When Hirgul had returned to Tídris, folk remarked his even greater aloofness from society. Yet they made little of it, for he had ever been a solitary child, and they put it down to his orphaned state.
Hirgul dared not risk asking questions about the great drum Brandubur. He must find it by his own endeavours. He began to roam the passages of the Queen’s House. It was not a very great building; the largest chamber was the great hall, and he had known every corner of it from his childhood.
Despite many searches, he did not find Brandubur, or any drum. He questioned his memory for a clue. He thought especially about those many evenings in his childhood at the fireside with Yanelka. She knew very many tales of olden days. Had she ever mentioned Slungandi and his drum? Yes, of course. With his drum he could call upon the Deep and weave powerful runes. Did she tell what happened to the drum after Slungandi fell into icesleep? No, he was certain, nothing like that.
But then, one day, the memory of a story of another kind came into his mind. He recalled an evening, when he and his three cousins were talking with Yanelka about the Queen’s House. Beinun asked:
‘Yanelka, why do the four towers of the House have names? One is called Briyuvâni, that’s lightning, another is Firuvâni, freezing, then there is Fúbravâni, thundering, and Úluvâni, raining.’
And Yanelka said:
‘They are all kinds of weather, aren’t they, and a tower has to be outside in all weathers, I suppose. But why anyone thought they needed names, and who it was, I don’t know. Perhaps they go back to the time of Queen Vidnî, bless her.’
She paused, and looked darkly at them, and said:
‘There’s a tale — I can’t vouch for it, my dears — that when the wind blows from the north, if you stand at the foot of the tower called Fúbravâni you can hear a noise like thunder, and that’s why the tower has that name. But more likely someone made up the tale to explain the name.’
And now, Hirgul remembered: Fúbravâni, that was what Sûwikka said was the nickname of Slungandi, because of the sound of his drum. The tower of that name must be the place where Vidnî hid Brandubur.
One dark and windy night of autumn, Hirgul arose, took a lantern, and went with stealth to the top storey of the Queen’s House. In each corner was a small door giving access to a tower. Hirgul went silently to the low door in the northern corner. He laid his hand on the handle and turned. The door opened easily, as if someone came here often and kept the door oiled and free from cobwebs. The lantern light showed a narrow flight of steps winding upwards out of sight. As Hirgul stood listening, he heard a low rumbling coming from the space above, much like distant thunder. Exulting in success, Hirgul rapidly climbed the stairs.
At the top was a square chamber. It was very cold, for there were unglazed loopholes in all four walls, and the night wind was blowing straight through. The thunderous rumbling was coming from directly above him. He raised the lantern and saw a huge drum swinging to and fro, and as it swung it trembled with a booming sound.
Placing the lantern on a ledge, Hirgul reached up and took hold of the drum and drew it down; it came readily to his hands, but as it did so a voice came in his head, a deep resounding voice like the sound of the drum:
‘Who are you that seize me, Brandubur, Drum of the Deep?’
When he had recovered from surprise and fright, Hirgul said:
‘I am Hirgul, son of Prince Nagbith of Fíbur and heir of the Lord Ungubith.’
‘Do you come to take me, Brandubur, as my new master?’
Then Hirgul spoke these words that he had not foreknown:
‘I take you, Drum of the Deep, for I am the rightful successor to Fúbravâni the false, who turned away from the Deep and lies in frozen sleep: he received Brandubur as the gift of my great grandsire, the Lord Ungubith himself.’
Then the voice sounded no more in his mind. Taking Brandubur, Hirgul returned to his quarters in the Queen’s House. He had made ready a bundle of those possessions that he most needed. He took them and the drum and went straight to the stables, dark night though it was. He saddled Gragadam and said:
‘Find me the way to your mistress’s house, Gragadam, for no longer shall you and I abide in this place.’
Despite the darkness, Gragadam carried Hirgul through the night, and as dawn broke they came to Tarûig. Bearing Brandubur, Hirgul entered Sûwikka’s cottage. The ûthéga rose up in her bed with a wrathful look on her face.
‘Did I not say to you that you should return at the next Moondeath? But it wants yet five days before that night! Know you not that search will be made, and they will seek you here! Fool, to have imperilled our plan at the first step. You must go straightway to the Caves of Dréykahnôl, taking with you Brandubur, and there lie hidden till Moondeath.’
She turned to her constant attendant, saying:
‘Nyaula, give him bread and lights and other needful things — the springs at the Caves are plentiful and sweet, my lord! And Nyaula, send Gragadam back to Tídris, or her presence will betray us.’
Hirgul, with shame, turned away to unload the mare, but Sûwikka called him back.
‘There is something profitable that you can do while you wait in the caves, my lord. Take this parchment. It is a leaf from a writing compiled by the reprobate Slungandi. He was imprisoned by the Lady of Fleswen ta Féore for five hundred years — would that she had not let him go — and he passed that time in recording all the runes and rimes of the Deep that he had learned. The book he made is named the Katívat Kumbren, not that you have need to know that. This page which I give you will tell you the rhythm of the drum song for summoning Hugturágis, and the words of the Ûthéat Atasovanedh, the Rune of Recall. You have been instructed in the Ancient Script, I suppose?’
‘I have, madam.’
‘Good, good. Tídris knew not its own undoing! Now, study these and practise them, but not upon Brandubur, whatever the temptation. For if your fingers make a misstep, you may summon somewhat else, and we shall all be undone!’
Ashamed, and carrying Brandubur and his provisions on his back, and the precious scroll in his hand, Hirgul now departed on foot along the track to which the servant Nyaula directed him. It took not long to reach the Cliffs of Dréykahnôl. There he found a cave that no wild animal had lately used, and set up his camp. He had before him the prospect of five days with nothing to do but study the drum song.
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