horse, but he will not pay attention to you.” And with that he set her on a horse and whistled to indicate they should move out.

The company moved through the trees, silent in the darkness. They came out to the plain and began to canter and then to gallop over the grass. After a long time, as Nell nibbled on her bread while holding onto the horse’s mane with her free hand, the sky began to lighten and she saw that they were a company of five centaurs and five horses. The four other horses had small packs. The centaurs carried nothing save their bows and quivers which were slung over their shoulders.

They ran without stopping all day long. The sky was overcast, and for a while there was a light mist, almost like rain, but it did not turn to rain and went away after a while. The endless miles passed and as the daylight waned, Baldor, who was leading them, turned along a slope and went along the bottom of a hill toward a pile of rocks. There, at last, they stopped and Nell almost fell off of the horse, because she was so stiff. She walked around for a bit after they set her down, but was too tired for too much of that either.

“One more day, Eleanor.” Welgan said as he gave her food. “Take your rest as soon as you can, for we will start early tomorrow so that we can get some proper rest on the other side of the plains.”

Nell quickly ate and drank and curled up with her blanket at the base of a stone. The ground was hard and lumpy but she hardly noticed it. You might think that she would feel a little sorry for herself, being snatched away, and now enduring what was a bit of a hardship. But she didn’t think of it, being, as we have said, rather sensible. She was not so glad for the adventure now, but she knew the centaurs were kind and good and so she never doubted that they had a good purpose for all this. She was no sooner done arranging her blanket than she was asleep.

Nell was awakened suddenly by cries. It was still dark and she could only make out shapes very indistinctly. Suddenly she felt a great shape beside her and arms reached out groping to find her. She was picked up gently but firmly and she smelled the smell of a centaur. He must have knelt down to reach her and now she felt him surge back up and then wheel and gallop away. The noises faded behind them as they galloped along in silence for a long way. Then the centaur slowed down.

“Our camp was discovered,” came the voice of Baldor, soft in the darkness. “I don’t know exactly what happened because it was too dark to see for sure. But we have barely escaped with our lives.

“I’m going to set you on my back, for we must keep on going forward. They will be after us when they discover that we’ve escaped, and it will not go well for us if we are caught.” He set her behind his back, with a little difficulty because of the quiver of arrows he still wore.

“What happened to the rest?” Nell asked, holding to the quiver as he began to run again.

“I do not know,” was all he said. And they raced over the darkened plain.

Mordvark’s scouts had picked up the party in the afternoon and had tracked them to their hiding place. They had signaled to a nearby outpost which had assembled a raiding party to fall upon the centaurs. But in the darkness they had blundered into the horses first and alerted the watchful centaurs so that a sort of resistance was mounted that kept the raiding party from overrunning their encampment. Thus Nell was saved, though some of the centaurs and all the horses perished.

Baldor ran on for a great while before there came at last a hint of dawn. As the sky became lighter it began to rain lightly and then the rain increased till they were going through a downpour and Baldor slowed to a walk for a while. The rain gradually diminished to a drizzle but did not relent entirely till the day was almost spent.

Baldor ran over the plain, with Nell crouched close over his horse-body to keep warm. She kept looking behind to see if they were being pursued. She did not see the hills drawing near to them before, but she saw, at last, a figure moving toward them, coming over the plain.

“Someone is following us!” she exclaimed, sitting up straight and twisting around. Baldor also looked back over his shoulder and began to run harder to try to win the hills. Nell made out two figures coming over the plain, and they seemed to be gaining on them. The hills were not so distant now. They were closer than their pursuers were. With a last burst of speed Baldor closed the distance heading for a way between the closest two hills.

They wound through the hills till late in the afternoon. Baldor rested among a grove of trees near a small creek. He put Nell down and she rushed over to the creek to drink. She had neither eaten nor drunk all day. Baldor did not drink for he could not reach down to the water. He seemed to be listening still. Suddenly he whirled back in the direction they had come and listened intently. Then he turned and leapt toward where Nell crouched by the water. Before he could reach her, though, she saw who was coming and held up her hand to stop Baldor, smiling. It was Welgan and Bolnan. They both had their bows and had packs also. Nell earnestly hoped they had some food. They did.

Welgan and Bolnan had been caught in the fighting in which all the servants of Mordvark had been dispatched. The other two centaurs, alas, had perished. But after the battle Welgan and Bolnan had not found any trace of Baldor or Nell. So they had taken what they could of the provisions and water and sought them all day.

The centaurs took stock of their situation. They decided it would be better to rest in the grove since it was almost night. Mordvark’s minions would take a long time to catch up with them even if they traveled through the night. Since Nell was still damp from the rainy day they built a fire that greatly cheered her. They only kept the fire long enough to make sure she was thoroughly dry and warm through, but Nell fell asleep long before they put the fire out.

In the morning Welgan set her on his back and they resumed their journey through the hills toward the sea. Nell saw the wheeling gulls first, and then she smelled the salty air from the sea, and then she heard the sound of the waves, and then they went up a hill to look toward their destination, and she saw the sea before her, grey under the grey sky. In the distance, at the top of another hill, there was a great house with a tall, black tower.

Chapter 2: The Journey to Feinbrom

They all trooped back to the cave to make preparations and to take council on the next move. The idea that they must stay there for a while was hardest for Nan to bear. She did not want to be away from her parents for any long while and she also worried for the worries her parents might experience. Nordby was not at all concerned and Nell, being sensible, quickly decided that since there was nothing she could do about it, there was no point in worrying.

Olga, on the other hand, was concerned for the children to such a degree that she decided she must leave her beloved wood for a while and travel with them. Even though Elmquist looked very gravely at her she said, “I must go, for by some design these children and I met first, and the responsibility for them is in some measure given to me.”

So it was that the five became a company and soon decided they should set out the following day. Elmquist had provisions enough, and blankets, and such things for the journey. What they lacked were stouter clothes for the children (should it grow cold, you see).

“I suppose you could wear some of my cloaks.” Elmquist offered. “Although, I don’t have so many good ones.”

“No,” said Olga thoughtfully. “There are dwarves up in the mountains who perhaps can help us in this matter better. I think we can safely leave this matter till we get there.”

“Finding altogether helpful dwarves might be rather more difficult than finding clothes for children.” Elmquist said. “But anyway, it can’t be helped. We’ll set out tomorrow with what we have, since the children should be returned to their parents as soon as possible.”

Olga departed. She would not return the rest of the day, for she had a great deal of work to do before she could leave the birchwood. Elmquist told the children to play outside while the day was fine as he himself had a great deal of work to do in preparation. So the children went outside and began to look around.

“What a strange, deserted land this is.” Nan exclaimed after a short while. “One would think there’d be a village or a city within view or traveling distance.”

Nordby had begun to climb the rocks and was out of hearing distance. Nell had no reply to make to Nan. They decided to take a turn, walking around the edge of the meadow. The sun was bright, the birds were singing and they wished they had more to do, or that they had some books to read.

Nordby, meanwhile, found the climbing easy and continued steadily without thinking of the journey back; he scarcely looked down. He came, presently, to a ledge that turned into a passage that ran behind an outcropping of rock. He followed the ledge back around. The sides of rock rose and met eventually and soon he found himself in a tunnel. It was not a dark tunnel, however; a light shone at the other end. He soon came to a very pleasant cavern, with sunlight streaming in from far above. The walls were rounded and smooth, with a ledge that ran all along the side like a bench.

Nordby sat down to rest and to enjoy the place he had discovered. He looked around again and saw a sconce high on the wall opposite where he sat. He went over and climbed onto the ledge, reaching up toward the sconce. He could barely reach it with his fingers. If he stood on tip-toe he could put both hands on the edge and was able, slowly, to lift himself up to peer in. He saw a bundle of cloth a little ways back. If he tried to lift himself a little more, he might be able to snatch it before falling back down. He looked down. The distance was not too great. With a quick effort he lifted himself enough to trust his left hand in and caught the bundle enough to bring it down with him as he tumbled down to the ledge and from there backwards onto the floor below.

 

When he had recovered from the fall and curiosity won out against the diminishing ache in his leg, he picked himself up and examined the bundle that he had snatched. It was wrapped in a black scarf with silver threads. He unfolded the scarf and examined the contents which fell out upon his palm. It was a silver ring of the most wonderful design that Nordby had ever seen. It was shaped like a dragon (going in a loop, of course) with the wings tucked back along the body. The eyes were slits with bright yellow jewels and what he supposed were rubies embedded in the nostrils. When the light struck the rubies there was a red glow. The mouth was closed and the whole attitude of the dragon was of moving at a rapid speed, as if hurtling through the air.

Nordby put on the ring. Nothing happened. He admired it or a while longer and then put it carelessly in his pocket, along with a penknife, some coins, a rubber ball and some other things that were always useful to have. Then, with a last look around, he left the cave and went back to the side of the mountain to find the place where he could climb down.

He looked out and was amazed to see how high he had come. He could see over the pine wood and down to the river. Nell and Nan were below, looking very small as they walked in the meadow. They looked up and called to him, waving. Nordby waved back. They made downward gestures with their hands and pointed at the waterfall repeatedly. Nordby assumed Elmquist had poked the umbrella through to bring them in for lunch. He was hungry. He began to climb back down the rock. The climb was not so easy as it had been when he came up. His left leg ached and twice he slid, scraping himself, but not too badly. Still his heart was pounding by the time he reached the bottom, and he was more than a little relieved.

At the bottom Nell and Nan were waiting. Nell scolded him for taking such a long time and getting scraped and dirty. She was washing him off by the waterfall, using her handkerchief when the umbrella poked through. They scrambled inside.

“Well,” Elmquist said as he shook the umbrella and ushered them into the other room. “Have you had quite an adventure climbing the rocks?”

“He’s gotten himself scratched up and dirty,” Nell answered for Nordby before he had a chance.

“It was a jolly sight more interesting than just ambling around the meadow!” Nordby retorted. He decided to keep the discovery of the ring to himself. He was rather cross with Nell for mothering him, and cross at himself for letting her mother him. And he was not so sure they would let him keep the ring.

You must not think that Nordby meant to steal the ring. It had not occurred to him that it might belong to somebody. Perhaps he should have thought about it more carefully, but the truth is that he did not. The ring was placed where he found it for safe keeping. But the person who had placed it there was not its rightful owner either. When Nordby took the ring he unwittingly frustrated that person’s plans (they were the plans of a rather wicked and desperate person). Now, Nordby had the scarf to show. Nan said she was glad, for it would keep him warm, the only thing to be wished now was for the rest of them to find scarves.

Elmquist had prepared a fine meal for them. As they ate, Nordby described the room he had found, omitting the bit about the ring.

“I have not been here long enough to make such a thorough investigation as would discover that cave,” Elmquist remarked. “I didn’t know it was up there. You say it was a simple, round room with only one entrance?” Nordby nodded, his mouth was full.

