Fellowship & Fairydust

The creature called Gurgi let out a pitiful moan, burying his face in the dirt, rear in the air.

“Workings and groanings for poor Gurgi,” came the muffled complaint, “Only workings and groanings.”

All around him, the sheep he was meant to be tending continued to eat their grassy lunch, unphased by the tantrum. The lack of a receptive audience only caused louder wailing as he raised his head and realized that they were paying his agony not the least amount of mind.

“Wicked, wicked old man!” he sniffled, wiping his nose with a hairy arm and scowling in the direction the farm, way down the hill. He imagined Dalben sitting down to a feast and chuckling to himself as he ate, delighted not to have to share the munchings and crunchings.

There was no doubt in the little creature’s mind that this was the reason he’d been sent out here, with only one, teeny, measly sack of food. 

Gurgi licked his fingers in search of one last pie crumb and sighed deeply. He patted his stomach as if that might comfort its desperate rumbling. Dalben had tried to persuade him that, sometimes, stomachs made noise when one had eaten too much – Gurgi remained unconvinced.

“Oh poor, poor Gurgi. Great lords is sent to do whackings, and smackings, and smiting, while Gurgi must watch the fat woolys all alone.”

He scrunched up his face, forcing out a single tear at the thought of his friends, off fighting monsters and dining nightly in great, fancy halls with other mighty princes.

“Great hero, they calls Gurgi. But no munchings and crunchings for great hero. No. Only sheepings and workings.”Shaking his head, he paced around and around the perimeter of the sheep, furry hands clasped behind his back as he lamented his fate. Dalben had insisted on keeping the little creature close-by, as Taran, Eilonwy, and Fflewddur Fflam, all left on another great adventure to save the land of Prydain, their home. Dalben would not explain his reasons behind the decision, save to say that Gurgi was meant for a different path.

Gurgi scowled, picking up a stray stick and whacking at the grass. Unable to keep his naturally cheerful mood down for long, he began dancing around, laughing, as the stick became a sword, and the tall grass transformed into easily-slayed mighty beasts.

Finally, out of breath, he raised the stick high, proclaiming, “Yes! Oh, yes! Mighty hero Gurgi will go on his own questings and lookings. Yes! Gurgi will do searchings for crunchings!”

Without another glance back at the peaceful sheep, he bounded off for the woods, stick in hand, ears flopping madly.

For several long minutes, he was so taken up with slaying trees and stabbing unsuspecting bushes that he very nearly forgot his hunger. It was only when a furious, chattering squirrel, upset by his ramblings, threw an acorn at his head, that he was reminded of it.

Gurgi flopped to the leafy forest floor, rubbing his sore head with his free hand and stuffing the acorn into his cheek with the other. It only helped comfort him a little. The truth was, he missed his friends. They had been gone for many, many weeks now. He worried that, without him, they would get into all sorts of trouble. What would they do without him, who had saved them from the Cauldron born? Taran, especially, he thought, was very good at getting into danger. But not so good at getting out of it again.

Finally, remembering the sheep, Gurgi rose reluctantly and picked up his stick, dragging it behind him as he began the trek back to the meadow.

Passing a giant, gnarled old trunk, a sound reached his ears that made him pause. A strange, musical sort of hum that reminded him faintly of – something. He wasn’t sure what.

Curious, Gurgi scampered his way over, sniffing and looking for the source.

“A friend for Gurgi?” he wondered out loud, suddenly hopeful – huffing and puffing as he struggled to climb over the ancient trunk. Seeing nothing in the bare branches, he let himself slide down to the ground on the other side.

For an instant, nothing happened. Then, before he could leap clear, the soil gave way beneath his feet, sending him down, down, into the dark depths of the earth. At least, it seemed to him to be a very long way down.

Gurgi landed at the bottom in a heap of fur and moans.

“Oh! Oh, poor, poor Gurgi’s head is all bruisings and ouchings,” he complained. “Acorns and tumbles. Not good for Gurgi’s head.”

To make matters worse, he had lost his stick in the fall. Now he would need to find another when he found his way back up to the forest, and that was a lot of work. He’d liked that stick.

The humming began again in earnest. Seeing no other option, Gurgi felt his way forward in the pitch darkness. Cobwebs clung to his fur. The stench of mold and long-dead things attacked his nose.

Still he pressed on, until, quite suddenly, he found himself in a large, dimly-lit cave. The light, he saw, came from blue crystals lined all along the walls and high ceiling above. He bit one, just in case, but it was too hard even for his strong teeth. Disappointed, but not discouraged, he moved on.

There was a raised platform in the center of the cavern, and Gurgi was almost sure that this had to be where the hum was coming from. He was not in the least bit frightened by the skeletons all around the base. He had fought far more terrifying foes on the way to defeat the Horned King. Not to mention the King himself. Besides, these did nothing to stop him from climbing the platform, so what was there to fear?

At the top, Gurgi saw that he stood at the feet of yet another skeleton. This one was very tall, with arms folded over his chest, and a crown on his skull. A gleaming sword lay flat on his stomach.

“Pokings, and proddings, and long-dead kings,” Gurgi grumbled, “But still no munchings or crunchings.”
The hum was louder now. By the dead man’s head, there was a sack. Gurgi pounced, digging through it with great enthusiasm. Gold coins and precious gems flew out to litter the stone floor. They were of no interest to him. He could not eat them or use them to get out. Nor could they keep him warm in the chill, damp air.

He let out a happy cry as he pulled out a glowing sphere from the very depths of the bag. This was the source of the humming. It vibrated in his palm.

He bit it, shook it, dropped it, but it remained unchanged when he cradled it, once more, in his hands. No matter. He liked the hum, and how warm it felt against his fur.

Gurgi was no fool. He knew a thing of magic when he saw it. This was much like Princess Eilonwy’s bauble. Two baubles could be no bad thing, surely. He would give it to her when she returned from her great adventures.

“Lights and brights for pretty princess. Oho, yes, Gurgi will show her magic,” he cackled, very pleased indeed with himself. As he spoke, the most delicious smell came to tickle his nostrils. His stomach gave a mighty rumbling.

He closed his eyes, letting the scent guide him. His mother had always taught him to follow his nose. It had never led him wrong in his life. If anything, he was only here now because of his nose. He had followed it to the apple in Taran’s pocket, and that had been a delicious munching before Taran demanded it back.

And was that a sigh, from the long-dead king, or merely a cold breeze, blowing from God knew where? Gurgi shivered. He shut his eyes tighter, walked faster. It didn’t matter. He had the bauble, and he was following his nose.

The furry thief forgot his fear instantly, as sunlight tickled his eyelids. He opened his eyes to find himself near the edge of the woods, close to where he had left the sheep. In the dimming light of day, the bauble seemed to glow less brightly, the hum fading.

Gurgi shaded his eyes, looking down at the little farmhouse of Caer Dalben. Were those horses he saw? And someone waving? A shrill shriek of joy escaped him. He leaped high in the air, dropping the bauble in his haste. Taran had returned! So focused was he, that he never saw how dark the forest had become, behind him. He did not see the skeletal hand that reached down and plucked the glowing sphere from the grass. All of that – that was an adventure for another time. Because for now, Gurgi was happy. And that was all that mattered.

 

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F&F Winter 2019: Disney