They gaped at the tiny king in bewilderment. Their captors shuffled nervously. One of them stammered, "But Majesty, we caught them..."

Eiddileg clapped a hand to his forehead. "Must you bother me with details? You'll ruin me! You'll be the death of me! Out! Out!"

Eilonwy grimaced as she was jostled back in the direction they'd come, but at an outraged shout of "No, not the prisoners, you idiots!", their guards released them and ran, tumbling over one another in their haste to escape their monarch's wrath. She would have laughed, had it not seemed so odd; the Folk were many things, but incompetent wasn't one of them, and when she turned back to face the little king she found him staring them down with a crafty glint in his unearthly eyes. Eiddileg bared his teeth at them in a snarl, complete with a set of canines as sharp as a weasel's. "Now, then," he growled, "out with it. What do you want? You might as well know ahead of time, you shan't have it."

Taran stepped forward and bent his knee. "Sire," he stammered, "we ask no more than safe passage through your realm. The four of us..."

"Four of you?" the king sputtered. "Am I blind? Or can't you count?"

Eilonwy started, realizing for the first time that here was no sign of Gurgi.

"One of my companions is missing," Taran stammered, after a similar surprised glance around. "I beg your servants to help us find him. Our provisions and weapons are lost..."

"That's nonsense!" Eiddileg snapped. "Don't lie to me! I can't stand it. Why did you come here?"

Eilonwy didn't know what was worse - Taran's bumbling attempts to be placative, or the stubborn bombast of their captor. "Because an Assistant Pig-Keeper led us on a wild-goose chase," she burst out irritably. "We don't even know where we are, let alone why. It's worse than rolling downhill in the dark."

Eiddileg cast her a shrewd glance, and she felt the flicker of his perception like the tingle of a spark from a wool cloak. "Oh, naturally," he sneered. "You have no idea you're in the very heart of the Kingdom of Tylwyth Teg, the Fair Folk, the Happy Family, the Little People..." His face grew darker purple with every name "...or whatever other insipid, irritated names you've put on us. Oh, no, of course not! You just happened to be passing by."

Taran looked bewildered. "We were caught in the lake. It pulled us down." 

Eiddileg paused, his frown softening into a self-satisfied smirk. "Good, eh? I've added some improvements of my own, of course."

Pompous little tyrant. She wanted to shake him. "If you're so anxious to keep visitors away," Eilonwy told him, "you should have something better—to make people stay out." 

He scowled at her, the smirk melting away. "When people get this close they're already too close. At that point, I don't want them out. I want them in." 

Fflewddur, who had been silently gazing about the cavern in awe, broke out in surprise. "But I thought the Fair Folk were all over Prydain. Not just here."

"Of course we're not just here," Eiddileg burst out. "This is the royal seat! We have tunnels and mines everywhere! But the real work—the real labor of organization—is here, right here, in this very spot—in this very throne room! On my shoulders!" His voice rose in a plaintive moan. "It's too much, I tell you, too much. But who else can you trust? If you want something done right..." He stopped suddenly, and grunted, tapping his pointed nails upon his throne as  he looked at them. "Well, that's not your affair. You're in trouble enough. It can't be overlooked." 

Eilonwy crossed her arms skeptically, infuriated at his petulance. "I don't see any work being done."

The little face contorted with rage and he leapt to his feet, but before he could say anything, the door of the throne room burst open, strange figures tumbling through it like falling stones from a landslide. All manner of odd and unearthly things came flooding around them; creatures with wings or scales, feathers and fur, defying description, accompanied by various forms of magic whose overwhelming sensations made her dizzy. The din of bickering and plaintive voices almost drowned out their king; Eiddileg's roars finally rose above it as he ordered them all out, gesticulating wildly. Whatever he did had an effect; they seemed to be pulled back out, with difficulty, by some unseen force, the door slamming behind them. The little dwarf slumped back onto his throne, panting. "No work being done!" he groaned. "You have no idea!"

There followed a breathless recitation of complaints. Eiddileg was warmed up now, she saw, and was clearly intent on making them the recipient of his vexation about not only his personal responsibilities, but a long-standing grudge against humans in general. He puffed and roared and waved his tiny arms like windmills, ranting, accusing, threatening. Eilonwy watched in rather detached amazement. She could not decide whether he was frightening or just ridiculous, and her patience was running out.

