Taran Wanderer (The Chronicles of Prydain)

Taran Wanderer (The Chronicles of Prydain)

Lloyd Alexander

Language: English

Pages: 256

ISBN: 0805080511

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


Taran Wanderer, the fourth book in Lloyd Alexander's The Chronicles of Prydain

Taran is an Assistant Pig-Keeper no longer--he has become a hero. Now he dreams of winning the hand of Princess Eilonwy, but how can someone who has spent his whole life caring for a pig hope to marry royalty? Taran must find out who he really is. Eager to learn his origins and hoping to discover noble roots, Taran sets off with the faithful Gurgi.

The journey takes the companions to the three witches in the Marshes of Morva and through the many realms of Prydain. At last they reach the mystical Mirror of Llunet, which reveals a person's true identity. Yet Taran may not be ready to face the truth. . . .

Includes a new pronunciation guide.

The Lions of al-Rassan

The Owl Service

The Ten Thousand (The Macht, Book 1)

Key of Living Fire (The Sword of the Dragon, Book 3)

Let the Games Begin! (Kingdom of Wrenly, Book 7)

City of Light (The Traveler's Gate Trilogy, Book 3)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

large key which he used to tighten the harp’s wooden pegs, and began patiently retuning the instrument. A raucous cry made Taran glance quickly skyward. “It’s Kaw!” he exclaimed, pointing to the winged shape plummeting swiftly toward the companions. Gurgi shouted joyfully and clapped his hands as the crow alighted on Taran’s wrist. “So you’ve found us, old friend,” cried Taran, delighted to have the crow with him once again. “Tell me,” he went on quickly, “how does Eilonwy fare? Does she

Orgoch, her black hood shrouding her features, sat on a rickety stool, trying without great success to tease cockleburs from a lapful of wool shearings. Orwen, if indeed it was Orwen, was turning a rather lopsided spinning wheel; the milky white beads dangling from her neck seemed in danger of catching in the spokes. Orddu herself, he guessed, had been at the loom that stood amid piles of ancient, rusted weapons in a corner of the cottage. The work on the frame had gone forward somewhat, but it

“Rabbits!” the bard murmured. “I’ll never chase another.” Taran sat apart with Doli, for there was much he had to tell and much he wanted to ask. Though Doli had regained his long frown and short patience, the occasional flicker of a grin betrayed his delight at seeing the companions again. Yet, learning of Taran’s quest, Doli scowled more deeply than usual. “The Free Commots?” said the dwarf. “We’re on the best of terms with the Commot folk; they respect us and we respect them. You’ll not

something already yours. Favor? Humph! It’s only common courtesy. But guard it well. Squander it like a fool at the first whiff of danger and you’ll regret it when you really are in trouble.” “Ahem,” Fflewddur whispered to Taran. “My own counsel to you is: Trust your wits, your sword, or your legs. Enchantment is enchantment, and if you’d been through what I’ve been through, you’d want no part of it.” He frowned uneasily at the battle horn and turned away. “I’ll never be the same, that’s sure!”

well-matched. Or the harper …” “The matter is between you and me, Dorath,” Taran replied, “and none other.” “All the better,” Dorath answered. “Do you take the wager, then? We two unarmed, win or lose, and the score paid. You have Dorath’s word.” “Is your word as true as your claim?” Taran flung back. “I trust no bargain with you.” Dorath shrugged. “My men will withdraw beyond the trees where they’ll be no help to me, if that’s what you fear. And so will yours. What say you now? Yes or no?”

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