“A good thing!” Nell exclaimed. “Or he would have found another passage to explore and have been up there longer.”

Nordby observed to himself that Nell seemed rather testy. Indeed she was, for she wished she could have done something more interesting than to take twenty turns around the meadow. Nan, however, was quite satisfied with having taken twenty turns around the meadow.

 

“I didn’t build . . . or delve –I should say–,” Elmquist continued, “this place. I came upon it unexpectedly and quite by accident.” He mused, passing the bread to Nordby, “I was coming down out of the mountains and found the front door in a snow storm.”

“Was it frozen?” Nell asked, for she was rather bright.

“Frozen?” Elmquist frowned. “Oh, you mean the waterfall? No, that is the back door. The front door is another way. It is quite secret. As I said, I found it by accident in a snow storm. I stumbled into the shelter of some rocks and ran my hand over the place where the latch was. It’s not like a usual latch, it’s hidden in the rock. But I’m familiar with the work of the craftsmen that make these doors and so I was able to open it and gain shelter from the storm. Since the place was clearly deserted, and I was sort of looking for a new place, I remained.”

“Where is the front door?” Nell said looking around.

“Oh, you will see it presently. The way is behind that bookshelf in the corner.” Elmquist replied indicating a bookshelf standing to the side of the fireplace. “We’ll go out that way tomorrow.”

A secret passage, Nordby thought with excitement. He could hardly resist going to the bookshelf right away. He very much wanted to find out the passage and where it led.

Elmquist kept them busy for the rest of the afternoon packing and re-packing. The smell of baking bread filled the room as Elmquist baked some flat loaves and set them out to cool. He gave them each things to put away in their packs, but they were unable, for a while, to put the things in to his satisfaction, especially Nan. He showed them how some things were to go inside of others, and how some things were better at the bottom and not at the top. Nell especially enjoyed the neatness and efficiency of the end result, and her mood was decidedly improved by the time they were ready to eat again.

After they ate, they made some more preparations and helped Elmquist tidy up everything before going to bed. Nan was sad again and missed her parents the most. Nordby was eager with anticipation and could hardly wait for the next day. Indeed, had he not had the exercise of climbing a considerable distance in the morning, he would scarcely have slept that night. Nell comforted Nan and quite soon they all fell asleep.

In the morning Elmquist woke them, and they hastily ate breakfast. They each took up their packs. Elmquist fiddled with the bookshelf for a while, then he kicked it and it swung open with a groan of protest.

“I don’t go this way too often.” he explained.

They air that came out of the tunnel was stale and cool. Elmquist led the way with a torch and Nordby soon found all his eagerness to explore this place had blown away in the cold air of the tunnel; it was a bit like the cellar at home. After a while they turned to the left and began to climb until they came to the end of the tunnel. Then Elmquist muttered something Nordby could not hear, and the stone wall before them slid aside. The sunlight streamed in, to the immense relief of the children who were by now quite tired of the dreary tunnel. Elmquist put out the torch and set it on a ledge beside the door.

They went out and found themselves standing on a mountain road. Around them lay only mountains. To the right of them the road descended toward the beech wood and the valley below. Before them, at the edge of the road, a steep slope went down to the river which wound out of the mountains. To the left the road led up into the mountains, clinging to the side of the steep slopes, passing under an overhang and then out of sight. Elmquist turned and muttered something again and the door closed behind him. Then he turned to peer down the descending road.

“Olga should be along anytime now. We’ll wait for her here till she comes.”

 

They did not have long to wait. The day was fine, and the birds were singing all around them as they stood there waiting. Soon they saw Olga moving swiftly over the path. She had polished rods of wood for walking sticks. There was one for each of them except for Elmquist who already had his staff. The rods were light and yet stout. Nordby started to slash some brambles with it, making it whistle through the air.

“Nordby!” Olga said, and with such dismay that he immediately desisted. “I’ll not allow you to keep the stick if you use it for wanton destruction!” Abashed, Nordby walked on, taking little swings at the pebbles in the road, as if to clear them away.

They journeyed steadily most of the morning. The mountains were rugged. The road was sometimes wide enough for all of them to walk abreast, but most of the time it was only wide enough for three, and sometimes only for two. They would sometimes pass over shallow streams and several times had to leap from one rock to anther over swifter and deeper waters. The gullies from which the water came were often filled with boulders that had crashed down from above, breaking off the trees in the ravines. The woods were wild and untended; thorns choked the embankments and the clefts of the mountains. But since the weather was so fine, and the hawks were soaring, sometimes above them, sometimes below them, distant, floating in the warm air from the valley. They continued in good spirits until they stopped to rest and to eat.

“It is a wild and untended land,” Olga remarked. “Those who dwell here are careless of it.”

“Would you come here and care for it?” Nan asked her.

“Not I,” Olga smiled. “Perhaps others. I have no great love of the mountains, except to live in their shadow. I prefer the long slopes that run in gentle swells to where the rivers flow.”

Elmquist decided they should rest for an hour or so. He started a fire from which Olga hastily retreated. She went up the slope a little ways and found a mossy oak against which she rested. Nan went over to sit with her. Nordby and Nell sat with Elmquist.

The children were going to be quite tired before sunset, Elmquist thought to himself. He was hoping to reach the city of the Dwarves soon, but he did not think they would reach it until the following day. He wanted to press on because the mountains were dangerous, but he knew he could not push the children too far. For all their energy they would need to become accustomed to walking all day long. He noticed that Nordby was pulling off his shoes and socks.

“You have a blister!” Nell exclaimed.

“Oh, I shan’t mind it.” Nordby said examining his foot casually and wondering to himself how much it was going to hurt him. But he was growing impatient with the journey and wanted to arrive to wherever they were going so he did not want to hold it up.

“You do have a blister.” Elmquist said. “We can do something about that.”

He had soon heated up some more water into which he put some leaves. Taking a bandage from his pack, he wrapped Nordby’s foot in the leaves and then in the bandage. The warm leaves had a penetrating smell, like peppermint does. Nordby felt them warm his foot and then it tingled.

After they had eaten and sat back to rest, the children began to nod. Elmquist was smoking a pipe, which drove Olga away again. She had not eaten much. She had drunk a great deal of clear water and had a nibble or two of cheese and some dried fruit. But she decidedly disliked the smoke of Elmquist’s pipe. After some time, Elmquist roused everybody, and they picked up their gear and began to walk along again.

They passed over the first ridge of the mountains by late afternoon and began to descend, the road winding, as ever, back and forth along the folds of the mountain. They came to a pine wood as the sun was touching the western peaks and there they made their camp beside a swift and noisy stream. The girls were very tired and almost fell asleep before the meal was ready. Elmquist took some time making stew with potatoes and onions and carrots. It was good, and they ate it greedily as the twilight darkened to evening around their fire. Olga did not eat anything hot but had a great deal of water, again, and some bread and cheese. They heard a strange clattering sound as they were eating. Elmquist frowned and stood up looking out at the darkness. He looked at Olga who also seemed puzzled.

 

“What is that?” Nell asked.

“Probably just some rocks falling somewhere.” Elmquist said. They finished their meal and washed out their things, setting them to dry on a flat rock near the fire. Then they rolled themselves in the blankets and fell asleep to the sound of the stream.

Nordby, however, stayed up for a while, watching the fire. His blister was well. It had vanished thanks to Elmquist’s herbs. He was pleasantly tired but not so much as his sisters. It was still early, for the sun sets early in the mountains, and he did not go to sleep. He watched Elmquist in the glow of the fire.

Olga had gone a little distance into the fragrant pines to rest for the night. She had a hard time getting used to the fire and smoke. She was not looking forward to being in the caverns of the dwarves. Elmquist had pointed this out to her the day before, but she was resolved to continue with them nonetheless. The clattering sound had troubled her, for she knew that is was not the sound of falling rocks. What is was, though, she did not know.

When Nordby woke up the next morning is was cool and his nose felt very cold. Elmquist had built up the fire and Nordby went close to warm up. Presently Nan came up and then Nell came too. They huddled around the fire in the grey light of dawn and drank down their tea in slow sips. The air was cool, but the birds were singing. As they ate, the sun appeared over the mountains to the east, like a great, smiling face. After breakfast they made ready to go, putting out the fire and packing up all their things.

“By afternoon, we should come to the hall of the dwarves.” Elmquist said.

They set out at a brisk pace. As she had the day before, Nan walked with Olga, learning from her all sorts of things about the trees that grew along the way. She also learned of the mosses that grew on the stones and on the bark of the trees. Wood nymphs are fond of all plants, but after trees, they are especially fond of moss. And for the space of those two days Nan learned so very much about the plants that they passed, about the favorite places of trees and the benefits of berries and leaves and roots, that she was ever after quite a bit more knowledgeable than most people are who study plants all their lives. There really is no better teacher for botany than a wood nymph.

Nordby and Nell sometimes listened to Elmquist tell stories as they walked along. He told them stories of the dwarves, and of strange battles by the sea, and of dragons and of mighty wizards. Most of the time, however, Nordby would scout ahead, or was sent to climb one or another rock to look around them and report back what could be seen. Nell mostly walked along in silence with Elmquist, sometimes falling back to listen to Olga.

She was walking along ruminating, trailing behind Elmquist when suddenly she heard the clattering sound behind her. Turning to look behind, she noticed that Olga and Nan were not following; they must have gone up into another ravine to see a hoary old tree or something like that. The clattering sound grew until it became the distinct sound of a galloping horse. She heard Elmquist cry out behind her. Then she saw what looked like a man come around the bend in the road. But he was only half a man, for the bottom half was a horse!

The centaur galloped right to where she stood, rooted with amazement. A swarthy arm reached out and lifted her up, and dodging nimbly past Elmquist who tried to snatch at it, the centaur galloped up the road and out of Elmquist’s sight.

Nordby, who had been foraging ahead and poking into some creature’s hole he had found beside the road, heard Elmquist’s cry echoing in the hills. He ran back down to the road in time to see Nell being carried away by a galloping, bearded centaur. He shouted and threw his stick after them, but it landed far short. (I’m not sure what exactly Nordby was trying to do with the stick. I doubt it would have helped anything had it hit the centaur. Nevertheless, when a chap’s favorite sister is being kidnapped, it only stands to reason that the chap should feel he has to do something, however useless.) Then Elmquist came running around the corner and they both stood staring at empty road.

“Was that a centaur?” Nordby asked, amazed.

 

“Yes, I’m afraid it was. What they could want snatching Nell up that way is more than I can tell though.” Elmquist said looking thoughtfully at Nordby. “I don’t know if we should worry about it or not. Centaurs keep their own council. They do odd things; there is no predicting a centaur. One wouldn’t think to see one so far up in the mountains; they like the dales and hollows.”

Olga and Nan ran up. “Why did you cry out?” Olga asked. “And where is Nell?”

