The Silver Chair: Chapters 6–9

At about nine o’clock next morning three lonely figures might have been seen picking their way across the Shribble by the shoals and stepping-stones.

When they sat down, their heads were below the edge of the gorge, so that you saw them no more; but Jill could hear them howling and blubbering and boo-hooing like great babies even after the place was a mile behind.

That night they bivouacked on the bare moor, and Puddleglum showed the children how to make the best of their blankets by sleeping back to back.

At the bottom of the slope were cliffs: beyond these, a country of high mountains, dark precipices, stony valleys, ravines so deep and narrow that one could not see far into them, and rivers that poured out of echoing gorges to plunge sullenly into black depths.

This road leads to the burgh and castle of Harfang, where dwell the gentle giants. They are as mild, civil, prudent, and courteous as those of Ettinsmoor are foolish, fierce, savage, and given to all beastliness.

And in Harfang you may or may not hear tidings of the City Ruinous, but certainly you shall find good lodgings and merry hosts.

You would be wise to winter there, or, at the least, to tarry certain days for your ease and refreshment.

Before them lay a desolate, rocky plain: beyond it, further mountains capped with snow.

Not moonlight, nor fires, but a homely cheering row of lighted windows.

And round their feet little eddies of snow ran about as you sometimes see them doing over ice.

But to make matters worse it was crossed and crisscrossed with curious banks or dikes, which sometimes divided it up into squares and oblongs.

Suddenly she skidded, slid about five feet, and found herself to her horror sliding down into a dark, narrow chasm which seemed that moment to have appeared in front of her.

“Yes, by Jove,” said Scrubb. “And it runs due north! I wonder is it a sort of road? If it was, we’d be out of this infernal wind down there. Is there a lot of snow at the bottom?”

It stood on a high crag, and in spite of its many towers was more a huge house than a castle.

The portcullis was up and the gate was open.

He stooped down and goggled at Puddleglum.

The younger giant, after a final stare, and a great guffaw, left the room.

But they had little time to notice this, for they soon entered the great doorway of the main castle—both their hearts beating faster than usual—and, after pattering along several corridors at a trot to keep up with the giant’s paces, found themselves blinking in the light of an enormous room, where lamps glowed and fire roared on the hearth and both were reflected from the gilding of roof and cornice.

“That’s what we’ve got to be. Gay. As if we hadn’t a care in the world. Frolicsome. You two youngsters haven’t always got very high spirits, I’ve noticed. You must watch me, and do as I do. I’ll be gay. Like this”—and he assumed a ghastly grin.

“That’s what we’ve got to be. Gay. As if we hadn’t a care in the world. Frolicsome. You two youngsters haven’t always got very high spirits, I’ve noticed. You must watch me, and do as I do. I’ll be gay. Like this”—and he assumed a ghastly grin.

“And frolicsome”—here he cut a most mournful caper.

Though her tongue was never still, you could hardly say she talked: she prattled and giggled.

She made especial friends with the cook and discovered the all-important fact there was a scullery door which let you out through the outer wall, so that you did not have to cross the courtyard or pass the great gatehouse.

And then (it made her hot all over when she remembered it afterward) she would put her head on one side in an idiotic fashion which grown-ups, giant and otherwise, thought very fetching, and shake her curls, and fidget, and say, “Oh, I do wish it was tomorrow night, don’t you? Do you think the time will go quickly till then?”

“Didn’t you hear what those giants were saying? ‘That’s a nice tender haunch of venison,’ said one of them. ‘Then that stag was a liar,’ said another. ‘Why?’ said the first one. ‘Oh,’ said the other. ‘They say that when he was caught he said, Don’t kill me, I’m tough. You won’t like me.’”

This elegant little biped has long been valued as a delicacy.

This elegant little biped has long been valued as a delicacy.

Some authorities reject this animal altogether as unfit for giants’ consumption because of its stringy consistency and muddy flavor.

Suddenly a great clamor of giant voices arose: then shouts and hollas.

And such a mass of loose earth, shingle, and larger stones was piled up round her (and partly over her) that she couldn’t get up.