“That is more than enough cause for pride,” Gwydion said gently. “For all you chose to sacrifice, you have kept Achren from ruling Prydain. We owe more than our lives to you.”
“I’m glad the book of spells burned up,” Eilonwy said, “but I’m sorry I lost my bauble. By this time it’s surely floated far out to sea.” She sighed. “There’s nothing to be done about that. But I shall miss it.”
As she spoke, Taran glimpsed a flickering movement against the dark gray sky. He leaped to his feet. It was Kaw, swooping landward at top speed.
“The last of our strays!” cried Fflewddur.
Llyan’s ears pricked up, her long whiskers twitched, but she made no attempt to lunge for the crow. Instead, she rose to her haunches and purred fondly at the sight of her former opponent.
His feathers bedraggled and pointing every which way, Kaw fluttered above Eilonwy. Despite his disreputable appearance, he squawked and snapped his beak with enormous self-satisfaction. “Bauble!” Kaw croaked. “Bauble!”
From his claws the Golden Pelydryn dropped into Eilonwy’s outstretched hands.
Gwydion at first had decided the companions should rest until morning, but Prince Rhun was eager to return to Dinas Rhydnant.
“There’s a great deal to be done,” he said. “I’m afraid we’ve let Magg look after things we should have seen to ourselves. There’s more to being a Prince than I thought. I’ve learned that from an Assistant Pig-Keeper,” he added, clasping Taran’s hand, “and from all of you. And there’s still most of Mona to be seen. If I’m ever to be King, I’m sure I should see it all. Though, I hope, in a rather different way. So if you don’t mind, I should like to set out now.”
Gurgi had no wish to linger anywhere near Caer Colur, and Fflewddur could hardly wait to show Llyan her new home in his own realm. Eilonwy insisted she was quite able to travel, and at last Gwydion agreed they would start without delay. He agreed, too, that they would pass by the cavern to see how Glew fared, for Taran still held to the promise he had made to help the wretched giant.
The ragged band made ready to leave the coast. Achren, finally consenting to voyage to Caer Dallben, walked slowly, withdrawn into her own thoughts, while Llyan frisked beside the bard, and Kaw sported overhead.
Eilonwy had gone for a moment to the edge of the surf. Taran, following her, stood as she watched the dancing waves.
“I thought I should have a last look at Caer Colur,” Eilonwy said, “just to remember where it is. Or rather, where it isn’t. I’m sorry, in a way, that it’s gone. Outside of Caer Dallben, it was the only home I had.”
“Once you are safe at Dinas Rhydnant,” Taran said, “I shall stay no longer on Mona. I had hoped, after all you’d been through, that—that you’d come back with us. But Gwydion is sure that Dallben meant for you to stay here. I suppose he’s right. I can hear Dallben now: Being rescued has nothing to do with being educated.”
Eilonwy said nothing for a while. Then she turned to Taran. “One thing more I remembered at Caer Colur: Dallben’s saying that there was a time when we must be more than what we are. Can it be true that being a young lady is more important than being an enchantress? Perhaps that’s what he meant. I shall have to find out for myself.
“So if I must learn to be a young lady, whatever that may be that’s any different from what I am,” Eilonwy continued, “then I shall try to learn twice as fast as those silly geese at Dinas Rhydnant and be home twice as soon. For Caer Dallben is my only real home now.
“Why, what’s this?” Eilonwy cried suddenly. “The sea has given us a present!”
She knelt and from the foaming surf drew a battered object and stripped away the trailing seaweed. Taran saw an ancient battle horn, bound in silver with a silver mouthpiece.
Eilonwy turned it over in her hands and looked carefully at it. She smiled sadly. “It’s all that’s left of Caer Colur. What use it might be, I don’t know and never shall. But if you promise not to forget me until we meet again, I promise not to forget you. And this shall be my pledge.”
“I promise gladly,” Taran said. He hesitated. “But what pledge have I to give you? I have none, other than my word.”
“The word of an Assistant Pig-Keeper?” said Eilonwy. “That shall do very well indeed. Here, take it. Giving gifts is much nicer than saying farewell.”
“And yet,” Taran answered, “we must say farewell. You know that King Rhuddlum and Queen Teleria mean to betroth you to Prince Rhun.”
