‘Look, look ahead,’ he was saying, and he pointed in the direction that Warrigal was facing. Nab did not find it easy to collect his thoughts and focus his eyes but when he looked hard he could just make out in the far distance, through the mist and the gloom, two bright lights like stars, silver and twinkling, and moving towards them slowly.
‘It’s the elves,’ Brock said, and there was wonder in his voice.
The two silver stars bobbed and weaved towards them and then suddenly they were directly in front. Warrigal turned to the others.
‘We have to follow them,’ he said, and, as if on a word of command, the lights moved back again into the distance. Mesmerized, the animals set off after them. Soon they left the area of the pines and were in a part of the wood which was more open and less cluttered than that which they had so far gone through. The undergrowth here was a mixture of mosses and ferns and grass and the trees seemed very old. Often they came across a huge fallen trunk and had to decide whether it was easier to climb over it or go round while Warrigal perched on top patiently. The two lights always seemed to stay the same distance away and sometimes they would appear to be chasing each other round and round in the air as if playing a game. Watching them closely Nab sometimes thought that he could make out little figures inside the lights but then, when he blinked, they vanished until he screwed his eyes up so as not to be dazzled by the brightness and once again the figures would appear. He became completely engrossed in this and his tiredness and fear were forgotten. Brock, at his side, was caught up in the wonder of it all and seemed fired with a hidden energy that he had not known since he was a cub. They had no idea how far they were walking nor how long it was taking them; time seemed to have been suspended ever since they entered the wood and the deeper they had gone the more difficult had it become to imagine any world outside. It seemed an eternity since they had stood at the top of the slope in the field and looked down for the first time at Ellmondrill.
The lights had now stopped and were dancing in front of a belt of trees which seemed so thick to the animals that they were unable to see how they could get through; the trees were so close to one another that the trunks almost met. The lights then began to move slowly off to one side and the animals followed until after a short distance they stopped again and Nab could just make out a gap between two great oaks. The lights disappeared through it and then Warrigal indicated to Nab that he was to go first. The boy got down on his hands and knees and began to crawl slowly along what was in fact a tunnel between the trees. Inside it was dark, but the light that came from the far end enabled him to see where he was going and to make out very dimly the dark polished wooden sides. Under his hands the wood felt smooth and reminded him of the roots around the inside doorway of the sett in Silver Wood: worn smooth by generations of use. The light behind him was cut off as Brock and then Warrigal entered the passage and the three animals shuffled slowly along; the sounds of their breathing echoing loudly inside it.
Soon they emerged from the darkness of the tunnel and found themselves in a large clearing. The belt of trees continued all around it and the edge of the clearing was filled with lights similar to those which had guided them, all dancing and leaping around and through the air. The floor was covered with mosses and lichens, merging and blending into one another so that they formed a continuous carpet of velvet so soft that Nab’s feet sank in it up to his ankles. Mist lay everywhere but unlike the mist in the rest of the wood which had been grey and swirling this was still and golden as if the evening sun were shining through it and it blurred the edges of the trees and grasses with a soft, gentle haze.
In the middle of the clearing was a pond, dark and black as night, whose waters shone like a jewel and, at the very centre of the pond, stood a small island on which stood a huge oak tree whose gnarled fingers swept low over it, casting their shadows in the deep waters.
Nab looked at his two companions, who were standing at his side entranced by the sight, and laid a hand on Brock’s head. He felt in need of some reassurance that his body had not melted away in the golden haze all around.
Two lights suddenly appeared in front of them again, although Nab could not be sure whether or not they were their guides. He could see the elves inside quite clearly now and realized that the light was simply the silver glow which came from their bodies.
‘Come, the Lord Wychnor awaits,’ said one, and in a flash it had vanished down to the shore of the pond. The animals walked slowly and carefully through the moss, which grew spongy as they approached the water so that at times they were afraid of sinking. Nab noticed that even Warrigal was walking; a sight he had never seen before, and he guessed that the owl had not taken to the air out of respect.
At the edge of the pond floated what looked to Nab like a huge brown oak leaf which bobbed gently up and down on the water and whose edges curled up slightly.
‘Please step in,’ said the elf. Overawed as they were by their surroundings and impressed as they were by the elf this was a request which the three animals were extremely wary of complying with. They guessed now that the Elflord dwelt on the island in the middle of the pond and that somehow they had to get there, but the thought of floating across those black waters on the flimsy looking vessel that the elf had indicated was a prospect which they did not relish.
‘I am not going over the water in that,’ whispered Brock fiercely to Warrigal. He had had quite enough of falling in water for one day, and besides, the stream was only narrow compared to the size of the pond they had to cross now. Warrigal, however, appeared less than sympathetic to the badger’s fear and told him to get in.
‘Come on,’ he said to the badger, and Brock, using extreme caution, clambered reluctantly into the vessel and settled down on one side.
‘You next,’ Warrigal said to Nab, and the boy, whose fears equalled his excitement, climbed in the other side and then Warrigal followed him and settled down in the rear. Finally the elf hopped in and went to the front, where he stood with his face raised to the sky and began to sing in a strange voice which seemed to fill the clearing.
The language was one with which the animals were completely unfamiliar, although Warrigal thought that he recognized some of the sounds from the words that Wythen sometimes used in conversation.
‘It’s the language of the Old Ones,’ he said quietly to the other two, who were staring at the elf, completely enraptured.
The song ceased as abruptly as it had begun and the animals saw a large ripple moving across the water from the far side of the pond. They watched as it came nearer until finally it stopped at the front of their vessel and the elf leant over the edge and busied himself with some activity in the water. Finally he finished and turned around to face the animals, at which point the leaf started to move slowly and steadily towards the island.
The elf smiled at them. ‘In return for taking us across the water he demands a song,’ he said, and the three animals nodded in understanding, none of them wishing to show his ignorance by asking who exactly it was that demanded a song.
‘Who does he mean?’ whispered Brock to Warrigal, but the owl pretended he hadn’t heard. Nab looked over the side into the black depths beneath them and thought he could make out a large oval shape under the water moving along with them, but he couldn’t be sure and it may only have been a reflection.
Soon they were right out in the middle of the pond and a long way from the shore. Now that they had settled down the animals felt safer, and had begun to enjoy the feeling of being afloat, an experience none of them had ever had before. What they found particularly strange was the feeling of moving while sitting down and doing nothing. They were travelling quite fast now and, although it was so still in the clearing, their speed gave the sensation of a light breeze which ruffled Warrigal’s feathers and blew through Brock’s fur; Nab turned his head directly into it so that his hair was blown back from his face and when he closed his eyes his mind seemed to float away behind him. Then when he opened them again and looked back at the shore he got a shock when he saw how far away it seemed. He watched the wake which the leaf left behind it; a series of little waves which disturbed the smooth calm surface of the water for a short time and then slowly disappeared as the pond became still again. He looked over the side and delicately put a finger in so that it cut a bubbling gash in the water, the crest of which danced with little silver jewels before they melted back into the pond. Looking up he saw that they were now very close to the island and the leaf seemed to be slowing down. Suddenly they were shaken by a series of little judders as it came to rest in the shallows; the elf once again leant over into the water and then the ripples moved away to where they had come from on the far shore.