LINA.
It was Lina. All at once Curdie recognised her--the frightful creature
he had seen at the princess's. He dropped his pickaxe, and held out his
hand. She crept nearer and nearer, and laid her chin in his palm, and he
patted her ugly head. Then she crept away behind the tree, and lay down,
panting hard. Curdie did not much like the idea of her being behind him.
Horrible as she was to look at, she seemed to his mind more horrible
when he was not looking at her. But he remembered the child's hand, and
never thought of driving her away. Now and then he gave a glance behind
him, and there she lay flat, with her eyes closed and her terrible teeth
gleaming between her two huge fore-paws.
After his supper and his long day's journey it was no wonder Curdie
should now be sleepy. Since the sun set the air had been warm and
pleasant. He lay down under the tree, closed his eyes, and thought to
sleep. He found himself mistaken however. But although he could not
sleep, he was yet aware of resting delightfully. Presently he heard a
sweet sound of singing somewhere, such as he had never heard before--a
singing as of curious birds far off, which drew nearer and nearer. At
length he heard their wings, and, opening his eyes, saw a number of very
large birds, as it seemed, alighting around him, still singing. It was
strange to hear song from the throats of such big birds. And still
singing, with large and round but not the less bird-like voices, they
began to weave a strange dance about him, moving their wings in time
with their legs. But the dance seemed somehow to be troubled and broken,
and to return upon itself in an eddy, in place of sweeping smoothly on.
And he soon learned, in the low short growls behind him, the cause of
the imperfection: they wanted to dance all round the tree, but Lina
would not permit them to come on her side.
Now Curdie liked the birds, and did not altogether _like_ Lina. But
neither, nor both together, made a _reason_ for driving away the
princess's creature. Doubtless she _had been_ a goblins' creature, but
the last time he saw her was in the king's house and the dove-tower, and
at the old princess's feet. So he left her to do as she would, and the
dance of the birds continued only a semicircle, troubled at the edges,
and returning upon itself. But their song and their motions,
nevertheless, and the waving of their wings, began at length to make him
very sleepy. All the time he had kept doubting every now and then
whether they could really be birds, and the sleepier he got, the more he
imagined them something else, but he suspected no harm. Suddenly, just
as he was sinking beneath the waves of slumber, he awoke in fierce pain.
The birds were upon him--all over him--and had begun to tear him with
beaks and claws. He had but time, however, to feel that he could not
move under their weight, when they set up a hideous screaming, and
scattered like a cloud. Lina was amongst them, snapping and striking
with her paws, while her tail knocked them over and over. But they flew
up, gathered, and descended on her in a swarm, perching upon every part
of her body, so that he could see only a huge misshapen mass, which
seemed to go rolling away into the darkness. He got up and tried to
follow, but could see nothing, and after wandering about hither and
thither for some time, found himself again beside the hawthorn. He
feared greatly that the birds had been too much for Lina, and had torn
her to pieces. In a little while, however, she came limping back, and
lay down in her old place. Curdie also lay down, but, from the pain of
his wounds, there was no sleep for him. When the light came he found
his clothes a good deal torn and his skin as well, but gladly wondered
why the wicked birds had not at once attacked his eyes. Then he turned
looking for Lina. She rose and crept to him. But she was in far worse
plight than he--plucked and gashed and torn with the beaks and claws of
the birds, especially about the bare part of her neck, so that she was
pitiful to see. And those worst wounds she could not reach to lick.
"Poor Lina!" said Curdie; "you got all those helping me."
She wagged her tail, and made it clear she understood him. Then it
flashed upon Curdie's mind that perhaps this was the companion the
princess had promised him. For the princess did so many things
differently from what anybody looked for! Lina was no beauty certainly,
but already, the first night, she had saved his life.
"Come along, Lina," he said; "we want water."
She put her nose to the earth, and after snuffing for a moment, darted
off in a straight line. Curdie followed. The ground was so uneven, that
after losing sight of her many times, at last he seemed to have lost her
altogether. In a few minutes, however, he came upon her waiting for him.
Instantly she darted off again. After he had lost and found her again
many times, he found her the last time lying beside a great stone. As
soon as he came up she began scratching at it with her paws. When he had
raised it an inch or two, she shoved in first her nose and then her
teeth, and lifted with all the might of her strong neck.
When at length between them they got it up, there was a beautiful little
well. He filled his cap with the clearest and sweetest water, and drank.
Then he gave to Lina, and she drank plentifully. Next he washed her
wounds very carefully. And as he did so, he noted how much the bareness
of her neck added to the strange repulsiveness of her appearance. Then
he bethought him of the goatskin wallet his mother had given him, and
taking it from his shoulders, tried whether it would do to make a collar
of for the poor animal. He found there was just enough, and the hair so
similar in colour to Lina's, that no one could suspect it of having
grown somewhere else. He took his knife, ripped up the seams of the
wallet, and began trying the skin to her neck. It was plain she
understood perfectly what he wished, for she endeavoured to hold her
neck conveniently, turning it this way and that while he contrived, with
his rather scanty material, to make the collar fit. As his mother had
taken care to provide him with needles and thread, he soon had a nice
gorget ready for her. He laced it on with one of his boot-laces, which
its long hair covered. Poor Lina looked much better in it. Nor could any
one have called it a piece of finery. If ever green eyes with a yellow
light in them looked grateful, hers did.
As they had no longer any bag to carry them in, Curdie and Lina now ate
what was left of the provisions. Then they set out again upon their
journey. For seven days it lasted. They met with various adventures, and
in all of them Lina proved so helpful, and so ready to risk her life for
the sake of her companion, that Curdie grew not merely very fond but
very trustful of her, and her ugliness, which at first only moved his
pity, now actually increased his affection for her. One day, looking at
her stretched on the grass before him, he said,--
"Oh, Lina! if the princess would but burn you in her fire of roses!"
She looked up at him, gave a mournful whine like a dog, and laid her
head on his feet. What or how much he could not tell, but clearly she
had gathered something from his words.