Sunrise

Chapter Twenty-Four: Dwarvish Trouble

"Hen Wen!" the boy shouted, vaulting the stone fence between them and the farmhouse, only to be toppled onto his rear by the pig's joyful greeting as a dwarf dropped the gate and she raced into him. "Oh, Hen! Even Medwyn thought you were dead!" He threw his arms around the wriggly animal, who pranced all about him and nearly upon him, grunting happily.

She was an odd-looking creature, when you came to it, all stubby short legs and a body like a bristly barrel, with a ludicrous springy tail and great flaps for ears. It strained belief that she was as important as her reputation made her out to be, but even had Hen Wen been the lowliest of beasts, Eilonwy could not begrudge the quest - not while observing the unmitigated delight upon the face of the pig's keeper at this moment.

Taran, a pig-snout-smeared streak of dirt across his forehead, was laughing the most unreservedly joyful laugh she had ever heard from him. For once, the anxious lines were gone from his face; there was no irony, no bitterness, no teasing, no self-consciousness - just happiness so pure Eilonwy knew she'd have felt it through a wall. Sympathetic gladness poured over her like warm rain and she tingled with the untainted goodness of it. Had she ever felt that before? All her unease vanished like mist in the sunshine and she laughed aloud.

Taran rose and trotted back toward them, Hen Wen at his heels, both of them grinning. The pig sat politely when she reached the companions, wheezing a little, and Eilonwy reached out to scratch the white ears. The pig's skin was tough and leathery underneath stiff white bristly hair. Petting her wasn't really all that pleasant, but she seemed content with it. "She looks like a wonderful pig. It's always nice to see two friends meet again. It's like waking up with the sun shining." Taran beamed at her, his eyes alight, and once again a rush of elation flooded over her.

"She's certainly a great deal of pig," Fflewddur added, "though very handsome, I must say."

Gurgi wiggled all over with joy. "And clever, noble, brave, wise Gurgi found her!"

Taran laughed, and ruffled the fur on the creature's head. "Have no fear. There's no chance we'll forget it." He turned to their dwarf guide and bowed. "Thank you. Thank all of you - for taking care of her, and for leading us here."

The captain sniffed dismissively, though his round face was rosy and his eyes twinkled. "Good riddance, I say. She eats enough in a day to feed one of us for a month. What Eiddileg was thinking I don't--" A loud harrumph from one of the other dwarfs interrupted him, and he broke off, as if realizing he'd spoken too freely, and cleared his throat. "Well, then. Now that that's settled, let's get you off. Your guide's waiting for you just across the fields there."

The guide turned out to be another dwarf, a stocky, red-headed fellow in a leather cap and tall boots. He was hung about with a veritable armory, and his expression made his displeasure at his duty evident; but at least, Eilonwy noted, he was solid and real, with no tricky edges.

"This is Doli," the captain announced. "He'll be your guide, as Eiddileg promised." Several of the other dwarfs snickered, and Doli cast them vicious glances. Taran bowed, and the little fellow snorted, took a deep breath, and held it. The silence grew awkward. 

The captain of the dwarf troupe stood silently, frowning in a resigned way, as though this were some sort of ritual only practiced because it was tradition, the reason for which nobody could remember. Doli's face was turning purple. It made her want to poke him in the ribs, just so he'd open his mouth and breathe. What could he possibly be doing?

Finally, just when she was about to say something she'd probably have regretted, the dwarf let his breath back out in a rush, and snorted in obvious indignation.

Taran looked bemused. "What's the trouble?"

"You can still see me, can't you?" Doli demanded. The companions exchanged puzzled glances.