Slowly, with a trembling hand she reached out, her palm hovering over the shimmering water. And, oh gods, oh gods, she thought that the fear would kill her, slay her in the snow and leave her lifeless body by the pool. And slowly, slowly she dipped her hand into the dark, into the light, and the cold made her hand tingle in shock as she remembered the day when she had begun to fear the water. The last occasion she had witnessed the living face of the only mother she had ever known.
The day that her life changed forever began just like any other day. Llawen and Rhiannon were eating breakfast when Dudod walked in from a month-long absence, as casually as though he had never left. Llawen shrieked and flung her arms around him. It was then, that Rhiannon noticed the stranger. He stood uncertainly in the doorway. He tried to smile, but the expression seemed ill suited to his sober face. He was not old, but there were sharp furrows on either side of his mouth and deep lines above his brows. He was thin and his scanty hair was dark. His eyes were the brown of freshly turned earth—earth that had been cut and scarred by the blade of the uncaring plow.
Llawen, at last releasing Dudod, caught sight of the man in the doorway. “Hefeydd,” she breathed. “Oh, Hefeydd,” and she went to him and held him close, tears streaming down her cheeks. Slowly, awkwardly, the man put his arms around Llawen. And Rhiannon knew that her Da had come to her at last. Dudod picked Rhiannon up and kissed her, but she had eyes only for her father.
Dudod carried her to the man. “This is Rhiannon,” he said. “And this,” Dudod went on as he looked down at her, “is Hefeydd ap Con, your father.”
Rhiannon launched herself at him, grasping his neck in a stranglehold. “Da,” she whispered, burying her face in his shoulder. But after just a few moments Hefeydd set her down on her feet, grabbing her thin arms, pulling them firmly away from his neck.
“Rhiannon,” he said, and stared at her as though memorizing her face to carry away with him. “Daughter.” He was silent for a long time and his silence seemed to freeze everyone in place. “Your eyes are your mother’s,” he said at last, his voice strained. “I must, I must—” he broke off, looking around in confusion.
“See to the horses,” Dudod finished for him.
“Yes,” Hefeydd said in a grateful voice. “I must see to the horses. Excuse me.”
Rhiannon stood where he had left her, paralyzed with bewilderment. “He doesn’t like me,” she said in astonishment.
“Oh, but he does,” Dudod said heartily. “Why, he came all the way here from Neuadd Gorsedd just to see you.”
But Rhiannon turned to Llawen for the truth. And sadly, Llawen shook her head. “Give him time to know you, child. He doesn’t know you well enough to love you.”
This struck Rhiannon as perfectly sensible, so she took heart and vowed to be very, very good so that he would come to love her.
Hefeydd returned and the four of them sat down for a late breakfast. Dudod spoke almost continuously, saying that he had bullied the Bards to letting Hefeydd come to visit. “He’s very, very busy, you see,” Dudod said confidently to Rhiannon. “Very busy indeed. But I made them let him come, because he wanted to see you so much.”
Meanwhile, Hefeydd said scarcely a word. His movements were slow and careful. Llawen, too, said very little, merely pressing her brother to eat more. And Hefeydd and Rhiannon stole quick glances at one another when each thought the other wasn’t looking. It was Dudod who suggested that they go to the lake to catch fish for supper. They walked to the small lake at the edge of the forest, not far from the house. The day was clear and warm with a slight, gentle breeze, and the lake rippled as the wind danced across its shining surface.
Dudod helped Rhiannon bait her hook, while Llawen and Hefeydd began to cast expertly as they stood on the rocky shore. Dudod warned Rhiannon to step carefully among the rocks, for they were wet and slippery. Then Llawen caught a fish, and Hefeydd caught another. Dudod, his strong hands placed over Rhiannon’s tiny ones, helped Rhiannon reel in a fish, too. Llawen exclaimed over the fine catch as she helped Rhiannon to bait her hook again.
“A fine supper we shall have,” Dudod said cheerfully.
“Indeed we will—after you clean the fish,” Llawen shot back.
“Me?” he said innocently.
“Yes, indeed you. And I’ll fry them up with dill weed and we’ll have a fine feast. But I’m short on the dill.” Her eyes cut to Hefeydd. “Why don’t you two men go pick some dill weed for me?”
“But I want to fish,” Dudod protested.