“Indeed!” exclaimed Eilonwy. “Well, I assure you they shall do no such thing. There’s limits to having people make up your mind for you. Rhun has certainly improved; I think this journey was the best thing that ever happened to him and someday he might even make a respectable sort of King. But as for being betrothed …” She stopped suddenly and looked at Taran. “Did you seriously think for a moment I would ever … ? Taran of Caer Dallben,” she cried angrily, her eyes flashing, “I’m not speaking to you!
“At least,” Eilonwy added quickly, “not for a little while.”
Author’s Note
In this chronicle of Prydain, following The Book of Three and The Black Cauldron, what befalls the heroine is as important, and perilous, as the hero’s own quest. Princess Eilonwy of the red-gold hair does much more than face the unavoidable (and, in her view, absolutely unnecessary) ordeal of becoming a young lady. As Dallben, the old enchanter, warns: “For each of us comes a time when we must be more than what we are.” And this holds true for princesses as well as for assistant pig-keepers.
The Castle of Llyr is, in a sense, more romantic than the preceding chronicles—Taran is noticeably aware of his feelings toward Eilonwy. And it is sometimes more comic—for example, the utter despair of the Companions in trying to cope with the well-meaning but hapless Prince Rhun. The mood, perhaps, is bittersweet rather than grandly heroic. But the adventure should hold something beyond the fairy-tale elements of a magic golden bauble, a vengeful queen, a mysterious castle, and rivals for the hand of a princess. The nature of fantasy allows happenings which reveal most clearly our own frailties and our own strengths. The inhabitants of Prydain are fantasy figures; I hope they are also very human.
Prydain itself, however, is entirely imaginary. Mona, background for The Castle of Llyr, is the ancient Welsh name of the island of Anglesey. But this background is not drawn with a mapmaker’s accuracy. My hope, instead, is to create the feeling, not the fact, of the land of Wales and its legends.
Some readers may indignantly question the fate of several villains in this tale, especially that of one of the most reprehensible scoundrels in Prydain. I should point out that while The Castle of Llyr, like the previous books, can stand as a chronicle in its own right, certain events in it have far-reaching consequences. Beyond that, I will hint no further but only recommend one of the more difficult virtues: patience.
The Chronicles of Prydain
by Lloyd Alexander:
The Book of Three
Taran the Assistant Pig-Keeper assembles a group of companions
to rescue the oracular pig Hen Wen from the forces of evil.
The Black Cauldron
Newbery Honor Book
The warriors of Prydain set out to find and destroy the Black
Cauldron, the Death-Lord Arawn’s chief instrument of evil.
The Castle of Llyr
Princess Eilonwy is growing up and must learn to act
like a lady rather than a heroine among heroes.
Taran Wanderer
Taran faces a long and lonely search for his identity among
the hills and marshes, farmers and common people of Prydain.
The High King
Newbery Medal Winner
The final struggle between good and evil dramatically concludes
the fate of Prydain, and of Taran who wanted to be a hero.
Also available:
The Foundling and Other Tales of Prydain by Lloyd Alexander
Eight short stories evo
ke the land of Prydain before
the adventures of Taran the Assistant Pig-Keeper.
