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.

They got out of the leaf with a strange feeling of regret that the journey was over, for contrary to all their expectations they had enjoyed it. It had also taken their minds off the meeting with the Elflord, about which they were extremely apprehensive. Now that they had finally arrived they began to grow afraid.

‘Follow me, ’ said the elf, and he walked up the short bank from the pond towards the huge oak. Unlike the far shore the ground here was covered in a mass of dead leaves all of which were the size of the one that had served to carry them across the water. When they were almost at the foot of the tree the elf told them to wait and went out of sight to the far side of the trunk. The three animals turned back to look across the water at the clearing. It was growing dark now and on the opposite shore the silver lights of the elves showed up clearly as hundreds of little stars, like the dew sparkling on an autumn morning. The mist had gone now and the patch of sky which they could see above them was turning from light to dark blue; it was that indefinable magic moment when a winter evening becomes night. Soon the elf was back.

‘Come with me,’ he said, and they followed him round the trunk of the tree.

The entrance to the tree, for it was hollow, was a large pointed archway, the edges of which were framed with moss. The elf led the animals through it into a circular hall, the floor of which was again covered in a carpet of green moss. Around the walls seats had been carved into the wood and they were taken across to one side of the hall and asked to sit for a short while.