Out of breath, Eiddileg fell silent as from somewhere beyond the room, a chorus of voices rose in a soft harmony, an eerie, lilting, beckoning tune that somehow wove into the stone pillars and through their minds like a spring breeze. They all lifted their heads, their anxiety and irritation melting away, for the moment, on a wave of peace. The dwarf-king cocked his shaggy head to the side and looked thoughtful, purple fading slowly from his face as the sound died away. 

"There's something to be thankful for," he muttered. "The Children of Evening are back at their practice. Not as good as you might hope, but they'll manage."

"Was that what that was?" Taran breathed, his face alight. "I never heard anything so lovely in my life."

Eiddileg looked startled. "Don't try to flatter me!" he blurted out, but his face flushed, and Eilonwy squinted at the suspicious twitch of the whiskers that hid his mouth. 

"What surprises me," she mused, watching him carefully, an idea blossoming in her mind, " is why you go to so much trouble. If you dislike us so much, why do you bother?"

The king put a hand to his heart and bowed. "Professional pride, my dear girl. When we Fair Folk do a thing, we do it right." He sighed at the ceiling, in exquisite martyrdom. "Never mind the sacrifice. Bringing a little beauty and charm to the world above is a task that needs doing, so we do it. Never mind the cost. I've lost sleep over it. I've lost weight. But that's not important."

He really was ridiculous, she decided, and vain to boot. An instinct prodded at her, or perhaps it was an urge to use a method she'd seen Achren employ to great effect, just to see if it worked.  Eilonwy uncrossed her arms, and smiled at him as sweetly as she knew how, stepping toward him. Well, I appreciate it," she said, modulating her voice to a low, ingratiating purr. "It's really amazing what you do. I never realized it before." 

She saw, from the corner of her eye, Taran and Fflewddur turn expressions of confusion and amazement upon her. Eiddileg, his cheeks scarlet, beamed like a ray of sunshine. His mouth opened and shut again several times before he managed to get a word out. "Well, now," he chuckled, "thank you, my dear girl. I can see you're the sort of person one can talk to intelligently. It's unheard of for one of you big shambling louts to have any kind of insight into these matters. But you at least seem to understand the problems we face." 

"Oh, I should hope so," Eilonwy assured him, clasping her hands before her fervently. "You must be so extremely clever to manage it all." The words almost hurt to force out, as unnatural as the vapid smile she had pasted on her face, but it seemed to be working. Taran's open-mouthed stare grated on her nerves and she directed the last phrase at him, with a sidelong glare. "Any Assistant Pig-Keepers who happen to be here might do well to pay attention." 

Taran stiffened with sudden comprehension. Taking advantage of the king's momentary benevolence, he turned back to Eiddileg. "Sire, we understand your time is precious, and have no wish to disturb it. Give us safe conduct to Caer Dathyl!" 

Oh, for the...did he know nothing of diplomacy? Eilonwy scowled at Taran as Eiddileg's pleasant demeanor popped like a bubble. "Leave here?" he roared, "Impossible! Unheard of! Once you're with the Fair Folk, my good lad, you stay, and no mistake. I suppose I could stretch a point, for the sake of the young lady, and let you off easily. Put you to sleep for a fifty years or turn you all into bats; but that would be a pure favor." 

"Our task is urgent!" Taran cried. "Even now we have delayed too long!" 

Eiddileg sniffed. "That's your concern, not mine."

"Then we shall make our own way!" Taran drew his sword. Eilonwy flinched back in dismay, and almost shouted at Fflewddur when the bard followed him.

But Eiddileg had already done better than she could have. He shook his glittering fingers toward them lazily. "More clotted nonsense! There. And there! Now, just try to move your arms."

Taran and Fflewddur stood frozen, looking abashed and astonished. Eilonwy smacked a hand to her forehead in impotent irritation. How could they be such fools? Threatening the fairy king in his own throne room! Taran could not be expected to know better, perhaps, but Fflewddur should. The bard cast her an embarrassed, apologetic glance.

"Now, then," Eiddileg grunted, after a few awkward moments had made the lesson sink in, "put those away and let's talk this over calmly. If you can give me any decent reason to let you go, I might think it over and answer you promptly. Say, in a year or two." 

