Merlin

Children were held in specially high regard among them. Their language proved this in that 'child' and 'wealth' were the same to them: eurn. This one word served both meanings.

They viewed children as others might view honoured guests – worthies deserving of consideration and respect, whose mere presence was cause for joy and a treat to be relished with pleasure and celebrated whenever possible. Thus, even though I was, in their reckoning of age, very nearly a full-grown man, I lacked the proper upbringing and so I must be considered a child until I learned enough manners to become an adult. This made an interesting period of adjustment, for in those first months I spent as much time in the company of the young as with their elders.

The summer passed quickly; time sped because I was desperate to learn their speech so that I could communicate my anxiety about my people, and learn their reason for keeping me. My opportunity came one crisp autumn night not long after Lughnasadh. We sat, as we sometimes did, before an outdoor fire on the hilltop under the stars. Elac and Nolo – first and second husbands to Vrisa – and some of the others had been out hunting that day and, after supper, began describing what had taken place.

In utter innocence Elac turned to me and said, 'We saw tallfblk in the crooked glen. Yet they are searching for their child-wealth.'

'Yet?' I asked him. 'You have known of this before?' f

He smiled and nodded; Nolo nodded with him and said, 'We have all seen them many times.'

'Why did you not tell me?' I demanded, trying to keep my temper down.

'Myrddin is fhain now. Be you fhain-brother. We will leave soon; tallfolk will stop searching and go away.'

'Leave?' My anger vanished at the thought. I turned to Vrisa. 'What does Elac mean? Where are we going?'

'Snow time is coming soon. We will go to the crannog, fhain-brother.'

'When?' I felt desperation rising in me like a sickness.

Vrisa shrugged. 'Soon. Before the snow.'

It made sense and I should have known. The Hill Folk did not live in one place very long; I knew that, but somehow failed to consider that they might leave soon for their winter home – a crannog in a hollow hill in the north.

'You have to take me to them,' I told Vrisa. 'I must see them.'

Vrisa frowned and turned to Gern-y-fhain, who shook her head slightly. That cannot be,' she replied. 'Tallfolk will borrow child-wealth from fhain.' They had no direct word for stealing, 'borrowing' was as close as they came and they were wonderfully resourceful borrowers.

'I was tallfolk before I am fhain-brother,' I said. 'I must say farewell.'

This puzzled them. They had no sense of parting or farewell – even death was not a strict separation since the dead one had only gone on a journey much as one might go hunting and could return at any moment, in a different body, perhaps, but essentially the same. 'What means this fayr-well?' Visa asked. 'I know it not.'

'I must tell them to stop searching,' I explained, 'to go back to their lands and leave the crooked glen.'

'No need, Myrddin-wealth,' explained Elac happily. 'Tall-folk will stop searching soon. They will go away soon.'

'No,' I said, rising to my feet. 'They are my fhain-brothers, my parents. Never will they stop searching for their child-wealth. Never1.'

Their concept of time was equally vague. The idea of continuous, ceaseless activity could not be comprehended. Vrisa merely shook her head lightly. This is a thing I know not. You are fhain now. You are a gift to Hawk People, Myrddin-wealth, a gift from Parents.'

I agreed, but held my ground. 'I am a gift, yes. But I must thank fhain-brothers for letting me become a Hawk Person.'

This they understood, for who would not care to become a Hawk Person? Such a great and impressive honour would naturally engender enormous gratitude which the recipient would be duty bound to express. Yes, it made sense to them that I would wish to thank my former fhain-brothers.

What is more, they took it as a sign of my growing maturity. 'It is a good thing, Myrddin-brother. You will thank Parents tomorrow.'

'And fhain-brothers,' I insisted.

'How will you thank them?' asked Vrisa suspiciously, sensing potential trickery, her dark eyes narrowed and wary.

My answer must be innocent or she would refuse outright. 'I will give back their tallfolk clothes.'

Again this made perfect sense. To a people without skill at weaving, without looms, cloth was scarce and extremely valuable. She might be sorry to see the cloth-wealth leave the fhain, but could well understand why I wanted to give it back; and why my former tallfolk fhain, if they could not have me, would at least wish to have my clothes.

'Elac,' she said finally, 'take Myrddin-wealth to tallfolk fire ring tomorrow.'

I smiled. There was no use in pushing the matter further; it was all I was likely to get from them for the moment. Thank you, Vrisa-chief. Thank you, fhain-kin.'

They all smiled back and began chattering at me benignly, and I fell to working out how best to make my escape.

There were four of them in the crooked glen. I could tell even from a distance that they were my people, members of the warband that had ridden as escort. They were camped by a stream and the glimmering light of their fire reflected in the moving water. They were, from ah3 appearances, still asleep as the sun had not yet risen above the hills to the east. f

We were poised on a rock ledge on the hillside, waiting. 'I will go down to my fhain-brothers now,' I told Elac. 'We will go with you.' He indicated Nolo and Teirn. 'No, I will go alone.' I tried to sound as firm as Gern-y-fhain.

He regarded me slyly and then shook his head. 'Vrisa-chief says you will not come back.'

Indeed, that was my plan. Elac shook his head and stood up beside me, putting his hand on my shoulder. 'We will go with you, Myrddin-brother, so tallfolk do not borrow child-wealth back.'

I saw jt all very clearly now, if a trifle late. If we all went down together there would be a fight. Elphin's warriors would never allow the Hill Folk to leave with me. They would try to save me, and they would likely die trying – pierced with arrows before they could draw their swords. One or more of the Hill Folk might be killed in the skirmish as well. No, I could not let that happen. My freedom was not as important as the lives of men I called my friends.

Now what was I to do?

'No,' I folded my arms across my chest and sat down. 'I will not go.'

'Why, Myrddin-wealth?' Mystified, Elac stared at me.

'You go.'

He sat down beside me. Nolo frowned and put out his hand to me. 'She-chief says husbands must go with you. Tallfolk cannot be trusted with child-wealth, Myrddin-brother.'

Tahfolk-brothers will not understand. They will kill fhain-kin when they see you, thinking to help fhain-brother.'

That got through to Elac, who nodded glumly. He knew just how unappreciative tallfolk could be.

'Hawk Fhain fear tallfolk not at all,' boasted Nolo.

'Well, I do not wish fhain-brothers killed. That will bring great sadness to Myrddin-brother. Bring sadness to fhain.' I appealed to Elac. 'You go, Elac. Take the clothes to tall-folk-brothers.' I indicated the pile of clothing on the ledge beside me.

He considered this and agreed. I folded my cloak, trousers, and tunic as neatly as I could, frantically thinking how I might send a message that would not be misinterpreted. In the end I took off my rawhide belt and tied that around the bundle.

My people would recognize the clothing, of course, but I still needed another token to indicate my safety. I glanced around. Teirn,' I held out my hand, 'I need an arrow.'

I would have preferred a pen and parchment, but these were as foreign to the Hill Folk as pepper and perfume. They did not trust writing, and in this showed remarkable wisdom.