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wife, needs wool to clothe our young ones. Now we'll have fleece and to
spare."
"Wait, wait," put in Taran, altogether baffled, "do you mean you
cleared a pasture and built a sheepfold without having any sheep at all? I
don't understand. That was work in vain---"
"Was it now?" asked Llonio, winking shrewdly. "If I hadn't, would
you be offering me a fine flock in the first place; and in the second, would I
have the place to keep them? Is that not so?"
"But you couldn't have known," Taran began.
"Ah, ah," Llonio chuckled, "why, look you, I knew that with any kind
of luck a flock of sheep was bound to come along one day. Everything else
does! Now honor us by stopping here a while. Our fare can't match our thanks,
but we'll feast you as best we can.
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Before Taran could answer, Llonio bent down to one of the little
girls who was staring round-eyed at Gurgi. "Now then, Gwenlliant, run see if
the brown hen's chosen to lay us an egg today." He turned to Taran. "The brown
hen's a moody creature," he said. "But when she has a mind to, she puts down a
handsome egg." He then set the rest of the children running off on different
tasks, while Taran and Gurgi watched astonished at the hustle and bustle in
this most peculiar household. Llonio led the two into the cottage where Goewin
gave them a warm welcome and bade them sit by the hearth. In no time
Gwenlliant was back holding an egg in out-stretched hands.
"An egg!" cried Llonio, taking it from her, raising it aloft, and
peering as if he had never seen one before. "An egg it is! The finest the
brown hen's given us! Look at the size! The shape! Smooth as glass and not a
crack on it. We'll feast well on this, my friends."
At first Taran saw nothing extraordinary in the egg which Llonio
praised so highly; but, caught up by the man's good spirits, Taran to his own
surprise found himself looking at the egg as though he, too, had never seen
one. In Llonio's hands the shell seemed to sparkle so brightly, to curve so
gracefully and beautifully that even Gurgi marveled at it, and Taran watched
almost with regret as Goewin cracked such a precious egg into a large earthen
bowl. Nevertheless, if Llonio intended sharing it among his numerous family,
Taran told himself, the fare would indeed be meager.
Yet, as Goewin stirred the contents of the bowl, the children
crowded one after the other into the cottage, all bearing something that made
Llonio call out cheerily at each discovery.
"Savory herbs!" he cried. "That's splendid! Chop them up well. And
here--- what's this, a handful of flour? Better and better! We'll need that
pot of milk the goat's given us, too. A bit of cheese? Just the thing!" Then
he clapped his hands delightedly as the last and smallest child held up a
fragment of honeycomb. "What luck! The bees have left us honey from their
winter store."
Goewin, meanwhile, was busy popping all these finds into the bowl
and, before Taran's eyes, the contents soon filled it nearly to the brim. Even
then, his surprise did not end. Goewin deftly poured the mixture onto a sheet
of metal which, Taran was quite certain, was nothing else but a warrior's
shield hammered flat, and held it over the glowing embers. Within moments; the
scent of cooking filled the cottage, Gurgi's mouth watered, and in no time the
farm wife drew a dappled golden cake nearly as big as a cartwheel from the
fireplace.
Llonio quickly sliced it into pieces and to Taran's amazement there
was not only enough for all but some left over. He ate his fill of the most
delicious egg he ever tasted--- if egg it could now be called--- and not even
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Gurgi could eat more.
"Now then," said Llonio, when they had finished, "I'll see to my
nets. Come along, if you like."
Chapter 17
The Weir
WHILE GURGI LINGERED in the cottage, Taran followed Llonio to the
riverbank. On the way, whistling merrily through his teeth, Llonio stopped to
peer into the baskets, and Taran noticed one of them held a large bee hive
undoubtedly the source of the honey which had sweetened Goewin's cake. The
rest, however, stood empty. Llonio merely shrugged his shoulders.
"No matter," he said. "Something will surely fill them later. Last
time a flock of wild geese flew down to rest. You should have seen the
feathers left after they'd gone. Enough to stuff cushions for every one of
us!"
By now they reached the river, which Llonio named as Small Avren
since, farther south, it flowed into Great Avren itself. "Small it is," he
said, "but sooner or later whatever you might wish comes floating along." As
if to prove his words he began hauling vigorously at the net staked along the
bank. It came up empty, as did the fishing lines. Undismayed, Llonio shrugged
again. "Tomorrow, very likely."
"How then," Taran exclaimed, feeling perplexed as he had ever been,
"do you count on baskets and nets to bring you what you need?" He looked at
the man in astonishment.
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"That I do," replied Llonio, laughing goodnaturedly. "My holding is
small; I work it as best as I can. For the rest--- why, look you, if I know
one thing, it's this: Life's a matter of luck. Trust it, and a man's bound to
find what he seeks, one day or the next."
"Perhaps so," Taran admitted, "but what if it takes longer than
that? Or never comes at all?"
"Be that as it may," answered Llonio, grinning. "If I fret over
tomorrow, I'll have little joy today."
So saying, he clambered nimbly onto the weir, which Taran now saw
was made not to bar the flow of water but to strain and sift the current.
Balancing atop this odd construction, seeming more cranelike than ever as he
bobbed up and down, bending to poke and pry among the osiers, Llonio soon gave
a glad cry and waved excitedly.
Taran hurriedly picked his way across the dam to join him. His face
fell, however, when he reached Llonio's side. What had caused the man's joyful
shout was no more than a discarded horse bridle.
"Alas," said Taran, disappointed, "there's little use in that. The
bit's missing and the rein's worn through."
"So be it, so be it," replied Llonio. "That's what Small Avren's
brought us today, and it will serve, one way or another." He slung the
dripping bridle over his shoulder, scrambled from the dam, and with Taran
following him set off with long strides through the grove of trees fringing
the river.
In a while Llonio, whose sharp eyes darted everywhere at once, cried
out again and stooped at the bottom of a gnarled elm. Amid the roots and for
some distance around, mushrooms sprouted abundantly.
"Pluck them up, Wanderer," Llonio exclaimed. "There's our supper for
tonight. The finest mushrooms I've seen! Tender and tasty! We're in luck
today!" Quickly gathering his finds, Llonio popped them into a sack dangling
from his belt and set off again.
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Following Llonio's rambling, halting now and then to cull certain
herbs or roots, the day sped so swiftly it was nearly over before Taran
realized it had begun. Llonio's sack being full, the two turned their steps
back to the cottage, taking a path different from the way they had come. As
they ambled along, Taran caught his foot on a jutting edge of stone and he
tumbled head over heels. "Your luck is better than mine," Taran laughed
ruefully. "You've found your mushrooms, and I, no more than a pair of bruised
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