Released, Taran stumbled forward, and lowered his sword with a sigh. Eilonwy caught his eye; she shook her head at him meaningfully and he flushed, but stood straight and quickly recited the story of his quest to the petulant king. She watched Eiddileg's face, waiting for his reaction.  

The dwarf king frowned and sucked at his teeth. When the tale was finished he shook his head, scowling. "This is a conflict you great gawks must attend to yourself. We owe you no allegiance. This land was ours before men came; you drove us underground and plundered our mines. Blundering clodpoles! You stole our treasures; you keep on stealing them, you clumsy—,"

He was working himself into another fit. Taran stepped forward, raising both hands placatingly. "Please, sire," he interrupted. "I can speak for no man but myself."

Eilonwy looked up in astonishment at the change in his voice. It was low and fervent and utterly without bravado. "I have never robbed you and have no wish to," Taran went on. "My task means more to me than your treasures. If there is ill will between your people and mine, then it is a matter to be settled between them. But if the Horned King triumphs, if the shadow of Annuvin falls on the land above you, Arawn's hand will reach your deepest caverns." 

Silence fell. Eilonwy looked at the boy's flushed face and glowing eyes, his straight, appealing stance, and looked away in confusion, heart pounding. Fflewddur caught her eye and raised his eyebrows in a silent, impressed glance, and she wondered suddenly why he had been so silent. One king could perhaps have reasoned with another.

"For an Assistant Pig-Keeper," grunted the dwarf king grudgingly, "you're reasonably eloquent. But the Fair Folk will worry about Arawn when the time comes." 

"The time has come!" Taran cried passionately. "I only hope it has not passed!"

Eilonwy whirled to gaze on Eiddileg in genuine indignation. How could he, after that? Her anger boiled over at the stubborn, recalcitrant look on his features. "I don't think you really know what's going on above ground!" she burst out. "You talk about charm and beauty, and sacrificing to make things pleasant for us. I don't believe you care a bit about that. You're too conceited and stubborn and selfish."

Without realizing it she had advanced upon him, heedless of Taran's nervous pluck at her sleeve, and her parting shot hit him from only an arm's length away. Close enough to feel the tingling prickle of magic that seeped from him in waves; the hair on her arms stood on end. Eiddileg's large eyes widened even more, his cat-slit pupils expanding into black gashes.

"Conceited!" he sputtered, "Selfish!" He leapt to his feet, and she jumped back as he tumbled from his throne like a small boulder. "You won't find anyone more open-hearted and generous! How dare you! What do you want? My life's blood?"

He flung himself upon the floor, roaring, tearing off his robe and flinging it aside. His jeweled rings followed, pelted past her ears. Her companions stared at the scene in astonishment as colorful language and fairy curses curdled the air. Eiddileg rolled upon the ground in an abandonment of eldritch rage. "Go ahead! Take it all! Leave me ruined! What else do you want — my whole kingdom? You want to leave?" He scrambled up, bristling like an infuriated hedgehog. "Go, by all means! The sooner the better! Stubborn! I'm too soft! It'll be the death of me, but little you care!" 

He and Achren could give each other a fine competition, Eilonwy thought, staring at his livid face, strangely unruffled. He glared them down, eyelids twitching, and yet she felt no real fury from him - only a cool, sharp detachment, as though behind his irrational behavior a shrewd and clever mind was carefully gauging their reactions. She caught her breath at the realization, and Eiddileg's eyes met hers with a crackle of crystalline understanding. 

Before she could react, the door to the throne room crashed open again, and Gurgi's familiar voice burst upon their ears, accompanied by the panting and grunting of dwarf guards.

"Joyous greetings!" the creature crowed, scrambling into their midst and fawning at Taran's feet. "Faithful Gurgi is back with mighty heroes! This time he did not run, oh, no, no! Brave Gurgi fought with great whackings and smackings!" He twirled on one foot, dancing with joy. "He triumphed! But then mighty lords are carried away. Clever Gurgi goes seeking and peeking to save them, yes! And he finds them! But that is not all!"

He rose and pawed at Taran eagerly, wriggling all over with excitement. "Mighty warriors go to seek a piggy! It is clever, wise Gurgi who finds her!"

Taran's face went white. He gripped Gurgi's arms. "Hen Wen?" he cried in disbelief. "Where?"

"Here, mighty lord!" gurgled Gurgi. "The piggy is here!" 