“She’s been taken away by a centaur!” Nordby said with considerable excitement.

“Taken away!” Nan said dismayed, looking from Nordby to Elmquist and then to Olga.

“It is no use pursuing him,” Elmquist said. “She will probably be safe and they will return her when they are through with her. In any event, none of us are going to catch up with a galloping centaur, even in these mountains. All the more reason to press on to Feinbrom and ask for help from the dwarves.”

“There now,” Olga said taking Nan’s hand. “The centaurs can be unpredictable, but they are not wantonly cruel like the Wastrels. And if we get help of the dwarves in these mountains, I am sure the centaur will not get far.”

They pressed on with greater speed. In the afternoon they came over the pass and saw the mountains stretching out before them in ranks. The sun shone on the snowy peaks, and rugged slopes ahead.

“Ah,” Elmquist said, “now we are close to our destination—only two or three miles from here and all downhill. Let’s hasten.”

Even though Nan was beginning to flag, they went quickly down, almost running, eager to reach the dwarves’ city of Feinbrom. Nordby did run ahead of them. He came to a fork in the road and waited for Elmquist to catch up and tell him which way. He wished very much he had stayed back when the centaur had snatched Nell. Not so much to save Nell, although he would have tried to do so. He wished that the centaur had snatched him away and taken him galloping off to wherever it was centaur snatchers took children. He thought it must be a pretty exciting place.

Elmquist came up behind and they took the right fork which soon led them to a wide bowl in the mountain. Before them was the great entrance to Feinbrom. The rock was carved with battlements and turrets. A great stone door stood open and two stout dwarf door wards, all clad in mail, stood with axes crossed to bar the way.

Nordby waited with Elmquist to walk up to the door. Olga and Nan, holding hands, came up behind them.

“Who comes to Feinbrom? State your name and your business in the city of the dwarves!” the dwarf on the left said, a bit more loudly than one would have thought necessary.

“I am Elmquist the wizard, a friend of Graewingle, your king. And these are my companions, children from another world who have strayed and require some help getting home. And this is Olga of the birch wood.”

“A wood nymph.” The stern dwarf said, almost shouting. “This is a strange thing indeed. A wood nymph desires to come under the mountains?”

“Whether she wishes or no, she is bound to our errand and so she will come with us.” Elmquist told him quietly. “Will you let us pass? We have urgent business with Graewingle.”

“You may pass.” The dwarf replied and they raised their axes, striking the pavement loudly with the shafts as they set them upright.

As they passed into the cavern, Nan felt Olga shudder. The wood nymph’s face was pale, even in the ruddy light of the torches that lined the way. The floor was dry and smooth. In the torchlight they could tell they were in a vast chamber that was narrowing down, but they couldn’t see the distant walls very well.

 

Eventually the road led through a tunnel and they came out of it at last, into a great cavern that was lit with many lights. Along the sides of the round cavern there were passages and many doorways and dark windows. The city lay all around them, rising to many feet above the floor. The size of it was staggering. Nordby could scarcely believe what he saw.

They were standing in what was the main square of Feinbrom. There was a great bustle of dwarves going here and there; laden ponies were led in trains, and market booths were spread out in a neatly arranged pattern. The sound of ringing hammers, melodious, but not making any distinct music was all about them.

Ahead of them was an enormous archway. Upon thick marble pillars was held aloft a canopy of rock. It was bright with huge jewels and thick veins of glittering quartz which reflected the fires burning in large marble bowls on every corner. It was the hall of Graewingle the king of Feinbrom.

Somebody had sent word on ahead of their arrival for the guards at the entrance of the hall raised their axes out of the way as they approached. Elmquist resolutely led the way. Nan and Olga lagged behind. Nan was afraid that Olga would swoon. At the end of the hall on a raised throne sat a great dwarf with a red beard. Elmquist bowed low before him and the rest did also.

“Hail, Graewingle!” Elmquist said as he straightened. “I wish you long life and a peaceful realm. Forgive my haste in entering, but I have news of a matter that will not stay upon ceremony.”

A murmur of disapproval went up from a group of dwarves standing to the side.

“We have lost one of our companions in the mountains. A centaur has snatched up one of the children that traveled with me and I would ask for your aid in pursuing the centaur.”

“A centaur, you say!” Graewingle spoke, rising from his chair. “We have not much hope of moving more swiftly than a centaur, even in the mountains. But what way did he go? We will send what scouts we can to see what is to be done.”

“He rode west, but most likely was heading for the north, to the plains of the centaurs.”

“Most likely.” The dwarf said. “Finglod! Haeran! Send word to the scouts and patrols to pursue after this centaur and his prey. Be quick!”  Two dwarves saluted and ran out to their errand. “Let refreshments be brought.” He continued. “Come Elmquist, my old friend. If the centaur can be caught we will catch him. But I fear that he is gone. They are not evil though, and I am sure you companion will be unharmed.”

He led them over to a table on which food and drink was being set. Usually dwarves are not so friendly; they are wary and sometimes even devious. Elmquist was wondering what sort of favor they would expect in return for all this lavished kindness.

Soon the dwarves and Nordby and Elmquist were partaking of a most excellent meal. Olga was unable even to look at the food and was sitting on a marble bench to the side. Nan had taken a plate with a few fruits and some cheese and was sitting by her, nibbling miserably, for she saw that Olga did not like to be underground. Elmquist talked with Graewingle and explained to him their journey and their need. Nordby tucked into the food with a great deal of enthusiasm.

The dwarves were able to supply the children with good cloaks and stout boots that were better than the shoes they wore. By the time they had eaten and received their cloaks and boots, they were both yawning and so they were taken to their quarters and left for the night. Nordby was soon asleep. Nan was a little bit comforted that the dwarf scouts were looking for Nell, but she was still greatly worried. Besides that she was concerned for Olga who was very wan and listless. So it was that weariness overcame her and she sank into troubled sleep.

Under the starlight the dwarves peered out over the mountain roads, emerging from the many entrances of their cavern kingdom, but nowhere was there more than a rumor of the centaur that had passed swiftly through their realm. At last the ravens, who are old friends of the dwarves, brought them news of the centaur and the child, who had passed out of the mountains and over to the plains.

Chapter 1: The Other Side of the Garden Gate

Along the back of the garden wall there was a doorway. In the doorway, of course, there was a door . . . although the door was really an iron gate, painted black . . . although the paint was peeling and the bars were rusty. Still, there it was.

All of his life, Nordby supposed, the door had been closed and overgrown with ivy. One could not really look beyond it. One could hardly even notice it. Nordby had discovered it recently, by accident, and had not paid much attention to it. Then Nordby’s father had gotten into a gardening mood, and, besides curtailing a great deal of rampant tyranny in the vegetable kingdom, he stripped the ivy away from the gate so that one could look through.

The gate itself still could not be seen from most of the garden, for it was hidden by a turn in the wall. The wall, you see, rather wandered. But when Nordby caught sight of the newly revealed gate he returned to investigate. He saw beyond it a meadow sloping down to a river. In the distance were rolling hills, some covered in green grass and some covered with woods, until they became too distant to be clearly distinguished. Nordby stood for a long time holding the bars of the gate and gazing out at the scenery beyond it. After a while he tried to open the gate and found there was an old, rusty lock on it.

It was a very peculiar lock. Nordby had never seen such a square and clumsy-looking lock. He was used to old fashioned things for his family lived in an old house with a great many rooms and stairs. The house had a forbidding cellar and a dusty attic as well.

Nordby looked out on the green meadow he had never seen before and wondered what was beyond. His house was on the edge of the city. A wall ran along the road between the houses on his street. All the grounds were walled in. There was an exception on the other side, a small park with a bit of woods. But there were no great expanses save for the endless road which ran into the city and away from it toward another city.

He turned away with one last shake of the gate and went up to the house to search. He had seen a bunch of queer keys once, long ago, when they had first moved in. (He had found them while he was exploring.) He thought it must have been in the attic where he saw them. So he went to investigate.

He ransacked the attic in an indefinite manner, tossing things aside and stirring up the dust until Nell, one of his sisters (who was usually found reading at a window in the attic), yelled: “STOPPIT NORDBY!” and threw a pillow in his direction. Nordby dodged and scrambled down the stairs before she found other more substantial things to throw.

He repaired to the kitchen for some refreshments and to formulate a new strategy. Having fortified himself with milk and some cold ham he decided the keys were more likely to be in the cellar. He was a bit reluctant, however, to go down to the cellar. It was dark and damp, and not very pleasant at all. There were no lights down there, so he had to use a torch. He found his father’s great, bright torch in the toolbox. Cautiously, he made his way down the stairs. The shadows leapt around him. He decided to hold the torch with both hands. He shone the light on the grisly, unfinished brick walls. He turned it upon some sinister cardboard boxes crouching in the shadows. Then he thought the keys were more likely to be elsewhere. He decided that he would first make a thorough and methodical search of the attic and stumbled hastily back up the stairs.

Passing through the kitchen, he fortified himself once again and ascended to the attic with great caution. He peered in to see if the coast were clear. Nell was in her corner, reading her book and picking at her braces.

Nordby slithered in tentatively and began quietly and methodically to search the nearest boxes and baskets. Nell ignored him. That suited him for a while; but then, as the search went fruitlessly on, it grew increasingly tedious to be mousily sifting through useless things carefully. Nordby began to go more quickly and more carelessly. Nell still ignored him. Nordby, growing gradually more aware of this lack of attention, moved by both impatience and that curiosity that drives the explorer to press beyond the limits, became even more reckless in his search. The dust in the attic began to drift on the air. Several other items, not quite so light as dust, also made their way in a leisurely fashion through the air. Soon the searching was being exchanged almost entirely for deliberate provocation as the spirit of scientific exploration seized upon him. This time the cry did not precede the missile. Nordby caught the book on the side of his head before he could dodge. He retreated, musing ruefully on the risks that must be undertaken for a cause.

It was then that the thought struck him. Nell had been with him when they were first exploring; they had found the keys together. He had scorned them, but she had taken them (in her usual, unpredictable way) growing fond of them for no reason he could discern. He went quickly down the stairs and across the landing. He paused at the door of her room. Even he was compelled to give a second thought to the consequences of being discovered ransacking the possessions of his sister. Nevertheless the spirit of bold exploration prevailed and he entered the forbidden chamber.

The late afternoon sunlight was streaming through the windows. Nell’s room was all done in pink (which had been quite a disappointment to Nordby when he learned she wanted pink, for she was his favorite sister). He opened drawers. He looked under the mattress. He went through the closet. But he discovered nothing.

He was sitting at the foot of the bed, feeling unusually dejected and perhaps in need of some fortifications when Nell returned to her den. “NORDBY!” She began without even gradually rasing her voice (up was not a direction in which her volume could go at that point). Then she stopped. She noticed that her younger brother did not look like his usual lively self and all pretended and real animosity was swept away in a surge of sisterly solicitude.

