"Princess Telyn!"

Telyn jumped. She had fallen asleep on the grass while watching the spider's web. She looked up at the sky. Why, she had slept right through dinner, and possibly supper as well! The stars above shone faintly through the fading light as the sun sake down to the western horizon.

"Princess!"

Telyn tore her eyes off the sky. "Here," she called, jumping to her feet.

Dewin's youngest apprentice, a lad about Iestyn's age, hurried toward her.

"There you are! Your mother is frantic with worry, Princess. Where have you been all day?"

Telyn usually felt shy around the bards and their apprentices; she was in awe of their ability to make everything from history to simple thoughts into poems and words to strike all their listeners. Today, however, she was so excited she couldn't help but clutch at the boy's arm.

"Oh, Gwion!" she cried. "It's the most exciting thing that's ever happened to me. I'm terribly sorry to have worried Mother, of course—one should never worry one's mother, especially when she is the High Queen and has so many worries already—but oh! I must tell you about Dewin's spectacles."

Gwion looked slightly bewildered at this onslaught of chatter. "Dewin's spectacles?"

"Yes, they're magic, and oh, I've seen some wondrous things through them today." Telyn put her hands to her face to show the magical item to Gwion. She felt only skin.

"Why, where did they go?" Her little face crumpled. "Oh, no! I can't have lost them! Dewin said they are the last magical item in Prydain! Oh, and I promised to take such good care of them!"

Gwion still didn't understand why she was fretting so over an old pair of spectacles, but he obligingly dropped to his knees to help her look

They searched all around, but the spectacles had well and truly vanished. Neither of them knew that Prince Dafydd, coming upon his sister snoozing in the grass with the spectacles cutting into her light skin, had gently removed them so as not to interfere with her slumber.

Finally, they had to admit that they were gone.

"I'm truly sorry, Princess," Gwion said. "Would you like me to help you explain to Dewin?"

"No," Telyn sighed. "I'm the one who lost them; it's my responsibility. But I'd rather chop off my head with Dyrnwyn!" she added vehemently.

Gwion's smile was thankfully lost in the gathering dusk.

Telyn was uncharacteristically silent all through the royal family's private supper. As usual, the High King and Queen talked to their children about their days. Iestyn eagerly talked about what he had learned, and the family he had met when giving away the fresh vegetables; Dafydd told about how the Hunting Master had given him a fledgling falcon to train, and Princess Siwan, the eldest of the four, discoursed on what she had learned in council that day.

"And you, Telyn?" the High King prompted.

The little princess shrugged. "I just looked around," she said listlessly, toying with her food.

Her family exchanged worried glances, but held their tongues. Telyn had the oft-lamented lack of discretion that made it impossible for her to worry secretly over anything for very long. Or, indeed, to keep any secret for any length of time. She was the most open and transparent out of all the children.

What bothered Telyn even more than losing the last magical artefact left in Prydain, after Dewin had trusted her with it, was how dull and boring everything looked now. Without the spectacles, she could no longer see magic in anything. She wanted to cry at how drab life appeared after just one day of seeing it through new eyes.

On her way to Dewin's chambers in the Hall of Lore, she heard harp music drifting through his closed door. Her dragging feet slowed to a stop as she listened.

Then, as the music quietly wove around her, Telyn found that the magic hadn't vanished at all! It was still there, in the harp. Even as she listened, the world seemed to brighten, and she noticed the beauty and mystery in everything around her again. The very grain of the wooden floor, the rough texture of the stone walls, took on a wondrous hue in her eyes.

She unceremoniously burst through the door, only to see Gwion sitting before his master, his eyes closed as his fingers gently caressed the harp strings.

"Why!" Telyn exclaimed accusingly. "Dewin, you told me that the spectacles were the last magical item in Prydain, but Gwion's harp is magic, too!"

Dewin rose to his feet, unbothered by the interruption. "The magic you hear, Princess, is not in the harp, but in the player," he said smilingly.

Oh." Momentarily disconcerted, Telyn remembered the dreadful task she was on. "Oh, Dewin," she began, biting her lip.

Gwion coughed. "Shall I go, my lord?"

Dewin shook his head, and the lad regained his seat.

"Dewin, I—I lost the spectacles," Telyn blurted out sadly. "I don't know how! They were on my face when I went to sleep, and gone when I woke up. Oh Dewin, can you ever forgive me?"

The old man placed a gentle hand on her bowed head. "Dear little princess, it is I who ought to ask for your forgiveness. For, you see, the spectacles were never magic to begin with."

Telyn raised her shocked blue eyes to his. "But they were. Oh Dewin, I saw such amazing things! I saw Iestyn—he looked so noble, truly, and not like my brother at all! And the flowers, and the birds, and the spider's webs—all things I've seen every day of my life, but I've never seen them so …" she trailed off, unable to find the right words to describe her experience. "It was the magic that made them look so," she finally ended.

Dewin shook his head. "You saw them as they have always been—as they truly are. The spectacles did nothing but make you look more closely.

"You see, Princess, we no longer need enchanted items and sorcerers to help us. Prydain still bears the magic it has always had, the magic inherent in it. This is the magic of a simple spider creating a silken masterpiece. Or a young prince who cares so deeply for his people.

"The masterpiece of a rose, the song of a wild bird … those are all more magical than any enchanted sword or Golden Pelydryn." Dewin smiled at Gwion, who was listening intently. "Or a harp in the hands of a bard. Do you understand, Princess?"

"I think so," Telyn said slowly. "You mean that the magic I thought the spectacles showed me was just … the way things really are? And I just hadn't noticed before, because I was too busy wishing for the magic of the tales and legends?"

Dewin nodded with the satisfied air of a master whose pupil has finally solved a difficult problem. "Exactly."

For a moment, Telyn wondered if she should be upset that Dewin tricked her so neatly, just to teach her something, but she was so grateful she couldn't be. She gazed around the room with eyes that looked—that truly looked—for the first time.

"Oh Dewin," she sighed. "Everything is magical."

"It is at that, Princess," the old bard agreed. "It is, at that."

Author's Note: The idea behind this fic, of course, is hardly original. I was looking at my daughter the other evening and wishing that there really could be magic in the world, for her to experience. This led to me thinking about how sad it would have been for the people of Prydain to have known magic, and then to lose it entirely. I got thinking about why Lloyd Alexander would have written it so ... and this fic came out.

For those who are interested: Siwan means "bright as the sun," Dafydd means "dearly beloved" Iestyn means "one who is just," and Telyn means "harp." Dewin is the Welsh word for wizard, an irony that amused me. Gwion, as those who know their Celtic mythology should know, was the original name of Taliesin. I am not trying to suggest that Taliesin has somehow returned to Prydain in the form of a young boy, but more hint that perhaps, in time, a bard of his caliber might arise.