In disbelief they all turned to the fairy king, whose discomfort, for the first time, was manifestly sincere. Eiddileg's face flushed to the tips of his absurdly long and pointed ears, and he shuffled backwards. Taran took a step forward. "You said nothing of Hen Wen."

"You didn't ask me," the little king shot back sulkily. 

Fflewddur mumbled something about sharp practice. Taran took another step, flushed with anger. "It's worse than a lie! You'd have let us go our way and we'd never have known what happened to her!"

Eiddileg scowled, his diminutive chin jutting out, and Eilonwy lost her temper again. "You should be ashamed of yourself. It's like looking the other way when someone's about to step in a hole."

He shot her a furious glare. "Finders keepers! We saved her, you ignorant louts. My troops came upon her near the Avren, running through a ravine, chased by the Horned King's henchmen. Nasty lot. My people took care of them." His face took on a glint of malicious satisfaction that made her shiver and step back. "We have our own ways of dealing with you clumsy lummoxes. Then the pig was brought here, underground most of the way to keep her safe. We rescued her! But do I get a word of thanks?" His face went red again. "No, of course not! But I do get called disagreeable names and have nasty thoughts thrown at me. Oh, I can see it in your faces. Eiddileg is a thief and a wretch — that's what you're thinking!"

If the shoe fits, Eilonwy thought, and he glared at her as if he had heard it, adding on, "Just for that, you shan't have her back! And you'll stay, all of you, until I feel like letting you go."

She gasped. No. This was breaking every code in every book she'd ever read. "If you do that, you really are a thief and a wretch! You already said we could go."

He humphed, and would not meet her eyes. "There was no mention of a pig. None at all." 

"No," Taran admitted quietly, "but there is a question of honesty. And honor."

Eiddileg blinked. He shuffled on his slippered feet, and Eilonwy found herself vaguely wondering if he had a normal number of toes, or perhaps cloven hoofs. He mopped his brow with his orange kerchief again. "You had to mention that."

"The Fair Folk never break their word," Eilonwy declared flatly. He shot her a look of frustration, but underneath it she felt a glimmer of grudging respect, even amusement. 

"Fine," he growled, "that's the price for being so openhearted and generous. You'll have your pig."

"We'll need weapons to replace what we lost," Taran said firmly. She glanced at him in surprise, wondering at his nerve. 

Eiddileg reacted with unsurprising vehemence. "Are you trying to ruin me?"

Gurgi piped up. "And crunchings and munchings!" 

"Provisions as well," Taran added, with a nod, as the dwarf swelled like an angry toad.

"You're bleeding me to death! Weapons! Food! Pigs!" Tiny sparks glittered from his outflung hands in magical manifestations of his exasperation, but Eilonwy snorted. Taran glanced at her questioningly, and she looked sideways at him with a nod. Keep going. 

The boy straightened up even further. "We beg for a guide who can show us the way to Caer Dathyl." 

The conflagration that followed would have been terrifying, had she not, by then, begun to see that most of the little king's bombast was empty posturing. She wondered whether he made such a scene purely for show, to put them on their guard, or for reasons known only to himself. All she had read insisted that the fae were capricious and indecipherable, but she would have supposed this referred to qualities of mystery and enigma rather than a propensity to throw tantrums so ridiculous they were downright silly. She crossed her arms, and watched, tempted to grin, until Eiddileg was out of breath. He caught her eye and rose to his feet with a grunt. "Very well. I'll lend you Doli. He's the only one I can spare."

Taran bowed, and began to murmur thanks, but Eiddileg stomped back to his throne with a shout. "Out! Before I change my mind!"

He waved to the dwarf guards, who clustered around them with blank faces, betraying nothing of what they thought of the strange audience. Eiddileg plopped onto his throne and leaned back, frowning like a thundercloud, but Eilonwy, before turning to follow her guard, caught a glimmer of amusement in his eyes, and in a sudden impulse, broke away and ran toward the throne. 

The king, she sensed, was startled by her approach, though he only blinked at her from under his mossy eyebrows, but before he could say a thing she leaned over him and kissed his shining forehead. "Thank you," she whispered, "you're a perfectly lovely king." 

Outraged at the insinuation that she had seen through his bluster, he threw up his hands, shying away. "Out! Out!" She giggled as she ran back to her companions, and cast a backward glance as the dwarves bustled them away. Eiddileg was grinning like a fool, his face crimson, as he fondled his head.