“What’s wrong, Nordby?” She asked with touching concern.

He sighed. “I want to find those old keys, to see if they’ll open the gate in the garden wall.”

“What gate in the garden wall?” She asked with renewed suspicion. “And what are you doing in my room?”

“I was looking for the keys. I thought you had them. Father has just cleared away the ivy that had overgrown a gate in the garden wall. And it has a lock that I want to open. I thought maybe those keys would open it.”

When Nell understood what Nordby was getting at (which she usually did even though she was frequently annoyed by his intrusions when she was reading, for they usually did many things together) she told him to get out of her room. By her tone of voice Nordby could tell that she was going to comply but did not want him to find the secret hiding place where she kept her most valuable things.

He left, and the door closed behind him. He tried to look through the keyhole, but Nell had hung her cardigan over the knob and the keyhole was blocked. He heard her scraping around. After a while she emerged. She was holding a bunch of keys, and they were the keys that Nordby remembered.

“Now,” Nell said, “where is the gate?”

Eagerly Nordby led Nell down the stairs. Together they went out to the garden. Nan was in the garden and she was looking out of the gate. She turned around as they came up. She saw the keys that Nell was holding and silently stood back to let her try them.

There were about a dozen keys on the large ring. Nordby and Nell had tried them on all the locks in the house and none had worked there, so father had said they could have them to play with. The first few that Nell tried did not even fit in the lock. But the fourth one, which was more queerly shaped than the rest, fit well. When she turned the key, it seemed to Nordby that the lock and the whole gate shimmered. Then the lock opened and Nell reached for the handle of the bolt to lift it as she removed the lock. When she touched the handle they heard a faint tinkling sound and Nell jumped back startled, staring at the gate.

“What is it?” Nan asked her.

Nordby reached out and touched the bolt before Nell could answer. He felt a slight, but not unpleasant, jolt pass through his fingertips, and there was another faint tinkling sound. He kept his hand on the bolt and drew it back, pushing the gate out in the same motion. It swung silently and easily. He went through to the meadow beyond and turned back to see if Nell and Nan were following. What he saw caused him to jump back from the opening with a startled cry.

Instead of the brick garden wall he had expected, there was a low, earthen mound and a dark opening, more sinister than the cellar. A shadowy figure emerged and Nell looked at him, astonished at the expression on his face. Behind her another shadowy figure was coming, as if from a great distance, and Nan emerged.

“Nordby, what’s wrong?” she said. Nell had turned around and gasped when she saw what Nodby had seen. When Nan turned around she was as surprised as the rest.

The dark opening did not seem like the best way to return home. “Where is the wall?” Nan exclaimed.

“Well, it isn’t there anymore.” Nell said. “Go back in and see if you get back to the garden, Nordby.”

“I’m not going back in there!” He said with great finality. He ran around the mound a little ways to see if he would find the brick wall, but it was a mound all the way around, with the sinister aperture from which they had emerged on the one side.

“Where are we?” Nan said turning around. The place where they were resembled the meadow they had seen through the gate. The river was a little way off and the hills rolled away in the distance. But all around them, on the sides they were not able to see before, there rose steep and forbidding mountains.  The skies were growing overcast and there was the distant rumble of thunder coming from the mountains.

“We’re going to get wet if we stay out here,” Nell said, being the sensible one.

“I don’t want to go back in that hole!” Nan exclaimed looking around her hopefully. “There must be another way to go back.”

Nell tried to lead them back in the hole, but found that the closer she got the more horrible it seemed and she could not bring herself to go back in.

“Well,” she said after turning away from the mound, “lets go under the trees to see if we can stay dry. It is going to rain very soon.”

They headed together toward the woods that grew on the slopes of the mountains. The sky was completely overcast and the wind was blowing very hard. They came under the trees and were glad to see they were tall pines which would afford good shelter from the rain. As the storm drew near they walked on the pine needles. It struck Nordby as a very well-kept forest. The pines stood in ranks like pillars, with all their lower branches cleared away.

“There is very little underbrush!” He said to his sisters. “It looks like the lower branches of the pines have been cleared along with all the shrubs that one usually sees.”

Nan who had not noticed but was now casting her gaze around, gasped suddenly. She turned to Nell with wide eyes and said, “I saw someone over there,” pointing to the right.

“Well,” Nell said sensibly, “there might be somebody here besides us. No need to be frightened.”

“But it was . . .” and Nan’s voice trailed off as her eyes grew even wider and she gaped at something over Nell’s shoulder. Nell and Nordby turned and were overcome with astonishment for the second time that day. What they beheld was quite unmistakably a wood nymph.

You have probably already realized that Nordby and his sisters were no longer in the same world that we are in. You probably realized this pretty quickly when they couldn’t find the garden wall or the gate once they had passed through. At least you must have realized that by the time the wood nymph appeared, for if you needed me to tell you about it, then you are, indeed, a very slow child. But since one never knows what sort of people will read one’s stories, one has to make sure that every bit that needs to be covered is covered. The children had, in fact, crossed through an old and magical gate into another world where wood nymphs and such creatures are a bit more common than here.

On the other side of the wood which the children had entered, the pines were gradually replaced with beeches. The beech wood was a younger wood that had grown up where the old pine forest used to be. The pine wood that was presently here had been mostly hewn down when the land had been conquered by a tribe of Wastrels. These had laid waste to the great wood and then had abandoned the land. Only this little wood still clung to the slope of the mountain. Now the beeches grew, for reasons known only to the wood nymph, to replace the great pine forest.

The wood nymph, whose name was Olga, was fleeing in dismay through the wood. Her tree, the birch with which her life was bound, was about to feel the ax upon its bark. There was a wicked band of marauders who had come thundering down the pass on their horses, having been driven from the mountains by the stout dwarves. They were quick to notice the flourishing woods and even more quick to realize it was the work of a wood nymph. And since acts of wanton destruction were their only object, and because they were in a bad mood already thanks to the dwarves, they were hunting the wood nymph’s birch.

Since the passing of the Wastrels the land had languished. Now, after a long interval, it was recovering. The creatures were returning to establish their haunts and weave their magic back into the country. But they were recent and so their power was weak and tender like fresh green buds. For when creatures such as these come to a place and dwell there, it takes them many years to settle in and to work their power gradually and thoroughly into their new place. So is was with Olga. She had not yet been there twenty years. The beechwood was new and her power with the trees only in its earliest spring. And there were few other creatures here to help her.

When the marauders descended, looming through the fog with fierce horns and antlers on their helmets, Olga knew they would not spare her tree. They were also Wastrels and had a keen eye for any source of tidiness and order, being much averse to such things.

Nell was the first to recover from the surprise of seeing a real, live wood nymph. “A wood nymph!” She exclaimed. This had the effect of rousing the rest of them, including Olga, from their shocked silence. Nan sat down heavily, looking rather overwhelmed. Nordby took a step forward. Then Olga held up a hand and said, “You are but children! By all the mossy birches of the north, if the marauders find you here they will handle you badly.” She stood irresolute for a little while, looking around. Then, making up her mind she said, “Quick, follow me. I know where you can hide.”

They looked at each other as she started on up the slope toward the mountain, but obediently followed her. She shimmered through the twilight ahead of them. The rain was pouring down heavily and a great deal of water was beginning to drip through to where they were below. At the edge of the forest the wood nymph stopped and waited for them to catch up with her.

“We are going across this meadow to a waterfall that comes down the side of the mountain.” She said. “You’re going to get wet anyway, and it can’t be helped. But you can dry off once we reach the wizard’s cave.”

At the mention of a wizard Nordby looked eagerly into the pouring rain ahead. They followed the nymph running through the rain and came up to the waterfall. She passed right through it. Nordby, who was ahead of the girls, did not even look back; he went right through. Nell and Nan hung back a little but then Nell said, “Oh, we’re soaked anyway,” which was perfectly true, and she ducked into the waterfall. Nan followed.

On the other side they found Nordby, and the wood nymph–who did not appear to have gotten wet at all. They were inside a cave whose mouth was completely curtained by the falling water.

“Who are you, and where are we?” Nordby asked the nymph. She told them her name and explained that this was the back door to the house of one of her neighbors. As she was speaking they heard a cough from the back of the cave. An old man came toward them not moving very quickly but not moving very slowly either.

“What have we here?” He said gruffly, eyeing them each in turn but mostly addressing his question toward Olga, adding, “A bit far from home aren’t you?”

“I beg your pardon, sir,” she replied with a deferential gesture. “But the Wastrels have just come down the pass and are running loose in my beech wood. I found these children in the pine wood and brought them here so that the Wastrels wouldn’t find them, for they would handle them badly.”

“The Wastrels have come over the pass!” The wizard exclaimed turning and moving decidedly quickly in the direction he had just come from. “Well, we must do something about them then! Bring the children in so that they can warm up by the fire,” he added over his shoulder.

They followed him back and saw light coming out of a door he had opened. He was already coming back out clutching a staff and with a satchel at his side when they reached the door. “Make yourselves at home,” he said to Nell. And he ushered them in hastily but stopped Olga. “You must come with me. No doubt the Wastrels are looking for your tree and I don’t know where it is. You must take me there right now, weather and all.”

The children watched them as they walked toward the entrance of the cave. The wizard reached inside his satchel and to their surprise brought forth a rather dilapidated, yellow umbrella which he opened before passing under the waterfall. Then there were gone.

There was a fire blazing in the hearth and Nell made them all stand near it to dry off. They looked around the wizard’s quarters. There were many books on shelves, quite a few bundles of herbs and cheeses hanging from a beam that was fixed overhead, and many cupboards and armchairs along the walls. It looked like a friendly and comfortable, if rather dark, place. It was nicely warm. There was a long table covered with maps at one end. Nan found a teapot on the closer end and they found something that seemed to be tea. Soon they had some water boiling.

“But what if it isn’t tea?” Nan asked.

“Nonsense,” Nell replied, “of course it’s tea. What else could it be?”

It could be something magical, thought Nordby; but he did not say it because he knew Nell would put her foot down and decide they’d not drink any of it. Soon the water boiled and Nell poured the water over the leaves. They gave off a queer smell, something like peppermint.

“That’s not tea!” Nell said. “Perhaps we shouldn’t drink it after all. Besides, if he’s a wizard it might be a potion to turn people into frogs or something.”

This last observation was quite enough to cause Nordby, who had already poured himself a cup, to reconsider. He flung the tea on the fire where it sizzled and steamed and then gave off a slow and sinister green vapor. The vapor trailed out over the hearthstones, moving in tendrils like snakes.

“Nordby!” Nell exclaimed. “Why did you have to do that?”

“What is it?” Nan asked, fascinated.

“I don’t think we should go near it.” Nordby said edging away. The green vapor continued to spread, pouring out over the floor. But very soon most of the room was covered in the green vapor and the children had moved out into the cave by which they had entered. It was then that the wizard returned and found them standing in the main cave, peering into the room, and looking rather apprehensive.

