Nab could see very little ahead through the torrents of rain that lashed across his face. He looked down at Brock, whose wet fur clung to him in little spikes and who hadn’t moved a muscle since they started out, and he knew what the badger was thinking. One thought filled his mind also: they were leaving Sam. He could see in his mind’s eye the familiar brown shape as it was tossed into the air and he could hear again that awful thud as it landed on the wooden boards of the boat. He was filled with guilt and remorse; looking back now he was unable to sort out how it had all happened. It seemed to be over so fast; one minute they were inside the cave and the next Sam was lying on his side on the beach. Then he remembered; Saurélon had stopped them from going to help Sam while he was fighting with the Urkku: if he had not stopped them perhaps Sam would be with them now. As this thought pounded away in his mind and his stomach turned to jelly with the realization, a wave of anger and bitterness against Saurélon and Ashgaroth and Faraid and Wychnor and his ‘mission’ and everything to do with it seemed to well up inside him and he gave a great shout in an attempt to release his churning emotions.
‘Why,’ he shouted at the storm again and again, until the sobbing ache in his throat became too painful; but the wind took all the force of his shouts and they were lost in the gale almost as soon as they left his mouth, and he fell into a deep brooding melancholy. In the days to come this feeling of anger and betrayal became submerged in the urgency of their task, but it was a long time before Nab was truly able to understand why Saurélon had stopped them.
The journey through the raging storm-lashed sea was one of the most terrifying experiences they had ever had. The rain and the wind beat against them with a frightening force as if trying to drag them off the backs of the seals to be lost to the sea, but some other force seemed to keep them on almost against their will; for they were all so frightened, depressed and miserable that they would almost willingly have abandoned themselves to the storm.
Finally, after what seemed an age, they could see the vague outlines of land ahead of them and very soon the seals slowed down in an area of sea which was quite sheltered by outcrops of rock on either side and where the waves were not so high. They swam slowly up to a small shelf of rock which jutted out into the sea and the animals gratefully climbed off their backs and stood shakily once more on dry land. It felt wonderful to be on firm ground again but it took them a little while to get used to the idea that they were not still rolling and plunging over the waves. At first they were unable to get their balance properly and they swayed around with their heads spinning as they tried to stand up straight and walk around the rock ledge. The seals bobbed up and down in the water and stared inquisitively at them. Then the animals bade them farewell sadly and followed Faraid up a steep path, almost awash with the rain, which wound its way precariously up the cliff to the top of the headland, where they stopped and looked out to sea. The rain was still coming down in torrents and hundreds of little streams and rivulets were running everywhere, but the sky had begun to clear a little and on the far horizon they could see the beginnings of that eerie golden light that always comes after a storm. Elgol was just visible, its outlines blurred by the rain, but they could not see the Urkku or the boat as they were at the seaward end of the island. They would remember Elgol with a mixture of great happiness and terrible pain and in their memories the island would always belong to Sam. They watched now as the huge waves raced in and crashed against it, sending great spumes of spray showering over the rock, and it seemed to the animals as if all the anger of Ashgaroth was contained in those towering blue-green breakers with their jagged crests of white foam.
Faraid, who had been standing a little away from them to let their minds run freely through the events of the day, approached them now gently and, in a voice humbled by the thought of all the sufferings these animals had been through, spoke to them. They heard his voice as one hears the first lark in spring after a long hard winter and it brought them back from the brink of despair.
‘Come, my friends. It is time for the last stage of your journey. When it is over, then will be the time for you to rest and to rejoice.’
The animals wearily and reluctantly turned away and followed the elf as he took them back across the bracken and heather of the headland until they reached green meadows full of sheep where they had to climb over many stone walls as Faraid led them once again towards the Marshes of Blore. When they reached the edge of the marsh it was late afternoon and the storm had blown itself out. Everywhere was dripping with wet and the grass smelt fresh and clean. The light they had seen earlier on the horizon had now spread to fill the sky so that everything was bathed in a gentle golden light. Looking up, the animals saw that the sky had almost completely cleared and lots of little snow-white fluffy clouds were racing across the blue.
Nab asked Faraid whether they could rest awhile before they entered the marsh but the elf thought it advisable to press on as it was likely that the Urkku had now left Elgol and were back amongst their people. He told the friends what the Urkku had said outside the cave about the ‘pack of animals’ and the ‘two runaways’.
‘Every Urkku in the land will now be looking out for you,’ he said, ‘and if you are spotted they will pursue you relentlessly until they find you. Dréagg is feeding them with lies and rumours which will fester and grow as they spread until the stories of your misdeeds are known by all. It is the way the Evil One works; he uses deceit and trickery to play on the minds of the Urkku. You are near the end of your mission and he will do everything to stop you. If you were careful before, now you must be doubly so, for he will use the goblins again and they have the power to transform themselves into Urkku when they wish so that they may work with the Urkku against you. There is, then, no time to waste.’
It took them until the following evening to cross the marsh and somehow this time it did not seem so terrifying. They saw no goblins and although they went along the same path as that by which they had travelled before there was no trace of Golconda nor of the tree on which he had been left. They emerged out of the mists of the marsh into a calm golden evening at a place some way from that by which they had entered when they came. They stood for a little while looking out over a landscape of rolling foothills gently sloping upwards towards distant moors. It was the end of spring and the beginning of summer, and the trees, huge elms and sycamores and ash, were covered in a multitude of different greens from the deep dark emerald of the elms to the delicate lime green of the ash trees. They towered up into the blue, their leaves gently moving in the evening breeze; rows of them like giant guardians of the earth stretching along the narrow valleys between the hills where little streams gurgled their way down through banks laden with primroses and bluebells and little green shoots of bracken poked their way up through the rich dark peat moss.