Chapter 77: At Times Like These

It was at times like these that Herrwn most missed Olyrrwd.

Whenever Olyrrwd sensed that Herrwn needed to talk, he would make the excuse that it was a quiet day in the healing chamber, so why didn’t they go for a walk along the lakeshore. As they strolled along the path to their favorite spot, Herrwn would explain his quandary. Then, after they’d sat on their bench, looking out across the lake, for a while, Olyrrwd would come up with some practical solution that Herrwn would never have thought of on his own.

Lost in his longing for Olyrrwd, Herrwn was startled when the classroom doors swung open and Caelym came in, carrying Arddwn on his shoulders. “It’s a quiet day in the healing chamber,” he announced cheerfully, “so we’re going to sail our boat in the lake. Have you time to join us?”

With the pressing urgency of solving Gwenydd’s dilemma, Herrwn started to say, “I can’t,” but Arddwn—a miniature version of Caelym, except for having Feywn’s sapphire-blue eyes—had inherited his mother’s capacity for command. Gripping a lock of his father’s hair with one hand and waving a toy boat with the other, he declared, “Herwun come!” and Herrwn changed to saying, “I would be most pleased to do so.”

It was a decision he would always be glad he made.

Once they reached the lakeshore path, Caelym put his squirming son down. Arddwn, who’d crawled at six months, walked at eight months, and now considered anything less than a dead run to be too slow, darted up the path ahead of them.

For a while, Herrwn and Caelym walked along without talking, Herrwn wondering if it was right to share the burden weighing so heavily on his mind. He’d just decided it was not, when Caelym said in a quiet and confidential way, “I’ve just been seeing to our cook’s toe.”

Freed of any constraint that he might be revealing anything Caelym did not already know, Herrwn recounted the events of his day, finishing just as they reached the quiet cove where he’d stood so often with Olyrrwd.

After settling Arddwn with his toy boat at the edge of a shallow pool, Caelym cleared his throat and said, “I have been thinking about the oration for tonight.”

Herrwn’s shoulders sagged at the realization that he’d been so distraught over Gwenydd’s plight he’d given no thought at all to the evening oration—something he’d often lectured Caelym was a master bard’s first and foremost responsibility. Resisting the temptation to make excuses, he sighed. “It is fortunate that one of us was attentive to his duty. We must decide quickly and pick something from one of the less demanding tales—perhaps ‘The Wizard’s Ill-Fated Apprentice’ from the sagas of the Great Flood?”

“I was thinking of that very saga, only”—Caelym stroked his chin in a gesture much like one Olyrrwd often made—“I had been thinking that we might do the fifth story.” After a small but telling pause, he added, “The fifth story, that is, from the eastern version.”

Of course! The fifth and final story from the epic of the eastern version of the Great Flood! Where had his mind been?

Caelym had continued to grow taller over the past year, and Herrwn now had to look upwards to meet his eyes. When he did it in this moment, it was to share a look of complete understanding.

From there it was mainly a matter of changing a few lines and working out the practical details—which, as it turned out, Caelym had mostly done already. So, with a quick rehearsal and a few final revisions, they had the evening’s event planned down to the last detail by the time Arddwn had brought his bedraggled little boat back to shore and was ready to go home.