“I don’t like the look of this,” he said to Olga as he set his umbrella down to dry. She had come in after him and was still herself perfectly dry. “What is . . .” He began to say and then saw a tendril of green smoke reach out of the doorway. He leapt with amazing agility over to the children and somehow snatched all of them away at once, setting them down just inside of the waterfall. He sprang back to where the smoke was beginning to emerge from the doorway and began to rummage in his satchel as he muttered under his breath. Olga and the children looked at each other and then back at the wizard.

At last the wizard found what he was looking for and with a cry waved what looked like a dirty bit of cloth aloft. He uttered some strange words and flung the cloth into the room. The green tendrils began to recede. He stood there watching with some satisfaction. The rest of them waited silently. Nordby was especially nervous. Nan was a bit nervous too, being apprehensive on Nordby’s behalf.

Olga stepped forward and asked, “What was that, Elmquist?”

“That,” Elmquist the wizard replied, looking over and noticing the children again, “was a very deadly form of the Menthus Frogwart. I should not have left it out.” He approached them and asked, “What did you do to it?”

“We thought it was tea,” Nordby began. “But when I was going to drink some it didn’t seem right so I threw it in the fire.”

“It is not altogether entirely unlike tea,” Elmquist said thoughtfully. “It’s a good thing you did throw it away. If you had drunk some, you’d be covered in warts, or turn into a frog, or die. I’m not sure which . . . maybe all of them. I do know that the vapor is deadly. But never fear!” He waxed enthusiastic, “I have overcome it!” And he thrust a finger into the air. He beamed at all of them in a manner that Nan found slightly disconcerting.

“Quite so,” Nordby said. “Jolly good show.”

“I should say so, young man.” Elmquist replied affably. “Now, if you will promise to behave yourselves, I am sure it is quite safe for us to go in and see about making some real tea.”

They all went back into the room together and after Elmquist had picked up the cloth and replaced in his satchel, which he hung up on a peg, he began to bustle around preparing some tea. The children introduced themselves properly. They, in turn, learned that the Wastrels had been vanquished. Olga and Elmquist had quite frightened them away and it was extremely unlikely the Wastrels would ever again want to return to the beech forest.

Presently Elmquist poured out the tea and put some bread and cheese on the table and got some sort of drink for Olga, who did not particularly enjoy tea (a peculiarity of wood nymphs). Nordby was tucking into the bread and cheese with great enthusiasm when Olga asked them how it was they came to be in the pine forest and whether their family was very near.

“We came through the gate in the garden wall,” Nell began. “And found that we had come out of a horrible hole in a mound instead. I don’t think we are still in the same country. Is this still China?”

“China?” Elmquist queried, with a puzzled look at Olga. “I’ve never heard of such a country. But you say you came from a hole in a mound? Where was the mound?”

“The mound is down by the river, on the other side of the pine forest.” Nordby said with his mouth full.

“Nordby!” Nell remonstrated. But Elmquist didn’t seem to mind and looked at Nordby keenly, saying, “You’re not from Anador or Caladia or Wilming, are you?”

“We’re from England and we live in China.” Nan said, for Nordby had taken another bite and his mouth was too full even to try to speak.

“I’ve never heard of these places you mentioned.” Nell added. “Are we still on Earth or . . .”   She paused as her eyes grew round and she gasped. She looked at Nordby and his eyes grew round and he stopped chewing. Then Nan blurted out the question that had suddenly occurred to the three of them, “Are we in Narnia?”

Elmquist frowned and looked again at Olga. “Narnia? No . . . at least I’ve never heard of Narnia. There is something very strange here.” He mused. “I see that you have come from a distant place. This mound now, why did you not go back into it?”

“It was the most loathsome pit imaginable!” Nell exclaimed.

“I tried to go back in,” Nordby added, having just cleared his passages with a hearty draft of tea. “But the closer I got to the entrance the more awful it seemed.”

“You did!” Nell cried. “You mean I did!”

“I did too.” Nordby said, mildly though, for he remembered that he had not gotten as close as she did.

“We could never go back in there,” Nan assured. “Unless,” she added with a disconsolate look, “It were the only way back to mother and father.”

“There, there,” said Olga gently. “You’ll find your way back to them quickly enough.”

“You’ll have to pass the night here, however.” Elmquist said. “It’s late and still raining and we aren’t likely to find the mound on this evening. So let us hear more of China, and exactly how you came to be here.”

They passed the evening answering the unending questions of Elmquist. Eventually Olga had to leave for the night. She promised to return in the morning when they would all set out to the mound to see about getting the children back home.

After she had departed, they had some supper and then Elmquist bustled around and made sure everybody had good sleeping arrangements. There were two rooms off of the main one. One was a bedroom and the other a small sitting room. The girls slept on the great bed in the bedroom. Nordby slept on the couch in the sitting room. Elmquist remained in the main room, and from all that Nordby could tell, never went to bed all night long.

The next morning, after a hearty breakfast, Olga arrived and announced that it was a splendid day for an excursion. So they trooped out to the cave and passed under the umbrella that Elmquist held up under the waterfall to keep them dry, mostly.

It was indeed a splendid day and the sky was blue and the grass was green and the mountains looked scrubbed and almost cheerful. They passed again through the pine forest which was still dripping as the last drops made their way down from the heights of the trees. When they arrived at last near the river and the mound came back in sight, they pointed it out to Elmquist. He did not seem at all glad to see it. “I don’t like the look of this,” he muttered to Olga. “There’s no grass on it or anything. It looks like an old barrow mound.”

They walked around to the front and looked at the hole. Even on a bright day, early in the morning, it did not look at all inviting. They drew back a little from it.

Elmquist began to walk around it slowly, moving closer and studying the ground. He went around it, avoiding the hole, and then walked all over the top of it till he had examined all of it closely except for the hole. “It is just as I feared. Whatever gate you came through, it was only a one way gate. I do not think you can go back inside this hole. This is a barrow. I do not know what lies inside that hole, but I doubt very much whether it is China or Narnia or any other place that you may wish to reach.”

“What will we do then?” Nan exclaimed. “How will we get home again?”

“Hush,” Olga said. “Elmquist will find a way. There must be another way, never fear.”

“There must be.” Elmquist agreed. “It may be near, it may be miles away.” And he stood a while thinking, while the rest of them watched rather anxiously.

“The only thing for it,” he said at last, “Is to set out to find it.”

“Do you know where we will go to look?” Nell asked.

“I’m not sure where I would find anther such gate. But I know where we might find the best clues.” He replied, scratching his beard. “I haven’t been there for a long time and it will be good to see the old place again.”

“What place?” Nordby wanted to know.

“Oh, the Wizard’s Keep on the isle of Rok, of course.” Elmquist said absently. “Where else does one go searching for magical portals?”

“The isle of Rok is on the other side of the mountains and halfway across the sea!” Olga exclaimed. “It will take weeks to reach it.”

“Weeks!” Nan quavered and began to cry.

“Weeks!” Nordby exulted. “Can we come along? Are there more wizards there?”

“Weeks!” Nell said with frown. “They’ll begin to worry about us, I’m afraid.”

“It can’t be helped,” Elmquist said. “So don’t let it trouble you too much. Come along then. We have quite a journey ahead of us and we must prepare for it immediately!”

Condor

The shadow of the condor moves across the mountains and down the slopes toward the valley where the river runs. It moves over the ground passing the peaks and the hills and the trees, swiftly, swiftly. Across the roofs of the town, fleeting over the streets, it passes over a child who turns to see the shadow moving across the dusty square. The shadow moves up the belltower of the church and the child’s eyes moving upward see the form of the condor as it passes and his ears hear it crying out. What moments are these? For in the child’s heart there wells up a sudden and great longing for he knows not what, and he stands watching the condor as it flies straight toward the mountains on the other side of the valley, fading from view.

The name of that child was Huldar. Long he desired to go beyond the mountains, with the swiftness of the condor’s flight. He grew up learning about the condor, more and more. He learned about the condor’s lonely ways, how it would fly above the majestic Andes mountains, the range of its domain. Yearning to fly away with the condor he studied it as much as he could. Huldar would follow the path of the condor’s flight up into the mountains, going for days and camping as he searched for the place where the condor went.

One time, after long travel, he came to cave; and the condor was sitting up in the branches of a great, dead tree near to the entrance. It called out and stretched its mighty wings. Then, with its beak, the condor plucked out one of its feathers and let it fall. It drifted down, falling in the entrance to the cave. With a cry of wonder Huldar ran forward to take up the feather. He looked at the feather he held, and then past it into the cave. The condor cried again and seemed to glare at him, as if urging him into the cave.

Huldar hesitated for a little bit till the condor cried again and then he went inside the cave, taking the feather with him. He walked forward into the darkness for a long time. Gradually, a light grew at the other end. When he came out he realized that he had passed all the way through the mountain. Before him lay a fair, green valley, and a great and beautiful city. There was a road that passed by the entrance of the cave and he went down to it.

Journeying for a while, he saw there was a gate that blocked the road. The road was cut into the mountain so that it passed between two outcroppings of rock. There were two square towers that framed the gate. Guards in bright armor paced the parapet and watched from the top of each tower. They called out in surprise when they saw Huldar approaching. As he drew near he raised the feather and held it before him, and it became a sword as he held it up. He touched the wooden gates with the sword and they swung open. As he passed through he saw that an enchantment had fallen on the guards for they all stood silent and unmoving.

Huldar marveled and looked down at the sword that he carried. The hilts were shaped like wings reaching from the pommel down toward the blade. The pommel of the sword was in the shape of a condor’s wrinkled, ugly head with gleaming ruby eyes. As he lowered it again it turned into a feather. He continued on down the road.

He came to another gate, like the first, with tall, square towers rising into the air. The guards saw him but raising the feather, he found a sword again and touched the gates to open them. He passed through the second gate and continued on the road that wound down into the valley. The birds sang in the pine trees and the sky was blue. The mountains in the distance were purple and grey. The sun shone brightly and Huldar felt in good spirits.

The fair, white city gleamed in the sunlight as he approached the gates. The walls were high and had many towers. The guards saw Huldar but they did not cry out. The gates of the city stood open and he passed through without lifting up the feather. A causeway, bordered with cedars, lead into the heart of the city, to the palace of the king. The causeway ended in an open square where a fountain stood, with water sparkling in the sunlight.

Thirsty from his journey Huldar went to the fountain and drank. As he lifted his head the clear sound of a trumpet rang out in three quick blasts. He was being surrounded by guards in armor and white capes. They bore drawn swords for he had drunk from the forbidden fountain. In alarm he lifted up the feather. It became a sword and all the guards suddenly halted. Everybody in the square was stopped. Huldar looked out over the suddenly silent city. He wondered if the spell could be turned back.

