"What are we going to do today, Brain?"
"Same thing we do every day, Pinky. Not own The Prydain Chronicles or any of it's characters. And try to take over the world!"

This story is a little different for me since it involves a visit to that tricky and often corny rhetorical tool, the flashback! As noted by italics. Aren't I original? Hope it works!

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I think it would have been much worse giving up a summer day. That's part of you, I mean. I know I shouldn't want to give up one of mine.
-Eilonwy, The Black Cauldron

He found her one early summer morning chopping wood by herself, skirts tied up above her knees and long hair twisted into a knot at her neck. He sighed in exasperation when he saw her bare feet in the dewy grass. Would she never learn to think of her own health? Instead of calling out to scold her, however, he stood still and watched her working at her task. She was completely unaware of him, obviously absorbed in her thoughts as she reached for the next block of wood and placed it on the stump. He watched admiringly as she performed a now well practiced swing, hitting the block directly in its center and finishing the split by nimbly using one foot to hold one half in place and push the other half away with the axe. He had become so distracted by the way the morning sun made her skin appear so pale it seemed to glow, that he did not notice her eying the remaining half on the log, a much smaller target. Her downward swing connected with the block considerably far from the center, and a small piece splintered off and flew up towards her face. She gasped and ducked as the splinter narrowly missed her eye. She stood still for a few moments, hand pressed against her chest in shock.

"Honestly, Eilonwy. You must be more careful!"

Eilonwy jumped as Taran finally stepped forward and spoke out in that irritated tone he used so often with her. She replied only with a glare that would have withered Coll's entire garden and bent down to fumble with her skirts. Once she regained her composure the girl straightened up and met Taran's eyes aggressively.

"I don't think it's entirely proper for an assistant pig keeper to go around spying on people while they are minding their own business!"

"I don't think it's entirely proper for a princess to be chopping wood before breakfast with bare feet." Taran deflected Eilonwy's sharp glare with a grin and began gathering the neatly chopped logs.

Taran arranged the newly chopped wood in the corner and went to join Craddoc by the fire. He nodded as the old man handed him a bowl of something that he consumed without tasting, staring into the flames. Craddoc cleared his throat and peered at Taran from the corner of his eyes.

"Were you always so brooding over meals in your old home?"

Taran swallowed with difficulty and looked at the man with half a laugh and half an apology in his eyes.

"Forgive me. The air is so thin up here, it makes me weary." Craddoc nodded but was not fooled.

"You miss your old home."

"Old home" Taran grimaced inwardly. There was a minute of silence as Taran watched a drowsing Gurgi.

"Yes I suppose I do. I was used to it. Used to the people there."

"Used to!" Craddoc snorted. "You feel more than you let on, boy. I suppose there were people there who raised you?"

"Tried to, at least. There was Dallben, an old enchanter, and Coll, a gardener. I think I made it rather difficult for them."

"No mother, then." Craddoc grunted, "Shame." Taran didn't reply. "But then who is this 'gentle princess' that your Gurgi mentioned?" Craddoc asked, watching for Taran's reaction. He did not miss the way the boy's eyes clouded, or how he set his jaw as if readying himself to receive a blow.

"She was a girl that Dallben took in for a while. When she came of age she was sent away to learn how to be a proper princess."
"So she was not with you long?"
"Long enough."

He heard her call his name with an unusual edge that made him drop his hoe without a thought and run to her side. Eilonwy was sitting in the dirt of one of the garden rows, hands wrapped around one of her ankles and face drawn in repressed pain. As he knelt beside her she could only manage a few broken sentences through her clenched teeth.

"Plow blade…broke…tried to find…horrid thing…found me first!" Taran had gently managed to pry her hands away from her foot and saw with growing panic that the blade had caught her behind the ankle and realized that she needed more help than he could give. It was a sign that she understood the serious nature of her injury when Eilonwy did not protest as Taran picked her up without another word and began to run back to the cottage shouting for Coll and Dallben. Eilonwy didn't make a sound, but the shoulder of Taran's shirt was growing suspiciously damp. Coll was close on his heels as Taran rushed through the door of the cottage and obeyed Dallben's sharp order to put Eilonwy on the table. He heard Eilonwy's little moan which might have been of pain or perhaps from the sight of the assortment of tools that Dallben was holding over a flame that Taran had not noticed a minute before.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, staring wide eyed at the needles which were now glowing orange.

"Trust me, Taran." Dallben sighed hurriedly, "It is necessary."

