Sunrise

Chapter Nineteen: Unmoored

Hands --huge, planed at angles, with tendons corded across the joints--moved in the earth, as though part of the earth, molded the rich loam into miniature hills and valleys. Eilonwy watched, fascinated, as Medwyn explained the route they should take through them, barely hearing his words as her eyes were drawn to the shifting forms beneath his hands.

She found herself restless, unwilling to leave the peace of the valley; yet there was something missing, somehow; like a lock with no key, a feeling with no name. There was something else she wanted and it was out there somewhere, or maybe it didn't exist at all, but she was driven to search for it all the same.

At any rate, they couldn't stay; their quest awaited. Medwyn hadn't said so, but she knew; they all knew: they'd never find this place again. She did not even try to count the steps or find landmarks along the rocky trail as they left the valley; even her inner perception of its richness and life stopped, as suddenly as if they'd walked through a barrier, though they'd merely moved around a stony outcropping. She was startled by the suddenness of it, and glanced up at Medwyn, who had accompanied them thus far. He nodded at her almost imperceptibly before addressing them all.

"Your path now lies to the north, and here we shall part." He turned to Taran. "And you, Taran of Caer Dallben...whether you have chosen wisely, you will learn from your own heart. Perhaps we shall meet again, and you will tell me. Until then, farewell."

Light moved, there was a pulse of something massive rolling over them, and Medwyn was gone; not only from her sight but her mind, the very weight of his presence engulfed by the same force that blocked her sense of his valley. A fully recovered Gurgi, who had been fawning at his feet, yelped in surprise and put his nose to the ground where the old man had stood, turning in circles. Next to her, Taran gasped. "He's gone. How? It's like the hills swallowed him up."

She glanced at him, mildly impressed. "They did. Sort of. He's part of them. He is the hills."

Taran sniffed. "That doesn't make any sense."

She shrugged. "Not to you, I suppose. What did he mean, whether you have chosen wisely?"

A strange, fleeting grief passed over his face. "Just...well, nothing. I'd rather not talk about it. Only I shall miss that place. Very much. I think...I think anytime I'm afraid or sad or angry, I could think of Medwyn's valley, and feel peaceful again." He spoke dreamily, caught her eye, and flushed a little. "Sounds a bit mad, doesn't it."

His voice was gruff, embarrassed, and she looked away, smiling to herself. "It doesn't at all. It's lovely."

"Yes, yes!" Gurgi leaped back over to them and grabbed her hand, gazing up with adoring amber eyes. "The great lord speaks truth! It is a joyful place, full of good things. Gurgi feels them in his leg, oh yes, it is strong, and ready for pouncings and leapings; but they are inside him, too, warm feelings and healings, to bring out when he needs them in the dark places."

Fflewddur slung his harp around to his back and took a deep, refreshed breath. "Well," he remarked, "I'll say it, too. I feel years younger and a stone lighter after a day in that valley."

"I don't see how you could be any lighter," said Eilonwy, "after what you ate."

"What a disrespectful baggage you are," he retorted, with a grin, and patted his lean middle. "It all goes to muscle, you know; a Fflam knows moderation." He bent backward to gaze up at the jagged cliffs. "Look at those rocks. Not even a hint of what's behind them. It's rather like a dream, isn't it? I could almost believe we were never there at all. But at least, I somehow feel that if we meet any more wolves, they'll know we're friends of Medwyn."