Then he saw there was a figure moving along the shadows that the buildings cast on the western side of the square. It was a woman moving swiftly toward the entrance to the palace. Huldar followed her, making his way around the statues of all the enchanted people. She was so intent on reaching her destination that she did not notice Huldar following. He kept the sword raised as he advanced, climbing the stairway up to the palace.

The woman moving ahead of Huldar went swiftly, passing down the great hallways and through the splendid rooms of the palace until she came to a vast round chamber in which there was a pendulum. The pendulum swung in a great arc, making a hissing noise as it moved the swiftest at its lowest point. It seemed to Huldar that the blue glass globe that swung, mesmerizing, would crash into the floor. The globe hung on a silver wire that hung down from the domed ceiling far above.

The woman lifted both her arms and called out, speaking to the pendulum. It moved on its downward course toward the floor, faster and faster, but when it reached the lowest point it stopped abruptly. And in that moment it seemed to Huldar that all the palace groaned, as if it were a man, as if the stopped pendulum were his heart. But the groaning that Huldar though was the palace was not only the groaning of the palace, but that of all the world. For the woman was a witch, and had called out a terrible command that had not simply stopped the pendulum, but had, instead, stopped the world.

She turned to look at Huldar. He saw that she was very beautiful. She wore black robes and her skin was deadly pale. Her eyes burned with an unearthly fire. She walked toward Huldar who suddenly found that he was almost paralyzed. He could only move with great effort.

Huldar did not realize that the witch had stopped the world, but he knew that when the pendulum had stopped, something terrible had happened. He held the sword out, and when she saw the sword she hesitated for the first time. Although Huldar felt that he could barely move, he did not let her notice that. With a great deal of effort he waved the sword to show her that he would use it if she came any closer.

She looked at him and then at the sword. With a gleam recognition she noticed the hilt of the sword. “The condor has sent you!” She gasped. Then she drew herself up and smiled a cold smile. “The condor has sent you, but you are too late. Indeed, you have blundered. You placed the enchantment on the guard so that I could move freely through the city and in the palace. You were meant to use that enchantment only in dire need, but you used it too soon, forwarding my purposes.”

“Who are you?” Huldar asked, finding that he did not feel so paralyzed anymore.

“I should ask you!” The woman said. “But I am Silentia. And you have unwittingly aided me in stopping the harmony of the worlds. The condor, who hears the wind and sounds his cry in the echoing mountains, hears in his heart the harmony that sounds in all the universe. He sent you to prevent me, for no doubt you hear the harmony of the spheres inside your heart, but you have failed and given me success.”

Huldar did not know what to say. He didn’t know if he understood what it was she spoke of, but he was sure she was terribly wicked. He was also certain that if the condor had sent him to stop her, then he had better do something, for the condor was the lord of the mountains. Taking the sword in both hands he began to walk toward the witch.

Seeing his advance, the witch drew back a step or two and in alarm said, “What are you doing, you fool? Don’t you see that the sound of the whirling spheres is over, that their music no longer fills the empty spaces? The song which the condor loves is gone; it is proved a sham and an empty hoax, for I have removed it forever! You cannot stop me now, so put down the sword. I have greater power than the power of the condor’s sword.”

But Huldar saw that she was afraid, and that she backed away as he advanced. “Then with your heart hear the harmony of war!” He said with words that did not seem to be his own. The witch turned and fled, and Huldar pursued after her.

Through the streets of the city, past the people and the soldiers frozen with the enchantment, Huldar ran after the fleeting witch. She went like the wind. When she reached the gate she turned into a raven and beat her way up into the sky. Huldar saw her change and leapt after her to snatch her back. He reached out with his left hand and his right hand brought the sword down for the first time since raising it by the fountain.

Then the strangest thing that Huldar had experienced happened, for he felt that he was changed into a bird, into a condor, and he heaved his mighty wings, straining after the smaller raven. His body was heavy, and his wings seemed ungainly at first. Then he caught an updraft and spread his wings to spiral up toward the skies. The raven was winging its way south as quickly as it could fly, but Huldar was not concerned. He could see it clearly, he could see more clearly than ever before, and he could reach the raven easily whenever he wished simply by plunging down toward it. He watched it go and followed it from miles and miles above the earth.

The witch was going back to her dark tower to search for a spell that would banish the power of the condor’s sword. She feared it greatly for she feared the condor who was the lord of the mountains.

Huldar could see the raven heading for a tower that stood by the foothills of the mountains. It was sunset when the witch saw her tower and redoubled her effort to reach it. But Huldar saw that she was heading for the window and plunged down to intercept her with a loud condor cry.

He took the raven in his talons, swooping to avoid the walls of the tower, banking sharply and lifting upward bearing the weight of Silentia who had turned back into a woman. He carried her far above the world and at dawn he brought her to the place where the dead tree stood over the cave. There was the condor, sitting on the branch as he had before.

Huldar set Silentia down and when he touched the ground he again became a man, holding the condor’s feather in his right hand.

“You have no authority over me!” Silentia said defiantly to the condor.

He glared at her and then he spoke. “I am the lord of the mountains, I watch them, moving swiftly opposite of their motion; or being still, I move with them in their motion. You have no authority to stop the music of the spheres; recant the spell.”

The queen opened her mouth, as if uttering a soundless wail, and with a groan and a great tremor, the world resumed its motion. Then Silentia ran away down the mountain and toward the south. Huldar was going to spring after her but the condor called to him.

“Take the sword Huldar, it is the token of your office. I bequeath to you my kingdom and all of my dominions. I declare you Huldar, the lord of the mountains.” Then the condor rose up with a mighty cry and gliding down to the foot of the tree, he fell dead.

So it was that Huldar, greatest of all the condors, came to be the lord of the mountains. After he had buried the great condor he leapt up toward the branch of the tree and was never more seen in the shape of a man. High above the mountains you can see him soaring, and in his heart is the music of the spheres.

The shape of the condor moves between the world and the worlds. In the night a dark form is seen moving across the starry sky. Sometimes it is a great form, darkening many stars. Sometimes it is a small form, and only a few stars seem to wink as it passes. For Huldar, the lord of the mountains, soars on the starlight and the moonbeams where the air is thin and very cold. But always, when the morning light touches the snowy peaks of the Andes, his flight brings him back to cast his shadow over these mighty rocks, till he pass from the world, and the great longing of his heart at last is satisfied.

Gashly House

Have not been working on stories for painting. But here’s something related.

The Princess Em, Part 4: The Golden Key

4 – The Golden Key

The princess Em went down and down and down. The way was like a long ramp. It did not get any darker as she wen though; she walked in gloomy twilight for what seemed like most of the night. At last she heard a sound ahead of her, like a quiet whispering. Next she thought she heard a sort of dripping. Then she came out of the long tunnel and saw outside that it was raining. The day was breaking.

Well, she thought, it is better than snow; maybe I will come to the castle or a village if I start to look.

She no longer felt as tired as you might think, and she was feeling hungrier than she ever had felt before. So she set off through the rain, wishing the bird had not taken her coat.

She walked for a while through the wood where it was pretty dry under the trees. The wind sometimes sighed through the branches; the sound of the falling rain was gentle; every so often a drop would land on the princess and splash her. Before long, however, the trees thinned out, and then she caught sight of a town in the distance.

The princess was soaked through when she got to the first house of the town. She knocked on the door and waited. After a long while the door opened. The man who stood there was so ugly she gasped; he was uglier than anybody she had ever seen. He was so ugly the princess Em forgot she was wet and hungry and she ran of down the street.

The man’s name was Bildad Bluebird. He watched the princess run away and he laughed to himself. What the princess did not realize was that compared to everybody else in the town, Bildad Bluebird was a handsome man.

Well, the princess Em stopped at two other houses and ran away from these too. Eventually she came to the inn, weary and wet and hungry. She made herself face the ugly people there, and they treated her well. Even if they were ugly, they were not unkind, and all of them were patient.

The princess was soon warm and fed. She fell asleep upstairs and slept all day and all the night before she woke up again. On the following day the people of the town listened to her story. They smiled at each other every time she said she was a princess, as if they did not believe it. This began to irritate the princess so that eventually she grew impatient and stamped her foot.

Again the ugly people of the town looked at each other, but this time they did not smile.

“Now dearie,” an old lady who was sitting next to Em said gently, “there is no need to fib. It is all very well if you want to pretend, but don’t expect us to believe you really are a princess.”

“But I am a princess!” The princess cried.

Then the ugly people looked uncomfortable or shook their heads.

“Blue birds with yellow boots and princesses indeed,” said Bildad Bluebird, who had stopped by the inn. And the old lady, whose husband was Cleopas Hardwinkle, the innkeeper, sighed and shook her head.

“Well,” Bibldad Bluebird asked, “what are you going to do now?”

“I would like to return to the castle,” said Em.

“We don’t have any castles,” Mrs. Hardwinkle said. “Never heard of any, anyways.”

All the ugly people shook their heads. Their skin was pale and bumpy, and there were ragged feathers growing out of it here and there—right on their faces. They resembled nothing so much as mostly-plucked chickens, unfortunately. The princess was so discouraged that she began to cry, fearing she might have to stay in this town.

And so it was. The princess Em became just simply Em. She lived in the inn and paid her way by helping to serve tables and to wash up. When she was older she also learned to cook. She lived in the town with the ugly people (all the travelers who came were ugly also) for twelve long years. And even though she did not realize it, she learned to be patient.

Now in this town there was a bell high in the tower of the town hall. The bell would ring at six in the morning, and at nine, twelve, three and six at night. Every day the bell would ring without fail. It was the job of Bildad Bluebird to ring the bell, and he had never been known to miss the time in forty years—so they all told Em.

Sometimes Em would tease him and try to make him forget to ring the bell. She would bring him another plate of food if he was eating at the inn; if he was passing by she would let a pig escape and run, shouting for him to help her catch it. Bildad never got distracted. He did grow fond of Em because he thought she was funny and clever. She came up with some ingenious ways to try to make him forget to ring the bell, but none of them worked.

One day, on the day she was twenty-four years old, Em woke up and realized that something was wrong. She got out of bed and went to the window to look outside. Everything looked fine. And then she realized what was wrong: she always woke up to the sound of the bell, and this morning all was silent.

Dressing hastily, she ran downstairs and out to Bildad’s house. She knocked, but no one answered. She called. She tried the door, but it was locked, and she noticed for the first time the lock was made of gold. Then she thought of running to the town hall to see if he was there, and there she found him.

Bildad Bluebird was lying at the foot of the stair that led up to the tower. He had fallen down and was injured. The townspeople were already gathering around when Em ran into the building.

“He’s not doing well,” somebody whispered.

“Says he fell down all three flights,” another said.

“He’s calling for Em!” Somebody else cried.

“Call Em!”

“Where’s Em?” They shouted.