"Go, boy. We'll take care of her." Coll gestured with his head towards the door, his hands occupied with Eilonwy's injury. Taran looked down at the girl, but her eyes were fixed on an invisible spot on the wall. He reluctantly began to release her hand, which he now realized he had been clutching in both of his, when he felt the girl give his fingers a little squeeze of acknowledgement. Of thanks. He returned the gesture and walked away. Only when he had closed the door behind him did he hear her gasps of pain.

"She really was always getting into one scrape or another."

"I suppose it was a relief, then, when Dallben sent her away." Craddoc was determined to make this boy talk to him. If it took a little goading, so be it. Taran looked at him with a pained expression.

"It was for the best."

Oh no. You won't get away that easily, Craddoc thought.

"This princess, I suppose she has hair like midnight? Eyes brighter than jewels?" Taran looked at him again with a confused expression.

"N-no. Her hair is light. Not quite gold, almost red, somehow both. And her eyes are dark. Deep."

"Brown?"

"Blue."

Taran shook his head in bewilderment. "I don't- It doesn't matter. I already told you she's been sent away to be a princess." These last words were not without a certain amount of spite and Craddoc understood that he was treading on dangerous ground. Suddenly, as he watched the boy's darkening features, Craddoc realized why he had been searching for his parents. A proper princess. The young fool had gone and fallen in love with a princess! And now that he had found his shepherd father there was no hope for him. Craddoc felt and immense wave of guilt wash over him. What have I done? Craddoc needed to tell this boy the truth, couldn't let him miss his love the way he missed his own wife. He was far too young to have his heart broken like that. Tricked, more like. Craddoc grimaced as he thought of what Taran's reaction would be. The Wanderer would surely leave and then Craddoc would be alone again. Just one more day. He would keep Taran for one more day. He couldn't bear this young bird to fly away so soon, even though he knew it was wrong to cage it.

"Well," he said quietly, "we both need our rest. Sleep well, son." Taran barely managed to smile in response. He watched Craddoc slowly retreat into his chamber and then stretched out in front of the fire. Another day was over. Now Taran had to face the night, and then another day…

Another summer day was drawing to a close. Taran made his way over to Eilonwy who was sitting in front of their cabin, her bandaged foot propped up in front of her. He sat beside her and placed a piece of metal between them. She looked down at it and then back at him curiously.

"It's the piece of plow blade," he explained. "I forged it into a knife. For you. If you need a knife. Or want it." She considered the object for a while, and then smiled and said, "That was very thoughtful of you. Not to mention practical. I've always said you do remarkably well for an assistant pig keeper." Her words were slightly slurred and Taran furrowed his brow.

"Eilonwy, are you…alright?" The girl nodded dramatically and pulled something out of her mouth.

"Dallben gave me these leaves to chew on…for the pain. I think they work…but I am too drowsy to tell." She yawned and slid the leaf back into her mouth.

"I assume you are feeling well, then?"

"Oh yes, quite well. Just so tired. What is this?" Eilonwy had picked up her new knife and was looking at it curiously again. Taran could barely contain his amusement and smirked into the growing dusk, wisely removing the sharp implement from the girl's hands. Eilonwy's breaths began to deepen and her head drooped onto his shoulder.

"Dallben said…said that we had to talk. He said that my time is coming. I need to be a princess." Taran didn't know what she was talking about, but he didn't like the sound of it. "Dallben said that he's going to send me away…to a castle…to learn to be a lady…I have to be a princess." She must not be thinking straight. Dallben couldn't send her away. Taran felt his own breathing begin to deepen as Eilonwy arranged herself more comfortably on his shoulder. Her eyes were fully closed now and she was barely speaking above a whisper. "Taran…I don't want to leave. The voices…I hear them at night when the moon is out…that's why I was awake so early…they're calling me… Taran…they'll take me. I don't want to leave…" With that last pleading whisper she finally succumbed to sleep. Taran felt alarm growing in the pit of his stomach and pushed back the unconscious girl's hair to look at her face properly.

"Hem," interrupted Dallben's wry voice. Before Taran could even begin questioning the enchanter he held up a knobby hand and said soothingly, "All in good time, Taran. All in good time. But now, perhaps you would, hem, escort the princess to her bed." Dallben watched as Taran, for the second time that day, lifted the young girl in his arms and carried her into the cottage. The enchanter sighed wearily as he saw Taran gazing at the girl, the way a man would gaze at a bird of golden plumage that miraculously alighted on his arm and may fly away at any second. As soon she would. Dallben knew that Taran would not stay long after she had left and would find a reason to leave as well. It was time for his little birds to leave his nest, whether they wanted to or not.