The Prydain Companion:
A Reference Guide to Lloyd Alexander’s Prydain Chronicles
by Michael O. Tunnell
Prydain Pronunciation Guide
Achren AHK-ren
Adaon ah-DAY-on
Aeddan EE-dan
Angharad an-GAR-ad
Annuvin ah-NOO-vin
Arawn ah-RAWN
Arianllyn ahree-AHN-lin
Briavael bree-AH-vel
Brynach BRIHN-ak
Caer Cadarn kare KAH-darn
Caer Colur kare KOH-loor
Caer Dathyl kare DA-thil
Coll kahl
Dallben DAHL-ben
Doli DOH-lee
Don dahn
Dwyvach DWIH-vak
Dyrnwyn DUHRN-win
Edyrnion eh-DIR-nyon
Eiddileg eye-DILL-eg
Eilonwy eye-LAHN-wee
Ellidyr ELLI-deer
Fflewddur Fflam FLEW-der flam
Geraint GHER-aint
Goewin GOH-win
Govannion go-VAH-nyon
Gurgi GHER-ghee
Gwydion GWIH-dyon
Gwythaint GWIH-thaint
Islimach iss-LIM-ahk
Llawgadarn law-GAD-arn
Lluagor lew-AH-gore
Llunet LOO-net
Llyan lee-AHN
Llyr leer
Melyngar MELLIN-gar
Melynlas MELLIN-lass
Oeth-Anoeth eth-AHN-eth
Orddu OR-doo
Orgoch OR-gahk
Orwen OR-wen
Prydain prih-DANE
Pryderi prih-DAY-ree
Rhuddlum ROOD-lum
Rhun roon
Smoit smoyt
Taliesin tally-ESS-in
Taran TAH-ran
Teleria tell-EHR-ya
About the Author
Readers who have enjoyed Mr. Alexander’s partiality to cats will find particular satisfaction with the first appearance of a feline in Prydain in this book. In fact, Mr. Alexander claims that Llyan was “inspired by the letters of two literary-minded cats, denizens of the household of a certain editor. They insisted that in a land like Prydain the prototype of cat-greatness must exist—and it turned out they were right.”
Lloyd Alexander was born and raised in Philadelphia. As a boy he decided that he wanted to be a writer. “If reading offered any preparation for writing, there were grounds for hope. I had been reading as long as I could remember. Shakespeare, Dickens, Mark Twain, and so many others were my dearest friends and greatest teachers. I loved all the world’s mythologies; King Arthur was one of my heroes; I played with a trash-can lid for a knightly shield, and my uncle’s cane for the sword Excalibur.”
During World War II, Mr. Alexander trained as a member of an army combat intelligence team in Wales. This ancient, roughhewn country with its castles, mountains, and its own beautiful language made a tremendous impression on him, but not until years later did he realize that he had been given a glimpse of another enchanted kingdom.
After the war, while attending the University of Paris, he met his future wife, Janine. They were married, and moved back to Philadelphia, where Mr. Alexander wrote novel after novel. It was seven years before his first novel at last was published. Ten years later, he tried writing for children. It was, Mr. Alexander says, “the most creative and liberating experience of my life. In books for young people, I was able to express my own deepest feelings far more than I could ever do in writing for adults.”
While doing historical research for a Welsh episode in his first children’s book, Time Cat, he discovered such riches that he decided to save them for a whole book. He delved into all sorts of volumes, from anthropology to the writings of an eighteenthcentury Welsh clergyman to the Mabinogion, the classic collection of Welsh legends. From his readings emerged such characters as Gwydion Son of Don, Arawn Death-Lord of Annuvin, Dallben the old enchanter, and the oracular pig Hen Wen. The landscape and mood of Prydain came from Mr. Alexander’s vivid recollections of the land of Wales that had so enchanted him twenty years earlier.
The five books in the Chronicles of Prydain are The Book of Three (an ALA Notable Book), The Black Cauldron (a Newbery Honor Book), The Castle of Llyr (an ALA Notable Book), Taran Wanderer, and The High King (winner of the 1969 Newbery Medal). He followed the chronicles in 1973 with a collection of short stories, The Foundling and Other Tales of Prydain.
Henry Holt® is a registered trademark of Henry Holt and Company, LLC.
Copyright © 1966 by Lloyd Alexander. Renewed 1994.
Map copyright © 1966 by Evaline Ness
Pronunciation Guide copyright © 1999 by Henry Holt and Company
All rights reserved.
Henry Holt and Company, LLC, Publishers since 1866
175 Fifth Avenue, New York, New York 10010
www.HenryHoltKids.com
eISBN 9781429961967
First eBook Edition : August 2011
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Alexander, Lloyd.
The castle of Llyr / by Lloyd Alexander.
p. cm.—(The chronicles of Prydain; 3)
Summary: When Princess Eilonwy is sent to the Isle of Mona for training, she is bewitched by the evil enchantress Achren, so Taran and other friends must try to rescue her.
[1. Fantasy.] 1. Title. 11. Series: Alexander, Lloyd. Chronicles of Prydain; 3.
PZ7.A3774Cas 1999 [Fic]—dc21 98-40897
The Castle of Llyr (The Chronicles of Prydain) Page 14