So Em pushed through the crowd to where Bildad lay on the rug. He openend his eyes when she came near.

“Here, princess,” he said. This startled Em, for it had been so long she had forgotten she really was a princess. Bildad reached inside his vest, took out a golden key and gave it to Em. She knelt beside him, holding the key and wondering what to say. Then she looked at Bildad and she thought she saw a twinkle in his eyes before he closed them.

Then the strangest thing happened. Bildad appeared to shrink, and to turn blue, and to grow feathers. And when he had turned into a blue bird, he flew up into the tower. Then all the ugly people of the town started doing the same, all around Em. They turned into blue birds and began to fly away. Em ran outside and saw blue birds rising into the morning air and flying away under the grey clouds.

The bell rang faintly one last time, struck by a passing bird emerging out of the tower. The princess Em was left alone, standing in a deserted town. She went back to the inn to think and to make herself some breakfast. When she next looked out of the window, it had begun to snow.

Her fairy godmother arrived on her skis shortly after noon, and the princess Em cooked a big meal which they both enjoyed together.

“Now you have the golden key I was going to give you for your birthday,” her fairy godmother said, stirring her coffee.

“Was it for the cage?”

“Yes. My husband thought he mislaid it. Anyway, it isn’t like the silver key, you can use it more than once.”

“Really?”

“Yes, it is a much better key,” her fairy godmother said, putting her cup down and taking off her had to examine it before putting it back on. “Still, you must use it on the right doors, and only when you are certain.”

At this the princess Em looked down and smiled, for she had learned her lesson.

“But after the first door, there will be many more,” her fairy godmother said.

And after that she rose up and kissed the princess Em, put on her skis and skied away. The princess stood watching the tracks of the skis as they filled up with snow. She went inside and cleaned everything up and put all the dishes away.

Later that afternoon she took the key to Bildad Bluebird’s house. She opened the golden lock and found herself in a hallway with a picture of her fairy godfather. She went along until she came to a single door with another golden lock. It opened for her and she went up a bright set of marble stairs. At the top was the fairy godfamily, the old man, her fairy godmother, and Nan Vaughan.

“Nan,” the princess asked after they embraced, “how did you get here?”

“She is your fairy godsister,” her fairy godmother explained.

For some reason, the princess blushed. Then they all laughed together, and they all lived happily ever after.

The End

The Princess Em, Part 3: Inside the House

3 – Inside the House

On the princess’s twelfth birthday it began to snow as it had not snowed for a long time. It snowed the way it had snowed on the day she was born, the way it had snowed when her fairy godmother had visited her six years ago bringing the silver key. The snow fell silently and straight. No wind blew to scatter the snow, and the snow piled up in an even blanket.

After a few hours the princess Em got tired of watching the snow. The snow did not get tired of falling until five days later. It was so deep on the ground that nobody could go out of the castle doors.

People were able to get out of the castle by using the third story balconies and windows. The princess Em climbed out of a window on the tower and jumped down to the snow. Much to Nan’s horror, who had looked out in time to watch, the princess sank right down into the snow and was lost to view, buried away without a coat or boots or mittens. Some men-at-arms had to rescue her.

When she was warm again, the princess decided she would not stay indoors. She went outside to ski. She had gotten pretty good at skiing by this time in her life, and today she improved even more. The royal ski-master said she was quite an expert and allowed her to ski on the hardest slope. Nan watched from the bottom. After two times, however, the princess decided the idea of climbing back to the top of the slope was not worth it. She struck out across the country and skied out of sight of the castle. Nan called her back, but the princess did not hear.

The princess Em came to a long slope and wend down, going faster and faster. As she was slowing down on the upward slope, she caught sight of the blue bird from long ago. It flew a little way ahead of her, and she started skiing up the hill in zigzags, trying to catch up with it.

When the princess fell behind, the bird would fly in a circle and wait for her, or it would perch on a branch till she was near again. And so it led the princess away from the castle. It came to rest, at last, on the western wall.

When the princess drew near she saw, to her amazement, the bird was right above the door she had seen on the picnic so many years ago. With all the snow, the princess was now at the same level as the door. When she came up to it she knew at once it was the very door for which her key had been made: they lock was silver and exactly the right shape.

Above her the blue bird began to sing, and the song was the saddest song the princess Em had ever heard. It was then the princess understood how impulsive she had been to use the key. Her fairy godmother had given it to her to open this door, and now she could not. The bird sang on as night began to fall.

The princess Em knew she could never find her way back to the castle in the dark. She had been thoughtless to follow the blue bird. She shivered in the cold and wondered what she should do. If only she had the key, she might go through to the other side. She peered through the keyhole to see what lay on the other side, but she could see nothing other than darkness in the keyhole. The blue bird had stopped signing; the princess could not see it anymore. She felt very alone.

The princess Em began to call for help, but nothing happened except it began to snow again. She was so cold now she was afraid she would freeze. She leaned herself back against the door and the weight of her body pushed it open; she fell into the hall.

In the hallway stood the blue bird. He was tall, like a man now. He looked more like a man with a bird’s head. He wore a bright blue tailcoat and had yellow boots.

“Please leave your skis and poles outside, your highness,” the bird said to the princess Em. She fumbled with the fastenings and got the skis off. It would have helped her to take off her mittens, but she was too confused to think about them, and she could not see very well for the tears, and she was very surprised and relieved to think clearly.

It was warm inside. There was a painting on the wall, and the princess recognized the man in the painting. It was the old man who had lost the golden key.

“I’ll take your coat,” the bird said. The princess gave him her coat, scarf, mittens and hat. When the bird had put them away in the closet, he turned and led the princess along the hallway.

“Where are we?” The princess asked.

“This is the house of your fairy godmother, hour highness,” the bird replied.

The princess also wanted to ask the bird if he was the same as the blue bird she had let out of the cage, but she could not bring herself ask. What was happening was very strange, and all the princess’s daring had been used up already.

They came at last to the end of the hall. There were two doors facing them; both doors had little windows so you could see what lay beyond. The one on the right had a golden knob and seemed to lead to a stair and a bright place beyond; the other one had a silver knob and the way beyond went down into the dark. Both of the doors had a name written on the keystone above: the right said Might and the left said Must. The princess thought Might looked like a good way to go.

“Why do they say, ‘Might’ and ‘Must’? The princess asked the bird.

“They are two ways,” the bird replied. “The way you might have gone and the way you must go.”

“I might have gone that way?” The princess asked, looking wistfully through the window in the right door.

“You might have, had you used the key wisely.”

“Oh,” she said, and there was a short silence.

“Must I go down the dark way, now?”

“Yes,” the bird replied, opening the door for her and standing aside.

“Aren’t you going to come?”

“Not the same way,” the bird answered.

The princess would have wondered about this more if she had not been faced with the prospect of going down what did not look to her like a very nice way.

“What is at the end?”

“You must go all the way to find out.”

“Isn’t there another place I can go and rest till morning? I want to go back to the castle when it is day.”

“The front door is closed now, and locked,” the bird explained. “We no longer have the key. You can’t go back that way.”

Next

The Princess Em, Part 2: The Door in the Wall

2 – The Door in the Wall

One summer a few years later, the princess Em went on a picnic with her lady-in-waiting. The open carriage went through the rolling hills inside of the wall of the kingdom. It passed through a wood and came out somwhere near the western wall.

“What is that?” The princess cried, pointing at something she had never seen before. High in the wall was what looked like a closed door, or a very large window with one shutter.

“It looks like a window,” said Nan.

“It does seem to high to be a door,” the princess said. “Let’s have our picnic here so we can examine it.”

They did, and they decided after a while that the thing in the wall was a door.

“Could we reach it with a ladder?” The princess wondered.

“Even if we could, we don’t have a key,” Nan said. There was a longish pause after this.

“Strange how high it is. And none of the trees are close enough to it either.”

The princess asked the driver and the footman if they had an idea for reaching the door. Even standing on the carriage it was too high for them to reach. They remarked that it was odd nobody had ever noticed it before.

The day was fine, the picnic was eaten, and on the way home the princess forgot about the door. She did think about it later and asked the driver to take her back. Neither the driver nor the footman were able to find the way back. The princess made them try several times in August. None of the roads seemed to lead back that way. They even tried going along the wall, but the way became too rugged and they had to turn out of the way; when they got out of sight of the wall they were never able to return without somehow missing bits, for they never found the door again. It was as if the door was no longer in the wall. Eventually, the driver and the footman got very annoyed at having to look for it, so Nan suggested the princess not ask them about it anymore.

Next

The Princess Em, Part 1: The Cage

The Princess Em, or Might and Must

You shall never recover in heaven the least good which you have profaned and forfeited by seeking it consciously against order. You may, by great repentance, get something better, but never that.

—Coventry Patmore

1 – The Cage

Once long ago there was a very peculiar country. It had a castle and some villages, but mainly, It had a wall. The wall was long and high, and ran all around the country. It was something like a city wall, except it had no towers and no gates, for the most part.

The castle was in one corner of the country and it looked much as you would expect any castle to look. From the castle the walls of the country extended outward so that you might say the castle was nestled into a corner of the wall.

In this castle lived the princess Em. She had been born one winter after a very great snowfall. Now she was six and had just received and unusual present from her fairy godmother. The princess was looking at a silver key and wondering what is opened. The queen, who was standing by, remarked that it was a very pretty key. The princess thought it was a very strange present.

“It is your key,” her fairy godmother said. “But you may only try it once. If you try it on the wrong lock it will be ruined and never open anything again.”

Now the princess thought it was a very strange key. “How will I know which lock it is for?” She asked.

“You must feel certain,” her fairy godmother said. “When you are sure you will know. It is not a trifle for games and guesses; in fact,” she said, taking off her had and examining it, “I should strongly advise you never to think of it. You can’t puzzle it out because the way to know when to use it will come to you without trying.”

These were very important words and the princess might have written them down so she could remember, but she did not. Her fairy godmother was about to put her had back on, but she put it back in her lap and looked at the princess Em.

“One day you will find the lock and you will understand.”

Then she put on her hat—it was a rather pointy hat, if you are wondering.

The princess followed her fairy godmother out to the courtyard. She watched her knot her scarf and sit down to put on her skis. The princess noticed that her fairy godmother had red and white stripped socks and many petticoats against the cold. Then her fairy godmother pulled on her gloves and stood and skied away.

The princess Em did not know where her fairy godmother had come from, nor did anybody else. It seemed she only visited after it had snowed a great deal. At least, that is what the queen told her daughter when she asked.

I am afraid that after that day the princess Em did not think of very many things beside the key, even though she had been told otherwise. She had had the key for a whole week and had almost used it forty-nine times already. She had thought, for example, of using her key to open up the grandfather clock. She had also been tempted by a music box, a jewelry box, a drawer where silver was kept, and other such silly places. One time her doll Maggot had been locked in a closed. She was unable to find the closet key and almost used the silver key to open it. Fortunately, her mother had come in an patiently helped Em to find the proper key. Patience, I am afraid, was not one of our princess’s main strengths.

After a week, the princess was looking at the key again, wondering what it would open. It was a very small key and shaped oddly. If you were to look at it straight on, pretending your eye was the lock toward which it pointed, you would notice that it was shaped like an S. The princess Em had noticed this very early on, and it saved her from trying the key in at least fifteen locks. Well, actually her lady-in-waiting had pointed it out. The princess probably would not have noticed it herself, being rather more hasty than observant.

This lady-in-waiting was a dutiful attendant called Nan Vaughan. Nan was cheerful and sensible, as well as being dutiful. She had to have a great deal of patience too, since she always attended her royal highness. The princess Em, you see, was not only young, she was rather inconsiderate at times. Nan Vaughan had to run after the princess when she went outside without her cloak on cool days. Nan also had to be the princess’s pony until she was old enough to get a real one on her fifth birthday. Nan was all patience and loved the princess very much.

“Why don’t you, your highness,” Nan asked, “go and look for a lock?”

Nan had not heard what Em’s fairy godmother had said. (The queen had heard it, but the queen had not passed along the bit where Em was told it was better not to think about finding a lock.) Nan had also just passed a sleepless night when she made the suggestion above. She had eaten something to show the princess how disagreeable it was—but that is not part of the story, so I’ll say no more of it. What is part of the story is that Nan’s lack of sleep impaired her judgment. That is why she made the suggestion that the princess should go looking for a lock. What the princess needed was to take her mind off the key and go ride her rocking horse (it was raining) or do a bit of coloring. Nan would have certainly made a more sensible suggestion if she had gotten enough sleep.

The princess thought it a good idea and was about to leave the room.

“Your highness,” Nan said. “You certainly do not mean to take the key with you, do you?”

“How else can I try it if I find the lock?”

Although nobody told her she should not take the key with her, the princess Em knew it was best not to take the key till she was certain it was time to use it. That way she would not be tempted. So when she asked that last question, she did it with the sort of look people get when they try not to look guilty. It sort of looks as if the person is looking at you while trying to look away without moving a muscle—Nan was very familiar with this look.

“Won’t it be best if you leave it here? That way you’ll be able to think it over if you find a lock.”

This was a very sensible suggestion, but there was something in the way Nan said it that irritated the princess. Turning sharply to spin her dress and make her hair flare out, she said, “Nobody said I may not take it.”

After a while the princess found something she had never seen before: in a room on the fourth story of the castle she found a golden cage. In the cage was a blue bird. It was so blue it made the princess think she had never really seen the color blue until now. A great desire to hold the bird and also to watch it fly filled the princess Em.

She noticed, then, that the cage was locked. The lock was golden, like the rest of the cage. She looked closely at the lock and saw it was the wrong shape. Looking into the cage she found the bird was standing very close to her and peering at her. For some reason she got the feeling the bird was worried.

As the princess stood there an old man, a knight ro a lord by the look of him, came in and stood beside her. Now I do not know if you have ever heard of a fairy godfather. Perhaps if you have thought much about fairy godmothers you have wondered if there are any fairy godfathers. This old man was Em’s fairy godfather, although she did not know it. Fairy godfathers seldom make an appearance: they like to stay in the background. Sometimes they send a box of chocolates to their godchild on the child’s birthday; sometimes they will pay a visit to the hospital; but most of the time they just contribute to whatever the fairy godmother is doing.

“It is a beautiful bird,” he said to Em. She looked at him and noticed he was wearing a strange, pointy hat.

“It is the most beautiful bird I’ve ever seen,” the princess cried.

“It is a pity you can’t see him fly,” the old man said. “But I haven’t go the golden key that open up the lock. I think I must have lost it.”

“Oh!” The princess exclaimed. “Why don’t you get a locksmith to open it?”

“It is a magical lock and the key has to be magical too,” he explained. “The bird is a magical bird. He likes the cage.”

“But I’d think he would like to come out and fly.”

“It would be no kindness to let him out unless he could go back again. Without his magical cage he will become ugly.”

This amazed the princess Em. She looked up sideways at the man to see if he was teasing. He did not seem to be. They both stood there for a while, then the old man turned away and went out.

The princess pulled her key out of her pocket and thought, What if it were magical and could open the cage? She wished her key were golden, then it would be right. At least then, she felt, she would have asked the old man if she could try it. She also wondered if her fairy godmother might not have given her the wrong key.

As the princess was thinking these things, Nan found her. Nan had decided it would be best to stay with the princess, seeing impatience had been known to get the best of Em. Nan found the princess holding the key and looking at the lock. When the princess noticed Nan she was suddenly embarrassed—which did not happen very often—and she quickly put the key in her pocket.

“I’ve never seen that bird before,” was all the princess said to Nan.

After this Em stopped looking for locks in the castle. She would go often to look at the bird, but she left the silver key on the table in her room. And the key remained on the table for a long time.

A month after this, Nan got the measles. She was so sick she could not wait upon the princess, so another lady-in-waiting took Nan’s spot; her name was Marvella Griggs. This lady did not pay much attention to the princess: she spent most of her time talking with other servants. Sometimes she left the princess alone for hours at a time.

The princess took to visiting the bird even more often. Another thing that happened was that the princess picked up the key to play with it in her room sometimes. She had never done this with Nan; Nan somehow reminded her of her fairy godmother and that reminded her of what her fairy godmother had said. Not that the princess remembered the distinct words, but she did remember the idea that she probably ought not to think about the key. Eventually, the princess took the key with her when she went to see the bird. Still, she did not use it.

One rainy afternoon, when the princess wanted to play outside and was not able to, Marvella Griggs was feeling pleased. She did not like to go outside because she would not talk to the outside servants. Marvella liked to take on airs and pretend she was too good to be out of doors. Since Marvella was being smug about the rain, knowing the princess would have liked to be outside, the princess was annoyed. So the princess took the key and went up to see the bird, thinking to herself, What a pity there is rain and Marvella both at the same time.

The princess Em looked at the blue bird in the golden cage and wondered if it was as tired as she was of being cooped up. She remembered what the old man said about the magic cage. Oh, she thought, what do I care about what happens to the bird afterward? What if the old man had been wrong and the bird really needed to escape? Maybe, she thought, I ought to help it in spite of what the old man said.. Here she began to have a little conversation with herself, like this:

It would be a good thing to help the bird.

Even thought his owner said otherwise?

Well, he had managed to lose they key.

And now I’ll lose this key on the wrong lock.

But I want to see the bird fly and it is raining and Marvella is intolerable.

My fairy godmother did say I must be certain when I use the key.

Well, I am certain, Em told herself: I want to see the bird fly. So she took the silver key and tried to fit it into the golden lock. To her surprise, the key worked and she was able to open the door. She reached inside and got the bird.

The bird flew around as the princess watched with mingled guilt and joy. It swooped all over the room, and then, to Em’s dismay, it went right out of the window and flew off into the rain. The princess ran to the window, but she could no longer see the bird. Oh no, she thought, what will I tell the old man? She ran back to the cage to close the door and take away the key, but the key was the wrong shape and it would not turn back; it was stuck.

Well, of course, after that the princess Em was very ashamed and felt very, very guilty. She had let the old man’s blue bird fly away and she had ruined the cage and the silver key. The queen gave the princess a sad little talk; the king was very stern. Marvella Griggs did not help things any, but the worst was the look Nan gave Em when she was well and found out.

Next

A Tale of the Centaurs: 8 The Sun’s First Ray

The Sun’s First Ray

Dawn was lightening the skies outside. In the grey twilight of the cave Hyrda began to wake from the enchantment, still playing the pipe. He looked down into the darkness of the cave as he finished the last flourishes of a tune. His mind was still befogged, and he was unable to think clearly; it seemed to him a great form emerged from the darkness and turned to face the way it had come. But enough of the enchantment was on Hyrda that he must play another tune, and from his memory sprang the tune the old man had played and warned him of so long ago.

The notes of the tune reached Feldor first. With a cry of anguish Feldor felt his strength drain out of him and he fell into a deep sleep as the troll burst from below with Balgrishnik on his heels.

With a yell Bagran leapt over the fallen centaur and as he did, Balgrishnik surged forward, rearing into the air behind him, catching the troll’s leg in his jaws. The troll fell; he clutched at the rocks to pull himself out of Balgrishnik’s teeth; he bellowed and shook. The snake began to swallow the writhing troll with relentless convulsions of its gaping jaw. The light of the terrible eye of Balgrishnik fell on Hyrda who had ceased playing, the enchantment shattered, when the troll had shouted. Hyrda was paralyzed by the sight of the struggling troll sticking halfway out of the pale serpent’s mouth but more by the light of the eye of the worm. The snake began to slide back even as it still worked with irrational patience to swallow the desperate troll.

In that moment another light fell on Hyrda: the sun sent its first rays over the horizon, into the shaft of Balgrishnik’s porch.

The morning sunshine fell on the hideous, pale length of the intent snake, the body coiled around the centaur and receding into the depths of the cave; it fell on the frightened shepherd, clutching the pipe and pressing against the wall; and it fell on Bagran the troll, paralyzing him in a spasm of mortal exertion.

Then the snake began to writhe, and it lashed about, increasingly frantic, slithering further back into the depths of the cavern, blindly smashing the paralyzed convulsion of rock stuck in its throat, striking its head against the walls. The stones rang and dust swirled in the shafts of sunlight; chips of rock flew about Hyrda as he crouched down in terror. But Balgrishnik was not able to dislodge the mass in his throat and at last battered and choked, died with a clamor of ringing rock.

When the snake lay still, Hyrda made his way trembling to where Feldor lay, and thinking the centaur was dead he fell beside him in despair and grief. The shepherd soon passed into a deep, undreaming sleep.

In this way the old man found them. His wanderings had brought him back, and he had heard the cries in the early morning, and felt the death-throes of Balgrishnik like an earthquake. Now he entered the cave to see the centaur and the shepherd lying on the floor, and further back the awful serpent with a great, troll-shaped rock protruding from its battered jaws.

Then the old man, took his harp, and played the tune, and it entered into the sleep of Feldor and of Hyrda, and they began to dream and then they woke up gradually.

Feldor stood up slowly, looking at the dead snake and the troll. “So, it is done,” he said.

The old man looked at Hyrda who was looking at the centaur. Hyrda held the pipe up, offering it back to the centaur. But the centaur shook his head.

“I have finished,” he said.

“I have finished too,” Hyrda said. He broke the pipe in two and put it in the pouch where he kept the shards of the horn.

“And now?” The old man asked.

“And now, old man,” Hyrda replied, “I want to learn to play the midnight music on a harp.”

“Come,” said Feldor, “and I will give you a centaur harp.”

“And I,” the old man said, “will teach you to play it.”

The End